Criminal Minds Jones Novels & Stories

Dan sat in his room all alone feeling the weight of the whole situation. His son's life was at stake because he knew the kind of man Mr Jones Vones was. He was ruthless and impulsive. He had worked with him for years and had every idea what the man could do. The man was a killer and he had derived joy from killing in all the murders he had done. "I have to rescue Rafe" he said to himself as he stood up and paced about his room, "But what can I do?"

"Meglio stare attenti a Dashkov; sei un uomo morto!" (Better watch out Dashkov; you're a dead man!) ................................ Detective Jones, a mob of messy hair all over his face, went through a folder in front of his desk for the fiftieth time. None of it made sense. It was missing a very important variable but he still couldn't put his hand on it. He'd even taken the work with him to his apartment, hoping he'd be able to think better, but nothing came. Nothing made sense. He took another sip from his mug of hot cocoa,

It was like a tap had been opened and events just rushed into his mind. Detective Jones was undeterred by Jasper's silence. “I understand what trauma can do to the mind. I did three tours in Afghanistan before I blew out my knees. Running around with heavy backpacks can strain your knees. That aside, I was exposed to a lot of horrors that would originally break the human mind. So, I know how you feel right now.” Jones continued. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose. He was quiet. Jones decided to give Jasper space.

“I just… what was that again?” “The man who broke into your home,” he says, “His name is Hector ‘Hunter’ Jones. He’s a known gang member, and there’s an ongoing investigation about him. It’s conducted by the tycoon Zane Allard, and he’s the number one suspect for Melissa Smith’s death.” Andrew lets that sink in, his chest now filled with anger instead of… whatever emotion that was. “Take that bastard to the hospital,” he decides. “Make sure he gets the best treatment so he can live—”

I saw Camala and Gloria shooting me mocking looks from the corner, and I wanted to rip them apart. But suddenly, an elderly police officer walked over to Camala. With a stern face, he showed his badge. “Even though we haven’t figured out who the criminal is for this case, we need your cooperation for a case that’s more than ten years old!” My eyes widened in disbelief. I recognized him immediately! He was Officer Lewis. He had been in charge of my parents’ murder case! In the end, they concluded that Camala was my parents’ murderer, and the drunkard was the driver who was hired to kill them!

Led like a sheep to the slaughter, and like a lamb dumb before the shearer, he opened not his mou.... "Ooh, shussh, boy...shussh. This scripture ain't talking about some hormone raging teenagers skipping off to some out-of-bounds woods. You, my boy "is" a convict. If it was back in em old good days, some blood "hotted" Sheriff would have popped some holes in y'all bellies and the report would say nothing but "Six Poachers Gunned Down for Attempt to Resist Arrest and Attempt to Murder a Federal Officer". Ain't nobody gonna be sniffing around, looking for 'em evi....", Mr. Jones said, interrupting my thoughts as the soldier walked us down to a "detention camp",standing at the back to make sure

Anabelle, barely holding herself together, nodded in agreement, “He threatened to kill us! That’s why we didn’t go to the police!” Even my mother twisted the tale, smooth as ever. “Of course I didn't agree with what Kevin did, but Jones had us all by the throat. He said we were pawns. He forced Kevin to pretend to want Rhea back. We didn’t want her harmed!” The officers weren’t stupid, but with all four of us aligning, the doubts began to spread. Add to that the fact that Jones was the one who had a long string of criminal charges in multiple states, attempted assault, bar fights, and harassment complaints, it wasn’t a stretch to believe he could be the mastermind.

My mother, Samantha, believed I was born a liar. Because she was deceived by my father's sweet words in her youth and abandoned after giving birth to me and my sister, Mia, she harbored a deep, bitter hatred for lies. She begged a witch for two magic rings. The rule was simple: if the wearer lied, the ring would glow red and burn them with magic. Mia's ring never hurt her, even when she broke a vase and blamed it on me. But if I simply said, "I'm thirsty," my ring would sear my flesh until I screamed. At first, I tried to defend myself, but Mom would just say, "The ring doesn't lie. Only through repeated punishment can your wicked soul be cleansed." After thousands of burns, even I started t

Jones had served more than five generations of the Bloodsworth clan but he was a familiar who got even weaker after the Bloodsworth who’d turned him planted a stake in his own heart. Sometimes I wondered why Jones stayed with this forsaken clan that took his life away from him. Jones had been the keeper of a morgue in the 1800’s and the night he was turned, he’d been sleeping in his ramshackle cabin which was right beside the morgue. A few loud knocks disturbed Jones’ dream and he grunted a few times, rolling out of bed. His head was heavy, his heart heavier as he missed his family who lived in the other town. With hazy eyes and a dizzy head, he approached the door.

“I’ve seen many kinds of people in this world. But I’ve never seen anyone so brazenly cry ‘thief’ while they themselves are the thief. “Not only are you shamelessly denying your crimes, but you’re also pinning the crime on somebody else. Why don’t you just drop dead?!” My heart sank. Before I ended up in the detention center, I suspected Gilbert and Selene would try to frame me and would not give up. I did not expect the worst-case scenario to come to pass.