Shattered Cold Case Novels & Stories

It shattered against the mahogany shelf, photo frames toppling. From the corner of his ravaged office, the television—which he’d left running for breaking updates—suddenly blared his own name. “…investigators have reopened several cold cases tied to Whitaker ’s offshore accounts. Allegations now extend to claims of human trafficking in addition to fraud and bribery, police sources say—” James lunged and hurled his whiskey tumbler at the screen. It cracked, dissolving into snow.

None of them fit the criteria. The case had gone into a stalemate. For a moment, everyone fell silent as they thought about what to do next. Kevin just stared at my body. After that, he said, "Let's publicize the victim's characteristics and see if there were still cases of missing people which had yet to be reported to the police." William nodded. Soon, he got in touch with the local TV station. My incident was broadcast throughout the city in less than ten minutes. A while later, Kevin's phone rang abruptly.

"Like you, solving cold cases all the way. The hard ones. I have always wondered how you managed to crack them." His grin faltered. "Why is such a lovely lady like you interested in cold cases?" "Well, you know, when women turn to this age, the only thing they are interested in is something dark and gruesome. The truth is, I've been following a true crime podcast..." He put off his guard and asked, "Do you have any particular cases in mind?" "Yeah, the one with a man dying in a fishing boat explosion." I whispered. "Aha. That one. Carlo Pintard's fishing boat explosion. I was the lead investigator at that time." Then, he realized he split and his drunk eyes sharpened. "That was… procedural.

Fernan leaned against his seat and sighed. “My brother is has gone missing, and the police finds it hard to find any lead. I want to know how long before it turns into a… what do you call that?” He tapped his finger on the table. “Ah! A cold case.” “Well…” Atty. Montero heaved a sigh. “It will become a cold case when the investigators fail to discover a new lead within at least a year, sometimes three.” “How about the presumption of death?” He caressed his chin.

Make all thresholds one threshold. Open it. Let everything trapped move. Let everything outside enter. No more lost dead. The next trouble arrived with dirt under its nails. In the false shrines, symbols had weight. It stained sleeves, cracked floors, moved through crowds, and made ordinary people choose sides before they understood the question. The cold incense smoke pressed against every window while wet footsteps marked the next turn of the case. Nothing about the Shrine War felt clean. It felt like another emergency arriving before the last one had been wiped off the stones.

"You've been kidnapped before?" "Yes." Britany Santos's eyes darkened slightly, "These matters are not too scary. It's good to get used to them. I'm getting tired of this bunch of cases right now. Seeing these cases is like seeing a dismembered person. Sometimes you see your feet, sometimes you see your head, sometimes you see a finger, and then you follow the mess, slowly putting it together into a human shape. It takes time and effort. Most of the time, the senior leadership has to force the case to be closed within a specified time limit, and the criminals have been adding new problems to our lives ever since. "That feeling is simply incomparable."

Nathan sat down slowly. "Marcus Greer was the private investigator Vanessa paid to deliver the fabricated evidence three years ago. After the Times article ran last month, Marcus lost everything. His firm shut down. His license was revoked. His wife left him. He filed for bankruptcy two weeks ago. I have been tracking him." "Why." "Because men like Marcus, when they have nothing left to lose, get creative." Damien walked to the window.

he cried, "I found these under your bed. It's your pendant! We can go back to the church... we can get another one that looks exactly the same, okay? Please, don't marry him. Don't leave me..." I gazed coldly at the pile of shattered fragments in his palm, a bitter smile curling on my lips. "Cassian," I said icily, "can you piece these shards back together and make them whole again?" Once broken, how could anything ever return to what it once was? Just like us. Cassian froze, his expression blank. The shards slipped from his trembling hand, clattering helplessly to the floor. At that moment, the door slammed open with a bang. Richard stormed in, flanked by two uniformed police officers.

He might be better off with her. The crowd finally dispersed and Case nodded at me, sending me back into his office. I sat down again, noticing that the case was exactly where he had left it. Had Forty been successful? “I’d really like to get into that tablet, Forty-Two,” Case said firmly. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t remember anything about it?” “Pretty sure,” I said sheepishly. “I can try… do you want me to take it with me and see if I can get it unlocked?”

"What? Do you think I'm making this up to scare you?" The warm light from above cast a slanted shadow on the edge of the table. He stared at me, and for once, didn't rush to deny anything. "You broke up with me…because of this?" I almost laughed. "Does it even matter now? Even if I were healthy, I never would have lasted long enough for you to finally turn around and look at me. I overheard your friends talking. Apparently, I wasn't even someone you'd be willing to settle for. I used to think we'd actually make it to the end."