Sarah Goode Murder Novels & Stories

Hell anyone would be afraid of who I was. I sat up on the bed and swung my legs to the side of the bed in a sexual manner. “I am talking to you Felicity, do not waste my time did you kill that woman?” he asked in a smaller tone. I completely ignored him and walked out of the room. the both of them followed me and I could sense Joseph’s rage from all the way over here. “Did she really kill someone?” Sarah asked my husband. She was going to be in for a shock. I was certain that the assassination was tied to her in some way but I had no proof and since I had no proof I had no case.

Hart's hand stayed up. He looked at the woman. He looked at Nora. He didn't move. "I said let her go." Hart lowered his hand. Stepped back. His jaw was tight. "Who are you?" The woman walked closer, gun still on him. "My name is Sarah. You knew me once. Before you tried to kill me." Hart's face drained of color. "Sarah. You're dead." "I'm not dead. I've been waiting. Watching. Waiting for someone like her to come along."

Her hair in a messy bun, suit jacket gone, with coffee in her hand. “Can we talk?” she asked. I nodded because my throat hurt from screaming. She pulled up a chair but didn’t sit. Just stood there, looking at the bandages on my hands. “You did good in there,” she said. “You got him to talk. We have him on 14 counts now. Kidnapping. Domestic terrorism. Wire fraud.” She paused. “But Sarah... it’s not enough.” The words hit like ice water. “What do you mean it’s not enough? He put a bomb in my husband’s car!”

The attacks started small and surgical. A Convergence teacher named Sarah disappeared from Clearwater territory. She had been teaching resistance techniques to a small group of young wolves. One morning, she did not show up for class. By afternoon, her cabin was empty, her belongings gone, no trace of struggle or departure. Just gone. Three days later, a former Convergence student named Michael was found dead in Riverbend territory. The official cause was listed as a training accident. But the wounds told a different story—precise, professional, designed to look accidental while actually being executed.