By Alex Kava
On July 17 convicted serial killer Ronald Jeffreys was once finished for 3 heinous murders. 3 months later, one other physique is located close to Platte urban, Nebraska -- killed within the comparable type as Jeffreys'. It takes the services of FBI profiler Maggie O'Dell to bare that Jeffreys can have been performed for 2 murders he didn't commit...and that one other killer remains to be at the free, preying at the blameless. It's now as much as Maggie -- aided by means of neighborhood sheriff Nick Morelli -- to unmask the face of evil and forestall a cold-blooded killer from taking one other life....
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Extra resources for A Perfect Evil (Maggie O'Dell Novels)
Many of the regulars looked at Johnny with a mixture of pity and suspicion. No one mentioned Angela's name, though some patted him on the shoulder as they passed by, and a few, including the publican, stood him a drink. Others were more circumspect, perhaps wary of being seen to take sides, in case at a later date it transpired that Johnny himself had been involved in some way in the murder of the blonde-haired child. m. crossing the bridge above the point where the rivers Finn and Mourne merge into the Foyle.
Just clearing some things up. " "Muire, run up and fetch them tablets from the bathroom, love," Sadie said, and the younger of the two girls - the girl whom I had thought was going to speak on my last visit - ran up the stairs, her footfalls thudding across the ceiling above us. While I waited for her to return, I promised Sadie that we would bring Angela to them as soon as possible. "And her belongings, Sadie. You'll want that gold ring back, I'm sure," I said, remembering the ring Angela had been wearing.
I stood by the river as she worked, wondering what to say to Johnny Cashell, and watched the sun exploding low over the horizon, turning the ribs of the clouds first pink, then purple and orange. Cashell was a barrel-chested, red-faced man with thick, curly red hair that he kept tied back in a ponytail. He dressed as if from a charity shop and his clothes had a musty, damp odour. He was more particular about his feet, and I never met him wearing the same pair of trainers twice: they were always new and always a brand label.