Christine Paolilla Crime Scene นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I shuddered, not liking the attention. Carlisle continued, gesturing toward a man with thick muscles and a face that looked like it had taken one too many hits. “Dante Moretti. He’s old-school mafia, no frills, just violence. His girlfriend, Rosa, is a bit out of place here, but she’s harmless.” I looked at Rosa, whose bright smile and bubbly demeanor seemed completely at odds with the grim faces around her. She seemed out of place, just like me.

She asked panicking, what she wouldn't want to hear is that the meal wasn't to her taste. Melita stood up. "Have I ever complained about your meal?" She shook her head. "But I'm scared because you hissed so loud." "I want Ferdinand back here." She remarked and barged out of the dinning heading upstairs. Christine went back to the sitting room, there she was when Melita returned to the sitting room and left without saying anything to her. She felt haunted, her mistress has never acted this way. ****** "My name is Carmelita Leonidas." She referred to the police officer standing before her.

Paul's grip on the phone tightened as his voice was filledd with impatience, urging the detective to cut to the chase. "Does Christine Jacob ring a bell to you?" Paul's mind went blank, he was confused. He shook his head, his eyes narrowed as he tried to recall the name. "Never heard of her." "I've sent you her profile and picture," the detective said. "You'll probably understand after seeing it." Paul's eyes flicked to his phone, as he waited for the file to load, the waiter arrived with a glass of wine, his fingers drummed against the tabletop, his impatience growing.

A flicker of hope passed through Lyla’s eyes as she gave a small nod, waiting for him to continue. John’s gaze turned toward Lyla, his expression intense and piercing, as though he could see through to the truth buried inside her. “Ms. Sinclair,” he began gravely, “aside from you, do you know of anyone else who may have had a conflict with Dr. Riffe? I’ve reviewed the crime scene photos, and the damage to his office wall doesn’t seem like something a woman could have done.” Lyla’s heart skipped a beat. She bit her lower lip, nervously avoiding John’s probing stare. She feared that a single misstep in her words might expose too much. She shook her head firmly, her voice calm but strained, “I

he said. Paula froze. Her entire body stiffened. “And don’t worry,” he added calmly. “There was an old camera near Bridge Bank. Your murder scene was clearly recorded.” “You’re not escaping this.” Paula collapsed into sobs. “And where do you think you’re going, Mr. Diego Fernando?” Diego had slowly started backing away. He froze. “Ah… I’m just a driver,” he said weakly. Detective Decker chuckled. “Bring her in.” The door opened again.

Peter couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation as the inspector began to speak. Inspector: Mr. Peterson, I'm Inspector Parker. We've been investigating the circumstances surrounding Sheila's death, and I believe we have some promising leads. Peter: (leaning forward, his eyes filled with determination)Tell me everything, Inspector. Inspector Parker pulled out a file and placed it on the desk, opening it to reveal photographs and evidence. Peter's heart sank as he saw the lifeless image of Sheila, a once vibrant woman reduced to a mere victim. Inspector Parker started . "We have reason to believe that George and Caleb were involved in Sheila's murder. Their fingerprints were found at

“I should have known. Always the consummate professional.” “Old habits die hard I suppose.” I reply with a grin. “Just so you are aware, the crime scene belongs to my Boss’ personal assistant. Ms. Harris is the woman you just walked passed that looks like she has seen a ghost. The only people that have been on there are the criminal, Mr. Williams, Ally and myself. Ally is Ms. Harris’ companion. I can give you all relevant contact information for interviews later today. There is also this.” I hand him the note. “She is visibly shaken and I feel this might be why.”

Alex had called the chief of police, Van Christie, as soon as he entered the yard and saw what they were dealing with. He’d held off the EMTs—no point in having them contaminate the crime scene—and directed Luke and Aaron to interview Sofia and Mrs. Schneider (his wife had been sitting next to the weeping old woman on the porch steps, her arm wrapped around Mrs. Schneider’s thin shaking shoulders), and then gotten on his police radio to call Van. Now Miller and Alex stood over the mutilated remains of at least two girls. Alex only thought there were two because there were two heads, but the quantity of blood and viscera strewn around made it seem like there might be more.

For a moment, I forgot why I was there, my mind snagging on the way his leather jacket hugged his body. I shook it off and slid into the booth across from him, forcing a confident smile. “Thanks for coming.” He didn’t return the smile. His gaze was cold, assessing, as he leaned back and crossed his arms. “Cut to the chase, Lisa. What do you know about Christine?” I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “She’s the one who destroyed the Harrington Chicago branch. The fire? That was her.” Zane’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “And how’s that my business?”

A problem I haven’t even told anyone about yet. I exhale deeply. “Go ahead. What about it?” Christine shifts, setting down a USB drive. “I was able to get footage from a CCTV camera near the area that night. There were some suspects within the vicinity, both minutes before and after. It’s as if they knew about the cameras, though—I couldn’t get a clear face view. But it’s a start.” Her voice is steady, determined. “If I look further, I’m sure I can—”