Stories related to crime

A glance inside the purse; I’ve robbed the wrong woman. He won’t risk exposure. Why carry those photographs? I’ll be dead or rich by noon.

He took her away on his new boat, gleaming with polished wood and leather. She came back alone, smelling of saltwater and bleach.

Pa knew too much, liked to talk. There were questions. Scared, Ma got a truck and cleaned out the house, left Dad only his favorite chair.

The siren and flashing lights pierced the darkness in his rear-view mirror. He gripped the gun as he pulled over. An ambulance sped by.

She undressed with graceful movements, then washed herself with lingering touches. He knew she couldn’t be a terrorist, but kept recording.

Sam threw it in the quarry lake at dawn. No one saw, but as he walked home, a shaft of sunlight singled him out like an accusing forefinger.