Sarah Goode Murder Novels & Stories

She wept that night recalling all the times she took care of her mother, all the times the crack never allowed her to speak a word, just lying on the floor, high on drugs she could not pronounce. She recalled seeing Sarah pale almost as indifferent from the grains of sand on the beach where she laid. Her lips had a line of blue still sewed together with some threads. She had a carving on her abdomen and a slit hand. Four months after Sarah went missing, she was found dead and according to the detectives, it was not a fast one. **** Agent Carson walked out of the interrogation room, “am I missing something?” he turned to the other two agents. “I had her in there. She already told me why she d

I feel he already knows that the chances of him winning this case are very low. “Thank you my honor.” Miller greeted with a slight smile. “April twenty-fifth two thousand ten, Mrs. Sarah died from a hit and run driver.” We all wondered who Sarah was. Miller presented another document to the judge. “This is the death certificate of Mrs. Sarah, who died ten years ago, the same woman whom Clarissa claimed died three years ago.” The judge stared at Clarissa with narrowed eyes. “Mrs. Sarah is Clarissa’s mum.” Miller is just a genius. It took everything in me not to jump up and stick my tongue out at Clarissa. Xavier placed his hand on mine and squeezed gently, silently telling me to pipe it down.

"He refused a particular assignment. One of national importance." "So you sacrificed him," Diego said, the pieces falling into place. "Used Sarah to put him away." "Temporarily," Blackwood specified. "Until he reconsiders our offer. Prison has a way of clarifying one's priorities." Sarah felt sick. Her career-defining case had been orchestrated from the beginning. She'd been nothing but a pawn in Blackwood's game. "And now what?" she demanded. "Kill us both? Frame Diego for my murder? Create another convenient prosecution?"

Chapter Fifteen “And you think that’s our guy?” The detective asked. Sarah nodded. “He looks similar to the guy you're looking for and ever since the whole case got publicized, he vanished. No one heard from him, no one saw him.” Detective Banes stared at her. “Did you notice anything suspicious before the murder took place? Maybe he bought something odd or…?” Sarah shook her head, slightly embarrassed. “No, we don't live together but I just have a feeling he has something to do with this,” she replied.

Blood immediately pooled from her forehead. Francis screamed in terror and stumbled backward, covering his mouth. Before Sarah could strike again, the officers rushed forward and pinned her to the ground. In the end, Sarah and Francis were taken away in handcuffs, while Alice was carried off under a white sheet. A few days later, the court delivered its verdict. Alice had died. Sarah was sentenced to life imprisonment for intentional homicide. Francis received five years for intentional injury. The incident was somehow leaked online, and overnight, the internet exploded. Public opinion shifted entirely—people began sympathizing with me, calling me the real victim.

He is a dirty cop, too; he needs to be stopped. "Oh, okay, so where is Sarah Washington then? Wade asked." Here." She came forward, and I saw my wife walk closer to Wade! She stuck out her hand, "It's nice to meet you. Also, thank you for bringing him out. I knew once he found out I was dead, he would stop." No! he would still look for me even after my death. “I am Sarah Washington! she said to Wade. “So, you’re the woman supposed to be dead?" Wade said." "

The officer stopped Mom as she rolled up her sleeves and gently guided her back into her seat. "That video uses an AI face swap. It isn't your daughter. But her ID has been found in the hands of a criminal ring. We believe she's in serious danger." Just then, a policewoman rushed in with a report. "Captain, the body recovered from Blackreed Creek... DNA confirmed it's Kaia Keene."

I didn't know why I was taking them, but something deep inside me urged me to shove the entire box into my bag. I moved to the back of the filing room, toward the “Cold Records” section. Months ago, a human woman—a hitchhiker who had wandered too close to the pack’s southern border—had been killed in a hit-and-run by a drunken warrior. The pack elders had hushed it up, burying her in an unmarked grave and letting her paperwork rot in the “Unclaimed” drawer. **Sarah Miller.** Twenty-three. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Perfect. I pulled her social security card and her dusty, battered birth certificate from the folder. She was a ghost this pack had buried, and tonight, I was going to haunt her life

“Soon, you will.” Without waiting for a response, Sarah turned and walked away. Spider followed closely behind. Tiana stood rooted to the spot, her shopping forgotten, confusion and dread twisting violently inside her chest. Sarah knew it wasn’t time yet. The evidence was strong. Strong enough to destroy Tiana in court. But strength wasn’t everything. Timing was. Seven years ago, Sarah had been left for dead in a burning warehouse, tied, blindfolded, abandoned. There had been no witnesses. No proof linking Tiana or James directly to that attempt on her life.

“—breaking developments in the Williamsburg shooting last night. Police have confirmed two fatalities and are seeking additional witnesses.” The screen showed the building. Sarah’s apartment building. Crime scene tape. Ambulances. Police cars. Then faces. “The deceased have been identified as Adrian Blackwood, a material witness in the federal investigation into the Zakharov crime family, and an unidentified male believed to be associated with organized crime.” Adrian’s photo filled the screen. His professional headshot from Blackwood Industries. Confident. Successful. Alive. DECEASED. The word sat on the screen like an accusation. The remote fell from my hand.