Shattered Cold Case Novels & Stories

"Your parents died in a tragic accident. It was an open-and-shut case." "How?" I pressed, my voice low and urgent. "The brakes failed on a steep incline. It was ruled a mechanical failure. The case was closed, and it's been a year. Please, Valerie..." "There is no please," I snapped. "Someone caused that accident. I have leads that could help you, names, timelines, motives. Don’t you want a promotion, Jeff? Reopening a high-profile cold case and actually solving it would make your career. I will give you everything you need to follow."

I clasp Pup's hand as moves past me, “I know you want the truth about your daughter and I can get it for you. I've got nothing to lose Pup.” “Fuck off, Burkely.” He yanks his hand from mine but I notice him grip the paper I'd slipped into his hand tightly. For the past ten years, I've been on this case. A case with no leads and only a handful of terrified witnesses. No one wishes to cross Maxim Vongov and anyone stupid enough to even think about it gets a surprise casket. I've bled and spied and put my family on the line to expose Maxim Vongov to the world as the crooked criminal he is.

Charlotte moves from the spot next to the couch and Melanie lays with her head resting on Beth's thigh, caressing Beth's stomach. Beth strokes Melanie's head and Melanie lets out a calming breath. I let out a relieved breath and Abbigail comes in my arms. "What happened today Shawn," Abbigail asks in a soothing whisper. "We found put that the suspect in our cold case was the same suspect Shelby killed to protect Beth while pregnant with Michael. His accomplice threw it in Melanie's face and she would have beat her to death if I didn't calm her down," I choke quietly. "I couldn't imagine one of our kids being the little girl we found."

Chapter Five - Doubt Balor's POV "The Toronto police are saying that no arrests have been made for the murder of small business owner Tom Bringer. Police ask if anyone has any information to cal-"I turned off my television, slamming my remote down onto the glass table, shattering it. My jaw ached from me clenching my teeth together so hard. I gulped down the last of my scotch, chucking the glass at the wall, shattering it to pieces.

“This is Gwen Gonzalez.” “Ms. Gonzalez, thank you for your time.” The voice was professional, devoid of warmth. “I’m investigating a cold case. The death of Salvatore Bianchi.” The name was a punch to the gut, a ghost I had legally laid to rest decades ago. “That case was closed,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “It was,” the detective agreed. “But new evidence has come to light. A testimony, given on a deathbed, that contradicts the original findings.”

“I’ll try. But right now… you’re toxic.” The call cut off. I sat frozen, the word toxic reverberating in my skull until it drowned out everything else. My pulse roared in my ears. My breaths came shallow. Everything I’d built, everything I’d bled for—gone, shattered like glass on pavement. With shaking hands, I tried to call Ethan. He'd know something. He'd know what to do, which string to pull, whom to call. But before I could shift the car into gear, a burst of headlights swerved across my windshield. Tires screamed. A black van cut and pinned me in.

"My mother. My father. My brother. Anyone you want to name. I never tampered with that shock collar. I did not sabotage it. I did not know it was broken. And I will get to the bottom of what happened. Someone tampered with my equipment, and I will find out who." Sage crossed her arms over her chest. "I do not care about it anymore. It was seven years ago. What is done is done." "You do care," I said. "If you did not care, you would not have brought it up. You would not still be angry. You would not be standing in my laboratory, in my territory, bringing up events from seven years ago as if they happened yesterday. So do not stand there and tell me you do not care." Sage was quiet. Her arms r

“How about some milk to calm those nerves?” She opened the fridge, pulling out a glass of milk. I heard the soft hum of the appliance door shutting. Then, the sharp ring of the telephone broke the stillness of the room. Miss Morris set the milk down and reached for the phone. Her cheerful tone shifted the moment she answered. “Yes, this is the Morris residence,” she said. Her voice faltered as the person on the other end spoke. The sound of the glass shattering against the wooden floor jolted me upright. My heart began to race.

I stared at the file, a war between fury and fatigue rising in me. “She didn’t just steal my husband. She stole my peace.” Lucas nodded. “Then take it back.” That night, I sat on my balcony, stars scattered across the sky like secrets. Sophie Lane had disappeared. But not for long. This wasn’t about revenge anymore. It was about closure. About justice. About ensuring no one else got hurt the way I did. Because in the end, Shattered Vows wasn’t just the title of my story. It was a warning.

he called out. Vanessa had just ended her call when she heard the voice. Turning around, her eyes met the gaze of her treacherous husband, Lucas, the man who had shattered her soul and broken her heart to pieces three years ago. Hatred coursed through her veins, but she maintained a calm and nonchalant expression "V... Vanessa?" Lucas stuttered, unsure if he was dreaming. The woman before him couldn't possibly be Vanessa. That timid, pathetic woman he once knew could never transform into this stunning beauty.