Peter Hale Novels & Stories

From news articles, television interviews, political discussions, and court rulings. My stomach drops. "No." Eleanor remains silent. "No." This time, the word comes out louder. David Hale. Current Chief Justice of the Federation. The son of former Lakebridge Police Commissioner and later Chief Justice Richard Hale. The man famous for prosecuting organized crime networks. The family practically built their reputation fighting corruption. My pulse begins hammering. "You're joking." "I'm ninety years old." Her expression doesn't change. "I stopped joking decades ago." I stare at her, then I stand, then sit again because my legs feel unreliable.

“He’s here. He is qualified for the job, and he’s had his own past in a world with men like Lorenzo.” “Bring him in.” She opened the door wider. A man entered with the kind of stillness that clears a room. Tall. Dark hair, neatly kept. A charcoal suit that didn’t announce itself and a gaze that did, cool, attentive, unhurried. He stopped at a polite distance, as if measuring the space between us and deciding not to invade it. “Mrs. Blackthorn,” he said, nodding once. “Elias Gray. Thank you for accepting me in your firm. Ms. Vale told me that you needed a lawyer as a second advisor to your lawyer.”

"Well, we can only validly come to the conclusion when an investigation has been properly conducted. Until then, we should find a way to get Ezra to calm down and to also keep him away from the public to decrease any reason for suspicion." "What suspicion are we talking about here?" A voice came through from the entrance, grabbing all our attention. I stretched my neck to see who it was. It was Hale, popularly known as the Blood Investigator. He walked in with so much confidence that one would have easily concluded he owned the house. Father stood up and so did everyone else. Behind Hale were a few more vampires who worked with him. "Hale," Father called out gently. I stood up as well since

Emma sent back. She went back to the Webster file and worked until her phone rang at ten fifteen. An unknown number. She answered. "Ms. Parker." A man's voice. Smooth and careful. "My name is Gregory Hale. I am senior counsel at Pinnacle Entertainment Group." Emma's hand tightened slightly on the phone. "Mr. Hale," she said. "I understand you are representing Raines Webster in a claim against our company," Hale said. "I am calling as a professional courtesy to discuss whether there is a path toward early resolution that might serve both parties."

She wasn’t wrong. I spent the first two days of the seven reading everything Petra had on Hale. Property records. Financial structures. Known associates. I built a picture of him the way you build a picture of weather. Not from one cloud but from the pattern of them. Where things moved. Where things stopped. Where the gaps were. The gaps were interesting. There was a eighteen month period two and a half years ago where Hale’s personal spending dropped significantly. Not his business spending. That continued normally. But his personal accounts went quiet in a specific way. Like someone redirecting money somewhere they didn’t want tracked.

Something older and more complicated than that. “Catherine Hale,” he says. Nobody speaks. The name sits in the room like something that has been waiting a very long time to be said out loud. And underneath the kitchen island, out of sight, my hands are not entirely steady. Because Catherine Hale is Patricia Hale’s sister. And Patricia Hale signed an NDA with Victor Blackwood six years ago. And this is no longer a conspiracy that started fourteen months ago. This started long before any of us were looking.

"The authentication request listed the witness by full name for verification purposes. Our man inside the registry copied it before the file was sealed." "Who is it," I said. A pause that lasted exactly one second too long. "Edmund Hale," the voice said. "Former record keeper for the northern Alpha registry. Retired twelve years ago." I stopped walking. Edmund Hale. I had not heard that name in over a decade and I had been perfectly content never hearing it again. He was a small and careful man who had worked in the registry for thirty years, processing documents, maintaining records, never drawing attention to himself. I had assessed him twice during the Vale period and both times concluded

Roman stood near the window, two investigators waiting beside him, a file already resting on the table. “Sit down,” Roman said. “I’d rather stand.” He nodded and gestured for the investigator to continue. The man opened the file. “Her name is Margaret Hale.” The name meant absolutely nothing to me. “I don’t know anyone by that name.” “Margaret Hale is the widow of Gerald Hale,” the investigator said, and the room went quiet in a way that made my skin prickle. “Gerald Hale,” I repeated slowly. Cole looked at me carefully. “Does that name sound familiar?”

He had seen it years ago in an old police file—the same photograph detectives had shown him after Sarah's murder. Ethan slowly sat up in bed. His breathing became faster. "It can't be…" Then he remembered the name. Richard Hale. His eyes widened. "No…" The memories rushed back all at once. "If Richard Hale is here…" He looked toward the window, his face filled with fear. "…then Sarah's killer is much closer than I ever imagined."

Hoping she wouldn't suffer any harm from the attack. One by one, of the warriors from the Crescent Moon closed the circle around them. They sneered and growled as they readied for combat. Unaware of who Selene was, unaware of who James was....unaware of the true background of who Blake is! The heir to the Primordial wolves. The strongest, ruthless, most aggressive wolves in all existence. Will they be able to handle him alone? Alpha Stewart chuckles, an evil glare in his face. Macy stands before him. Her hand held high, face perked up with pride. Under estimating the results that may come.