James Gillies Murdoch Mysteries นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Just keep your eyes and ears open and see if you can find anything else while you still have the chance. “All right,” Jill promised. "By the way - I already know I'll definitely get some work done tomorrow, so I've got at least a week to look around here." "Now that's good news," Walt laughed, "I see it, you're going to be the new supermodel." After they said goodbye, Jill settled back on the pillows and tried to gather her thoughts. Mick assaulted very young girls, Harriet slept with Mick even though he was married, and Ewan dealt drugs. She wondered what other abysses might be opening up here, and couldn't help but wonder if Craig might have some dark secret that no one knew.

“That’s what have been thinking of the case, it could be a beast he created or something worse, that might end up killing every being in this city. And we need to stop it before it completely destroys us.” He was facing the wall, his hands crossed at his back. Staring at the hair at intervals. Could it be a sign or something. What or who was held in here? That he had to look into. And find out everything he had to know about Lucas and his missing assistant. Anika. The paranormal researcher could obviously be something else. And all that he has to find out.... “And one more thing, Detective.” Detective Sean turned to him, giving him his full attention.

With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Murphy had been waiting for this call. The moment he saw Liam's number, he answered immediately. "Done?" Liam's tone was calm. "They got away?" "You saw the news. They intentionally rammed Giles." "I don't get it. If they wanted revenge, why go after a kid?" "Their target is Dave," Murphy said. "A desperate father is more dangerous than any weapon." Liam let out a humorless laugh. "Exactly. A rabid wolf is far worse than a fierce tiger. Margaret probably won't last much longer."

The blonde beauty sipped on her morning coffee while reading Seattle Daily, Downing the rest of her liquid drug in one huge gulp, she tied up her long blonde curls into a bun at the top off her head while sighing, two missing billionaires tofind and a murder case to solve, just another day at the office. It has been exactly 24 hours since Grayson and James Hudson have been missing and a dead body has been found in their pent house. The circumstances around their suspicious suddendisappearance makes it even more of a challenge to work on finding their spoiled asses, keeping all information on the down low has been the biggest challenge thus far. The media are like hungry lions waiting to poun

"Investment banker. No criminal record. Just a regular guy in the wrong place at the wrong time." Evelyn studied the body, then glanced at the walls of the alley. Deep claw marks gouged into the brick as if something had climbed or leaped away, leaving behind a trail of terror. She didn’t like this. Something wasn’t adding up. They left the crime scene Back at her apartment, Evelyn poured herself a drink, the amber liquid swirling in the glass like the chaos in her mind. She spread out every file she had—her father’s old case, the current victims, the same patterns, the same full moons.

He grabbed the nearest empty briefcase, tossing in a few necessary items, a charger, a small stack of business cards, and a lightweight wool coat, before realizing he’d forgotten the most basic essentials. He needed to be Cillian St. James, the man who handled crises, not the man running from to save his relationship across three continents. “But, fuck that!” he exclaimed, laughing. A soft knock came at his open bedroom door. Noah stood in the doorway, holding a shivering Gill. “Noah? Is everything alright?” “No sir, something’s wrong with Gill… she’s… she’s convulsing.” Cillian paused mid-zip of his briefcase. He felt a sudden, almost childish rush of fear cross through him.

A sharp light spilled out into the corridor. A low murmur of voices drifted into the quiet hallway. Evelyn paused, her instincts immediately telling her to listen. In her past life, she had ignored hushed conversations, closed doors, secret meetings, believing her love would protect her. That naivety had cost her her life. She stepped silently into the shadow of a large falcon statue, her back pressed flat against the wall as she focused on the study's interior. “...every transaction matches, Mr. Vance,” a voice said. It was a cold, detached, almost mechanical tone—the voice of Murdock, Arthur’s legendary chief of global intelligence and forensic investigation. This man operates entirely in