14 Quotes

“She drove, not thinking about where she was going. There were fields to her right, a fence and a tree on a hill. One Tree Hill Farm, she knew. Brilliantly original name. As a rule the bucolic setting calmed her spirit, made her happy. They raised cattle, and normally had two sets of calves a year, one in the spring and again in the fall. She loved to drive by and see the babies trotting after their mothers, lowing for milk. It was one of the reasons they’d bought off of this road, because for a brief moment, Taylor felt like she was in the country driving to and from work. There were three vultures sitting on the fence posts, leering at a grouping of cattle. Taylor slowed, watching them, so out of place in her mind and her pastoral getaway. Vultures meant death. She glanced at the bulk of black and realized that it was a grouping of cows, each facing outward, protecting something at the center of their circle. She looked closer, trying to figure out what was happening. Her mind filled in the details. A”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate. Where could she find some? She didn’t feel like going out. She really hadn’t wanted to leave the house at all. Purely a psychological reaction to having her life taken out of her hands, she knew that. She puttered around in the kitchen, opening cabinets, until Baldwin’s voice made her jump. “Look in the freezer.” She turned and saw him smiling at her. It wasn’t a happy, good-to-see-you smile, it was more of a grim reminder of what they’d both been through over the past couple of days. She”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“After the usual rigmarole—the meeting with the department shrink, the placement on administrative duty, Baldwin had taken her home. They’d gotten to bed much too late, and she’d woken abruptly at three, her hands tight around L’Uomo’s neck. She’d strangled him in her dream. Unable to get back to sleep, she’d played a round of pool, then sat and stared blankly at the television, watching reruns of the day’s news until she drifted off again. She”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“Taylor followed the team into the entry hall. They were met with no resistance. The place seemed deserted, the dual staircase vaulting toward the second and third stories devoid of movement. The foyer was clear. She started to hear the clear signs coming through her earpiece, but didn’t relax. He was here, she could feel it. Her feeling was confirmed a moment later. The”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“Taylor leaned back in her chair, staring up at the watermarked ceiling tile that she’d inherited with the office. Official requests to replace the moldy brown splotch had been effectively ignored. She focused on the mark while her mind whirled. Was she willing to allow her father that kind of judicial forgiveness? She had never been able to muster her own absolution for him. Now the law would do something her heart would never allow, and her mind would fight. She didn’t think she could stand by and watch him glide yet again. But at the same time, the greater good would be served. Shit. Typical Win, ruining her thought process by simply existing.”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“Who are you?” Jane repeated. “Do you have a name, at least?” “I have many, but none will mean anything to you.” Jane”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“This man, this creature who was holding her, was going to kill her soon, she could tell. The cat-and-mouse game was coming to an end. He was too entranced by the blood and flesh of her young body to worry about the decrepit stones in the attic, letting cold air seep into the tiny garret room where she was being held prisoner. It was better than the hole she’d been in before, a room that smelled of sex and blood. She’d been relieved when she was moved. That beastly thing who’d been salivating over her body, who ran his lips across her neck and promised to take her life, was gone. She tried to turn over, finding the bonds that held her hands and legs in a frontal vise strong as ever. The young one bound her, night after night. The past two nights, the young one would come, untie her, carry her downstairs because her legs were numb from lack of movement, and sit her in a chair in the creature’s library. From behind, he’d strip off the blindfold, so she never saw his face. He would leave the room and the crippled one would talk. Tell her horrific stories, detailing the death of the man’s soul. Touching her, but unable to fulfill himself. He made her touch him. That didn’t work, either. She”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“It was all coming together. Now, if she could just find Snow White’s identity. It was curled in the corner of her mind like a snake waiting to strike.”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“Taylor said a prayer for the man, and apologized out loud. Knowing there was nothing left to do, she turned to leave. As she walked to the door, she spied a file folder, sitting apart from Stella’s cleaning supplies. “Stella, is this yours?” Stella was on the landing and shouted back to her. “Is what mine?” “The manila folder. Is that yours?” “Naw, I found it when I cleaned out the air intake for the air conditioner. There was some blood on the screen and it was inside when I took it off.” She appeared in the doorway. “You wanna take a look? I haven’t gotten to it yet.” Taylor”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“Alone now, she took in the scene. Frank Richardson’s blood was black and shiny, several days old and forever interred into the grain of this room. All the scrubbing and cleaning, the replacement carpet and linoleum floors, the fresh paint, none of that would truly erase the imprint of the man’s soul, brutally taken from this space. A certain dislocation of the very air would stay in this room forever. Taylor”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“The cleaners were here. A horrific job they had, too. Following behind crime and avarice, cleaning up the messes made when a life ends, a heart ceases to beat, by choice or by violence. They were the lost ones, the unnoticed and unknown, the creatures who stealthily eradicated the signs of death. Taylor”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“The grinning wound across her neck was black with oozed blood, her red-tipped lips were painted into a gruesome smile. Blood had run into her hair, turning the coppery red mass into a tangled claret river, with tendrils spreading across the white pillows, tributaries of fatal essence running away from her heart. Her”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“The manager greeted them in the foyer, a wild-eyed young woman with short, spiky blond hair and a considerable waistline. Taylor eyed her, unable to ascertain whether she was pregnant or just heavy. As a hotel general manager, she was as professional as could be expected, considering a serial killer had struck in one of her guest suites. The woman spied Sam coming in with her gear and snapped her fingers at a bellman, who intercepted the M.E. and guided her away. The service elevator would accommodate the stretcher. She”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“She’d found Troy through a Web site designed for killers to talk freely about their escapades, had alerted her perverted CODIS program to his particulars. The sites were filled with poseurs and fakes, like wannabe vampires who had their teeth filed into fangs and drank the blood of their friends but weren’t really ever going to be burned to ash by sunlight. That was the kind of miscreant that usually populated these sites, the fantasy seekers. Fallacious seers and the unintended Apocrypha, murderous sycophants. After a few false alarms, she’d learned to spot the real ones. Once”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“She had that feeling again, fleeting as it may be. She’d always wondered what it would feel like to empty the soul from a body. When it came down to it, she didn’t have the power, wasn’t able to consummate the burning desire she felt. So she fed on others who could. Which”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“L’Uomo screamed in frustration. He wasn’t a man prone to losing control, but this obvious alteration of his Machiavellian plans was the last straw. “She broke his neck. I can’t believe it. And managed to get out of here. This is not good. This is not good at all.” The”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“Hmm.” The man put his arms behind his back and cocked his head like a spaniel puppy trying to identify a new noise. “No feelings for your family? Maybe not your parents—that bitch of a mother of yours, that traitorous father—no. I can see you having a bit too much integrity to care for them.” He bit out the word integrity, making it sound sordid and misplaced. Taylor shifted uncomfortably.”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“I know you’re awake. I’ve been watching you. Industrious little thing, aren’t you?” Taylor”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“So. Lazarus returns from the dead at last. I was wondering when you were going to surface. You’re like a bad penny. Never know where you might turn up.”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“Baldwin exercised a tiny bit of filial rebellion and chose not to address the phone calls just yet.”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“The girl was fighting it now, fully conscious and trying to get untied. He watched, feeling a twitch in his own groin as she struggled. She’d fight the bonds for hours if he let her. Tough girl. He was going to have to talk to her, prevent her from hurting herself. She would have to relieve herself soon, and then they needed to get her fed and watered. He admired her spirit. High praise from a man who admired nothing.”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“Atlas turned to the window, giving the woman one last glance. “Beautiful,” he muttered, then left the small observation room. L’Uomo stood in the window and watched as Taylor Jackson struggled against her bonds. Beautiful, indeed. But he didn’t need his men distracted by a helpless succubus. Dusty would manage her; he seemed to feel nothing for the opposite sex. Of course, the court-mandated Depo-Provera shots the man took neutered him quite effectively. The”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“The noise was deafening. It sounded like the buzz from a bumblebee—one three-times normal size. It flitted close to her ear and she swatted at it. She couldn’t lift her arm. Her hand didn’t leave her side. What the hell? She opened her eyes a crack. Well, she didn’t think she was dead. Not unless heaven or hell or whatever afterlife place she was going to looked like a warehouse. Maybe she was in purgatory? Naw, she didn’t believe in that. It was either up or down. Lord knows she’d spilled enough blood to be heading south. The thought made her grimace, and a sharp pain shot through her head. She tried opening her eyes again, slowly this time, first the right, letting it focus, then the left. Her head buzzed; it wasn’t a bumblebee but her brain, sending off sound waves at a thousand decibels a pop. Her eyes focused on what looked like a concrete pillar, then slowly, she moved her gaze across the room. Her head pounded but the impression stood. Empty warehouse. She”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“Ah, yes, my friend, I do. On to more important things. I have found your suspect.” Lincoln gesticulated to the rest of the homicide office. “Juan, I’m putting you on speakerphone.” He hit the speaker button and the disembodied voice raked through the air.”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“He knew what had happened, of course. He couldn’t blame the boy. Jackson needed to be silenced. Things were going to come to a head now. It was just a matter of time before his apprentice’s impudence and recklessness flashed back on them all. A systemic cleansing was the only way to assure their safety. Damn”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“Inevitability at the hands of nature wasn’t a comfort to Baldwin. Scenarios drifted through his mind, visions of Taylor’s adipocere-covered corpse emerging twenty miles downriver in a month. So often, that’s how it happened. He choked back a sob at the thought, tossed the rest of the now-bitter coffee over the railing. Fuck. He wasn’t helping things by standing there making himself sick to his stomach. He needed to do something. He wouldn’t accept that she was gone, not like this. Thoughts”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“A gust of warm air enveloped Baldwin midstride and the strains of Handel’s Water Music drifted to his ears. Fitz came out of the large wooden doors that led to the nave of the church. An avuncular smile filled his broad features. Baldwin stopped pacing for a moment, happy to have the short-lived heat and the company.”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“A few deep breaths, and the trepidation was momentarily quelled. She”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“Sam bit her lip, trying not to laugh. She didn’t succeed. After a moment of baleful glaring, Taylor joined in her mirth. Petulance was her first sign of stress. Sam”
― J.T. Ellison, 14

“No. I’m tired of the commotion. I don’t want to get married in front of all these people. My hair is five miles high. That hairdresser was an idiot. I look like a meringue. I’d rather elope. And I can’t find my veil.” Sam”
― J.T. Ellison, 14