Another Life Taken

The air inside the police station felt thicker than usual. Maybe it was just the weight of the FBI closing the case too fast. Maybe it was the way Calloway hadn't spoken much since hearing it.

Or maybe it was because they were about to go against direct orders.

"Where do we start?" Darren finally asked, keeping his voice low.

Calloway leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. He didn't hesitate.

"Maxwell Carter."

Darren had expected that answer.

"Figured."

Calloway stood up, reaching for his coat. Darren followed. Neither of them spoke, but they didn't need to.

They had both felt it.

Something wasn't right.

The FBI had solved the unsolvable in less than a day. They had a suspect, a confession, and a clean, perfect answer—all too clean.

And now?

The captain had given an order to stay away from Max.

Why?

What did Max know that they weren't supposed to find out?

As Calloway and Darren made their way to the exit, a voice called out behind them.

"Calloway. Darren."

They stopped.

Turning around, they saw a young officer walking toward them, a cautious look in his eyes.

Jay.

Jay was a rookie, just like Darren. Same rank, same badge, but they barely knew each other.

Dark skin, curly black hair, sharp brown eyes—he was younger, fresher, still adjusting to the job. But right now?

Right now, he looked serious.

"I heard you guys talking earlier."

Darren frowned. "And why were you listening?"

Jay raised his hands. "Relax, man. I wasn't eavesdropping. I just... happened to hear it."

Calloway, already irritated, let out a slow breath. "Alright, kid. What do you want?"

Jay shifted on his feet, glancing around. He took a step closer, lowering his voice.

"The captain told us to stay away from Maxwell Carter."

That got Calloway's full attention.

His eyes narrowed.

"Who told you that?"

"The captain."

"No shit. When?"

Jay hesitated. "After the FBI meeting."

Darren's brow furrowed. "…That's weird."

Jay nodded. "Yeah. Real weird."

Calloway's fingers tapped against his belt, his mind already running a hundred miles an hour.

"Did the captain give a reason?"

Jay shook his head. "None."

Darren crossed his arms. "So, let me get this straight. The case is closed, the FBI already 'solved' it, but the captain suddenly decides Max is off-limits? That makes no damn sense."

"Exactly," Jay muttered.

Calloway inhaled slowly, then exhaled through his nose.

This wasn't just weird.

This was deliberate.

Someone, somewhere, wanted Max left alone. Why?

Calloway didn't believe in coincidences.

And this?

This wasn't a coincidence.

This was a cover-up.

Jay lowered his voice further. "Look, I don't know what the hell's going on, but whatever it is, it's big. Bigger than us."

Darren eyed him carefully. "…You're scared."

Jay clenched his jaw.

"Damn right, I'm scared. You should be too."

Calloway finally spoke, his tone colder now.

"Then do me a favor."

Jay blinked. "What?"

Calloway stepped closer.

"Forget we had this conversation."

Jay's lips parted slightly. "…Wait—"

"Don't tell anyone we're going after Max."

Jay froze.

He looked between Calloway and Darren, as if waiting for one of them to say they were joking.

Neither of them did.

Darren sighed. "Jay. If you say anything, we're screwed. You know that, right?"

Jay hesitated. "If you're caught, you're both screwed anyway."

Calloway took another step forward, voice firm.

"If we get caught, we won't say your name."

Jay swallowed hard. He looked at Darren. "You swear?"

Darren hesitated, then nodded. "…Yeah. We swear."

Jay exhaled slowly, rubbing his forehead.

"You two are insane."

Calloway smirked. "I've heard worse."

Jay looked at Darren one last time, eyes filled with conflict.

Finally, he muttered, "…Good luck."

Then he turned and walked off.

Darren exhaled. "…That was risky."

Calloway nodded. "It was necessary."

They turned toward the exit.

And without another word, they left.

The engine hummed steadily as Calloway's fingers drummed against the steering wheel. The city outside passed by in a blur, streetlights casting shadows across the windshield.

Darren sat beside him, watching the road stretch out before them, but his mind was elsewhere. The weight of everything happening—the case closing, the FBI's sudden involvement, and Jay's hesitation—was too much to ignore. Darren had dealt with a lot of shady situations before, but this felt different. The more he thought about it, the more he realized something was terribly wrong.

Finally, breaking the silence, Darren turned his gaze to Calloway.

"So, what's our next move?"

Calloway's hands tightened slightly on the wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead. For a moment, he didn't respond.

"We keep pushing forward," Calloway said, his voice steady but still carrying an edge. "Maxwell Carter's hiding something, and I'm not about to let this go."

Darren nodded, processing the words, but his mind was still racing. Maxwell Carter. A name they couldn't get out of their heads. Something was off about him, and the captain's orders to stay away only made him more suspicious.

"And if we don't find anything?" Darren asked, his voice careful, not wanting to push too hard. "Where do we go from there?"

Calloway exhaled sharply, glancing momentarily at Darren. He looked tired—exhausted, even—like this whole damn situation had drained him more than he was letting on.

"We do what we always do," he muttered. "Find a way. Even if it means going up against the system itself."

Darren gave a small nod, understanding, but a thought nagged at him.

"And if we do find something… what then?" he pressed.

Calloway glanced at him again, this time with a hint of something unreadable in his expression. His grip on the wheel tightened even more. There was more to this story than he was letting on, and Darren had a feeling it had little to do with the case itself.

"I'll deal with it when it comes," Calloway replied, his tone colder than before, his eyes back on the road. But Darren noticed the way his jaw clenched.

"You sure about that?" Darren pressed, sensing the shift. "Calloway, you're not the type to let something go, I get that, but—"

"It's complicated," Calloway interrupted. His tone softened just enough for Darren to hear the underlying weight in his words. "You don't know the whole story."

Darren raised an eyebrow, sensing something deeper than just the case at hand. "What story?"

There was a brief silence. The car sped through the streets, the sound of the tires on the pavement filling the space between them.

Finally, Calloway spoke, his voice quieter, almost like he was speaking to himself.

"You ever been married?"

Darren was caught off guard by the sudden question. "Uh… no, can't say I have."

Calloway let out a short, dry chuckle.

"Lucky you."

Darren glanced over, wondering where this was headed. "What happened?"

Calloway's grip on the steering wheel tightened again, the veins in his forearms visible under his sleeve. The road seemed to stretch out ahead, long and endless.

"My wife, she left me years ago. Because of this damn job." He paused, his eyes darkening. "All of this—this case, the shit I have to do. It cost me everything. Family, trust… peace of mind."

Darren remained silent, letting the words hang in the air. It was the first time Calloway had ever opened up to him like this. The detective was always the one who kept things close to the chest, never letting anyone see the cracks in his armor. But now, with the weight of everything they'd uncovered, the cracks were starting to show.

Calloway continued, his voice quieter. **"I put everything into this job. Too much. I thought I could balance it, but…" He sighed, rubbing his temple. "In the end, you don't. You just lose."

Darren wasn't sure what to say. He could feel the weight in Calloway's words, the bitterness that lingered, the things left unsaid. This wasn't just about the case anymore.

"So, is that why you're so... driven?" Darren asked softly. "Why you don't let it go?"

Calloway gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "It's not about being driven. It's about having nothing else. All I have left is my job, this case. The rest of it—family, everything else—it's gone. I can't let it slip away too. This is all I have."

The atmosphere in the car felt heavy, the tension between them thickening. Darren couldn't help but feel for him. Calloway wasn't just fighting ghosts or exorcists; he was fighting his own demons. The case was just another form of escape for a man who had already lost so much.

Darren knew that.

He finally said, "I get it."

Calloway nodded, his jaw still tight. He wasn't looking for sympathy. He wasn't the kind of man who needed it. But Darren could tell, even without saying it, that the loss—the lingering pain—was still there.

It wasn't just about the case anymore. It was about something far deeper than either of them had imagine

The two detectives reached Maxwell Carter's apartment building without saying much more. The air between them was charged, their minds still wrapped around the conversation they had just had. Both of them knew they were walking on thin ice by disobeying direct orders from the captain. But they were determined to find the truth, no matter what it cost them.

The building was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that made Calloway's instincts itch. He didn't like it. Not one bit.

As they approached the door of Max's apartment, Calloway gave Darren a quick glance.

"You check the window. I'll knock."

Darren nodded, stepping away from the door. He had a feeling about this. Something wasn't adding up.

Calloway raised his fist and knocked sharply, the sound echoing down the hallway.

Knock. Knock.

Nothing.

He knocked again, louder this time. Still no answer.

"Maxwell Carter!" Calloway shouted, his voice carrying. "Open up! This is the police!"

There was still no response.

Calloway's jaw clenched. He wasn't the type to waste time, but Max was nowhere to be found. Calloway's patience was wearing thin.

"Goddammit," he muttered under his breath. "Max, open the door."

But the apartment remained silent. No shuffle of footsteps. No sound from within.

Darren, who had been eyeing the window next to the door, looked up and scanned the apartment once more. The window had a clear view of the hallway and just a glimpse into the living room area.

He narrowed his eyes, taking in the scene. The apartment was clean—too clean.

The lights were on, but the place didn't feel lived-in. No signs of personal clutter or a mess. Max had always been a bit careless with his stuff, at least from what Darren had seen. But this? It was like someone had just tidied up, as if they were expecting visitors. Or maybe...

"Damn," Darren muttered, stepping back from the window. "The place is spotless. Looks like no one's been here for days."

Calloway frowned, turning back to the door. He was about to knock again when Darren added, "It's clean. Too clean. Something's not right, Calloway."

"Yeah," Calloway grunted, clearly frustrated. "I'm getting that feeling, too."

Darren's instincts were never wrong. Something was off. He couldn't explain it, but Max wasn't hiding in his own apartment—not like that

Just as Calloway was about to bang on the door again, the radio crackled. The sound echoed through the empty hallway, startling both of them for a moment.

"Unit 42, Unit 42, come in. We've got another murder scene. Reports of a brutal attack. Need backup immediately. Victim unknown. Nearest officers, please respond."

The voice on the radio was urgent, frantic.

"Shit," Calloway muttered, already reaching for the radio. "We're en route."

Darren glanced at him, eyes narrowing. He could hear the tension in Calloway's voice. This wasn't just a regular call. There was something in the dispatcher's voice that told Darren this wasn't just another murder.

"You think this is connected?" Darren asked, his voice low.

Calloway didn't answer immediately. His eyes were already on the road, calculating the fastest route to the scene. He slammed the radio back into its holder and grabbed the keys.

"I don't know," he muttered. "But I'm not taking any chances."

The two detectives hurried to the car, their minds already racing with questions. Another murder? The city was already on edge after the Red Floor Incident, and now this? It didn't add up.

As the engine roared to life, Calloway floored the accelerator, driving through the city streets with purpose. The sirens blared, cutting through the night like a warning to everyone on the road.

"Another one," Darren said, his voice tight. "You think it's the same person?"

Calloway's hands were steady on the wheel. He didn't look at Darren, his eyes focused on the road.

"Could be," he replied grimly. "But I have a bad feeling about this."

Darren shifted in his seat, turning his attention back to the road. He knew exactly what Calloway was thinking. Something was happening, something bigger than just a run-of-the-mill murder spree.

The Red Floor Incident had already shattered the city, leaving a trail of unanswered questions. Was this another ghost or something even worse? Had they stumbled upon a bigger conspiracy than they were ready for?