Detective Miller Novels & Stories

No. The department must be trusted. And the agency should send reliable people to work there. He closed all the windows with his mouse. - All open... you are a detective and you leave evidence like this? Maybe I do need a break. Without realizing it, he missed the slip of a criminal.

“It’s not even used to the fullest. If I were the killer, I would even put this to the face of the victim for mockery’s sake.” Jack cringed and looked horrified at his boss. “That’s disturbing, boss.” but Jack knew very well how his boss’ mind works; that is why he was able to solve so many cases while he was on the force. That is why he was considered one of the greatest detectives to ever work at the force, and that is why he looked up to Azrick Norton Tevyat to the point of following him into becoming a Private Investgator. He could not help but smile.

he muttered grimacing at the man tied up in the chair, writhing in pain "I wouldn't wanna be that guy" he added Spade just sighed out "what do you want Matteo"? He asked "Yeah right, That Miller kid, came looking for you" he muttered nonchalantly, making Spade to turn to face him immediately his ears heard the name. "What did you say"? He asked trying to contain his amusement and somewhat excitement "The Miller kid, the same one you asked me to get information on, he came by the club looking for you" he muttered facing Spade.

As I was passing the front door, my steps were abruptly stilled by the knocking that came from the other side of it. Moments later, and the last thing I expected to see when I swung the door open, was the sight of a man in a suit. His hair was perfectly combed and he held a briefcase in hand. About him was an air of authority as he inquired in a smooth voice, "Miss Mills?" At his question, I nodded, squinting against the brightness of the day as I peered at him. "Can I help you?" "My name is Richard Stevens," he replied. Afterward, extending his hand, he continued, "I'm an attorney representing the estate of the late Mr. Torin Montero."

It was a simple little cottage. Raven was just a simple girl working in a company, living in a small house from her earnings to the town. One day, that would change. One day, she'll move from the wretched Domsville, where every second was a risk. Nobody knows her as RD, except for her crew. Nobody knows anything about the murderer except for the fact that a tattoo of the two letters, RD, was permanently on his or her back. She let the police figure it out with a mistake.

"What!!" Belle yelled bewildered as she stood up abruptly from her seat. Jasper suddenly dropped his fork on the table as he turned fully to face the mirror. "Although, the FBI hasn't confirmed this information yet or even addressed it" "Anonymous pictures have been released in a place confirmed to be detective Jasper's house" "The pictures captured detective Jasper and the assassin to be in what could be considered as a conversation " she continued and just then the images of the screen changed to the pictures.

Cold and menacing. Then, at last he turned to Mila, not looking at me once and said, “I guess, I have you to thank for my dead father, little sister.” Little sister? I looked at Mila, who stared at him and then after a moment as if remembering something her eyes widened and a gasp left her lips. __ JEREMIAH's book is out!!! Now Released: TWISTED MARRIAGE- A DARK MMF MAFIA ROMANCE Check out my new books CAGED- A Dark Billionaire Captive Romance and His Broken Princess.

"I'm just sayin-" "Okay stop" I cut him off sharply. "With all due respect Detective Edwards, Detective Deckor is just doing his job. This man held a gun to my head! He's connected to Mia. If he speaks, I wont have death following me around me around with his evil stick or whatever it's called. So if you don't mind, let the man do his job." I ended, taking him by surprised. "And for the record, instead of treating Tristan like he's some inexperienced kid who will only be a burden, maybe try working with him because he's a damn great detective and a way better one than you in my book"

"W-We haven't figured that out yet." "That's a child in your kindergarten. How can you not know who he is?" David quickly ordered the teachers to check. While the officers weren't looking, Esther leaned in close to my ear again. "Eve, you'd better think carefully. If I go down, you won't walk away clean either," she uttered. My heart clenched. I turned to look at her. She was smiling eerily. "Your son gave his hoodie to someone else. That child died. Everyone thought it was your son. Don't you think people might start wondering what really happened?"

Inside Interview Room 4, the air was static—dry, recycled, and smelling faintly of scorched coffee. I sat on the edge of the metal chair, my fingers interlaced so tightly they had turned a waxy white. Across from me sat Detective Miller. He was a man of solid edges—square jaw, silver-rimmed spectacles, and hands that looked like they could crush a telephone book or cradle a wounded bird with equal ease. He had been "assigned" to my case four hours ago, right after I stumbled into the station, my clothes torn and my spirit shattered. "We’ve secured the perimeter near the park, Elena," Miller said, his voice a low, comforting rumble. He leaned forward, pushing a