Lis Wiehl Quotes

The only way out was to do what Sissy demanded—go out and kill this woman and her little boy. And then try to forget he had ever done it.

It was times like these that she questioned the path she'd chosen—she wanted to do work that was important, that made a difference, and she was good at what she did, but she was still shocked and disheartened by the evil things people did to each other.

This man wouldn’t stop until he killed Korena. Killed her. Clark couldn’t let that happen.

Jenna stumbled backward, her eyes on the woman who slammed the door behind her with one foot while both hands held a gun. A big gun. Pointed right at Jenna.

Then there were Cassidy and Allison, her best friends. She knew she could count on them to support her, at least in their own ways. But either of them, when faced with something that might be bearing down on her like a freight train—how rational and lucid would they be?

It was not the sense that something had been there. It was the sense that something was still there, palpable but not visible. A sense (and now he thought he was really losing his mind) that the forest was grieving, or that something in it was dying…a feeling, if he had to name it, that evil had been there.

Cassidy was watching Elizabeth with something like awe. This was a side to her that Allison hadn’t seen before. Cassidy seemed to long for this woman’s approval, automatically doing everything a little bigger and better any time Elizabeth’s gaze turned in her direction

Living with Grandma had taught Elizabeth the basic rules. At Grandma’s she had learned that you were either a giver or a taker, predator or prey. And Cassidy Shaw had all the hallmarks of prey

"So are you saying," Allison asked, "that there's a little bit of sociopath in all of us?"

These days everything went through the filter of knowing that she might be dying. And not a lot made it through.

He'd been fearless on the football field, but he couldn't fight what he couldn't see or understand. Suddenly, he wasn't feeling fearless anymore.

In her head, Elizabeth called what she did 'The Game.' The rules were simple: to pretend to be whatever someone else needed until they gave you whatever you needed. After that, there were no rules. The Game was fair, at least to Elizabeth's way of thinking. Anyone could play it. In fact, she was sure most people were playing it; they just didn't like to admit it. Sure, there were a few losers and idiots, suckers who, for whatever reason, didn't mind getting played. And some people were so weak that they played poorly, basically inviting anyone to take advantage of them.

This is Cassidy Shaw, reporting to you live from the Barbur Bargain Motel in Southwest Portland.

There were three types of people in the world, Elizabeth believed. Some, like Cassidy, were naïve and full of ridiculous scruples that held them back from ever enjoying life. Others, like that Allison and Nicole, were phonies who pretended to care about others. And some—only a few—were like her. Strong enough to take what they could. And smart enough not to get caught.

Tommy locked his doors, armed his security system, replaced all the 9-volt batteries in his smoke detectors, made sure the gun in his dresser drawer was loaded, and went to bed where, before falling asleep, he recited a psalm from memory, with an emphasis on one line in particular: “yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me . . .”