I love writing. I feel ridiculously lucky that this is what I get to do all day.

When we can't see a pattern, we fit pieces together until one takes shape, because we have to.

Sometimes, when you're close to someone, you miss things. Other people can see them, but you can't.

Here's a little tip for you. If you don't like being called a murderer, don't kill people.

My memories of them had rubbed thin with overuse, worn to frail color transparencies flickering on the walls of my mind...

What I warn you to remember is that I am a detective. Our relationship with truth is fundamental but cracked, refracting confusingly like fragmented glass. It is the core of our careers, the endgame of every move we make, and we pursue it with strategies painstakingly constructed of lies and concealment and every variation on deception.

I wasn't sure I could make it through another hour of his company without throwing my stapler at his head.