Private Investigator Stories Novels & Stories

We stayed another forty minutes, said what needed to be said, and ended the meeting. I called the investigator on my way out; he answered immediately. “Talk,” I said. He began saying everything he has found from his investigation: the names, timelines, and the supplier story that broke three days ago. “Send everything,” I said, replying to everything he had said as I ended the call. The files arrived and I spread them across the desk in order of earliest to the most recent

“Have you been spying on me? Trying to get me to say things about Elijah?” “No, that’s not what I’m doing,” she says, shaking her head. “Bullshit,” I hiss. She sighs, making a motion with her hands to calm down and keep quiet. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. Just please keep your voice down.” “Okay, spill,” I say in a lower voice. This better be good. “I am a journalist. I am doing an undercover piece about the Institute. Sure, they put out this positive image about helping the community and all that, but there are stories about some pretty dark stuff going on here. You do know that, right?” she says in a hushed voice.

"Facts don't lie. Trust them." Friday arrived too quickly. The crew arrived at the safe house mid-morning. Lighting equipment. Cameras. Sound equipment. They transformed the living room into a studio. The journalist was Rebecca Chen. Veteran investigative reporter. Known for thorough, fair interviews. She shook my hand. "Ms. James. Thank you for doing this." "Thank you for the opportunity." "I've reviewed all the evidence your team provided. The DNA tests. Hospital records. Adoption documents." Rebecca's expression was serious. "This is an extraordinary story."

He said looking at me intently. "I don't know anything about the case other than that you lied to me about the investigators finding out that the birth papers match the records. We still don't know that for sure. Also, the investigator you hired died on the case. For whatever reasons you had, you lied to me stopping me from finding out the real truth," I said swiftly, exhausted from the effort I used in talking.

Another one said and I fisted my hand in a ball. "Do. Whatever. You. Can. But. Then...." I said fuming in anger as I threw a big vase which is by my side shattering it into pieces. All five investigators who were there moved back a bit because of this disaster in front of them. They all looked at me in horror and then again hung their head down. "Why do I even pay you, haan? You all just know how to enjoy at my expense... How do you even get a tag of 'being best'? You all five are named as the best investigator by the London Times but then you can't even find a single information."

I checked the caller ID, and it was the investigator “Hello, any news,” I said “Yes ma, I have been able to locate their house,” the investigator said over the phone “Is this a joke?” I said angrily “How is that information?” I continued “I’m sorry, ma,” the investigator said “You should be sorry for yourself. Don’t call me unless you have something solid,” I said and ended the car “Why is it so difficult to get information on Layla or Aria?” I thought I was going through a lot, and this investigator had to add his own. I started to recall situations that should have let me know I was pregnant.

“Every witness suddenly changes their story.” “That’s true.” “Documents vanish from nowhere.” “Yes.” He responded because he was completely aware of what was happening and it wasn’t new to him unlike it was to her. “Records are altered.” The investigator sighed again. “Exactly.” Marylin looked directly into his eyes. “Then what other choice do I have?” Finally, the investigator answered. “You keep investigating quietly.” Marylin shook her head immediately. “No.” “Why?” He asked because he knew that something was happening that he wasn’t even aware of. He just had a strange feeling that she was trying to do certain things and he didn't want to give up on her.

It made him sad to see his father like this. “Excuse me, gentlemen. May we have a word with you?” Heath recognized the two men walking toward them. They were the investigators handling the money laundering case. “Of course, it’s nice to see you again.” Rowan turned on his charm when he too recognized the investigators. “Is there a problem? More evidence? Or a new lead?”

*****************POV: Nia Calder, Investigative Journalist********** --- I never thought I'd become the anchor of a hostage-extraction story, but there I was—smacked in the middle of a conspiracy that eclipsed any political scandal I’d covered before. Every source now whispered the same line: “It’s bigger than a kidnapping. Bigger than any corporate mess. It’s a war for truth.” I wanted that story.

For those who lived and breathed investments, it was a spark. The journalist, Her name was Mara Klein, a sharp-eyed investigative reporter with a reputation for finding stories where no one else looked. She wasn’t a headline chaser, she was a truth digger. And she had one advantage: she didn’t buy into the mythology of Ethan. She saw the glossy speeches and spotless suits for what they were, armor. Armor always meant there was something worth hiding. She began making calls. Quietly. Carefully. And though doors closed in her face, she could feel resistance where there should’ve been clarity.