Quotes from Harlan Coben

that looked like something out of an

Eban Trainor shut his eyes for a moment. "I can't see how this matters anymore. We should let him rest in peace." "I'm not asking out of some kind of prurient interest." The

He erred against caution, figured that it would be better to be spotted and possibly confronted than to lose Gabrielle altogether. He

The Neck Cracker said, "Who are you?" again. Matt would not risk it. He sighed and took out his camera phone. "I'm Bob Smiley, Channel Nine News." That

Some people claim that money is the root of all evil. Could be. Others say that money can't buy you happiness. That may be true. But if you handle it right, money buys you freedom and time, and those are a lot more tangible than happiness

They now lived in quasi-mansions in wealthier suburbs like Brookline or Newton with shrubs and fences and fancy marble bathrooms and swimming pools and where the very idea of living with non-nuclear family was nightmarish and incomprehensible

The dog was still whimpering. But now Goldberg thought that maybe he heard another sound too, another whimpering maybe, or something worse, underneath the first—a terrible, pain-stricken noise so nonhuman that paradoxically it could only come from another human being. "Deputy Chief Goldberg?" He swallowed and dived in. "There's this lawyer named Harry Sutton.…

Ligou para sua mãe pelo telefone do carro e garantiu que estava bem. Ela lhe pediu que ligasse para o pai, ele é que estava preocupado. Myron ligou para o pai e garantiu que estava bem. Ele o mandou ligar para mãe, ela é que estava preocupada. Comunicação perfeita, o segredo de um casamento feliz

The reception area of Burton and Crimstein was part old-world attorney—rich mahogany, lush carpeting, tapestry-clad seating, the décor that foreshadows the billing—and part Sardi's celebrity wall.

Eloise had been with Dad since before the riots. As long as I breathe, Dad often said, Eloise will have a job. She was like a second wife to him. She took care of him during his workday. They argued and fought and got grumpy with each other. There was genuine affection. Mom knew all this. Thank God Eloise is uglier than a cow living near Chernobyl, Mom liked to say, or I might wonder.

I'm not the one to ask," the hostess said. "You should speak to Caroline." "Caroline?" Myron Bolitar, Parrot Investigator. "Caroline Gundeck. She was the one who had lunch with him." Every once in a while you just get lucky.

Myron went on. "Horace never knew, did he?" Arthur shook his head. "Anita got pregnant early in our relationship. But Brenda still ended up dark enough to pass. Anita insisted we keep it a secret. She didn't want our child stigmatized. She also—she also didn't want our daughter raised in this house. I understood.

Myron was about to launch into a Berruti-type explanation of how traces didn't really work that way, but Katie never gave him the chance. "Just leave us alone!" And then she hung up. Like another dopey TV cliché, Myron said, "Hello? Hello?" when he knew that Katie Rochester had hung up and was gone. They

Wendy wondered what to say here, what wouldn't sound patronizing, but "I'm sure that's not true" or "I'm sorry" didn't make the cut. She again opted for silence. "Do

You might argue that I'm nesting myself on an awfully slippery slope. I would agree with you, though I might counter that most of life is lived out there. The problem was, there were repercussions when you lived in the grays—not just theoretical ones that taint your soul, but the brick-and-mortar ones, the unforeseeable destruction that such choices leave behind. I wondered what would have happened if I had told the truth right from the get-go. And it scared the hell out of me.

Some men called them Lenny and George, referring to the Steinbeck characters in Of Mice and Men. There might be some truth to it—Cal was big and impossibly strong—but where Lenny had a gentleness, Cal had none. He was a rock, both physically and emotionally. He could indeed kill a rabbit by petting it, but he wouldn't care much. But

The girls were both high school seniors, both pretty in that coltish way. The one sitting on the corner of his old bed—the one he had met for the first time an hour ago—was named Erin. Myron had started dating Erin's mother, a widow and freelance magazine writer named Ali Wilder, two months ago. This party, here at the house Myron had grown up in and now owned, was something of a "coming out" party for Myron and Ali as a couple. The

Dimonte turned the ignition key. The sound was loud. He hit the gas a bit, let the engine do the rev thing for a while. The car had been jacked up like a race car. The sound was, like, totally rad, man. No women were in the nearby vicinity to hear this human mating call or they would surely be disrobing by now. Dimonte finally shifted into gear.

You can participate or you can protect, but you really can't do both. Her fellow soldiers would understand. Some might force themselves to cross over.

The world moves on, which is an outrage.

She opened the machine's mouth and put in a pod called Jet Fuel. The machine seemed to eat the pod and piss out the coffee.

What do you say?" "Nothing yet. I just kinda stare at him. Let him bloviate." He

Calling the Indian heavyset was being politically correct. He was rotund, with slabs and slabs of skin and a belly like he'd swallowed a bowling ball. His T-shirt couldn't quite reach his waist and hung out almost like a skirt. His neck fat flowed directly into a smoothly shaved head, so that it looked like one trapezoidal entity. He had a small mustache, wire-rimmed glasses, and a smile that one might mistake for gentle. "Welcome

Maya had learned it in the military, but of course, it applied to real life. Your fellow soldiers had to know that you had their back. That was rule one, lesson one, and above all else. If the enemy goes after you, he goes after me too. Maybe