Tess Gerritsen

Motherhood didn’t make you stronger; it made you vulnerable and afraid of what death could steal from you.

The CT tech laughed. “Your mummy’s never been a mommy.”

“Perhaps that’s the point of the story: that some who commit evil never face justice.”

“Evil just is. People can be brutal and some of them kill. We’d all like an explanation for it.”

What else but disappointment can you expect when you fall in love with an unattainable man?

After twenty-five years, memories vanish or, even worse, remake themselves. Fantasies become truth.

Always pay attention to your dreams, her mother had taught her. They’re voices telling you what you already know, whispering advice you haven’t yet heeded.

Some people just can’t move on,” she said, “and they waste their lives waiting for someone they can’t have.”

Sometimes, thought Jane, the person who could make you happiest is the one you overlook, the one who waits patiently in the wings.

“Anthropologists will tell you that a nuclear family is not mother, father, and child. No, it’s mother and child. Fathers come and go. They sail off to sea or they march off to war, and often they don’t come home. But mother and child are linked forever. Mother and child are the primordial unit. We are that unit, and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect it, to protect us. That’s