When She Was Good (Cyrus Haven, #2)

by Michael Robotham

She’s not the quickest mover in the world, not since she got pregnant and ate her own body weight in Nutella.

The greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to break apart and compartmentalize. It’s how we juggle multiple demands and how we cope with pain and trauma.

I’m not sure if we learn anything from history. Every generation makes the same mistakes and offers the same excuses.

We tell lies all the time, every day, every hour. We lie to people we love, to strangers, to friends, to family. I love your new haircut. You’re looking well. Gee, it’s great to see you. That’s so interesting. I’m five minutes away. I only had one beer. I tried to call. I bought it on sale.… Lying is so fundamental to our existence, it is wired into our DNA. That’s why babies learn to fake cry before they’re a year old and to bluff by the age of two. By four a child is an accomplished liar, and by five, he or she realizes that truly outrageous lies are less likely to be believed. People usually lie for all the right reasons and with the best possible intentions—to keep families together and to protect relationships and hold on to our friends and make people happy. These are the good lies, not the bad ones.