Long Lost Quotes

“I'm sorry,' I said.
'You have nothing to be sorry about.'
'I thought... I guess I figured I'd be stronger.'
Win took a sip of his drink. 'You are the strongest man I have ever known.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“usually something unrelated to the task at hand, ricocheting your thoughts into an unexpected direction—a direction that inevitably leads to a solution linear thinking could never have approached.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“it go.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“Logic is never linear. It dashes to and fro and bounces off walls and makes hairpin turns and gets lost during detours. Anything can be a catalyst, usually something unrelated to the task at hand, ricocheting your thoughts into an unexpected direction—a direction that inevitably leads to a solution linear thinking could never have approached.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“One thousand dollars for processing and shipping. Then there are yearly storage fees. I know that may sound expensive, but this is a one-time opportunity. Cord blood contains stem cells that save lives. Simple as that. They can treat anemias and leukemias. They can fight infection and help with certain kinds of cancer.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“I need to search you.” He was pretty thorough. I was going to make a joke about him enjoying it or maybe say a boat ride on the Bateau Mouche would be nice before he felt me up, but I wondered about the French sense of humor. Wasn’t Jerry Lewis an icon here? Maybe a sight gag would be more appropriate.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“He is a police officer in Kasselton. A captain, in fact, though I won’t ask to wear his varsity jacket to the prom.” “Oh,” I said. “Apparently they are thinking of making arrests.” “They started it,” I said.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“What had I actually promised to do here? I thought about Ali’s exact words: “Don’t go to the bar tonight. Promise me.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“And if my son was so gravely wounded,” Ali said between clenched teeth, “who do you think you are to not tell me? I even asked why you two were talking at halftime, remember?” “I do.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“And maybe you shouldn’t coach.” Assistant Coach Pat stepped forward then. He looked at me, and that knowing smile I was all too familiar with spread across his face. “Well, well, well.” Coach Bobby said, “What?” “Do you know who this guy is?” “Who?” “Myron Bolitar.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“They asked for my name. I was tempted to go with either I. P. Daily or Wink Martindale, but I stuck with Mark Kadison because he was a friend of mine and if they called, he’d just laugh.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“So this is your secret locale?” He shrugged. “Why here?” Then, thinking about it: “Wait, I get it. Because it’s so off the radar, right?” “That,” Berleand agreed, “and I like looking at naked women.” He”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“The topless dancer onstage had moves that I would describe as “languid” if she dialed it up several notches. Her bored expression made me think she was watching C-SPAN 2, the pole not so much a tool of the dance trade as something that kept her upright. I don’t want to sound prudish, but I don’t quite get the appeal of topless places. They simply don’t do it for me. It isn’t that the women are unappealing—some are, some aren’t. I discussed this once with Win, always a mistake when it comes to anything involving the opposite sex, and concluded that I can’t quite buy into the fantasy. It may be a weakness in my character but I need to believe that the lady is really, truly into me. Win could care less, of course. I do get the merely physical, but my ego doesn’t like sexual encounters to be mixed with commerce, resentment, and class warfare. Label”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“He walked away. I made my way toward Berleand and the bar. The soundtrack blasted Beyoncé singing to her boyfriend that he must not know about her, that she could have another man in a minute, that he was replaceable. This indignation was kind of silly. You’re Beyoncé, for crying out loud. You’re gorgeous, you’re famous, you’re rich, you’re buying your boyfriend expensive cars and clothes. Gee, yeah, it will be impossible for you to land another guy. Girl power. The”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“The room was dark and windowless so that noontime, which was when I arrived, looked the same as midnight. A large black man with a shaved head asked, “May I help you?” “I’m looking for a Frenchman in his midfifties.” He folded his arms across his chest. “That’s Tuesdays,” he said. “No, I mean—” “I know what you mean.” He stifled the smile and pointed a beefy arm tattooed with a green D toward the dance floor. I expected Berleand to be in a quiet shadowy corner, but no, there he was by the stage, front and center, eyes up and focused on the, uh, talent. “Is that your Frenchman over there?” “It is.” The bouncer turned back to me. His name tag said ANTHONY. I shrugged. He looked through me. “Anything else I can do for you?” he asked. “You can tell me I don’t look like the type of guy who’d come to a place like this, especially during the daytime.” Anthony grinned. “You know what type of guy doesn’t come to a place like this, especially during the daytime?” I waited. “Blind guys.” He”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“A large black man with a shaved head asked, “May I help you?” “I’m looking for a Frenchman in his midfifties.” He folded his arms across his chest. “That’s Tuesdays,” he said. “No, I mean—” “I know what you mean.” He stifled the smile and pointed a beefy arm tattooed with a green D toward the dance floor. I expected Berleand to be in a quiet shadowy corner, but no, there he was by the stage, front and center, eyes up and focused on the, uh, talent. “Is that your Frenchman over there?” “It is.” The”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“Big Cyndi crossed the room with an agility that belied the bulk. She wrapped me in an embrace that made me feel as if I’d been mummified in wet attic insulation. In a good way. “Oh, Mr. Bolitar!” She started sniffling, a sound that brought images of moose mating on the Discovery Channel.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“Big Cyndi crossed the room with an agility that belied the bulk. She wrapped me in an embrace that made me feel as if I’d been mummified in wet attic insulation. In a good way.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“When we got to the Lock-Horne Building on Park Avenue—again Win’s full name is Windsor Horne Lockwood III, so you do the math—Dad said, “You want me to just drop you off?” Sometimes my father leaves me awestruck. Fatherhood is about balance, but how can one man do it so well, so effortlessly? Throughout my life he pushed me to excel without ever crossing the line. He reveled in my accomplishments yet never made them seem to be all that important. He loved without condition, yet he still made me want to please him. He knew, like now, when to be there, and when it was time to back off. “I’ll be okay.” He”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“I’m okay, Mom. Really.” My father hung back for a moment, as was his way. His eyes were wet and red. I looked at his face. He knew. He hadn’t bought the story about Africa with no phone service. He had probably helped peddle it to Mom. But he knew. “You’re so skinny,” Mom said. “Didn’t they feed you anything there?” “Leave him alone,” Dad said. “He looks fine.” “He doesn’t look fine. He looks skinny. And pale. Why are you in a hospital bed?” “I told you,” Dad said. “Didn’t you hear me, Ellen? Food poisoning. He’s going to be fine, some kind of dysentery.” “Why were you in Sierra Madre anyway?” “Sierra Leone,” Dad corrected. “I thought it was Sierra Madre.” “You’re thinking of the movie.” “I remember. With Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hep-burn.” “That was The African Queen.” “Ohhh,” Mom said, now understanding the confusion. Mom let go of me. Dad moved over, smoothed my hair off my forehead, kissed my cheek. The rough skin from his beard rubbed against me. The comforting smell of Old Spice lingered in the air. “You okay?” he asked. I nodded. He looked skeptical. They both suddenly looked so old. That was how it was, wasn’t it? When you don’t see a child for even a little while, you marvel at how much they’ve grown. When you don’t see an old person for even a little while, you marvel at how much they’ve aged. It happened every time. When did my robust parents cross that line? Mom had the shakes from Parkinson’s. It was getting bad. Her mind, always a tad eccentric, was slipping somewhere more troubling. Dad was in relatively good health, a few minor heart scares, but they both looked so damn old.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“THIRSTY. Sand in the throat. Eyes won’t open. Or maybe they do. Total darkness. Engine roar. I sense someone standing over me. “Terese . . .” I think I say it out loud, but I’m not sure.       NEXT snippet of memory: voices. They seem very far away. I don’t understand any of the words. Sounds, that’s all. Something angry. It gets closer. Louder. In my ear now. My eyes open. I see white. The voice keeps repeating the same thing over and over. Sounds like “Al-sabr wal-sayf.” I don’t understand. Gibberish maybe. Or a foreign language. I don’t know. “Al-sabr wal-sayf.” Someone is shouting in my ear. My eyes squeeze shut. I want it to stop. “Al-sabr wal-sayf.” The voice is angry, incessant. I think I say I’m sorry. “He doesn’t understand,” someone says. Silence.       PAIN in my side. “Terese . . . ,” I say again. No reply. Where am I? I hear a voice again, but I can’t understand what it’s saying. Feel alone, isolated. I’m lying down. I think I’m shaking.       “LET me explain the situation to you.” I still can’t move. I try to open my mouth, but I can’t. Open my eyes. Blurry. Feels like my entire head is wrapped in thick, sticky cobwebs. I try to scrape the cobwebs away. They stay. “You used to work for the government, didn’t you?” Is the voice talking to me? I nod but stay very still. “Then you know places like this exist. That they’ve always existed. You heard the rumors, at the very least.” I never believed the rumors. Maybe after 9/11. But not before. I think I say no but that might just be in my head.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“Time was doing the in ’n’ out thing. Probably a second, maybe two, had passed since Karen’s execution. That was all. And now, with no time to think or plan, I was nearly on him. But”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“From inside the Contuzzi apartment I heard the phone ring. Once, twice, three times. “Bolitar?” It stopped after six rings. “We know you’re still in London. Where are you?” I hung up and looked at Mario’s door. The ringing phone—ringing like a phone used to, not like some ringtone on a cell—had sounded very much like a landline. Hmm. I put my hand on the door. Thick and sturdy. I pressed my ear against the cool surface, hit Mario’s cell phone number, watched the LCD display on my mobile. It took a moment or two before the connection went through. When I heard the faint chime of Mario’s cell phone through the door—the landline had been loud; this was not—dread flooded my chest. True, it may be nothing, but most people nowadays do not travel even the shortest of distances, including bathroom visits, without the ubiquitous cell phone clipped or carried upon their person. You can bemoan this fact, but the chances that a guy working in television news would leave his cell phone behind while heading to his office seemed remote. “Mario?” I shouted. I started pounding on the door. “Mario?” I didn’t expect him to answer, of course. I pressed my ear against the door again, listening for I’m not sure what—a groan maybe. A grunt. Calling out. Something. No sound. I wondered about my options. Not many. I reared back, lifted my heel, and kicked the door. It didn’t budge. “Steel-enforced, mate. You’ll never kick it down.” I turned toward the voice. The man wore a black leather vest without any sort of shirt underneath, and sadly, he didn’t have the build to pull it off. His physique, on too clear a display, managed to be both scrawny and soft. He had a cattle-ring piercing in his nose. He was balding but the little hair he had left was done up in what might be called a comb-over Mohawk. I placed his age at early fifties. It looked like he had gone out to a gay bar in 1979 and had just gotten home. “Do you know the Contuzzis?” I asked. The man smiled. I expected another dental nightmare, but while the rest of him might be in various stages of decay, his teeth were gleaming. “Ah,” he said. “You’re an American.” “Yes.” “Friends with Mario, are we?” No reason to go into a long answer here: “Yes.” “Well, what can I tell you, mate? Normally they’re a quiet couple, but you know what they say—when the wife’s away, the mouse will play.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“LOSING a tail is fairly easy. In this case, Win got us a car with tinted windows. We drove into an underground garage with several exits. The car left. Two others came along. I hopped in one, Win the other. Terese was at Karen’s now. I was on my way to see Mario Contuzzi. Twenty”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“Your visit with Interpol went well?” “They asked their questions, I told them my story.” “One thing I don’t get,” I said. “Why haven’t they brought me in yet?” Win smiled. “You know why.” “They’re tailing me.” “Correct answer.” “You see them?” “Black car on right corner.” “Mossad is probably following me too.” “You’re a very popular man.” “It’s because I’m a good listener. People like a good listener.” “Indeed.” “I’m also fun at parties.” “And a snazzy dancer. What do you want to do about the tails?” “I’d like to lose them for the day.” “No problem.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“We were both on the ground. I was hurt and dazed, but I had two major advantages now. One, I still had his foot, though I could feel that grip loosening. Two, now that we were on the ground, well, size became important—and I mean that in a clean way. I was holding his leg with both hands. He tried to punch his way through. I moved closer to him, ducking my head into his chest. When an opponent is throwing punches, most people think that they should give the guy some distance. But it’s just the opposite. You put your face into his chest and smother his power. That was what I did here. He tried to box my ears, but that required both hands, leaving him vulnerable. I lifted my head hard and fast and caught him under the chin. He reeled back. I fell on top of him. Now”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“Miss Probert?” “Yes.” “I don’t really need a technology lesson.” “Wonderful, because I have neither the time nor inclination to give you one. My point is, such requests are fairly routine at Interpol. I put the photograph into the system before I left for the day, figuring the computer would work on it overnight and spew out an answer. Is that simplifying matters enough for you?” I nodded, realizing that I’d be wrong to interrupt. She was clearly agitated and I hadn’t helped. “So when I arrived at work this morning, I expected to have an identity to report back to you. But that wasn’t the case. Instead—how shall I put this politely?—all forms of intestinal waste hit the proverbial fan. Someone had gone through my desk. My computer had been accessed and searched. Don’t ask me how I know—I know.” She stopped and started searching through her bag. She found a cigarette and put it in her mouth. “You damn Americans and your antismoking crusade. If one of you says anything about no-smoking rules . . .” Neither”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“Miss Probert?” “Yes.” “I don’t really need a technology lesson.” “Wonderful, because I have neither the time nor inclination to give you one. My point is, such requests are fairly routine at Interpol. I put the photograph into the system before I left for the day, figuring the computer would work on it overnight and spew out an answer. Is that simplifying matters enough for you?” I nodded, realizing that I’d be wrong to interrupt. She was clearly agitated and I hadn’t helped.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“Do you think there’s a point?” “Meaning?” “We know how the result is going to turn out.” “Do tell.” “I heard the tone in Berleand’s voice. He may have talked about premature and inconclusive, but we both know. And I saw that girl on that surveillance video. Okay, not her face and it was at a distance. But she had her mother’s walk, if you know what I mean.” “How about her mother’s derriere?” Win asked. “Now that would be solid evidence.” I just looked at him. He sighed. “Mannerisms are often more of a tell than facial features or even height,” he said. “I get it.” “Yes.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost

“She started for the bedroom. I reached for the door to the corridor. “Myron?” I turned toward her. She stood facing me full. She was beautiful and vulnerable and strong and she stood like she was readying to take a blow and I wanted to jump in the way and protect her. “What?” I asked. “I love you,” Terese said. She said it just like that. Facing me full, beautiful and vulnerable and strong. Something in my chest rose and took flight. I stood there, frozen, the gift of speech temporarily taken away from me. “I know the timing sucks and I don’t want it to interfere with what we’re doing now. But either way, if Miriam is alive or if this is all some horrible practical joke, I want you to know: I love you. And when this is over, however it turns out, I want more than anything to give you and me a try.” I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I’m kinda with someone.” “I know. I guess my timing double-sucks. But that’s okay. If you love her, then that’s that. If you don’t, I’m here.” Terese didn’t wait for a response. She turned and opened the bedroom door and vanished inside.”
― Harlan Coben, Long Lost