Marisol Delko Csi Miami Novels & Stories

Definitely. I slipped into my car, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat before heading toward Lilian’s office. As I drove through the city’s chaotic streets, my mind raced through everything I’d pieced together so far. Every lead, every dead end, all pointing to Luca Delvecchio. I needed a way into his world, and tonight was the first step. By the time I pulled up outside Lilian’s office, the sun was already setting, painting the city in gold and pink hues. She climbed into the passenger seat, tossing her bag in the back.

The door cracked open just an inch, then wider. There, by the door, stood Sofia Morales-Alcaraz, formally Dorothea Gatchalian. Beautiful, effortless, but with eyes as dead as night. She wore a soft gray blouse with her hair tied back. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” Andrea said softly. “Captain Andrea Villanueva, CIDG. This is SPO2 Elias Mendoza.” Sofia’s gaze flicked between them. The corner of her mouth smiled in a friendly manner. “What can I do for you?”

That would hurt them the most! At these words, the three present couldn't help but shudder. Indeed, all the Carlsons were ruthless! "Since Delbert has a plan, then stop worrying. Let's have a drink!" Marc said with a smile, raising his glass. "By the way, Delbert, I heard Miss Munoz has moved to your island. How are things between you two lately?" With this question, all three pairs of eyes turned to Delbert. "She's best at lying!"

“I saw someone. From school. Delilah. She—she knows me.” There was a pause. Then Mariam’s voice came gently through the line. “Slow down. Did she say anything?” “No. But she saw me. She recognized me, Mariam.” Another pause. “I’ll talk to Tariq,” Mariam said carefully. “Just sit tight. I’ll call you back.” The line went dead. Isla dropped the phone on the couch and wrapped her arms around herself. ******** GRAYSON The deal was signed. Another expansion. Another building bearing the Voss name.

“I actually know someone. She's amazing. She's smart, super gentle and very professional. I’d trust her with my own parents.” She gives me the contact and name: Marisol Reyes. I call that night. Marisol picks up on the third ring, her voice warm but alert. When I tell her Andrea gave me her contact, she relaxes and we talk. By morning, we’ve arranged to meet at the hospital. She arrives wearing a navy sweater and jeans, her black hair is braided down her back, and eyes as warm as her voice. She’s maybe in her late twenties, early thirties. She's very pretty and composed.

Marisol looked smaller in the confined room than she had at any feast or dinner — stripped of the careful polish, dark circles under her eyes that suggested she hadn't slept since the fire. "I didn't set that fire," she said, before Kade had even finished sitting down. "I want that understood immediately. I spread doubt. I'll admit to that, gladly, because I believe every word I said. But I would never conspire with Rurik. He killed people I grew up with when he attacked the border settlements six years ago. I have no loyalty to that man." "And yet," Kade said, voice flat, "your accusations against Elena happened to align perfectly with an attack that occurred less than a day later."

Marisol erupted immediately, a torrent of Spanish flying out of her that I was only half following, something about Peter being the son of the devil himself and a disgrace to the human race. "Mari, I need you to calm down." Keisha cautioned. "We're at a Police department headquarters!" Marisol pressed her lips together, switching to English. "That evil, evil man!" Keisha turned to August. "I take it you're Mr Kellerman's son who plays college hockey?" "Yes, I am." She nodded, then reached into the folder, pulling out a photograph. "Upon investigation, the police found that the woman your father killed worked at Florida State University in the sports department. I thought you might recognize

He bought coffee, chatted with the doorman, checked his phone while waiting for his car. Elena watched him step into his Mercedes and felt something dark twist in her chest. He had cried at her father’s funeral. He had held her mother. He had promised justice while knowing the truth. “What about the name from inside the house?” she asked. “Do we know who it is?” Marco hesitated. “The letters M-A-R are clear. The spacing suggests a longer name. Maria, Marco, Marcus, Martin. There are many possibilities.” “But someone here.” “Yes.” Marco pulled up another file. “I’m running deep checks on everyone with access to Isabella. That includes Maria, Marcus Dellucci from night security, Martha Reeves

“He talked. Apparently, the night of the murders, he saw a heated argument between Gaston Dubois – Annalisa’s father – and another man. A man he wouldn’t recognize, but he did remember one detail – a signet ring with a peculiar crest.” My breath hitched. A signet ring? That could be a lead, a way to identify the mysterious visitor. But who would argue so vehemently with their own father, especially on the night of his murder? “This is huge, Caleb,” I said, a mixture of excitement and trepidation bubbling within me. “We might finally have something concrete” ***** My knuckles rapped a nervous rhythm against Detective Miller’s worn wooden desk. The man himself, a grizzled veteran with eyes tha

"It's uh... It's not bad as far as I know. It's. It's about your mum." Her eyes doubled in size, like a frightened child. "Is… is she dead?" I shook my head. "She's alive, and we found her." Mariselle gasped in raw shock, her mouth agape and her face white as sheets. Harrison and I exchanged glances and waited for her reaction. And then she let out a loud, piercing scream. A/N; Who are you rooting for? CJ and Lenora or CJ and Kia? Thank you for reading!!!!