Crime Books 2020 Novels & Stories

"How could you even think that about me? Yeah, I survived, but I was a victim, too. And now, just because of one photo, you're calling me a killer? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" I swallowed hard, my voice breaking. "I said I probably fell asleep around 10 PM. I never said I was sure. My head was spinning from the altitude, and I wasn't clear. And come on—I'm just one woman. How the heck could I take out five grown men?" Alex's stare locked onto my face. "Yeah… doesn't seem likely." Just then, the coroner walked in with a fresh report, the pages still smelling like ink. He handed it straight to Alex.

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He moves so fast I cannot even remember the faces of people I speak to. “Please,” I ask him “Slow down.” My feet ache and my muscles are sore. I have long since dropped the flowers on some random table, hoping silently they would burn and take the building and everyone in it. My fingers grasp onto a glass and I gulp down water quickly, my throat parched from flimsy small talk. The wedding will be in the papers. I can see the headline now- Two Crime Families Put Aside Differences; I knew the papers would sell quickly. Crime sold. I would know. My name had been in the papers since the day I was born thanks to my father. New York would tremble underneath me if I wanted it to. I dripped in cashm

“I’m supposed to kill him after he didn’t tell me about the drugs even after bribing him by taking him to his dream destination. But he’s so sexy and good at bed, so how could I kill him?” The green-haired woman pinched the bridge of her nose, wishing that she never answered Knives’s call. Wishing that she just stayed there in her car near Olivia’s condominium with her. Wishing that she never entered the world of crime if she would just end up listening to her rival talk about how sexy the head scientist of her drug supply operation was. “Are you even for real right now?” Dakota asked, exhaustion already evident in her voice as she closed her eyes. “Yeah. I hate how you never told me that he

Sherly listened attentively as the reporter's voice filled the vehicle, detailing the recent events in the ongoing mafia conflict. "The latest reports indicate that the long-standing rivalry between the Vile Mafia and the Rui Lin Mafia has reached a violent climax," the reporter announced gravely. Sherly looked out of the window, as she already knew its content. "In a decisive battle earlier today, the Rui Lin Mafia emerged victorious, effectively dismantling the Vile Mafia's hold on the city."

She knew most people never committed the same crime exactly, but there was always something that didnÕt differ, no matter how many times the perpetrator struck. She was looking for those similarities now. Maybe there wasnÕt a car involved, but the way the body had been displayed might be the same. Or the word that was carved into her victimÕs chest. She combed through the twenty or so cases that popped up, comparing notes until she was able to separate the few that stood out. Of the twenty cases, five had been solved. Four had suspects, and eleven were still pending. Out of the eleven six matched closely to hers, the only problem is that they were scattered around, and some, especially the f

From getting kidnapped or killed like Christoffer and the Edwin girls. Sheriff Issac's son Cyrus Issac has been getting involved in the crimes of Goldfinch. Even though his father Sheriff Issac has told him millions of times not to get involved, he never listened. He and his best friends, Jackson, Alice, and Sally. They always got involved in crimes. They were kids that investigated crimes. Or as they liked to be called, teen detectives. Even though they have been involved in almost every crime, this one was deeper and more dangerous. And even though they have been told repeatedly not to get in this one, they always have. They never stop. No one stops them. Except for one man, The Silent Man

“There are a few volumes in the world so important that their existence is not public knowledge. These are passed down through generations, held by a network of rare occult bookkeepers. These are volumes they don’t want the public to get a hold of, volumes they would never admit they had. I doubt any library or university would have one. And I doubt any rare bookshop would have any edition officially on record. But that doesn’t mean they don’t have it. You would just need to come to them with the right credentials.” “So are you saying that the other copy definitely exists?” she asked, her heart beating. “I’m not saying there is—I’m saying there is a chance. And if anyone has it, it would be

The crime architect hadn’t just built the crime, he had demolished the evidence. Clinton suggested that they go solo on the case- no lawyers, no official channels, and no paper trail that could alert the wrong people. According to him, the truth they were looking for wouldn’t be found in court records or legal archives. It would be buried in plain sight, scattered across old newspaper pages and forgotten television reports from that period. If there were inconsistencies, that was where they would surface.

Shrewsbury The Third Twin: A Dark Psychological Thriller by Darren Speegle Aletheia: A Supernatural Thriller by J.S. Breukelaar Where the Dead Go to Die by Mark Allan Gunnells and Aaron Dries Sarah Killian: Serial Killer (For Hire!) by Mark Sheldon The Final Cut by Jasper Bark Blackwater Val by William Gorman Pretty Little Dead Girls: A Novel of Murder and Whimsy by Mercedes M. Yardley Nameless: The Darkness Comes by Mercedes M. Yardley