My Policeman Kindle Novels & Stories

At least I said I loved them, I remember, reliving our last moments. ______________ I don't have to do anything but take you up there - he replies, but without being rude. The policeman is a well of tranquility. ______________ Change clothes. - Suddenly, I notice that the blood stained uniform is still on my body. The policeman points to a pile of clean clothes next to the railing. He turns his back, allowing me at least vague privacy. The clothes are simple yet fine and softer than anything else I own. dress. White shirt and black pants. There are shoes, too: a pair of knee-high boots. _____________ All right - I grumble, putting on the second boot. As soon as I close it, the policeman turn

He showed me his tongue and behaving childlike as if he was a big ogre baby, he hands me my fucking gun and my badge. My head is really shitty, he smiles and I thank him. “Thanks, man!” He bumps his fist on mine, in a masculine greeting and smiles clumsily. “I try to support my brother now that he’s becoming an old forgetful person.” I raise my middle finger in answer and run towards the Portland Police Station car, parked at our door. Traffic is fine, in twenty minutes I get to work. Peter Cumming, my only friend and one of the most competent policemen in the District, kindly gives me a cup of coffee with cream from BT Cake and throws himself in the chair in front of my desk.

"Now now Smith, do you not know that denial is the worst form of truth?" This time I was the one scowling. . . "I'm Colton Hastings, Andrew Hastings son. My dad had lent some books to Mr. Raul Aita and we were hoping you'd let us take them back." The fat policeman looked up from the hot dog he was eating. He wiped his mouth on an already dirty tissue and nodded, seeming completely disinterested. "Give the book names to Pete." He pointed to a young policeman who was inspecting the car garage. "He'll go in and get those books for you."

With trembling steps, I approached the policemen and paramedics, forcing myself to stay strong. "I'm sorry, who is it?" I asked in a trembling voice, though I almost dared not hear the answer. One of the policemen turned to me, his eyes showing compassion. "We can't be sure yet, ma'am," he replied carefully. "But we found this." The policeman showed me a wallet that looked partially charred. I scrutinized the burnt body closely, trying to look for any signs that might give me some reassurance. His posture seemed shorter than Enrick's, and as I got a little closer, I realized that it wasn't Enrick.

the officer said, smiling at me kindly. “Oh, thank you!” I smiled back, taking back my ID, concluding that the man was nice and sweet. It saw? It wasn't necessary to make all the fuss that Peter was making before until he reached the point of wanting to end the police officer's life, he was just a humble and friendly man who was concerned about doing his job. I would definitely say this to Peter when we were alone, so he would realize that going to extremes was not the solution to problems. But while I was swimming in my daydreams about good and just human beings, I saw the policeman scowling at Peter as he extended his hand to him. “You there, give me your ID!” He kind of demanded… his voic

“Sir, the driver in the Carol Jefferson incident, where is he now?” “Miss, he has been sentenced to death. He was drink-driving and killed that poor girl.” The policeman continued organizing some papers on his desk without looking up. “Are you sure?” Diana asked desperately. The policeman was growing impatient at her questioning. “Why would I lie? The man is a degenerate. He was only released from jail from a previous offense a few weeks ago, now he has done this.” After that, the policeman closed the small reception window, then walked away into a back office.

(Kendall's POV ) "What have I gotten myself into?" I muttered under my breath as I fidgeted at the sight of the policeman. At first, I thought Stephen was joking about his last statement but it turned out that he wasn't. "Just three seconds," he reiterated and smirked and he raised three fingers to show that he really meant it. Averting my eyeballs from him to the policemen who looked as though they were predators ready to hunt down their prey. "Good morning sir. Where is the thief?" asked the eldest policeman with a protruding belly and silence answered me.

Maybe he felt that it was inappropriate to go into other people's houses while he was covered in dust. “Do you mind if I smoke?” the leader asked again. He took a step back from Summer in a show of sensibility. Summer shook her head. ‘They aren’t coming in anyway. Smoking won’t be a big deal.’ “I’ve heard about what happened to Lydia.” The policeman who smoked the cigarette looked cool with his short hair. He narrowed his eyes and asked her coldly, “Heard of it?” Summer noticed that his tone sounded profound. She stretched out her hand for his licence. “I want to see your licence, Sir.”

Still seething, still gripping the wheel like I wanted to snap it, I heard a sharp knock on the car window. I turned. A policeman stood there, uniform crisp, face stern. Mtcheww. The day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

As I brought the car to a halt, I nervously glanced in the rearview mirror, only to find that the car that had been haunting my every move had mysteriously vanished, swallowed by the darkness of the night. With a touch of relief but still consumed by anxiety, I watched as a policeman emerged from the patrol car and cautiously made his way towards me. My heart continued its relentless tempo, and I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples as he motioned for me to place my hands firmly on the steering wheel. The mere gesture sent chills down my spine, further fueling the ember of apprehension within me. "Good evening, ma'am," the policeman greeted me, his tone polite but tinged with caution.