Quotes from Harlan Coben

Butterface." Then Thomas spoke slowly. "But. Her. Face.

Does he have a record?" Perlmutter asked. "He was let out of Walden three months ago." "For?" "Armed assault," Daley said. "Wu cut a deal on that Scope case. I called and asked around. This is one very bad man." "How bad?" "Poop-in-your-pants bad. If ten percent of the rumors about this guy are true, I'm sleeping with my Barney the Dinosaur night-lite on.

He headed into the kitchen. His father was up and making breakfast. He said nothing about Jessica's upcoming nuptials. Mom, however, jumped from her chair, rushed over to him, gave him a look that suggested a terminal illness, asked if he was all right. He assured her that he was fine.

It makes no difference." "Sure it does. That's why we have a system of justice, so that vigilantes like you don't irresponsibly call for mob violence against an innocent man.

I'm afraid so,' he said. 'Ugh. Go on.' 'This whole thing is sort of like a boxing match,' Myron began. 'We've been ducking and diving and weaving and trying to keep away from our opponent. But we can only do that for so long. Eventually we have to throw a punch.' She made a face. 'Christ, that was lame.

At the end of the day, the information is packaged and a report will be e-mailed to you. It will show you everything—every Web site visited, every e-mail sent or received, every instant message. If Adam does a PowerPoint or creates a Word document, it will show you that too. Everything. You could watch him live-time if you want.

FRANK TREMONT AND MICKEY WALKER followed Stanton down the corridor. "Hester Crimstein is an amoral shark with scruples that would shame a street hooker," Walker said to him. "You

She stood fluidly and semiglided out of the room. Despite her size, Mabel moved with the unlabored grace of a natural athlete. Horace too moved like that, blending bulk with finesse in an almost poetic way. She was gone for less than a minute, and when she returned, she handed him a photograph. Myron looked down. A

They were sprawled on the den furniture as only teenage boys can, as though they'd removed their skeletons, hung them in a nearby closet, and slid to a collapse against whatever upholstery was nearby.

Burton and Crimstein had a total caste system with one ruling entity. There were senior partners, sure, but Hester Crimstein would not allow any of them to add their name to the masthead. Tia

He kept low and darted to another tree. He looked, he assumed, rather doofy - a guy six feet four inches tall and comfortably over two hundred pounds darting between bushes like something left on the cutting room floor of The Dirty Dozen.

Logic is never linear. It dashes to and fro and bounces off walls and makes hairpin turns and gets lost during detours. Anything can be a catalyst, usually something unrelated to the task at hand, ricocheting your thoughts into an unexpected direction—a direction that inevitably leads to a solution linear thinking could never have approached.

Horne finally came out to the reception area and moved so that he stood directly over her. He was younger than she'd imagined, though he had that kind of shiny face Loren usually associated with Botox or Jermaine Jackson. His hair was a little too long, slicked back and curling around the neck. His suit was impeccable, though the lapels looked a little wide. Maybe that was back in. He

We pushed past branches and through humidity thick enough to bind. The gummy smell of pine clawed the air. We trudged through high grass. Mosquitoes and the like buzzed upward in our wake. Trees cast long shadows that you could interpret any way you wanted, like trying to figure out what a cloud looked like or one of Rorschach's inkblots. We

When you listen to your gut, you are often just fooled with greater certainty.

She explained to him her theory that people we now consider "on the spectrum" were, in the past, the geniuses in art, science, and literature, but now, with medications and diagnoses, we flatten them out, make them more uniform, dull their senses.

The first involved the "trust fall." Ms. Owens, a PE teacher with a smile that looked like it'd been painted on by a drunk clown, started off by trying to fire us up. "Good morning, everyone!" A few groans. Then—and I hate when adults do this—she shouted, "I know you're more excited than that, so let's try it again! Good morning, everyone!" The

Liz Gorman. As in the Raven Brigade." He told Win about Fred Higgins's call. Win leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. As usual his face gave away nothing. When Myron finished, Win said, "Curiouser and curiouser.

Hester had something of a gift for mimicry. She often used it in the courtroom to subtly if not immaturely undermine a prosecutor. Doing her best impression of Rick Chad, she repeated his earlier words verbatim: "This guy should be in prison, no questions asked." "That will be up to a court of law," Hipster Rick Chad said, "but maybe if a man acts like this, if he punches people in the face in broad daylight, he deserves to be canceled and lose his job.

When Myron got settled again, Esperanza said, "I want to talk to you about something." "Shoot." "It's about my graduating law school." "Okay," Myron said, dragging out the word.

Her comfort zone was protecting these moments, not participating in them.

The simple Francis Bacon axiom, one we constantly stressed to our students, applied here: Knowledge is power. Benedict

The battle-ax receptionist—she looked about fifteen years too old to play the prison matron in B-movies—watched the scene play out, the hint of a smile on her dry, lipstick-caked lips. Loren

Win. He was often described in the society pages as an "international playboy," and she guessed that fit. He was blue-blooded old money, very old money, the kind of old money that disembarked from the Mayflower and immediately called for a caddy and a tee time.