Without A Trace Book Novels & Stories

I got up and headed toward the study to grab a book to read before bed, but when I opened the door, her voice traveled through the gap immediately. "Don't worry. I won't get pregnant with Zane's kid. He drinks milk every day, and I put something in it. It is ground into a fine powder, so he can't taste it. Are you still upset? How about I take you out to sea for a vacation? We could do some stargazing on the deck then." What? The milk she poured me every night before I went to bed had been spiked. My blood ran cold, and I returned to the bedroom, unable to stop myself from trembling.

He stepped closer, his fingers tracing the spines, hoping to stumble upon something out of place. But as he meticulously examined each book, his hopes began to wane. It seemed that nothing was amiss. His frustration grew, his mind racing to make sense of the puzzle before him. There had to be something, some piece of the puzzle they were missing. He couldn't accept defeat, not when a life is at stake.

Accelerant traces masked by household chemicals. “Of course,” I muttered. “She was already dead before the damn thing.” My hands trembled for the first time that night. This was bigger than a hospital. Bigger than Abigail. This was a mechanism. Old. Patient. Designed to outlive scrutiny. I reached for my phone and stopped myself. No calls. No messages. Everything I said could be traced. I opened a secure draft instead and began typing notes in fragments that I could understand. My throat felt dry.

"You know, you wouldn't be here if you were more like your partner in crime. Unlike you, he didn't slip off once in his plans. There was nothing to trace him with..." "... no scents, no traceable plate numbers, not even one surveillance camera around was able to capture him entering and leaving the hospital." "Even the cars he used, we've found them but not him or Avery." Marcus muttered. "I see you've done your search too..." Benjamin let out a crooked smirk. "...so there's no trace of them anymore?" He asked, that fact made his heart leap with joy. "I see you're gloating. But no worries. They are gone and that leaves me to you, the last piece in my puzzle; the only one dumb enough to waltz

But before I could think too much about it, my phone buzzed in my pocket and my eyes flicked to the screen. An encrypted message. “You can never find me, Damien. Quit trying.” My entire body tensed at the message. It has been less than an hour but, that fucker knew already about his man I killed. That means he was watching me. “Damien?” Tracey's soft voice called out but, I barely responded. I pocketed my phone, my jaw tightening as I turned away from her. “Can I keep the book?” she asked, holding it up. “You know… to kill time?”

⸻ 🌙 The Forgotten Name The Book of Origins suddenly appeared. ⸻ Its pages opened automatically. ⸻ Searching. ⸻ Looking. ⸻ Trying to identify her. ⸻ Then the impossible happened. ⸻ Every page became blank. ⸻ 😱 ⸻ The Mother froze. ⸻ The Father stepped backward. ⸻ Even the Witness narrowed its eyes. 👁️ ⸻ Because the Book of Origins recorded everything. ⸻ Everything. ⸻ Yet it contained no record of her.

That was how long we waited. It felt like an eternity. Then, Dickson called back. Jace answered immediately. “Got it?” A pause. “Yeah, about that,” Dickson said slowly. “This number’s untraceable.” I sucked in a sharp breath. Jace’s grip on the phone tightened. “What?” “I mean it, dude. It’s a burner. No records. No location. Whoever used it wiped every possible trail. They knew what they were doing.” Xavier chimed in, “We tried everything. It’s clean.”

“That's it. I'm helping.” Without waiting for a reply—not that she would have listened this time—Emily crouched down again, and the moment her hand touched his, she squirmed . She squirmed! She hadn't realized until now that they'd both never had any physical contact. And now that they did, it sent a jolt through her system . Rex definitely noticed. The faint way he raised his eyebrows was a clear indication that her squirm was too obvious! The awkward silence that followed only made Emily’s discomfort unmistakable. She cleared her throat, her face reddening in embarrassment as she began to search through the kit, pulling out the necessary items: a few antiseptic wipes, an antibiotic ointmen

The room was empty. The bookshelf stood slightly open. The hidden archive behind it… Was completely empty. Every file was gone. Professor Arthur Carter had disappeared without a trace.

who suddenly had no memory of anything useful. I let out a harsh exhale in frustration. When a trail is cold, there’s usually a reason — maybe the person’s too smart, or maybe they’re too scared. But this trail wasn’t cold. It was frozen, and frozen meant someone had worked hard to make sure there was nothing left for me to find. And that… that felt personal. As the car slid along the wet road, I started running the list of people who could pull this off. Not just pull it off, but pull it off without leaving a single trace.