Best Crime Fiction Novel Novels & Stories

He's white snowy hair gelled backwards,lips held in a tight purse and facial expression almost unreadable He's walking steps light but yet could make someone hold their breaths He's right hand assistant;Tikka dressed in a black leather jeans and black jacket held a pillow carrying a pistol. Immediately he stepped into the room, Lewis yanked the pistol and with astonishing accuracy shot a man on the head "Boss "Tikka muttered sliently. She's not surprised he killed without a second thought After all He's Lewis Flyheart;the most ruthless mafia in the whole country. He's the CEO of Flyheart empire but yet he's freaking dangerous. He's family background;unknown

The teacher scolds us both, but all I can hear and see is his smile. He fixed me, he’s my serotonin, my very own drug. My feeling for him feels illegal, but he’ll still be my favorite crime. “Mr. Alex Sheperd and Mr. Conan Gray, this is not the time for chit chatting, now answer my question or you’ll meet the principal. “ We faced each other with a smile on our faces. We grabbed our bags and willingly took our punishment. This shocked our professor as he stopped talking until we left the room. We didn’t answer his question, it’s not like we could answer it anyway.

Yeah, he'd learned to practice patience, but dealing with the police while they questioned Betty had just about driven him to the edge of reason. He opened the car door for her, holding her elbow as she climbed in. Daylight had waned, and the parking garage was dimly lit, the sound of other hospital visitors echoing through the cement structures. Betty listened for other things. Furtive footballs on the pavement. The click of a gun safety being released. The slide of fabric or the soft huff is a breath. Someone had tried to kill Dan just a few weeks ago, and there was no reason to believe that person would be content to let him live. The road went quiet as he stepped around the car. The soun

Innocent victims put through suffering at the hands of the perpetuators who were currently free men and a menace to the city because of the numerous unsolved cases that were now piled up. That was why she felt so passionately about her job which was making sure those sick bastards were eventually locked up behind bars and their victims set free or at least their families got some closure in the case of murder. The crime rate had recently reached an all time high and the office of the FBI was flooded with unsolved cases and deep dark mysteries. Charlie Brown knew what was going through everyone’s minds - the sudden rise in crime in this city had to have something to do with one or all of the

The kind of smile you give when a chess game finally ends, and your opponent has walked straight into the trap you've set from the very first move. "Detective Bell." My voice was calm, almost gentle. "That recording… Doesn't it prove the killer poisoned those four, and then drank his own poison? Doesn't that sound like a guilty man taking himself out? "I don't understand why you all keep looking at me. From start to finish, I never did a thing. Just because Sharon suffered, just because I hated them for it, that makes me guilty? "I told you before. Yes, I hated them. But I'm just one woman. What could I really do?"

"Four hours, Wallace. Not a single 911 call. Not one smashed window. Not even a broken taillight by the canal." Wallace took a pull from his beer bottle and wiped his mouth. "And that's a bad thing?" "You know damn well it doesn't make sense," Moss said, leaning across the table. "Two days ago people were getting robbed in broad daylight. Now the whole west ward is acting like a church choir. It's too clean." "Come on, Moss," Wallace said, shaking his head. "Take the win. The radio is dead, Mick is off your back, and we don't have to write fifty burglary reports before midnight. The crime dropped. That's a good thing for normal people. Stop looking for ghosts."

He obviously loved thrillers as most of the books were made up with novels by Ian Fleming, Desmond Bagley, Hammond Innes, Ian Rankin, Michael Robotham and Alistair MacLean. My mobile sounded and I moved out on to the landing. Caller ID: Kimberley. “Hello, darling,” I said into the phone. “I need a drink,” she explained. “Bad morning?” “Ever since that break-in you investigated, Bio-Preparations insist on having an audit every month,” she said breathlessly. “Why have they got to have it on a bloody Saturday?” “You poor thing,” I said soothingly, feeling partially responsible. “So how about the Waggoner’s Rest?” She persisted. “I’ve just arrived back at the quay.”

But instead of producing the same drugs, Dakota’s strategy was to lessen the supply of the old drugs and produce new ones for the people who might prefer the new ones—and with this strategy, Dead Soul had always remained as the best gang for having the most powerful gangsters and most clients. Dakota stared out the window out of boredom since the place was still quite far. There was a coffee shop that looked familiar from afar as they got closer to it. It looked like a place that she had been to before—and she got her answer when she happened to find the particular person that she was trying hard to not think too much about for the past days in the coffee shop. “Stop the car for a sec,” she

Chapter Nineteen 19th January 2009 New York City, USA. He woke up six hours after he slept, and took off his pyjamas, and went to the bathroom to have his bath. He was fully awake by the time he stepped out of the shower. He opened his closet, and selected a black suit, with matching black shoes, he checked himself in the mirror, he looked like an ideal FBI agent, just like every other day. He picked up his briefcase, locked his front door, and set out for the office, he would not be visiting the gym for the next few days, not until he had gotten enough evidence to make sure that one of the biggest and richest criminals in the city of New York spends the rest of his life behind bars.

We always had to be available whenever it was required of us. “Sorry, we lost track of time,” Zayn apologized quickly, running his hands through his hair stressfully. Boss shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to waste any more time. “It better not happen again,” he muttered briefly, before cutting to the chase. “Anyway, there's been some mass murders in Manhattan lately. I'll need you two to investigate these, and do what you can to find out who was behind them.” “Fuck,” Zayn heaved. “Is there a pattern between them?”