Tess Gerritsen

Real life required little gore to horrify.

Killing is easy. All you need is access and the proper tool, whether it’s a bullet, a blade, or Semtex. And if you plan it right, no cleanup is necessary. But extracting a man like Icarus, who’s alive and resisting you, a man who surrounds himself with family and bodyguards, is a far more delicate process.

“Cities don’t embrace you. People do.”
“And it’s people who let you down.” Maura blinked at the firelight.

“You know what Master Yoda says. There’s no try, only do.”

“I just hope I won’t have to call a lawyer.”
“For your dad?”
“For me. After I kill him.”

It was the questions she could not answer that troubled her. The motives, the secret torments that drove human beings to kill strangers or take their own lives.

“But why did she do it?” said Will.
“Half the time, I can’t even tell you why I do the things I do,” she said, and rose to her feet.

Is that what happens when you die? Claire wondered. Does everyone suddenly pretend you never existed?

But that’s what photo albums were meant to show, the best moments in life. The moments you wanted to remember, not the ones you wanted to forget.

Even if we are freaked out,” she said, “what choice do we have? When you’re already in neck-deep, the way out is to forge ahead and get to the end of this.”