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Pause.
Why does he keep doing this?
The chief wouldn’t actually do this. She was way too valuable on the case!
This book is garbage.
In life he’s your friend, but death is the end. In life the dog was a friend, but death was the end of him.
Well, duh. I thought that was a real riddle. This could be anyone.
He and Samantha had become the very best of friends.
Becuase Sam was a creepy little girl who needed to be drop-kicked for putting her face up to strangers' windows.
He’s smart. And he knows it.
Bad grammar. A conjunction eliminates the need for a period and should be replaced by a comma iff the second clause is independent. This might have been just for dialogue, though.
Not after she’d led the Riddle Killer to Roy.
No we have not forgotten yet. You have brought this up a hundred times already.
He ran his fingers through his hair.
OKAY, WE ALREADY KNOW ABOUT HIS NERVOUS TICKS, NOW HOW ABOUT SOME HALF DECENT WRITING???
Travel posters covered the walls.
We know.
The faint taste of copper washed through her mouth.
Did she swallow a penny?
She wanted to put an arm around him, to comfort him, to hold this poor soul and tell him that everything was going to be okay. But that would be both untrue and unprofessional.
That is not creepy at all ever.
“Think of this as a chess match. He’s black and you’re white. He’s made his first move and you’ve made yours. You lost a pawn. As long as he’s interested in the game, he’ll play. Your job is to keep him playing long enough for us to find him. It’s the only way to beat him.”
And this was the first time ever that chess was constantly mentioned in a thriller.
He didn’t bat an eye. “Of course. I see you and you’re beautiful, but my attraction to you is based on your caring. I can tell that you really do care about me.” He broke eye contact again. “I mean, not in the way it sounds. As your case is what I mean. Not as a man—”
The world has gone mad.
“And what if he said no FBI? Would you back out? I don’t think so. This is my city. You don’t have the right to cut me out.”
No one would be this dumb.
“For crying out loud, woman!
Dialogue.
Bill Galager was a redhead with too many freckles to count.
Does not matter.
Part of him wanted to find the boy’s bones in a rotting pile. But most of him didn’t want to find the boy at all, didn’t want to confirm that the whole thing had really happened. The first challenge was to find the right warehouse. Guarding a flashlight as closely as he could, he looked through the warehouses for an hour, sneaking from door to door. He began to wonder if he’d ever find it again. But then he
opened an old wooden door and there, five feet away, was the dark stairway. Kevin jerked back and very nearly ran for his life. But it was only a stairway. What if the boy wasn’t there anymore? He could see the latch on the steel door in the shadows below. Seemed safe enough. You have to do this, Kevin. If you’re anything like a knight or a man or even a boy who’s already eleven, you have to at least find out if he’s in there. Kevin played his light down the stairwell and forced his feet down the stairs, one step at a time. No sound. Of course not—it had been four months. The steel door latch
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been in the first couple weeks. Which meant he’d been free for over three months and said nothing to the police. If he’d been found dead, of course, he couldn’t say anything. Either way, he was probably gone for good. Maybe even alive and gone for good.
The first well written section in the book. Very good.
Her hand touched his chin and turned his face toward her. “Listen to me,” Sam said. “I love you more than anything I can imagine. You really are my knight in shining armor.” She smiled. “And I think that it’s incredibly sweet of you to drag me out here in my pajamas to make sure I know how much you love me.”
Now back to stupid.
A tear slipped from his eye and ran down his cheek. The emotion was suddenly beyond him. He began to cry, and then immediately tried to swallow it, which only made the condition worse. He hid his face in his left hand and started to sob, horribly aware of the foolishness of it all.
. . .
“You may look this way, Chris. I’m going to be asking the questions. Have you ever been questioned by a woman before?”
A Christian gender-baiter. Great.
Pakistani. You know, India and all.
No one is that stupid.
Said he wanted to have it removed because the chicks didn’t dig it back in wherever.” “Pakistan.”
This is just feminist propaganda.
of. Slater would strike again, and sooner or later they would have bodies to contend with. A car, a bus—what was next?
Would it not be "four" then?
edge of the desk, and she considered
Don't care.
Another bite. The sandwich was like a slice of heaven.
Wow.
He ran his hand through his hair, grunted, and walked to the living room. How could one man wreak so much havoc in the space of one day? Slater was nothing less than a terrorist. If Kevin owned a gun and Slater worked up the stomach to confront him face to face, he was pretty sure he’d have no compunction about putting a slug or two in the man’s face. Especially if he was the boy. Kevin shivered involuntarily. Shoulda gone back and made sure the stinking rat was dead. He would have been within his rights, if not according to the law, then in the eyes of God. Turn the other cheek shouldn’t
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All dumb.
She looked into his eyes and put a hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry, Kevin, I can’t tell you everything—not now, not yet. Soon. You’re right, I have always been straight with you. I’ve been more than a friend. I’ve loved you like a brother. A day hasn’t gone by these past ten years that I haven’t thought about you at least once. You’re part of me. And now I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”
I am just going to highlight in yellow what is terrible.
The revelation made his head spin. She was somehow involved, wasn’t she? She’d been onto Slater before yesterday. It was why Slater knew her!
Her hand slid down his arm and took his fingers. “Nothing’s changed. Slater’s the same person he was yesterday, and I’m going to do my best to get to him before he hurts anyone. I’m just not at liberty to tell you what we know. Not yet. It wouldn’t make any difference to you anyway. Trust me. For old time’s sake.” He nodded. Actually, this was better, wasn’t it? The fact that she had some inside track and wasn’t just blindly feeling her way around this case—that was good. “But you think the FBI is involved?” She put her finger on his lips to seal them. “I can’t talk about it. Forget I said it.
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“Change of plans, my dear knight. It’s time for a little cat and mouse of our own.”
“And this isn’t the last of it. I guarantee he’s hiding more,” he said. Milton was a first-class pig. She stood and walked over to a small, almost unnoticeable hole in the ceiling.
“Jennifer told me that if I had the opportunity I should blow him away.” Anger boiled through his chest. He’d come so far, worked so hard, pulled himself out of the deepest despair, only to be hijacked by some ghost from the past. He slammed the table with his fist, rattling the dishes.
Kevin took a deep breath and picked up his fork, but his appetite was suddenly gone. The fact was, when he thought about what Slater was doing to him, he could hardly think of anything but killing him. Destroy the destroyer.
This was his Samantha. G.I. Jane.
Can we pretty please have a smart, strong male lead and not this wussy?
“Good night,
No one says that anymore.
Even the way she chewed her food was nothing less than spectacular, he thought. Her chin and cheeks were so smooth in motion.
Get to the fricken' story.
“What about us? That’s very sweet, my knight, but I’m not sure we could ever be romantically involved. Don’t get me wrong, I love you dearly. I’m just not sure we want to risk what we have for romance.”
Get on with it!
Sam set down her napkin and stood. “Would you like to dance?” He glanced around. No one else was dancing, but several colored lights turned slowly on the tiny dance floor. Michael Bolton crooned over the speakers. “I . . . I’m
This is crap.
These are the things he likes: cold, dark, wetness, mildew,
You don't say, Mr. Cliché?
But Slater knows what they do not. He knows that the dark man is most fascinating when he moves in complete obscurity. Hidden. Unknown. That’s why he is called the dark man. That’s why he has started in the dark. That’s why he does all of his best work at night. That’s why he loves this basement. Because
for all practical purposes, Slater is the Dark Man.
Someone famous should write a comic book based on him.
No. And there is already a character called Darkman, so go away.
The secret of being the Dark Man is not looking like a dark man at all. That is why the world looks at stupid little teenagers with rings in their noses as idiots. It’s like walking around school, stripped to the waist in a Charles Atlas pose all day. Please. Too obvious. Too stupid. Too boring.
This book is the teenager that is being described but is a Christian, so he tries to be edgy but conforming at the same time, so it turns into horse-vomit.
The anger had worked its way up to a seething through the night. Kevin tossed and turned in a fitful attempt at sleep. Sam’s optimism sat like a light on the horizon of his mind, but as the night wore on, the light grew dim until it faded altogether, obscured by bitterness toward the man who had stomped into his life uninvited.
I am going to take a wild guess that the moral is going to be about not letting hate destroy Kevin as it has Slater.
The idea ignited in his mind with the sky’s first graying. Buy a gun. His eyes sprang open. Of course! Why not? Become the hunter. Don’t be absurd. He closed his eyes. You aren’t a killer. The discussion with Dr. Francis was one thing—all that talk about gossip and killing being the same thing. But when it came right down to it, he could never kill another human. He couldn’t line up a man in the gun’s sights and send a slug through his head. POW! Surprise, creep.
EX-FREAKING-ACTLY. BUYING A GUN FOR SELF-DEFENSE IS A GREAT IDEA, AND SELF-DEFENSE IS NOT MURDER.
an absurdity in itself given the fact that she hardly knew him!
On the other hand, she was bound to him in a way few people ever are. They shared the death of her brother in common—she as the victim’s survivor, he as the next victim.
Slater will take the day to revel in his little victory yesterday.
It has only been a day? It has been an eternity.
beige
