Quotes About Mystery

She stopped as though out of breath. She hugged her knees to her chest and turned away. Myron looked at Win. Win kept still. The silence pressed against the windows and doors. Win

Look, you know I was never very close to my father,' she continued. 'He wasn't an easy man to love. He was far better with his corpses than with breathing entities. He liked the ideal of family, the concept -it was the actual execution he found wearisome. But I still have to find out the truth. For Kathy.

Business was brisk at Chang's. Maxine saw Myron enter and gestured with her head for him to come forward. Myron moved ahead of the line and followed her into the back. The smell of chemicals and lint was cloying. It felt like dust particles were clinging to his lungs. He was relieved when she opened the back door. Roger

BITCHES LIE! Normally Matt would not stop and study something like this. Today he did. The letters were red and slanted. Even if you couldn't read, you could feel the rage here. Matt wondered about the creator—what inspired him to write this. He wondered if this act of vandalism had diluted the creator's wrath—or been the first step toward greater destruction. He

What about Gloria Katz and Susan Milano?" Myron asked. "Where are they?" Cole smiled without mirth or humor. Myron saw the missing teeth and wondered if they were part of the disguise or something more sinister. "I'll tell you about them another time," he said. Myron

She started playing what-if, wondering what would happen if her father suddenly materialized in the seat next to her, if she told him that she knew everything and that he had been given a second chance, what would her father do? Death was probably a great educator.

From the left—the kitchen—someone stepped into view.

She stopped, dazed. "Who are these two?" she asked Taylor. "We, uh, found them loitering around," Taylor said. "We thought maybe they were the perpetrators." For a second, Mrs. Kent stared at us as though we were pieces in a puzzle she couldn't put together. "These

He dialed the number. It was picked up on the third ring. "Good afternoon, Mr. Goldberg!" Reason one for his hesitation: The guy's voice gave him the heebie-jeebies. The man—he sounded really young—was unfailingly polite and spoke in exclamation points, as though he were trying out for an old-time musical. The sound chilled Goldberg. But there was more to it than that. There

that looked like something out of an

When Nash was ten, he asked his father what happens to us when we die. His father said that Shakespeare probably said it best, that death was "the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns." In sum, how can we know? The

Clip hesitated. His breathing was deep, almost labored. "I know something of your years with the FBI," he said finally. "No details, of course. Not even vagaries really, but enough to know you have a background in this kinda stuff. We want you to find Greg. Quietly." Myron

We want to make people consistent and predictable and simple, but they never are.

Esperanza looked around the room. Then she spoke out loud so that Myron would hear her through the phone. "About a hundred guys in here fit your description," she said. "It's like asking me to find an implant in a strip club." Myron

Maya tried to throw this new information into the mix. When she added it all up—Claire, Joe, the nanny cam, the phone, the strip club, the rest—Maya considered all the possibilities and came up with bubkes. Nothing made sense.

Maya had the strangest dream about the reading of Joe's will. The dream was surreal, one of those through-the-shower-stall nocturnal visions where you really can't remember what was said or where exactly you were or any of that. She only remembered one thing. Joe

Harlan Coben

Shaved Head said nothing. "What's going on here?" I asked. "Why was Rachel shot?" "I don't know." "I don't believe you," I said. "Believe what you will. These are the risks we all take." "What

Aqua?" He stopped mid-stride and spun toward her. His eyes were wide and just past the northern border of sanity. She had seen him talk to himself before, had witnessed a few of his paces and tantrums, but she had never seen him look so . . . was it agitated? No. It seemed more than that. It seemed pained. "Why?

The man headed to a steel door. It buzzed. The man opened it and went inside. It took about five minutes. A bald guy with spectacles entered the room. He was nervous. Big Cyndi started giving him the eye. She licked her lips. She cupped what might have been her breasts. Myron shook his head, afraid she'd drop to her knees and pantomime lord-knew-what when the door mercifully opened. The man with the sunglasses poked his head out.

Why do you keep asking about Win?" "I actually came to the club to find him," Bucky said. "But I think it's better this way." "What way?" "Talking to you first. Maybe after Ã¢â'¬Â¦ well, we'll see. Shouldn't hope for too much." Myron nodded. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Bucky

I might be good at what I do, but despite the fact that King's Cross station is indeed where Harry Potter headed off for Hogwarts, I do not possess an invisibility cloak.

There was a rifle on his lap. Hey, Hunter, Myron said.

Myron's eyes swept the room and landed on a reading chair that doubled as a dressing dummy. Greg's clothes were strewn over one arm and the back. Normal enough, Myron guessed—neater than Myron, in fact, though that wasn't saying much. But looking again, he noticed something a tad strange on the other arm of the chair. Two articles of clothing. A white blouse and a gray skirt. Myron