Criminal Minds Ian Doyle の小説・ストーリー

“It has been a long time. After Ian graduated from the police academy, he was assigned to the narcotics department on the eastern side. At that time, he was a hot-blooded young man. In order to gain the boss' trust, he became an undercover agent and joined the drug smugglers. He was successful, and the boss trusted him a lot. “The boss didn’t suspect him at all, and Ian successfully raided all eight drug possession sites and destroyed all of them in just two years. After that, he was assigned to the serious crime unit in Rowel City. Due to his excellent performance, he went to the ministry and soon became the higher-ups' undercover agent, and he would be sent to the side of those corrupted b

" Ian's heart was beating very fast as Helium picked up his phone and made a call. Ian was surprised when he realized that it was an officer Helium was calling. He feared that he was going to be exposed as Helium put the phone on speaker and said, "I want to find out if some of my guys were arrested, and a guy named Freddy Bones was among them. Please look into it for me." "I'll get back to you!" The officer replied. As Ian waited, it felt like an eternity for him. Meanwhile, the officer went around and started asking questions, since it wasn't really his department. Jack had already made sure to spread the word that there were three criminals to be arrested, but one succeeded in escaping, o

There is no rhyme or reason to such an act. ‘People do strange things in the heat of the moment, sir.’ ‘Don’t I know that already Navpreet ...’ said the inspector thoughtfully. He crossed his legs and took a deep breath. ‘Twenty-six years since I joined the police force, there is very little left for me to see. And one thing I have learnt – murder is an amateur’s crime. Of course, I am talking about the regular cases, not serial killers or gangsters. Murderers, they are ordinary people like you and me ... with just one difference. Their common sense has been trumped by their desire for love, freedom, money or power. It is usually one of these. And suddenly, they see a shortcut, a shorter rou

As they stood there, drenched and confused, he fired a shot into the gasoline container. "Asshole!" the man screamed. Within minutes, the property was swarming with off-duty officers and a patrol car. Ian met the Chief at the gate and shook his hand. "I have all the evidence," Ian said. "I'll send the recordings over shortly." "Yes, sir," the Chief saluted. He respected Ian’s military background and his contributions to the town. Ian gently pulled Tracey behind him, glaring at the girls as they were restrained. They looked miserable. Tracey was so shaken she hugged him from behind.

I replied without fear. "Making the situation clearer? Really? That was the reason you yelled?" Ian replied with disappointment. Sigh. "I only blame myself for expecting more. You are a novice at this after all. Although you distracted me enough to let him live long enough to reply to interrogations, in the end, it was a waste of time." "You must believe in some wild dog that goes about killing individuals I suspect without proper closure." That was some pretty accurate guess. "That man had caused so many deaths of my scouts from his fake case that alone is enough to take his life. Who knows what he had done to his child that made her mentally damaged? "

he finished. “You don’t certainly believe that this was the work of a wild animal Detective Burke?” “If you’d seen the things that I have over the years, you would believe anything” he answered back absently. He knelt in front of the victims. “Did you manage to I.D them yet?” He could tell that these were common criminals, but no one deserves to be killed like this. The first victim didn’t even seem any older than twenty. “We’ve got John Quire, previously convicted on multiple charges of drug

Half-mouthed. A young, executive-type guy in a plum-colored shirt, open tie, looks me up and down as he passes, turning his head to catch my gaze over his shoulder. My eyes freeze on him as the third one twitches open. I catch it shut, slamming down an image of him stumbling forward as he grabs at his throat—something black sluicing from his mouth, running over his hands. Hot as tar. Smoking where it spreads. There’s panic in his eyes. Like he doesn’t know why. He’s gone when I see clear again. Another stranger I killed for no reason.

His thoughts were back to his unsolved cases and put the car in gear and drive into the night back to his large empty house. He was naked to his briefs when lay back to the bed. Ian is a thirty-five years old single man who was building his career. He had a very skeptical view of life and was certain that he didn't want a woman to hold down his career. He is a homicide detective who had seen people at their worst. People who would kill to get what they want, who were greedy and clouded by their survival instinct to diminish others who would cross their path. Then some people were just plain sociopaths and needed to kill for their sick pleasure.

Ian knew their involvement was by association and not in a friendly fashion. The real criminals knew what Yolanda and her people were. They were aware of the incident, if what she said was true. Which meant they knew more. When she spoke of the deaths, it was with a noticeable regret. He couldn’t understand how they couldn’t decipher one corpse from another. Disturbed Ian greatly. He also didn’t like that there are people alive but won’t return to their old lives. Why was that? Were they being held prisoner? She’d hated to speak of them, and the frustration was clear in her voice.

He honestly hated the way they’d left things with Dawn and wanted nothing more than to mend his relationship with her. “That would be nice”, Jordan admitted. Like his younger brother, he wanted to fix things with her too. ~0~ Dawn’s knee jiggled as she scoured the internet for anything to do with the Hook Man legends as the details of Bryce’s death seemed to fit with a variant of the urban myth. She’d been doing that for the past two days, filling up pages of a notepad as she did so. “Holy crap”, she breathed as she read about Mathew Drummond, the murderer who’d escaped a prison in the Sixties. A prison that wasn’t too far from Cranmoore University. Drummond’s weapon of choice, a hook.