I know in the spy movies it always looks really cool when the operative goes from a maid's uniform to a slinky, sexy, ballgown in the amount of time it takes an elevator to climb three floors. Well, I don't know how it is for TV spies, but I can tell you that even with Velcro, the art of the quick change is one that must take a lot of practice (not to mention better lighting than one is likely to find in a tunnel that was once part of the underground railroad).

But the downside of being con artist is that it very hard to con. Even if the lies you tell are to yourself.

I thought about how there are two types of secrets: the kind you want to keep in, and the kind you don't dare to let out.

What are you looking at? Hale asked. Why are you smiling? I worry when you smile.

Sometime years before, I had dragged an old bean bag chair to that place. I watched Zach sink onto it, and then he pulled me down to lean against him. I felt his arms go around me, holding me tight. I was safe. I was warm. I was home.

I've thrown enough punches in my life to know when someone is hurting.

It is an occupational hazard that anyone who has spent her life learning how to lie eventually becomes bad at telling the truth.