As the situation developed, the futility of attempting suicide in the middle of a hospital became apparent.

We need to have a talk on the subject of what's yours and what's mine.

But she wished she had had the guts to go up to him and say hello. Or possibly break his legs, she wasn't sure which.

Her absence had felt like torture--almost a form of personal punishment. He had nobody to discuss his feelings with, and for the first time he realised with appalling clarity what a destructive hold she had over him.

It proved once again the theory that no security system is a match for a stupid employee.

As a girl, she was a legal prey, especially if she was dressed in a worn black leather jacket and had pierced eyebrows, tattoos, and zero social status.

In ordinary detective novels you never see the consequences of what happens in a story in the next book. That you do in mine.