Teenage Detective Book Series 소설 & 이야기

Closing the portals could -and probably would- end all hopes of Lance and I being together. I crawled into bed and willed myself to sleep as best as I could. Whether I liked it or not, I was to begin my first case as an independent private investigator within a few hours. Since I still wasn’t convinced that there was anything paranormal about the case, I intended to look upon it as a simple investigation until otherwise noted.

“And what's up with the streak of blond in his hair?” “It's time we got some answers from our little thief.” I say to no one in particular, “Things just got a whole lot more complicated. Let the thief see her kid then she owes us an explanation.” Now more than ever I wanted to know where and when this pup happened. The thought of her crimes was now pushed aside as my curiosity over the boy took priority.

He sounds both suspicious and paranoid, a lovely combination. “About—” I hesitate, praying to every deity out there that I’m not wrong about this, “About some books you wrote.” “I’ve written a lot of books. And how do you know that?” “I’m referring to a particular book series you wrote, Mr. Lowenstein,” my voice is politer as relief fills me. “About the Blood Moon Hybrid.” His face blanches. “Not interested.” But when he tries to slam the door closed, I stick my foot in, preventing him from doing so. “It’s important I talk to you!”

"Don't promise what you can't deliver. Many detectives worked the case before. They all ended up murdered. I'm warning you for your own good." I couldn't stop the shiver that bolts down my spine. All the detectives who solved this case ended up dead? And without doubt, by the killers of the boy?! My brain went through an instant override, and then it dawned on me. Whoever might have killed this boy sure has mad connections. My pulse runs at an accelerating speed. I sip from my coffee. Then, maintaining calmness, I speak. "I've never failed a case in my life." And that's a fact. "We have a deal?"

I answered biting my tongue as she fell into step beside me. She looked exactly the same as always, young, fresh faced, eager eyed. Dirty blonde hair piled high on her head and clothing that was probably as old as she was and at least three sizes too big. She was my puppy dog, or so the guys liked to call her. An ignorant, innocent teen who thought the fact that I was in the army was a good thing, that I killed the dead was a good thing. She didn't have the first idea of what it was like out there, hell she likely didn’t have any memories of ever being outside of the compound.

"And then, I'll come for you." There's no doubt about it. . . I'm officially trapped in this hell hole until I turn eighteen. I'll have no money, no family and no roof over my head but that's better than the constant beatings. My breathing hitches in my throat as I see Trevor stir in his arm chair, his hand clutching a can of beer. Please do not wake up. The smell of smoke instantly smacks me in the face causing me to gag. I take a step towards the stairs, quietly creeping past the door before making a run for it. I take the stairs two a time, going as fast as I can.

Richard, Misoo and Beau have their own book and so do Jordan and Aubrey, as well as Olivia Stanton. Book 1 was about Jordan Sykes and Aubrey Evans, but unfortunately, I took it down from every site. Book 3 is about Richard and Misoo. Book 4 is about Beau and his client. And lastly, book 5 is about Olivia and a hot farmer. So, subscribe to my Patreon. Now, this series was all about time pass for me if I’m being utterly honest.

He grabs my hand, squeezing, eyes pleading. “I won’t—relax.” He lets go, smiling, grabbing yesterday’s book. “Don’t worry—I’m a nerd too.” “You are?” “Yep—kids at school don’t like my sleuthing. Call me a rat, but I’m a teen detective.” He chuckles. “Should I call you Nancy?” “You should—Nancy Maxwell, on the case.” We laugh, spending the day chatting about, mysteries, school, walking the woods—back near dinner. Colin’s out with Dad and Uncle Theo, so Cole talks freely.

BELLA The 21-year-old girl from North Carolina, missing for ten months, found dead. Suicide or murder?—the morning headline said. I was tired of hearing Mamma’s sob every time I entered this house. The more I wanted to forget what I had seen, the more I sank. The feeling of guilt seared within me, like a flame that never douted. “I don’t understand why the police are claiming it to be suicide when it isn’t,” Val said, sitting at the edge of the bed. “She goes missing for a year straight. Then, she’s found drowned in a lake.”

The question was… for how much longer? Summoning enough strength to move his hand to his pants pocket, he was surprised to discover that his money was still there. He could feel that the designer watch that he’d purchased to replace the watch he’d inherited from his grandfather and had been stolen in a mugging while in his early twenties had also been left on his wrist. Things weren’t making sense. Getting drunk and, then, acting in character and attacking in such a way was one thing, but since when did robbers beat a man to mere inches from his life and then not rob him? Then, were they really robbers? They’d beheaded a man, after all. As if his mind wasn’t muddled enough after such a he