Detective Miller Novels & Stories

he had said, turning to face his colleagues. “I’m out of here” he had said, turning around and walking with purposeful strides away from where the group was sitting. As Miller walked towards the door of the room where they had been meeting that night, Rodriguez had reached into his pocket and brought out his 9mm beretta 92F pistol. “Miller!” Lisa had screamed, but her warning was a bit too late.

It was all his fault, not mine. “Doctor Ward is coming this afternoon.” Robert said when I didn’t respond much to his kiss. It had been a few days since Mr Price’s visit and Mahlia had confirmed that the FBI case against Robert was now fully dropped. We even got the great news that there were rumours that the FBI is now investigating the man who tipped them off about Robert, his arch nemesis Dennis Wright. Great news, but I wasn’t in the mood to be happy.

"And he has help. The detective from the original case. A woman with resources I didn't anticipate." A pause is on the other end from the one who’s listening. "Handle it," Gerald Miller says. "Quietly. The way we handled it before." He hangs up, sets the newspaper down, and picks up his coffee. Outside the mansion walls and across whatever distance separates us from the man who destroyed both our families, the heart in my chest beats steady. It doesn't know about Gerald Miller. It doesn't know about the break-in or the offshore accounts or the calm voice giving orders in a leather chair.

Diane’s POV I stare at the man in front of me, frozen in shock. He looks nothing like the polished, confident figure I met at the hotel. Today he’s shabbily dressed, cap pulled low, dark shades shielding his eyes — a ghost of the person who slipped me that paper at the hotel lobby. “Umm…” My mind races, a thousand questions colliding all at once. I thought I’d know exactly what to say but here I am. “I’ve been digging into the Miller case,” I finally say quietly. “ I found some serious discrepancies. You were the investigative journalist airing a lot of the details back then, so I decided to come find you.”

They had demanded to be let into the property and it wasn't until they both showed their police badges did the security guard have no choice but to let them inside the estate. “Remember the plan, Baxster. Nothing can go wrong with the plan.” Paulo cautiously informed his friend who was also a cop like him. They bumped into the major, who was the bodyguard of the estate. “What are you two doing here?” The major questioned. “We are detectives, and we have come here regarding the disappearance of Jack Miller. A source had informed us that he's being held here against his will.” Paulo answered skillfully. “Then you must have been informed with the wrong information. Jack Miller isn't being held

The perfect life with Jenna Grabbing his travel mug of coffee, and his briefcase he heads to his unmarked car. His very first pay check ten years ago, he went and bought this car and it’s still going. When he got to the station and checked his voicemail, there were five new messages, all from the family of the victims from the murder drug scene he worked a month ago. They’re understandably hurt, shocked and desperate for answers, and they're calling to see if he had any leads or evidence.

He practically saved me from an outburst, really. His gaze flitted between me and the concerned faces surrounding me. "Excuse me, ma'am. Are you Fairchild?" I bet it was easy to decipher who I was from the others. I probably looked like shit right now. All battered up and weak. I managed a shaky nod, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. “Y- yes, you are.” "I'm Detective Miller," he introduced himself with a voice gentle, yet firm. "We need to take your statement about what happened. Do you think you’ll be able to answer a few questions?”

Detective Miller finishes taking notes and closes his notebook. "Well, I think that covers everything for now. Hopefully, we'll have some concrete results in a few days." "Thank you for your time." Just then, the man's radio crackles to life, and he answers immediately. "This is Detective Miller." "Miller, I need you to return to the station immediately. We found large quantities of drugs hidden in the victim Ramon Mercier's vehicle." The voice comes through the radio clearly, and the officer looks directly at me as the words sink in.

He looked at the stain and then back at me, his eyes wide and manic. I didn't flinch. I turned my head slightly toward Rocco. "Did you make findings on him?" "Yes," Rocco said, stepping into the circle of light, his arms crossed over his chest. "His name is Miller. He’s a deep investigator—one of the best in the field. He isn't from around here, Boss. He’s from the Western Region. He crossed three pack territories just to get to this city." I looked back at Miller. The West... that meant he was thousands of miles from his home.

"Ms. Vale? Mr. Sterling?" Miller’s voice cut through the low hum of the diner’s refrigerator. He slid into the booth next to Roman, his overcoat smelling of rain and tobacco. He didn't look like a detective who had just spent twelve hours reviewing bank logs; he looked like a man who had just won a small bet and was waiting to collect his winnings. "You see the noon broadcast?" Miller asked, nodding toward the television where a legal analyst was now breaking down Roman’s technical testimony from yesterday. "We were just talking about it," I said, leaning forward, my elbows resting on the sticky laminate table. "They’re changing the story, Miller. I don't see my old modeling photos on the sc