“I'm not hovering. I just thought you might be interested in knowing that Nell's boss is here."
Max stopped typing. "Bishop?"
"Yep."
"What's he doing here?"
"Apparently just finished up another investigation in Chicago.""So what's he doing here?"
Ethan grinned. "I'm trying to make out whether you consider him a rival or just somebody who's going to
spirit Nell back to Virginia.”
― Kay Hooper, quote from Whisper of Evil
“Yes, I also came home to settle my father's estate."
"Would you have come home if it hadn't also been your job?"
"I think you know the answer to that."
"You hated him, didn't you?"
Nell poured the coffee and pushed his cup across the counter to him so he could fix it the way he liked.
Matter-of-factly, she said, "Yes, I hated him. And I think it's a cosmic joke that I ended up with all his
property.”
― Kay Hooper, quote from Whisper of Evil
“She didn't. I hadn't seen or spoken to Hailey since I left Silence."
He frowned. "Then she made that stuff up?"
Nell sipped her coffee, then smiled. "She always made stuff up, Max. Didn't you know?"
"You're saying she was a liar?"
"Sweet, friendly Hailey. So charming, so good-tempered. And she had a way about her, didn't she? A
way of… getting people behind her. A way of making people believe her. Not exactly my strong suit,
huh?”
― Kay Hooper, quote from Whisper of Evil
“Abruptly, she said, "I wonder what she did to so alienate our father that he disinherited her. Do you
know?"
"Supposedly… she ran off with Glen Sabella. He was a mechanic, and he was married. Gossip had it
that your father was furious, especially since—"
"Since both his wife and his other daughter had also run off without a word.”
― Kay Hooper, quote from Whisper of Evil
“If he pushed too often or too hard, she was very capable of, at the very least, calling
her boss or her invisible partner and having Max put on ice somewhere while she went on working.
The girl twelve years ago couldn't have done that, but this woman certainly could. And would.”
― Kay Hooper, quote from Whisper of Evil
“How long are you going to wait for this guy?”
I’m thrown by his sudden shift. “Ah . . . I don’t know.”
“Give me your keys.”
“What?”
“Give me your keys. I’m going to change your tire while we’re waiting.”
I fish in my purse and come up with a handful of keys. “You’re going to—”
“Stay in the car.” He grabs the keys and practically yanks them out of my fingers. Then he slams the door in my face.
I watch him in the path of his headlights, mystified. He opens my trunk, and, moments later, emerges with the spare tire. He lays it beside the car, then pulls something else from the darkened space. I’ve never changed a tire, so I have no idea what he’s doing. His movements are quick and efficient, though.
I shouldn’t be sitting here, just watching, but I can’t help myself. There’s something compelling about him. Dozens of cars have passed, but he was the only one to stop—and he’s helping me despite the fact that I’ve been less than kind to him all night.
He gets down on the pavement—on the wet pavement, in the rain—and slides something under the car. A hand brushes wet hair off his face.
I can’t sit here and watch him do this.
He doesn’t look at me when I approach. “I told you to wait in the car.”
“So you’re one of those guys? Thinks the ‘little woman’ should wait in the car?”
“When the little woman doesn’t know her tires are bald and her battery could barely power a stopwatch?” He attaches a steel bar to . . . something . . . and starts twisting it. “Yeah. I am.”
My pride flinches. “So what are you saying?” I ask, deadpan. “You don’t want my help?”
His smile is rueful. “You’re kind of funny when you’re not so busy being judgmental.”
“You’re lucky I’m not kicking you while you’re down there.”
He loses the smile but keeps his eyes on whatever he’s doing. “Try it, sister.”
― Brigid Kemmerer, quote from Letters to the Lost
“Remember that wherever your heart is, there you will find your treasure.”
― Paulo Coelho, quote from Alkimist
“When the war (WWI) finally ended it was necessary for both sides to maintain, indeed even to inflate, the myth of sacrifice so that the whole affair would not be seen for what it was: a meaningless waste of millions of lives. Logically, if the flower of youth had been cut down in Flanders, the survivors were not the flower: the dead were superior to the traumatized living. In this way, the virtual destruction of a generation further increased the distance between the old and the young, between the official and the unofficial.”
― Robert Hughes, quote from The Shock of the New
“Sheepskin is a marvelously durable medium, though it has to be treated with some care. Whereas ink soaks into the fibers on paper, on sheepskin it stays on the surface, rather like chalk on a blackboard, and so can be rubbed away comparatively easily. “Sixteenth-century paper was of good quality, too,” he went on. “It was made of rags and was virtually acid free, so it has lasted very well.”
― Bill Bryson, quote from Shakespeare: The World as Stage
“And if someone has friends, and he loses everything in spite of that, it's obvious the friends are to blame. For what they did, or for what they didn't do.”
― Andrzej Sapkowski, quote from Time of Contempt
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