Detective Matthews Novels & Stories

“My penthouse address, she might need it.” The morning sun hadn’t fully risen, but Jeff and Fred were already seated in the same position, eyes glued to their laptops. Coffee mugs sat untouched, the steam long gone cold. The signal from the hidden phone was weak, barely a pulse, but it was there. It gave them something to hold on to. Then the door opened quickly. “Good day, Mr. Jeff. Hey, Fred.” It was Mathew. Fred stood. “You’re here. Thank God.” Jeff nodded once, barely acknowledging. “Fred, this is Mathew. He's one of the best at tracking digital footprints. We need an extra hand.”

Just as I made to speak to Sergei, a voice came from behind. “Mr Ivanov. I’d say it's a pleasure but we both know I’d be lying.” I sighed. “Fucking fantastic.” We all turned to see a man approaching. Tall, lean, cropped hair and sharp hazel eyes that had a look of warning in them. Decked out in police uniform, his badge flashing as he approached. Officer Matthew Brooks. One of Manhattan's most corrupt cops. He never missed out on an opportunity to tuck a little extra cash into his coffers. In exchange for “burying evidence.”

In those four years in prison and these past months serving Amelia— how much had she suffered? My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone and dialed Mia’s number. The speaker answered with a cold, mechanical voice— “The number you have dialed does not exist.” My strength drained away. I collapsed to the floor. …Did Mia abandon me?

His gaze flicked briefly toward Claude, still unsure what role he might have in all of this. "Since you insist, I won’t hold back," Dylan replied, a slight smile playing on his lips as he motioned for Desmond, standing behind him, to step forward. Desmond quickly stepped forward, handing a brown envelope to Matthew. "Mr. Matthew, my boss, Mr. Wright, couldn’t bear to see you, at your age, still kept in the dark about certain things. He had me conduct an investigation—please take a look." Matthew took the envelope, and as he skimmed through its contents, he nearly collapsed from shock.

"You're insane," he spat. "You're a sick, twisted psychopath."Matthew chuckled, a dry, rattling sound that echoed in the sterile room. "Perhaps. But I would have done anything for her. Anything."The confession sent a shiver down King's spine. He stared at Matthew, his mind reeling, trying to grasp the depth of his delusion. It was a darkness he couldn't comprehend, a twisted obsession that had consumed a man's soul."And the others?" King asked, his voice barely a whisper. "What did they have to do with this?""Pawns," Matthew said, his eyes glittering. "Tools to achieve my goal. They believed they were using me, but it was the other way around. They were all expendable."The pieces of the puz

"Of course we do, but you think I have the time to keep tabs on every Tom, Dick, and Dante who walks through those doors?" "You seem awfully nonchalant about this. Considering your connections and resources, I find it hard to believe you're in the dark." Agent Matthews' lips twitched, a subtle indication of his frustration. "Well Agent, if you're so sure I was behind Dante's disappearance, then please, go ahead and arrest me," I said, lifting both of my wrists in surrender so he could cuff them. Agent Matthews stared at me, his hound-like persistence still unwavering. "Arresting you might not be the solution, but I'm more than willing to go through the proper legal channels to get the infor

Nathan had brought in the company pieces, and when he saw the two men standing by the door, he thought they had had another argument, so he didn't dare say anything for a while. Matthew took the piece he was holding and looked at Serena, "Follow me to the den." Serena pursed her lips, knowing the man was going to ask about small children, and followed him anyway. Matthew turned on the computer and punched in a series of codes, and thousands of strings of data interspersed with English and Arabic numerals appeared, flashing constantly on the screen. Matthew's hacking skills were strong, Serena let out this heartfelt exclamation. And I don't know how he did it, but he actually pulled up the su

This time, Matthew finally handed me the brown envelope. “This is more than that, Laird. Trust me.” I had known Matthew since we were in Harvard Law School, specifically in the criminal law class. Funny enough, Matthew was more interested in becoming a private detective than in staying a young prosecutor. He always said that his brilliant analytical skills could even crack the lottery system, but I called it gambling addiction. Anyway, Matthew was indeed an expert in analysis and digging up information. To put it bluntly, he was good at tailing people and finding information gaps. He had a knack for influencing people to give him information, and he used his eyes accurately and meticulously.

"9544 Detective Matthews on dispatch. 10-65. BOLO for a brown haired woman wearing a Burn's Bar waitress uniform, 5'4, and wears glasses. Last known location was at Burn's Bar." A static voice replied on the walkie-talkie. "10-4." While Detective Shawn Matthews was giving out orders, Tessa had an intrusive thought: a vision of the dark alley that was a couple of meters away from the bus stop. She wiped her tears away and composed herself. "Excuse me, Detective Matthews? I think I know where she is." Detective Matthews stared at her for a full minute, not exactly sure how she would know since she w

she asked, confusion laced in her voice. Matthew sighed, resting his arms on the table. "I've been investigating your mother’s death for years. Every time I get close to something, I hit a dead end. And that dead end? It always leads back to your family." He explained. Jessica’s breath caught in her throat. Her mind began racing, piecing together the possibilities. What if the person responsible has been living under the same roof with me all along? Suspicion began forming in her mind. 'Could it be Renata,' Jessica thought.