The Ice Box Murders Novels & Stories

Or even Bryan Maddox’s glacial stare that somehow burned hotter than fire. The problem was me. Because somewhere between touching Caleb’s wrist and catching Rhett watching, I had stopped being invisible. And invisible was my only rule. That night, I came home to what should have been blessed sanity and a frozen pizza. Instead, there was a box. Sitting on my doorstep like it had been waiting for me. Square. Black. No note. No return address. “Oh, good,” I muttered, crouching down. “A murder present. My favorite.”

Scarred. She placed her hand on it. And the earth moved. Something massive stirred beneath the dirt. And a whisper curled through the cave like smoke. The morning sky was a dull gray, bruised with stormclouds that refused to break. Everything felt like it was waiting. Evelyn stood alone in the precinct’s evidence room. Dust floated in the air like ash. In her hands, a box marked M. BLACK CLOSED. Her father’s last case. She opened it slowly. Inside: a torn field journal, a rusted badge, and a sealed envelope. The name on it wasn’t hers.

Or, someone on the inside was helping them. I stopped at the top of the stairs. The house was on nightlight mode, so it wasn't dark. If Easton was in danger, how do I help? What if I run out to call for help and I don't make it back in time? Or I call the traitor? Huffing at my indecisiveness, I grabbed a small metal box from the lamp table and crept forward quietly. The box could do enough damage if it wasn't more than one assailant. If it was, I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

"You'll repay the pain Celine suffered a hundredfold. Take her to the ice cellar in the back hills. She stays there until Celine recovers." "No!" The scream tore out of my throat. The ice cellar stayed below freezing year-round. At five months pregnant, how could I possibly survive that? "Ronan, it’s too cold in there. I’ll freeze to death. The baby won’t survive either. Please… punish me some other way. I’ll do anything!" He didn’t even look at me. "Carry out the order. Anyone who pleads for her will be punished as well." The bodyguards dragged me away as I struggled desperately, pulling me toward the ice cellar behind the estate.

Jaxter, after a moment of hesitation, finally gave a reluctant nod. Hayle proceeded to inspect Ice’s body carefully. Despite the tense atmosphere, she focused on ensuring that there were no signs of the distinctive mark that would identify Ice as a member of the Golden Circle. Hayle, though slightly uncomfortable, noticed the impressive physique of Ice, which only reaffirmed Jacob’s high regard for her. She was meticulous in her examination, hoping to clear the air and relieve the tension.

he snapped. I struggled, cried, and pleaded, but it was no use. I curled up in the small wooden box, my body breaking, blood staining the floor beneath me. A week later, he and his first love returned from their trip, planning to let me out. I was already dead and suffocated—a cold corpse. ... It was cold outside, yet the room reeked of decay. I had been dead for a week when the door finally opened. The foul stench made Elaine stop in her tracks. "Oh my god, what is that smell?" she asked, covering her nose in disgust.

One wrong move, and the ice could shatter. I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling cracks that looked like skate marks under arena lights. The season was young, but it already felt like we were playing on thin ice. One push too hard, and we’d both go under. The question was, would we pull each other up… or let the cold take over? Downstairs, Dad’s call ended. Mom called up about lights out soon. Normal stuff. But nothing felt normal anymore. Not with Nora’s car probably pulling into her driveway right now, her mind racing the same circles as mine.

The first photo showed the cold ice hockey rink. Oliver's father lay dead on the white ice. Right next to his body was a small, empty medical syringe. It was the murder weapon. The second photo showed a dark road. A luxury car was totally crushed against a large, dark tree. It was the exact car crash that killed Isabella. His own mother. The detective leaned forward. His voice was very quiet.

"She was the best mother I could have had. I didn't appreciate it enough when she was alive." Rosa looked at me with a gentle expression. "I think she knew," she answered. "Mothers usually do." She leaned toward the hook behind the door where the coats were hanging and started checking the pockets. She worked through mine first, and then her hands moved to Millie's small red coat. She stopped and murmured. "Nymeria." I stood up from the bed, and Rosa turned around with the medallion sitting flat in her palm. "It was in Millie's coat pocket," she answered. "The small inside one."

Kevin and I were both die-hard horror fans. We’d once argued for three straight days over the ending of a niche film. In that movie, the protagonist entered a string of numbers at the very end, unlocking his only way out. I tried it. “19870521.” Victoria typed it in. With a soft click, the drive unlocked. Inside were neatly organized folders. [Evidence of William’s Bribery] [Evidence of Ethan’s Embezzlement] [The director’s Affair Scandal] I sucked in a sharp breath.