Emma Walker Autopsy Novels & Stories

I disabled the locks, pulled wires, and opened the doors. “Go,” I told them. “Follow the tunnel. Don’t stop.” Some stumbled. Others ran. I moved to the server room. Flames sparked from Chloe’s charges. One more blast—and it would all come down. Emma’s POV Damian staggered, blood dripping from his side. “You think killing me changes anything?” he gasped. I stepped over him. “No,” I said. “But it ends what you started.” I pressed the detonator. And walked out. Lucas’s POV

♧ ♧ ♧NESSA♧ ♧ ♧ Immediately I got the call I shut my office and walked quickly to my car in the parking lot , I turned and saw Zeke " Nessa where the hell are you rushing to ?" He asked " don't worry about it I'll be back" I said " oh common I'm your assistant so I'm suppose to go with you to anything relating to the case " he stated " and what if I tell you its personal do you still have to go with me?" I asked " no but …." he said before I interrupted him saying " so its personal I'll see you when I see you" . With that I left him staring speechless I zoomed off to the hospital where the autopsy is being held.

She left the archives and made her way back to the police station, her heart pounding in her chest. When she arrived, she found Lukas sitting alone in the waiting room, his head in his hands. He looked up as she approached, his eyes red and swollen. "Lukas, I need to talk to you," Emma said, taking a seat next to him. Lukas looked at her, his expression guarded. "What about?" "I found something in the archives," Emma said. "A confession from Aaron Blackwood. He admitted to cursing the pendant and using it to control a werewolf. Do you know anything about this?"

she murmured cruelly, and her eyes momentarily wandered to Mara and Dex, who seemed embarrassed under her disdainful stare. “Sit,” Ema murmured, indicating the huge throne beside her. “And spill." Lucas then spent the next hour recounting all the aspects of the case that he and the other officers had gathered: her physical build, how the woman called Amelia was behaving, the interior design, and the location of the bookstore where she performed the act, as well as the surrounding vicinity. Ema merely nodded and listened, from time to time interrupting with the inquiries or more detailed facts. After Lucas’s report was done, the whole room went silent as if dense air had filled the whole room

Blood splattered onto her dress, her hands, the walls, painting the room with silence. Emma tried to cry out, whispering for help, whispering for the twins. But nobody came. Victoria didn’t wait to see if she would live. She just fled the scene, heart pounding, and fixed her hair before anyone saw her. Half an hour later, the twins came back from karaoke, laughing and calling Emma’s name. They said she had gone to retrieve her purse. But what they found was Emma lying lifeless in Hunter’s room, skull fractured, blood soaking into the plush carpet. The ambulance had come, but it was too late. The doctors said she suffered severe brain trauma.

he came to a halt as he saw Emma standing before his father, his history professor and some other guy by her right hand side, his mother, Esther and Anthony by her left hand side. Slowly, he approached them, noticing as he walked closer, that Emma's red hair wasn't as red as before, it wasn't that long either. Had she trimmed it? He thought. Her back was facing him, so he hadn't seen her face yet. "Derek…right about time." Alpha Arnold called wistfully, not understanding but seemingly enjoying the scene right before him tonight. He didn't know how his younger brother got in touch with vampires, but this scene alone would rip him of his honor and respect among the other alpha wolves at least.

Each syllable precise—a guillotine drop. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know” “It’s Just The Franks are arriving tomorrow morning for his wake.” I blurted the words, a desperate stab in the dark. “Are you Doc by any chance?” “Yeah.” Relief, cold and sharp, flooded me. This was him. “I’m Emma Carter, Elijah sent me”

That was Alice: the prankster, the escape artist, the one who always found a door where there was only a wall. The morgue was cold. Too bright. It smelled like bleach and something else, something chemical and wrong; formaldehyde and the ghost of every body that had passed through these stainless-steel doors. Alexa's boots squeaked on the linoleum. She focused on the sound to keep from floating away. The detective looked at Alexa and then to the attendant, a young man with bad skin and kind eyes who probably hadn't slept in thirty hours. He nodded once, solemn as a priest, and pulled back the sheet.

Emma arrived at the campus and parked her car then walked inside the big building. Cole saw Emma when she walked inside the building and he smirked to himself when he saw how she was covering the bruises he left on her delicate skin. Emma was shy when he first saw her, but she never looked dead, her eyes never looked this sad; Emma was alive when he first saw her and now he killed her.

“Feeling any better?” Waltz Fleur asked while looking nervously at Alex Rockefeller. Alex nodded and wiped the juice from the corners of his mouth. “Much better,” he said. After Alex swallowed the essence in the humanoid-shaped demonic wisteria fetus, it was left with only a thin layer of skin. Anna Coleman, Granny Silvan, and the others all watched in stunned silence. Xyla Stoermer immediately returned with another demonic wisteria fetus. “Mr. Rockefeller, there’s another one here. You might as well just eat it too. It’d be a waste to leave it here. Or else, it might just benefit someone else,” she said.