True Crime Novels & Stories

"You'll get sentenced for murder! Are you an idiot?" Over the last three months, George busied himself with hiring attorneys and making police reports. However, without solid evidence, his assumption remained an assumption. He spread the truth online, but Clifford's law firm accused him of libel and painted him as my lover. As a result, he was mocked and attacked by netizens. I thought George would give up after all he went through, but little did I know he would sacrifice everything to bring my murderers to justice. George looked in my direction as if he could see me. His eyes widened in shock, and he smiled at me as he attacked Clifford. He plunged the blade through my invisible body into

I winked at him. He chuckled. “Yes, I am an old man, Fiona. This program I am watching here” – he gestured to the TV, which was playing some sort of investigative news show – “I never know how the story ends.” I turned my head and gave the muted TV a closer look. The captions were on, running along the bottom of the big flat screen in oversized letters. I realized it was actually some sort of true-crime murder mystery documentary series. On the screen, two men were engaged in an interview: a white-haired reporter in an expensive suit was listening intently to a prison inmate wearing black and white stripes. As we watched, the screen suddenly changed, displaying several bloody homicide photos

The teacher scolds us both, but all I can hear and see is his smile. He fixed me, he’s my serotonin, my very own drug. My feeling for him feels illegal, but he’ll still be my favorite crime. “Mr. Alex Sheperd and Mr. Conan Gray, this is not the time for chit chatting, now answer my question or you’ll meet the principal. “ We faced each other with a smile on our faces. We grabbed our bags and willingly took our punishment. This shocked our professor as he stopped talking until we left the room. We didn’t answer his question, it’s not like we could answer it anyway.

Dave continued. "What if that hand was fake?" I asked. "Yeah. I hope you won't get offended, chief, but we don't have a time for this nonsense," Dave said with nonchalance. He seemed unconvinced and probably thought that this was just some sort of a prank that most students have been doing for they so-called fun. "I am from forensic lab and I can assure you that hand is not fake," the woman wearing black rimmed glasses divulged. "Is that so? Isn't this just a prank? You know the young people today, they're doing a lot of nonsense," Zanaya said as if she was not one of the young people she was referring.

I connected my netflix to the TV to watch my favorite movie of all times, 13 going 30. Before I can finish the movie, I fell asleep on the sofa. That's my habit, I can sleep anywhere in any situation. I got up because someone rang on my door. I got up immediately and walked towards the door. I opened it and found a cake from my publisher company. I picked it up and brought it in.

Some items fell to the floor, a few were broken. Aldrich smiled sinisterly while thinking something in his mind. “I will find you. Tonight you will sleep very soundly," Aldrich muttered. Aldrich rushed to open the MacBook that was on his bedroom table. With agile fingers typing unique codes in software creation. Not long after, the official London police website appeared. Do you know what Aldrich is doing? After successfully logging in, he searched for data regarding the Hugo case. He easily got the name of the officer who received the call from the witness. Furthermore, he managed to get the history of phone recordings. Not only that, but he also got the witness identity file.

And above all… do your best to speak only truth, or the Game will know. Lies are the currency of the damned. ] Farrah took a deep breath as she carefully read the rules. This was her lifeline after all. She had basically just died from the car accident, and she didn’t want to die again. If there was a chance of survival, she might as well cling to it. Still, she couldn’t help but feel nervous. This simply felt too unreal. “This is insane…” she whispered. “It’s a nightmare. It has to be.”

I stood beneath the flagpole, gripping a claw hammer slick with blood. The chat exploded. [What the hell is this? Special effects or an actual psycho?] [This guy's nuts. Pulling something like this in broad daylight. Is this some kind of revenge?] [Wait, I recognize him. He was on the news a few days ago. His crippled sister jumped off a building. The court ruled it a suicide and said no one else was involved.] [Oh, right. That girl who had depression, so she killed herself. What does that have to do with this good-looking guy? Guess her brother finally snapped. What a messed-up family!]

The apartment felt hollow and unnervingly still, the kind that settles in only when life decides to place more weight on your shoulders than you’re prepared to bear. I picked up the remote and turned on the television. The screen flickered to life. “…will be arraigned in federal court four days from now,” the newscaster said smoothly, her voice sharp with practiced composure. “Luke Linderman, alleged drug kingpin and head of one of the largest crime syndicates in the Midwest, was apprehended over a week ago along with some of his main associates…” My movements seized. I lowered myself onto the couch, eyes fixed on the screen as images rolled past; black SUVs, flashing lights, blurred faces h

The burning photographs extinguish, plunging us into darkness again except for the eerie glow now emanating from Truth's skin. "Detective Rodriguez," Truth says, voice lilting with amusement, "always so procedural. So by-the-book. Even when the book has been rewritten." Rodriguez stiffens. "How do you know my name?" "I know everything about all of you," Truth continues. "Victoria's jealousy. James's greed. Marcus's guilt. Catherine's secrets." Those uncanny eyes shift to me. "And Sophia's... special genetic makeup." My blood freezes in my veins. "What are you talking about?"