Ergebnis für "A Confession" in Psychothriller

Die Ex-Polizistin Emilia ist fasziniert vom Confession Room, einem Internetforum, in dem jeder seine Geheimnisse posten kann. Je mehr mitmachen, desto dunkler werden die Geständnisse. Wie alle anderen glaubt Emilia, ihre Schuld bliebe anonym. Doch dann wird etwas Unglaubliches auf der Seite angekündigt: ein Mord, in London, dazu die Namen eines Mannes und einer Frau. Das muss ein makabrer Spaß sein! Emilia beginnt fieberhaft zu recherchieren. Zu spät: Die Polizei findet zwei Tote, und eine weitere Mordankündigung taucht im Confession Room auf.

Late one night a man walks into the luxurious home of disgraced banker Harry McNamara and his wife, Julie. The man launches an unspeakably brutal attack on Harry as a horror-struck Julie watches, frozen by fear. Just an hour later the attacker, JP Carney, has handed himself in to the police. He confesses to beating Harry to death, but JP claims that the assault was not premeditated and that he didn't know the identity of his victim.

Selena Murphy is commuting home on the train when she strikes up a conversation with a beautiful stranger in the next seat. The woman introduces herself as Martha and soon confesses that she’s been stuck in an affair with her boss. Selena, in turn, confesses that she suspects her husband is sleeping with the nanny. When the train arrives at Selena’s station, the two women part ways, presumably never to meet again.

LLIAM's AI-generated answers power society - but today, he went offline. Stocks fell, stores shuttered, planes were grounded. As people worldwide begin to confront their loved ones' worst transgressions, Kaitlan races to find Maud Brookes, the ex-nun who taught LLIAM what it means to be human. Only Maud can bring LLIAM back online, and stem the tide of societal breakdown. But Maud doesn't want to be found. She received a confession letter, too - about Kaitlan. Now the two women are forced into a deadly game of cat and mouse, while the whole world teeters on the brink of collapse.

My name is Jack Steen, and for those who arrive on my 'death' ward at the Asylum, I'm the last face many will see before they die. I am the night nurse at an Asylum for the Criminally Insane, and most of my patients know me as their Angel of Death. I know them as mass murderers, rapists, and serial killers - among other things. Here's what happens: they come on my floor, they give me their deathbed confession, and I help to make their death less painful. There's a catch, though: I want the real story, the one they haven't told anyone else.

A house on a quiet street on the south side of Glasgow. Neat, terraced homes with manicured lawns and pruned trees. Not the sort of place that reeks of decay or where dead bluebottles pile up on a windowsill. When the police break in, there’s a surprise in store for them. They find Julie Campbell’s decaying body at her desk, her laptop open beside her. She’s a well-liked, respectable woman. On the laptop is a confession – to five murders.

When Father Henry McGrath hears a confession that sends a cold chill throughout his body, he’s unsure what to do. To divulge the private confession would violate holy canon law. When he refuses to go to the police, people begin to die, and the priest becomes the prime suspect. Elizabeth Monroe, a college professor who teaches forensic psychology, doesn’t believe the elder priest fits the killer’s profile. Elizabeth discovers a frightening thread woven within each killing - a thread that began 30 years ago.

I should never have gone to her house. But I was desperate to ask her some questions about that night. About what she saw when Joe fell from the bridge. All I wanted was some honesty, for someone else to have seen what I saw. I never meant to hurt her. To push her. As she lay at the bottom of the stairs, blood pooling around her head, I knew it was the end for me too. I kept expecting the knock on the door, the police, the handcuffs. But it never came. On the news, they are reporting someone has come forward and confessed to her murder. But that can't be true. Because her killer is me.

Everyone has secrets they would prefer to keep buried, but that’s what makes me so good at what I do. I’ve always been able to sense when people are lying, be it through their body language or the way they speak. As a criminologist, I’ve made it my life’s mission to help those who’ve suffered miscarriages of justice appeal their wrongful convictions. Thirty years ago, my 13-year-old sister was murdered and it felt like a part of me died with her.

In the small, seemingly idyllic town of Hermiston, Oregon, Ethan Brandt's world is torn apart in a single, devastating moment—the murder of his parents. As Ethan returns home to confront his grief, he quickly learns that their deaths are only the tip of an iceberg of secrets. With whispers of corruption, betrayal, and criminal empires lurking beneath the town's surface, Ethan is thrust into a dark conspiracy that shakes the foundation of everything he thought he knew about his family, his friends, and himself.

Inside the fractured mind of Peyton Huberty, a war rages—one he can no longer control. On a sweltering summer afternoon, a prestigious university becomes the backdrop for a tragedy that shocks the nation. But was it madness, or something far more sinister? As Peyton recovers from a failed suicide attempt, he finds himself shackled to a hospital bed, facing the weight of his actions. A team of doctors and attorneys uncover a disturbing truth—a malignant brain tumor, nestled deep within the regions governing impulse and rage. Could this tumor have dictated his actions?

They arrive alive. They always leave dead. But before they go, they tell me everything. My name’s Jack Steen, night nurse in an asylum for the criminally insane—where mercy is optional, and every secret comes with a pulse that’s fading fast. My job isn’t to save them. It’s to listen. For years, I’ve recorded their deathbed confessions in the dead of night, one story at a time. What began as whispers caught on tape has now been transcribed—unedited, unfiltered, raw. These aren’t stories meant to be read so much as listened to, in the quiet hours when even your own heartbeat sounds too loud.

In Better than Bundy: Confessions of a Serial Killer, readers are thrust into the chilling memoir of Zach Jackson, a man who doesn’t just admire America’s most infamous predator—he plans to surpass him. Calculated. Charismatic. Cold-blooded. Zach isn’t content with escaping justice—he wants to be remembered, feared, studied.

Detective Mark Weller was just another passenger on a turbulent flight—until the woman beside him leaned in and whispered a confession: I killed someone. Her voice was steady. Her eyes were certain. And in that moment, Mark knew nothing about his life—or hers—would ever be the same. What began as a near-death exchange in a storm-tossed cabin unravels into a tense, morally tangled investigation. As Weller chases the ghost of her words through city streets and shadowed memories, he’s forced to confront questions the badge can’t answer. Was she telling the truth… or crafting the perfect lie?

I ask you: How do you reconcile a man who is capable of deep, tender love (because I've felt it), a man, who - by public standards - is a health reformer, assistant to the future British prime minister, and the son-in-law of a wealthy industrialist, but who, when the moment overtakes him, kills women? I don't know what to make of it myself, but that's me. I've been told I have a philosopher's mind, that I'm ambitious and can do anything I set my mind to - but sometimes my sadomasochistic tendencies get the better of me.

Mr. Anderson did something bad to one of our friends. Something despicable. So the five of us, high school seniors, tried to kill him. We failed. Now he’s back to finish the game we started ten years ago. It’s the class reunion from your worst nightmare....

Through generations, few murders have captured the imagination in the way the Borden Axe Murders have. The gruesome killings, committed in broad daylight, in an occupied house, while leaving no conclusive evidence linking to the killer or motive, have baffled everyone. The brutality of the crimes, where nothing was taken, suggests a crime of intense passion that could only have been fueled by either hatred or love, or perhaps both.