Jeff The Killer Photos Novels & Stories

Jefferson said, and spat on the floor. “He won’t find you. Your car has no tracking system, your phone’s at the motel. He’ll reach that dead end and even if he knows where I live, which I’m sure he does, he won’t get to me. I went to prison an innocent man, but I left there a murderer. I killed seven men in prison, got myself the name ‘Wrath’ on the inside. You think you know me, but you don’t. You sitting in that chair … that’s what I do now. I kill men like you for money and I’m really fucking good at it. You turned me into this.” “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Kill me if that’s what you have planned,” Jefferson said.

Sean asked. "I said it was Colonel Zinn," Diego replied. "Good," Sean said. This approach spared him the trouble of lengthy explanations. After all, he preferred to keep his involvement with Melania and Blake to a minimum. "What about that guy? Has he confessed everything?" Sean cut to the chase. Since Diego had called him, it meant that the interrogation was wrapping up. "He spilled everything," Diego reported. "His name's Jeff, and he's a mercenary out of Wysteria. He was hired this time by a woman named 'Ms. J' to assassinate Blake in Skye City."

Not even a single try. “What does it say?” I asked, brows furrowing as I rubbed both of my palms to create warmth. The cold had been much cruel today ever since we arrived at the healer’s cabin. I encouraged myself to look at the drawings instead; the art style is pretty much gothic, if not ancient. It wasn’t inked. Hues of black and white were embedded on the golden brown pages of the material. I saw the graphics of a human and a werewolf. They were doing something strange… some sort of a ritual. Elliot did not flip the pages further so I ended up guessing that that was it.

“Well, wasn't it broadcast everywhere, on all the television channels? I'm sure you've watched it. Jeff died because he fired a gun at his own heart.” “No, you said Jeff was shot, not committed suicide.” Shanon narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You killed him." Calvin raised his face to face the cabin ceiling, his hands on his hips and he stood with his back to Shanon. He smiled at first, but suddenly that smile turned into a very loud and discordant laugh. He laughed in front of Shanon like a psychopath who had just been caught in the act of committing a crime. “Congratulations. You managed to guess correctly. I killed Jeff.”

Jeff canceled his father's call and opened his email. Someone did email him, but it was anonymous. He opened the inbox and it contained a video. He immediately watched the video and saw Yen hurting his children. Jeff shook his head, but he had no plans to sue his mistress, he just told her because he knew that her blood was really hot towards her children. He was unaware that at that time Yen was already dead. He was about to call her, but his staff preceded him. "Yes, Garry?” he asked on the other line.

Some were old reports on acquisitions, others intelligence briefs, still others photographs, each one a piece of the board he had been arranging for decades. His gaze lingered on the single print he’d chosen to send out earlier that night. The photograph was grainy, the figure in it aged and ragged, but unmistakable. Killian Jackson. Alive. Robert let the corner of his mouth tug upward in a faint smile as he sipped his whiskey. He knew Killian had seen it by now. He knew the younger man’s blood would be running hot, every rational thought pushed aside by the sudden, brutal confirmation of a truth he’d buried in doubt for years.

It has been so long, And ever since I returned and regained my memory, I haven’t had the opportunity to visit him. “Have you found Asher?” Someone behind me said. I was so startled, but when I turned around, I was more shocked. “Do you miss your grandpa that much?” Jeff? “W…wh…what are you doing…” I tried to put the words together, but I couldn’t. Jeff is in prison waiting for his death, Who is this? And why does he look like Jeff? “Hahahaaha, Blair, do not be surprised, this is me.”

We just sit on the floor and looked at our pictures a while ago. Until, we swiped more…my eyebrows raised because Jeoff is looking at the kids. What is Jeoff doing when I am asleep. “What is this Jeoff!” “Just don’t mind that.” Then he grabbed his tablet. “Jeoff delete that.” “why are you collecting pictures which are not yours? You are not the subject! Your photographic styles and your subject, they won’t be in, in the national gallery! So you better delete that.” “Nope, it’s better that you know that my subject is not that good inspite of me being good at taking pictures.”

I turned toward the door. “I’ll find out the truth,” I promised. Then I left before I could change my mind. Back in my office, Jeff and Appa were waiting. Jeff dropped a stack of photographs on my desk. I barely glanced at them before I met his gaze. “What is this?” “The proof you were looking for,” he said grimly. I grabbed the photos, flipping through them quickly. Images of men, my own pack members, sitting in dark corners of taverns, meeting with strangers.

Dr Karma Kuntz stood in the silence, studying the body on the bed. Chief Inspector Marcus Kuntz. Decorated officer. Father of the year, according to the plaques in his office. Pillar of the community. Monster. She pulled out her phone, snapped three photographs for documentation and evidence for her own records, not theirs. From her hand bag, she retrieved a pair of gloves—latex. She pulled them on with ease, then moved through the room. Wiping surfaces. Collecting the silk blindfold, and the handcuffs—those went into a plastic bag.