Though a good cop, Luc Claudel has the patience of a firecracker, the sensitivity of Vlad the Impaler, and a persistent skepticism as to the value of forensic anthropology. Snappy dresser, though.

I've been accused of being a minimalist writer. I don't like a lot of verbiage in there.

I'm not writing great literature. I'm writing commercial fiction for people to enjoy the stories and to like the characters.

Tory a father isn’t supposed to fear his fourteen-year-old daughter. That being sad, you terrify me.

If you want to be an anthropologist, you need to study physical anthropology specialized in bones. If you want to be a forensic chemist, get a degree in chemistry. Do you want to do DNA work? Get a degree in microbiology. And do well. Study hard and go to graduate school.

We did just leave an insane asylum,” Hi agreed. “For all we know, Chance spend his nights dancing naked with sock puppets, plotting to invade Canada.

Amazing.” Hi stripped off his shirt, wrung it out. “Score one for your honker.” “Thanks, I think.” I cocked my chin at Hi’s substantial midsection. “Nice abs.” “Yeah, I work out twice a month. No expectations. But stop hitting on me, it’s embarrassing.