The Highway Quotes

“Her nightmares came from what she saw and experienced when the door had opened to reveal evil and violence that until that trip had been closed to her. Now she knew what some people—despite their manner and packaging—were capable of. It still shook her to her core.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“I am in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection, but with Montana it is love, and it’s difficult to analyze love when you’re in it. John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“Love is grand, but divorce is a hundred grand.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“There was a small lake reflecting the starlight and moonlight in the basin of the swale. A rim of ice framed the open water along the banks of the lake. Ducks and geese covered the lake like errant punctuation.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“spinning,”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“Cassie knew Isabel’s participation at Woodstock never happened, although she had no doubt her mother had come to believe it over the years. If all the people of her mother’s generation who claimed to have been at Woodstock had actually been there, Cassie knew, the concert would have hosted millions more kids than were actually there. But there was no point in getting into that argument again.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“So what are you going to do?” Legerski turned from him and fixed on something in the dark outside the windshield. “I’m going to work it from the inside,” he said softly. “I’m going to stay on top of everything that’s going on by making sure I’m in the middle of it. I’m going to take control, because that’s what I do and that’s what I’m good at. I can take this thing to dead-end after dead-end until there’s no place else to go. The case will probably stay open for years, but there’s no way they’ll ever close it. I’ll make sure it gets tied up into knots.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“Cassie was in the kitchen with Jenny.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“The problem with people your age,” he said, “is you never understood the difference between thinking and feeling, and to you feeling is more important, which is bullshit.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“the maxim he’d always lived by: “Take every possible opportunity you can to eat and take a shit, because this county is 3,500 square miles, a third of it roadless.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“The vertical viewing slot in the door was thrown back, and a pair of eyes filled it for a moment before it was closed again. There was the sharp report of a bolt being thrown, metal on metal. Then the door opened inward and there was a flood of light silhouetting two figures. Not two, she thought. Three of them. One after the other. Their bodies melded together into a single wide mass but three heads stuck out at the top. The first one wore a cowboy hat with the side brims bent up sharply. The middle one wore a peaked cap of some kind. The last man to enter was hatless but the blocky shape of his head was familiar. He was the trucker who’d brought them here and the man who’d pulled Krystyl out of the room by her hair. Gracie saw the glint of a badge on the second man, and for a brief electric moment her heart soared. The police had come to rescue them. Then she realized the man with the badge was in the middle of the three, not in back where he should be. He wasn’t prodding the men into the room—he was one of them. A voice she’d not heard before, high and twangy, said, “Hello, girls.” Then: “Gimme that flashlight.” A few seconds later Gracie was blinded by a beam. He’d shined it directly into her eyes. She raised her hands up and covered her face. Even through her closed eyelids she knew the bright light was still on her.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“Pergram said, “You did what you did to save your hide. You never gave a shit about me. I’m the one who made all this possible. I never needed you, or this bunker, or anything else. I started this and you and Jimmy weaseled your way in. So don’t get high and mighty and say you killed a cop to save me. “You don’t care about me,” Pergram said. Legerski filled his huge chest with a deep intake of air, as if it was a response. His eyes and face betrayed his defiance and acceptance, Pergram thought. No words were spoken for a minute. Pergram and Legerski glared at each other.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“Schweitzer had built the underground concrete bunker in the shape and dimensions of an unbalanced barbell.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“Gracie steeled herself. If she made the choice to believe she couldn’t back out of it later. She wasn’t sure how that would change her life or improve their situation, if at all, but she thought she was willing to do it. She needed something to believe in, something greater than herself to help her through this. God had always been out there in her peripheral vision, she thought, but she’d refused to turn her head and look at Him directly. Now was the time if there ever was a time. She liked the idea of handing herself over to a greater power. But she wondered how many girls in the same room had prayed to be let out? All of them, she guessed. And did it work for any of them? *”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“The act is unjustifiable that either begs for a blessing, or, having succeeded, gives no thanksgiving. —Francis Quarles”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“Cassie felt as disgusted and abused and as horrified as the murdered missing girl as she removed the headphones, closed her eyes, and croaked, “Holy Mother of God.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“It came in horrible flashes, and Cassie found herself fast-forwarding, getting the gist but not dwelling a second longer than necessary on the actual details.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“For the next few minutes, time stood still and Cassie was transported into a real-life version of hell. Even as she watched it, she knew she’d never be able to scrub the images from her mind for the rest of her life. She had to remind herself to breathe.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“And was the owner there? A tall creepy guy who kind of hovered around the whole time saying inappropriate things?” “Jimmy.” “Yes, Jimmy,” she said, and her top lip curled slightly as she said the name. “If I ever see Jimmy again for the rest of my life it’ll be too soon.” “I didn’t like him, either,” Cassie said. “He’s bad news. I always hated going in there, even with Rick. Those two…” She didn’t finish, but looked up suddenly at Cassie. She seemed startled at her own vehemence. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re dredging up some bad memories for me.” “That’s not my intention,” Cassie said. Although it was.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“There was a small white house on the valley floor. Next to it was Legerski’s cruiser and Jimmy’s Jeep Wagoneer. He parked next to Jimmy’s Jeep and climbed out of the Buick with the ammo cans from the seat. But instead of walking toward the sagging front door of the house he went to the side where there was a thick concrete abutment emerging from the ground. He leaned over and grasped the steel handle of the door and pulled. It was unlocked. As he went down the wide stairs, his rage suddenly morphed into absolute calm and he became the Lizard King without even willing it to happen.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“Out of habit, Pergram checked traffic ahead and behind him on the highway—there was none—before slowing and taking an unmarked two-track that wound through high sagebrush toward the mountains. Tiny pellets of snow rattled across the hood of the car and against his driver’s side window. Twisted fingers of forsaken lone sage scraped the undercarriage of the Riviera as he drove. The old road took him through a narrow stand of old mountain ash trees and down a switchback slope. He crossed an ancient bridge constructed of railroad ties that sagged over a creek. Every time he drove the tractor over it he expected it to cave in, but it never did. The trees cleared and he topped a rise and the old Schweitzer place was laid out in front of him. It wasn’t really a ranch because it had too few acres—maybe a thousand acres—to feed enough cows to make a go of it, he’d heard. But when crazy old man Schweitzer bought it in the early 1950s, ranching wasn’t his main priority. His thought then was to find a location that would withstand a nuclear war with the Soviet Union or Red China. That’s why he chose acreage with high mountains on all four sides far away from any population center that might be a target. That’s why he built the bunker beneath his house with three-foot reinforced concrete walls and ceiling. It wouldn’t withstand a direct hit, but humans inside could conceivably live through just about anything else. The air-filtration system was on its last legs but it still worked. They’d know when it failed when they found asphyxiated dead bodies inside. So far, though …”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“But a man didn’t use a word like that except to demean. And he no doubt meant what he said. It hurt.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“Cassie was buoyed with herself and watched him go. Before he wheeled out onto the pavement their eyes met in his rearview mirror and he mouthed something that she couldn’t hear but that pierced her like a knife in the heart. Stupid cunt. * * * She tried to hold herself together and not react, and she turned sharply on her heel and walked away. Of course, she’d heard the word before. Of course, she’d been called it, especially from criminals she and Cody had apprehended. By the time she reached the end of the small gravel parking lot she was breathing again and she lifted her head.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“Legerski showed his teeth—not really a smile, but a facsimile of a smile, she thought—and said, “Yeah. I’ll do it. But I can’t guarantee anything.” “I realize that,” she said. “We don’t have much to go on. But we also don’t have time to waste.” He took a deep breath and held it in and stared hard at something over her head. She got the feeling she should be bracing herself for some kind of “experienced cop tells the newbie how it really is” speech. She was right. “Deputy,” he said. “My title is Investigator,” she said sharply. “Okay, Investigator,” he said with a tiny smirk, “I’ll break it to you. These girls have supposedly been missing for less than fourteen hours, right?” She nodded. “Officially, this isn’t even a missing persons case yet. And your friend Cody—who knows? You haven’t talked to him in seven hours, that’s all. From what I know about him, he’s probably curled up with a bottle in his pickup somewhere sleeping it off.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“She listed to the side and reached down to her handbag near the chair. “Do you mind if I take some notes?” Legerski said, “Is this an official interview?” He seemed put out by the prospect. “Nothing like that. I’m just trying to establish a time line for my own benefit.” She opened her notebook to the page she’d begun back at her house. Times were noted from when Justin Hoyt entered the bar to when Cody left Helena. Since there had been no contact or incidents from that point on, the time line ended at Cody’s last text.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“When do you go on shift?” she asked. “Couple of hours.” “So we have a little time.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, “A little but not much.” “You know why I’m here,” she said, recapping the night before. She left out the extraneous information about Cody’s suspension, her role in it, their meeting at the bar, and started with Justin Hoyt’s announcement that the Sullivan girls were missing. She said her last communication with Cody had been at two forty-seven that morning. Legerski sopped up the last of the gravy with a piece of toast. He seemed to be listening patiently, but he asked no questions.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“After ordering, they’d sniffed around at each other at first, talking about the weather and state politics until their food arrived. She didn’t know what she thought of him yet. He was polite enough, more formal than she was used to, and had stood up when she came in. His big mustache hid his mouth and he had the dead-eyed cop look down cold. His hands were huge and reminded her of bear paws when he grasped them together on the table. Legerski seemed serious, if somehow forced, as if he were playacting at being vigilant and extremely sincere. He had a gruff low voice and a drawn-out, western way of speaking. Legerski chose his words carefully and seemed to want to use as few of them as possible. He didn’t wear a wedding ring. She’d said, “I understand you were married to the sister of our dispatcher, Edna.” He’d nodded, and said, “Love is grand, but divorce is a hundred grand.” It was the kind of thing men said to each other and generally didn’t say to women, she thought. But she gave him the benefit of the doubt and hoped he thought of her as serious, as well as a colleague. Since he was a state trooper and she was an investigator for an out-of-county sheriff’s department, the hierarchy was clear. But he didn’t act superior. “Thanks for meeting me this morning,” she said. “You bet,” he said, between mouthfuls of food. “But it’s kind of a busy time.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“Two-sport all-state athlete, honor roll, Future Farmers of America award winner.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“Sheriff Tubman padded down his driveway in a blue bathrobe cinched tight and fat moccasin slippers. His hair was mussed and his ankles were skinny and mottled and so white they almost looked blue in the dawn. As he bent over to retrieve his newspaper he heard the sound of the motor and looked up, puzzled. Cassie watched him closely as he registered who was in the county Ford. As she pulled up in front of him and stopped, he rose to full height and squinted at her through the windshield, holding the newspaper down at his side. His studied arrogance hadn’t kicked in yet, which is what she counted on. She shoved the big Ford into park and climbed out. The front bumper of the vehicle was just a few feet away from him. She got out and shut the door but kept the engine running. The purr of the motor was the only sound. “Nice place,” she said, walking up alongside the vehicle. She took a side step at the front and leaned back against the grille and crossed her arms under her breasts. It was a posture she’d seen Cody Hoyt assume many times; passive but judgmental at the same time. She’d been surprised how many times perps started yapping and volunteering information they never would otherwise because they assumed Cody had the goods on them.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway

“This is happening with more frequency,” her mother said. The words weren’t said in anger, but in a kind of martyred resignation.”
― C.J. Box, The Highway