Undone

Considering what Pauline's been through . . ." Will began, then stopped himself. "She's not very nice." "She's a cold-blooded bitch." "I'm surprised I haven't fallen in love with her.

You didn't realize what was passing you by until you slowed down a little bit to get a better look.

Sara studied him. "Is that a Chihuahua behind your back?" "No, I'm just happy to see you" Sara gave him a confused smile, and he reluctantly showed her Betty.

And now, when she looked in the mirror and saw a new line on her own face,a new wrinkle, all she could think was that she was growing old without him

Will always assumed that when people insisted they weren’t lying about a particular thing, that meant they were lying about something else.

he recognized Donald Trump’s picture on the jacket and assumed it was a get-rich-quick scheme. Obviously, Jake Berman hadn’t taken the man’s advice. Though, considering Berman had lost his job and declared bankruptcy, maybe he had.

Love, like water, always flowed down the path of least resistance.

Life was like that. You didn't realize what was passing you by until you slowed down a little bit to get a better look.

She's just come undone," her mother had whispered on the phone to her aunt Bella. It was an old colloquialism, the sort of thing you didn't think people still said. The phrase fit Sara so completely that she had found herself surrendering to it, imagining her arms and her legs detaching from her body. What did it matter? What did she need arms or legs or hands or feet for if she couldn't run to him, hold him, touch him?

You are an enigma wrapped in a sticky bun.

Will hated those cops, had worked more than a few cases where he’d gotten them kicked off the force. You couldn’t say you were one of the good guys if you did the same thing the bad guys did.

you’re the good kid in the family, making good grades, staying out of trouble, et cetera, and your sister’s always screwing up and getting all the attention, you start to feel left out, like no matter how good you are, it doesn’t matter because all your parents can focus on is your crappy sibling.

Will could still hear the compassionate tone Sara Linton had used as she explained how Zabel and taken her life. He could not remember the last time a woman had talked to him that way - tried to throw him a life vest instead of yelling at him to swim harder the way Faith did, or worse, grabbing onto his legs and pulling him farther down the way way Angie always tried.

Will couldn’t read the title, but he recognized Donald Trump’s picture on the jacket and assumed it was a get-rich-quick scheme. Obviously, Jake Berman hadn’t taken the man’s advice. Though, considering Berman had lost his job and declared bankruptcy, maybe he had.

a study with one book on the shelves. Will couldn’t read the title, but he recognized Donald Trump’s picture on the jacket and assumed it was a get-rich-quick scheme. Obviously, Jake Berman hadn’t taken the man’s advice. Though, considering Berman had lost his job and declared bankruptcy, maybe he had.

He shrugged. “It’s always the Sunday following the first full moon that occurs after the spring equinox.” Will took a minute to realize he was speaking English.

Families are complicated. People put up with a lot of shit because of blood.

Will knew from Angie that the girls seldom got to keep any cash. The pimps took care of their living quarters, their food, their clothes. All the girls had to do was risk their lives and health every night by tricking whatever john pulled up with the right amount of cash. It was modern slavery, which was ironic, considering most if not all of the pimps were black.

Sara had once asked the woman why she didn’t go to medical school, only to be told that nurses were the ones who practiced the real medicine.

Will wasn’t a fan of multitasking, mostly because it was more like half-tasking. It was humanly impossible to give two different things your complete attention.

By state law, any unattended death—which is to say a person who dies outside of a hospital or nursing home—has to be investigated

but the emergency room was a young person’s game, the sort of place you ran screaming from before you hit your thirties.

She spent the next hour dividing her time between the phone and the computer; scaring the ever-loving shit out of herself while waiting on hold by investiGoogling type 2 diabetes on her laptop. She found one nut who claimed diabetes was a governmental plot to extract billions of dollars from the unsuspecting public in order to wage the war for oil.

He's morbidly obese. He's unusually bloated. There are needle marks on his abdomen and thighs that indicate he's an insulin-dependent diabetic. His diet was fast food and Skittles. Collier looked skeptical. "So Harding conveniently slipped into a diabetic coma during the middle of a death match?

Anna’s baby after Anna had been abducted. Then she’d gotten locked up and the kid was left alone. “If Lola was taking care of him,” Will said, “she would need to get in and out of the building.” The elevator doors slid open. Will saw a second cop standing with Simkov, the doorman. There was a darkening bruise underneath his eye and his eyebrow was split where it had been slammed against the hard marble counter. “That one.” The doorman pointed triumphantly at Will. “He’s the one who jumped me.” Will’s fists tightened. His jaw was so clenched he

More time passed, the clock ticking forward when she longed for it to go back