Detective Miller Novels & Stories

I grabbed the lip balm and applied some to my lips before making my way down the stairs again. It was wrong of me to leave Valeria alone in the living room like this space belonged to her. It was time I stopped disappearing behind closed doors. As I stepped down the last stair, my gaze rose to Valerie who was sitting on the couch, and then at the TV screen. Looking at screens was not good for me. It was final. Because like yesterday, there was another horrible news slamming its fist in my face. Aaron Miller missing. The Miller family filed a complaint when someone left a bloodied ring outside their house. The DNA tests proved that the blood belonged to Aaron. The son of the prominent busines

Legal structures were changed trusts rewritten, assets moved and who benefited from those changes Samuel Miller. I sit back down slowly. “So you didn’t just inherit,” I mutter to the empty room. “You took it.” My phone buzzes on the desk it’s Mark, the forensic accountant. I answer immediately. “Tell me you found something.” “I did,” he says. “You are not going to like it.” “Try me.” “The Miller company used to belong almost entirely to Victor Miller.” I glance down at the report in front of me. “That matches what we found.”

Through the window, Ella could see a figure standing on the porch—a man, middle-aged, dressed in a suit that looked out of place in their small beach town. Xander opened the door. "Can I help you?" The man held up a badge. "Detective Miller. I'm looking for Ella Reynolds." Ella's blood ran cold. She was out of bed and at the door before Xander could stop her. "I'm Ella." The detective studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he held up a file folder, thick with papers. "Your father's death. William Reynolds." He paused. "We've found evidence that suggests it wasn't an accident."

The man standing behind him looked younger with at least twenty years gap, they almost looked like father and son. “Good afternoon, I am Detective Mikson and this is my assistant Warwick and I am the detective working on the Murders in the Miller hotel but it turns out it is not only the hotel but even a company building. Where next Mr Miller? Your house? The King's house?” The detective inquired with a hint of amusement and seriousness and his assistant who was standing behind him also chuckled without looking at the Millers as they were standing to Lydia side by side.

"Detective Kaito Miller, new transfer." A man in a sharp, well-fitted suit approached, his gaze sliding past Ian and locking onto Zhedya with clear interest. "You must be Mr. Hunter. Your... dedication to civic duty is noted." Zhedya turned on the charm, a modest, polished smile gracing his lips. "Just a concerned citizen, Detective Miller. It's a pleasure. It's a true relief to know a man of your reputation is on the case. I read about your work dismantling that syndicate in New York. Truly impressive."

"I've handed the documents over to Officer Miller." "Officer Miller is an experienced cop. He's very efficient." "Officer Miller seems experienced, serious, and dedicated. Given his age, he's still a basic-level officer, which shows he's principled and doesn't rely on connections." "You're wondering how I know him, aren't you?" I smiled but didn't reply. "Ms. Middleton has made progress. You've learned to probe indirectly." Me: "..." "Officer Miller was the one who investigated Joey's case back then."

The handcuffs were heavy, a constant, chilling reminder that her world had flipped upside down in a matter of hours. Across from her sat Detective Miller. He didn't look like a movie villain; he looked like someone's tired uncle, leaning back in his chair with a soft, practiced smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Miller leaned forward, his chair legs scraping against the floor - a sound that made Olivia’s skin crawl. He placed a thick folder on the table between them, tapping it gently with a rhythmic, irritating thud. "You’re a remarkably quiet young woman, Olivia," Miller said, his voice a low, friendly purr. "Most people in your shoes are talking a mile

~ Adrian ~ “Is this all of them?” I asked. My voice sounded like dry parchment rubbing together. I didn’t look up from the mahogany surface of my desk. Miller, my head of security, stood perfectly still. He was a man I paid to be a ghost, a professional shadow in a world of high-gloss surfaces and higher-stakes lies. He nudged a manila envelope toward me. It slid across the polished wood with a soft, mocking hiss. “The latest from the sweep, sir. Found on the device we recovered. High-resolution, long-distance. They never knew they were being watched.”

I frowned at him in curiosity. "Go on, take a look." He urged, making reach out for the envelope. My heartbeat instantly went up, when I opened it to see pictures, pictures of a dead man in a body bag. It was the same man from two weeks ago with a huge, gaping hole on his forehead. I instantly recognized him and it made my blood run cold. "Malcolm Leroy." Detective Miller said, making me look back up. "Convicted on many occasions for murder, rape, assault and arson charges. Was definitely on top of our wanted list, until..." He trailed off, sipping his coffee and looking me in the eyes like he was searching for some truth.

Pathetic. Even dying, he was weak. The smell hits me then. Copper and something else. Something final. I press my palm against my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. Not here. Not now. I have work to do. Focus, Jessica. Think. I grab a towel from the bathroom and wipe the letter opener clean. My fingerprints. DNA. Evidence. The police shows I watched in prison taught me enough to know I can't be sloppy. Miller's phone buzzes on the dresser. I snatch it, scrolling through his contacts. Mostly burner numbers and fake names. Smart boy, even if he was stupid enough to betray me. The screen shows seventeen missed calls from someone labeled "Boss."