Novel & Cerita Jeff The Killer Picture

“I’m talking about your plan with Pete Milestone. The zip ties, water, and sleeping pills in your car tells a different story, Jeff. Were you supposed to deliver me for your payment? Did it make you feel like a big, strong man to pin that murder on me?” Jefferson shook his head. “That fucking bitch just had to keep her mouth shut!” “Yeah … she left you for the same reason she left me. She really doesn’t condone murder, except yours. She knows I’m going to kill you and she’s upstairs right now, having a drink with my brothers. Who knows, she might even fuck one of them before the night’s over.” “He’ll be looking for me,” Jefferson said, and spat on the floor.

I looked up at him, my gaze chilly. "Do you really think you're still in control?" I asked, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "Do you think you can keep hiding the money you've embezzled from the company and the tax fraud you've committed? Did you really think the truth about my dad's death would stay buried forever?" The color drained from his face. "W-What are you talking about? Since when did I embezzle company funds and commit tax fraud? I didn't kill your father either! Stop making things up!"

With the other, he raised his glass and began to drink. “I've had a lot on my plate lately, Eva, and I need your help,” Ron told me, “Regarding Jeff's death, he was found murdered and his body dumped at sea! Of course, I kept the news from the public. Apart from his wife, very few people know the cause of Jeff's death!” I was shocked. Jeff was not only my husband's right-hand man, but also a former Mafia member. Who would kill him? “Maybe they're not after Jeff!” Rowen looks at me meaningfully. “I'm guessing it has something to do with the business merger next month -- the competition!”

"That scar has to be fake! You just want me to be your scapegoat! You're jealous because Mom and Dad always loved me more, so now you're scheming to get me killed." Seeing Emma crying in his arms, Noah grabbed me by the hair and dragged me in front of her, forcing me to confess. "Anna, you were the killer, yet you have the nerve to frame Emma. You evil woman! Apologize to Emma! Maybe then I'll put in a good word with the cops!" Noah's grip was strong, causing my scalp to ache terribly, but it couldn't compare to the pain of being slashed to death in my previous life. I looked up at the two of them viciously, laughing in exasperation.

she asked him, suddenly afraid. “You, of course,” he said, and smiled. “Why? Who are you?” she asked him. “Jeffrey,” he said, but Kari was still confused. “Your boyfriend killed my brother.” “What are you talking about?” Kari frowned. Kyle didn’t have an older brother, she thought. “Kyle was an only child.” “Interesting. So he’s killed more than once,” Jeffrey said, and she frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” “George! He killed George, and somehow made it look like an accident!” Jeffrey yelled at her.

I pulled out a photograph and placed it on top of the envelope. Kristoff. His eyes sharpened instantly. “This man,” I said, voice low, controlled. “I want him found. I don’t care where he is. I don’t care how far you have to go. Ends of the earth if necessary.” He studied the photo in silence. “This is the one making headlines,” he said finally. “The Alleged Killer.” “Yes,” I said. “And I’m tired of having him haunt my family.” I reached back into my bag and brought out a second envelope…thicker. Heavier. I dropped it beside the first.

“So, what will you have? I rarely get new faces in here.” “Uh… ma’am,” Jeffrey said, his voice tentative. “I’m actually here about Lewinski.” That stopped her. She turned, brows slightly raised. “Oh? What about him?” Jeffrey reached into his jacket, pulled out the photograph, and held it out. “He… might have some answers I’m looking for.” The woman took the picture carefully, her eyes darting from the image to Jeffrey’s face, studying him with a focus that made him shift in his spot. After a moment, she set the photo on the counter, poured him a glass of water, and gestured for him to sit.

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.

Micheal was playing an online game with his computer when he received a text message from Jeffrey. Jeffrey: Micheal where are you? There's something important I have to tell you. Micheal: Jeffrey? I thought the killer got you. Jeffrey: No. I'm in hiding because the killer sent someone after me. Micheal: Are you safe? Jeffrey: Barely alive. But I'm with a friend and we tracked the killer's real ID. Micheal: Really? Who is he? Jeffrey: I can't say on the internet so I texted the guys to come to this address below. But I can't seem to get Eduardo? Is he dead?