Police Face Slapping Short Stories & Novels

After being apart for three years, I met my ex-girlfriend, Serena Jensen, during a police operation. She was the ambitious detective in charge, while I was a murder suspect who had escaped across eight states. When our eyes met, Serena was momentarily stunned. "Channing Jones... How could it be you..." I seized the moment and turned to run, but one of her men struck my shin. In the interrogation room, she yelled at me with reddened eyes. "Four lives are lost! Channing, how could you do such a thing? Tell me I was mistaken! Speak! Say something!" When I looked at her heartbroken eyes, I suddenly smiled. "You are indeed mistaken. It is not four, but five. Do you not care most about your husband and my former best friend, Myles Sheldon? How come you do not even notice he is missing?"

Three years after I landed on the wanted list, all 88 pieces of my dismembered corpse were thrown in front of the police station. After the forensics team put my body together, they identified my body as Julian Colt, the fiancé of the Organized Crime Department, Captain Kyra Schneider. Everyone, from elders in their eighties to young children, wanted me to see justice because not only had I betrayed Kyra and her team, but I had also publicly joined the criminal organization and become the lover of its leader. I was fired from the police force and hated by my loved ones. Kyra hated me the most, and she used the most cruel method of retrieving my memories to be broadcast to the world. On judgment day, the city square was filled with spectators, but when my memories were retrieved, along with the huge word 'innocent' splashed on it, everyone went crazy. "Traitor! A man like him should have been executed." "The evidence clearly points to his guilt. How is he innocent? Everyone knows how he helped the criminal organization to kill numerous police officers!" "Don't be tricked by him! He must have altered those memories!"

Everyone in the underworld knows that Alessio Muratori is a womanizer through and through. Yet, I love him more than anything in the world. Therefore, it isn't surprising that everyone expects me to cry and crawl back to him when I threaten a divorce after he brings home his mistress. When Alessio signs the divorce papers without so much as flinching, he lets out a mocking laugh. "So, what is it you want this time? Cash? That beach house?" Neither. This time, I move to a new city, change my name, and start a brand-new life. Three years later, I see him again at a club. With a champagne flute in hand, I calmly nod at him in acknowledgment. He's caught off guard for a second. Eventually, he approaches me and stuffs an embossed room key card into my hand. "You've finally gotten over it. Are you here to win me back? Just wait for me in my suite tonight." Unfazed, I turn him down. "I'm afraid I won't be there. If my husband finds out, he's probably not going to let you off the hook." After all, my husband, Luca Lombardo, has been on his case for three years. The goal is to bring him to justice.

While a killer was dismembering me, my father was busy throwing a coming-of-age party for my adopted younger sister. When I called him for help, all I heard on the other end of the line was his venomous voice. "What kind of act are you putting on this time? If you want to die, hurry up and do it! Just stay out of my sight!" The next day, Dad went back to the police station to investigate a dismemberment case that had shocked the entire city. He gathered every clue the killer had left behind. What he never once suspected was that the body being pieced back together belonged to the biological daughter he hated so much.

Fed up with my neighbors constantly freeloading off my Wi-Fi, I decide to change the network name to "Invincible Wall-Piercing Baby Killer". The next day, the woman next door—pregnant with triplets—collapses outside my apartment, clutching her stomach. "Who told you to change your Wi-Fi name? Don't you know that by changing it, I'd miscarry my triplets?" The whole family has lost their minds, I tell myself. After all, how can changing the name of a Wi-Fi network possibly affect an unborn baby, let alone three of them? A week later, her burly husband shows up at the entrance of our apartment complex, eyes bloodshot. He holds three ultrasound scans in one hand and a surgical report for a miscarriage in the other. "Murderer!" he shouts at me. "Your damn Wi-Fi signal went through the walls and killed my three unborn babies!" They start livestreaming on TikTok. They weld my front door shut, then, in front of more than a million viewers, hold up an "expert report" claiming that electromagnetic radiation has caused the miscarriage. "Enjoy spending the rest of your life behind bars, murderer!" My girlfriend of five years is doxxed. She can't take the harassment anymore and jumps off a building. Although she ultimately survives, she's left in a permanent vegetative state. I become the target of a nationwide hate campaign. Not only do I lose my job, but I also have to sell my home. I'm saddled with crushing compensation that I'll be paying off for the rest of my life. To atone for my so-called crime, I work construction day and night just to support my neighbors' family. In the end, I lose my footing on the scaffolding and fall to my death. Even as I die, I still can't understand how changing the name of a Wi-Fi network can make someone miscarry. When I open my eyes again, I return to the very day it all begins.

During the dinner rush, the lobby of Aurelia Heights suddenly exploded into chaos. A woman from one of the penthouse duplexes stormed downstairs and blocked my delivery scooter. “Everyone, come look at how disgusting this delivery guy is!” With that, she threw a half-spilled bowl of lobster bisque at my feet. In her other hand, she held up what she claimed was surveillance footage. The residents walking their dogs and the security guards nearby immediately gathered around. “No wonder my takeout has been smelling weird lately. So these delivery drivers have been spitting in our food to get back at us?” “That’s disgusting. Guys like him can’t stand seeing other people doing better than they are. No wonder he’s stuck delivering food for a living.” “Management really needs to be stricter. People who dress like that could be carrying who knows what. How can you let them into a luxury building like ours?” The penthouse lady grew even more smug. She pointed right at my nose and snapped, “Young man, there’s nothing wrong with being poor. But at least have some dignity.” “How much do you even make per delivery? Five dollars? Is that worth throwing away your conscience over? Is this how your parents taught you to behave?” To curry favor with the residents, the head of security even came at me with a baton, shouting that he was going to drag me to the police station himself. But the thing was, I had never cared about that five-dollar delivery fee in the first place. I was the captain of the city's Major Crimes Unit. The delivery uniform was just a disguise. I was only here to get close to the high-priority fugitive hiding inside this building. The penthouse lady’s husband.

An hour before the SATs, our homeroom teacher suddenly had a medical emergency. Before he was rushed away, he handed the folder containing everyone's admission slips to Leo Jordan—the notorious, pretty-boy troublemaker at school. Thirty minutes before check-in closed, he still hadn't shown up. By then, the rest of us were standing outside the exam center, completely freaking out. Without that folder, none of us could get in. I rang his phone until he finally picked up. I begged him to hurry and bring the folder over. Everyone was still waiting for him outside the exam center, after all. He scoffed on the other end. "Just because you're at the top of the class doesn't mean you get to boss me around. I'm getting tattooed right now, and I'm not leaving until it's done." I nearly lost my mind. There was no time to argue. I grabbed a few guys from our class, and we ran nearly two miles to the tattoo store. By the time we got there, the artist was finally finishing the last bit of color on the huge dragon covering Leo's back. I thought, 'Thank God. We can finally grab the folder and go.' Just then, Leo stood up. He unbuckled his belt and yanked his pants down, revealing his hairy legs. "What's the rush?" he said. "We haven't even started on my legs yet." He turned back to the tattoo artist nonchalantly. "Okay, the dragon and tiger are done. The legs are next. Put Bugs Bunny on one leg and Lola Bunny on the other. They're my favorite couple."

A rival pack invaded, plunging our pack into the worst crisis we had ever faced. The witch, Morgana Vale, said that only a blood sacrifice could save the entire pack. So despite my anemia, I was dragged onto the altar. Morgana slit my wrist, and the moment my blood dripped onto the totem, the ritual began. When the bleeding got to be more than I could take, I tried to call it off, but my mother stopped me cold. "Sweetheart, hold on a little longer. You're the Alpha's daughter. Making a small sacrifice for the pack is only right. It's just a little blood. It won't kill you." I gritted my teeth and held on, my heart pounding like it would burst. The ritual lasted from morning until dusk, and my blood never stopped flowing. "Mom, I really can't take it anymore." My face was ghost-white, and my vision was starting to blur. But she just gave my bloodless face a cold glance. "Sacrificing for the pack is an honor. Being the Alpha's daughter doesn't mean you get to shirk your duty. I did not raise you to be selfish." By midnight, everything went black, and I collapsed on the altar. I'm sorry. I failed to do my duty. I'm sorry, Mother. I let you down.

My cousin, Leroy Huff, is bringing his new girlfriend, Jodie Collins, home for the first time ever. At the dining table, everyone chats with each other animatedly. Suddenly, Jodie stares at my face intensely before pretending to be shocked. "Have I seen you before, Isabelle? You're a member of a high-class escort group, aren't you? I've seen your price list on the group chat's photo album before. I think… you were charging only 200 dollars per night, right?" After she's done speaking, she pretends to cover her mouth while looking all pure and innocent. All noise and chatter fade away instantly. My relatives turn to look at me in disdain. "She looks so prim and proper at first glance, but to think that she's actually involved in such business…" "You bring nothing but shame to the Huff family! Don't ever tell anyone else that you know us!" Enraged, my dad smashes his wine glass. Meanwhile, my mom just wipes her tears away quietly. But I dab my mouth with a napkin slowly before shooting Jodie a half-smile. "It's normal for you to think of me as familiar-looking. After all, I'm a member of the vice squad. Last month, I just arrested you after a stakeout."

I was the prime suspect in the notorious murder of my parents-in-law in Cardinal City. The one who arrested me was my wife—Linda Reese, the police chief. While the verdict was still pending, the killer struck again. The new victim was murdered with the same savage cruelty. Linda knelt before me, begging me to tell her the truth. I told her I didn’t know. The victims’ families screamed, demanding that I be carved into pieces. Three months later, Linda found me beside a garbage bin, bringing with her a memory-decoding device. Her hands trembled as she pressed two thin needles into my temples. “I’m sorry, Finn. I know you’re not the killer. I just want this slaughter to end. I don’t want anyone else to die. Let everyone see your memories—let them see what really happened back then.” But when she finished watching my memories, she collapsed to the ground, utterly broken, and fell to her knees.