Police Short Stories & Novels

When the murderer tortures me to death, my criminal investigator dad and chief forensic pathologist mom are cheering at my brother's match. The criminal saws off my tongue. He answers my Dad's call with my finger. Just before the call ends, Dad's cold voice cuts through. "Playing dead, huh? We should never have brought him back." The murderer chuckles mockingly. "Looks like I grabbed the wrong kid. I thought they'd care more about their real son." When Mom and Dad arrive at the crime scene later, they stare at the mutilated body in shock and rage at the murderer's cruelty. But they never realize that the broken, bloodied body is their biological son.

After I'm abducted, I call my mother, a policewoman, for help. However, she hangs up on me and stays by my adoptive sister's side. "Go to hell if you're so keen on it!" she snaps. I calmly watch as the abductors pluck my nails and torment me until none of my skin is left unharmed. In my past life, my mother actually came to my rescue. She left my adoptive sister by the roadside, and the latter ended up being violated and murdered. From then on, I became a criminal in my mother's eyes. She received an anonymous text on my adoptive sister's death anniversary. "I bet a good girl like you wouldn't want your mother to know you hired us to abduct you, right?" She thought I orchestrated the abduction because I wanted to vie for her attention. She thought that was the cause of my adoptive sister's death. "I've saved people all my life. I never would've expected my flesh and blood to be such a shameless monster! You should go to hell as atonement for killing Charlene!" She sewed my mouth shut, shattered every bone in my body, and threw my ashes into a junkyard. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back to the day my mother makes her choice.

My wife, Alayna Watson, is childish as ever even though we've been married for eight years. From time to time, she'll use her prank toys on me just to trick me. Oftentimes, I just toss the toys into the store without thinking much about them. A few days later, when I'm cleaning the house, I suddenly remember the box that Alayna has pranked me with, so I decide to throw it away. When I open the lid, I smell a foul odor wafting from within the box. A severed arm lies quietly there. I slump to the floor instantly out of alarm and shock. With trembling fingers, I manage to call 911. When the DNA results are out, the police officer shows a weird and conflicted expression. "Sir, the DNA we've extracted from this arm… belongs to Alayna Watson."”

At my engagement party, Flora—my adopted sister—grinned and said, "Warren's never been married, right? I should marry him first so he gets the hang of it. Sounds good?" Everyone was just waiting for me to fall apart. I didn't care about them. I cared about him. Warren laughed. "Let her have fun, Mia. Don't kill the vibe." I smiled. "Sure. But if it's about fun... one wedding won't cut it. "If you're gonna get married, make it forever."

The first year after Carter’s death, I was finally ready to try starting a new relationship. However, one quiet night, a he-wolf suddenly burst into my room. Without a word, he undid my clothes and pinned me to the bed…

Three years after my death, Matt Lewinsky meets another professional gold digger just like me. He's not easy to fool anymore. He plays along and catches our ringleader, Simon Hale. "Where's Natalia? She scammed me out of so much money. Who knows where she's enjoying herself now?" Simon blows out a puff of smoke, as if he has heard the funniest joke in the world. "Mr. Lewinsky, do you really have no idea? Natalia died a long time ago. Her whole face was slashed to pieces, and even after three of her fingers were chopped off, she still refused to hand over the Lewinsky family's secret key. "Our leader threw her into the snowy mountains to feed the leopards." Matt stands up abruptly and punches Simon in the face. "Stop covering for her! She didn't hesitate when she scammed me back then. Tell me! Where did you hide the key? Where is Natalia now?" Simon spits out some blood and laughs. "You're so damn stupid. You still think Natalia betrayed you? Then, that poor woman died for nothing. Yes, she was one of us, but she never did anything to betray you. If revenge is what you want, you should go after your fiancée." Matt's pupils constrict sharply. "What do you mean…" Before he can finish speaking, his bodyguard pushes open the door. "Mr. Lewinsky, the police found a female corpse in the snowy mountains."

At sixteen, I found Owen Hughes in the slums. He was covered in blood—but he stepped in front of me anyway. I thought he was a gift from fate. So I begged my father to keep him close. He became my bodyguard. My classmate. My husband. Ten years later, I learned the truth: it was all a trap. He was undercover. His mission—to take down my father, the mafia don. I walked away. Swore I'd never see him again. Six years passed. Then we met again. His eyes were wet. "Aubrey... is there still a chance for us?"

I quit and dipped. City threw a parade. Only Jenna Blake—my oh-so-gifted junior who claimed she could "see through killers' eyes"—lost it. At her celebration banquet, she went full drama queen: "I owe everything to Kate Mercer. Please, bring her back!" I laughed. Cold. Not happening. Last time around, I was the hotshot detective. But every clue I found? She dropped it first like she read my mind. People started saying I was washed. So I went all in—three months, no sleep, cracked a massive trafficking ring. Led the raid myself. She beat me there. Again. Place was cleaned out. Boom. She's the city's golden girl. I'm the clown with no game. Pressure got ugly. My head snapped. I died chasing the last scumbag. Then—bam. I woke up. Same day. Raid morning. Round two.

At 11:00 AM, my husband, Silas Vexille, slowly drowned in our indoor thermal pool. At the time, I was having my usual morning tea with the other mafia wives in the estate's back garden. The pool room was directly above the garden, barely a dozen feet away. Originally, if I had gone back to the main house at 11:00 as usual, I would have had plenty of time to save him. But as fate would have it, Victoria Harrison insisted on inviting us over to her nearby home to see her new pink diamond. At 11:20 AM, my daughter April and I pushed open the doors to the pool room. By then, Silas was already gone. At the lavish funeral, I was devastated, fainting several times. The mourners murmured in sympathy. "Don Vexille and his wife always had such a beautiful marriage..." "Yeah, what is she going to do now that the Don is dead?" Silas's mother, Martha—a tough woman who ran a Texas farm alone after her divorce—flew in overnight. Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, she walked straight up to me. Her expression was stone-cold, and she spat out every word: "You are the one who murdered my son."

On the day the country's most notorious serial killer, Henry Luther, is scheduled for execution, I personally escort him to the death chamber. Just before his sentence is carried out, he suddenly looks at me with pity. "The truth is, I only killed 17 people. I deserve to die, but you can't blame me for what happened to your medical examiner husband." The moment he mentions Victor Ashford, all my hatred comes rushing back. Three years ago, Victor served as the city's chief medical examiner. While protecting a crucial piece of evidence, he was stabbed dozens of times by Henry. I rushed back from another city overnight, only to find Victor's body mutilated beyond recognition. Overcome with grief, I began hemorrhaging and lost our baby when I was three months pregnant. For the next three years, I repeatedly risk my life hunting down Henry, determined to capture him myself and avenge Victor. Following an address Henry left behind, I track down a modest house. The moment I step into the yard, however, I freeze. Victor is standing there with his arms around his younger colleague, Colette Jennings, kissing her tenderly. Nearby, a two-or-three-year-old child sits on a swing. My mind goes blank. Just as I start toward them, someone grabs me from behind. It's my mentor, George Ryland. "Victor's happy now. For your own sake, let him go." I shove him aside and fire three shots into an empty patch of ground, my expression completely blank. "Victor Ashford, you're under arrest for suspected of bigamy. Come with me."

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!"

My mom couldn't forget about her first love at all, so she switched me with her first love's son when we were born. Thanks to her, I was forced to suffer during the first 20 years of my life before I finally got to reunite with my actual family and become a rich scion. When it's time for me to choose a wife, my top priority is to find myself a woman with a romantic history as clean as a sheet. Leah Hudson is that very woman. She's a police captain who's fearsome, intimidating, and isn't interested in men at all. But when I confess my feelings to her, she goes bright red in embarrassment. "Melvin, you're the first man I've gotten with, so you must take responsibility for me till the very end." I lap Leah's words up, thinking that I've finally met my true love. That is, until Dexter Caldwell, the fake scion, returns to the country. As I stand outside my new marital home, I witness Leah embracing Dexter while wailing. "Why did you tell me to lie to him? Why did you ask me to marry him? The thing is, Dexter, you're my first love!"

When I was sixteen, a criminal broke into our home, tortured and murdered my mother, then set the house on fire to destroy the evidence. I was there and saw everything. My father, my uncle, and the police asked me again and again what happened that night. I refused to speak. They thought the shock had left me unable to speak, so they gave me a pen and asked me to write down what the killer looked like. I still said nothing and made no move to write. Ten years later, I was twenty-six. My father and I fell out over my mother’s case. We went eight years without seeing each other. Then, out of nowhere, he came to see me. I came home from work to my rented apartment and opened the door. He and my uncle were inside, watching me with cold expressions. “Lynn, were you the one who killed your mother?”

Jocelyn Nicols was celebrated as the police department's genius detective. I'd spent ten quiet years at her side as her assistant, unnoticed by anyone. By her eighth year on the force, she still hadn't cracked the decade-old cold case that had haunted her career. "You know the rule," she told me. "I won't marry until this case is solved." I didn't say anything back. I just packed her bags for another out-of-town assignment and wished her a safe trip. What she didn't know was that the moment she finally cracked the case and became a household name across the country, I'd just received a notice from the hospital. It told me I was going to die.

There's a little shop downstairs that sells organ soup. It's always packed with customers. People line up as if bewitched, eager for a bowl. I've often wondered what secret ingredient made their soup so irresistible. This afternoon, I finally found my answer. Floating in my bowl was a piece of human skin—inked with a tattoo I knew all too well. It was the one etched on my boyfriend's arm.

Yvonne Sawyer had fallen for a sweet, innocent college guy. Everyone in Kingsport was waiting to see Jaxon Wilder get humiliated. Someone purposely asked, “Ms. Sawyer, you used to be so in love with Mr. Wilder that you nearly turned against your own family for him. How come you’re moving on to someone else?” Yvonne swirled the whiskey in her glass and gave a cold smile. “In love? He was nothing but my boy toy. I’ve had enough of him after all this time. Just looking at him annoys me.” Jaxon was on one knee as he helped a customer try on a new pair of shoes. Eventually, the rumors reached him. His fingers froze for a moment, and his jaw tightened slightly. But he kept smiling. The customer looked around to make sure they were alone before lowering his voice. “Officer Wilder, you’ve been undercover with Yvonne for two years, and you still haven’t found anything. She’s not in love with you anymore; why not walk away and return to the force?” The last trace of emotion in Jaxon’s eyes disappeared. He replied calmly, “There’s no rush. Her new relationship might be the breakthrough I need.”

My father was a hero cop, but I was a blemish to his shining resume as I was a delinquent who smoked, drank, and got into fights. Every time I tried to visit him at the precinct, he would slap me and tell me to leave in front of his colleagues. His fatherly love was all meant for Nana Smith, the daughter of his fallen comrade who was a paragon of good character and academic excellence. When Nana was kidnapped, he sent the entire city's officers after the kidnappers. When I was stabbed three times by some thugs and called him for help, he snapped at me, "Quit being a bother. The death of vermin like you is simply good riddance anyway." Even as I suffocated in agony, I lay in a pool of my own blood and sent him one last text. [Father, would you finally look at me twice if I end up a corpse?] He never replied. Then, three days later, the cops destroyed a major cartel hideout when my father found me, still holding on to evidence I had gathered against the cartel. That was when the madness started…

Detective Jack Malone stumbles into a nightmare when he raids an illegal biotech lab—only to find a silver-eyed woman, Subject 42, caged like an animal. Her name is Vesper, her memories fragmented by drugs, her calm demeanor unsettling. As Jack rescues her, he uncovers a web of corruption that reaches his own police force. A sudden tornado forces them into an underground shelter, where Vesper’s body betrays her: injected with experimental serum, she burns with unnatural heat, and Jack’s ethics shatter in the dark. But salvation twists into betrayal. Jack discovers Vesper is no victim—she’s the architect of the experiments, and he’s her chosen pawn. When she turns the tables, torturing him with his own guilt and the wreckage of his personal life, Jack must confront a harrowing truth: some monsters are made, not born. Their deadly dance culminates in a choice—vengeance or redemption—that will redefine justice, love, and the thin line between humanity and monstrosity. *Patient 42* is a dark, pulse-pounding thriller where desire and deception collide, and the most dangerous experiment is the human heart.

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.