Crime Thriller Quotes

She must feel like Lucifer’s frigid breath is running down the back of her delicate neck.

You sound like you’re enjoying my suffering.

Her growing possessiveness felt both good and bad.

The verdict got both the fish and me off the hook.

I watched her undress with moonlight shivering across the room from behind sheer curtains that moved with the currents from the hearth fire.

I knew I rode a rugged crest of turmoil that might crash on the rocky shore of irrational behavior.

What the hell, if you are going to roll the dice with Lucifer, I say go the distance.

He wanted a stiff drink to get through the evening, for he knew they’d be wailing, and her family coming unglued.

Death rides on all of our shoulders from the day we are born.

I swallowed a sigh since, truthfully, I was glad she found the cabin.

The final sound of the rifle shot bounced around the lake.

It was as if we played chess after denying me both bishops and knights.

The steps leading to the porch looked worn, cracked, and unpainted, ready for a nice hot fire.

Death is the ultimate test of faith.

A look of absolute terror locked onto her features.

Elpidio sensed that David had more to say but was holding back due to their friendship. He wondered why David had gone along with Emiliana's seemingly impulsive ideas.

Life was better than he expected with his new Italian family inheritance, and it felt good to take a deep breath without fear of someone attacking him or his family.

Your little buddy just gave me the greatest    Christmas gift I've ever gotten.

He motioned for Elpidio to sit down after watching him pace the room in circles. Elpidio pulled out a chair and admitted, 'I've messed up in more ways than I can count.

Donde, he offered a piece of candy to a little    boy.

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart.

We're selling vacuum cleaners.

I can’t go into detail, but it’s why I went to the special meeting at the Pentagon.

He didn't want to give the cartel any time to persuade Emiliana into accepting a more enticing offer. He had reservations about her loyalty and feared she might make a deal without Elpidio's consent.

Violence was a slippery slope, lubricated by a lot of blood, if history had any lessons to teach.

I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid I'll never get a chance to live!

I can’t wait for the day when we’ll never have to say ‘goodbye’ to each other again.

Steve had just met the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Until now his engagement to Christine had never been a concern.

Do you still distrust me?” “No. Take your necklace with you so you can think of me when I’m not there.”
Brown brought the necklace over to her and put it on her neck.
“I think it rather suits me,” she laughed and left.
Brown didn’t understand what had made him insist she wear the necklace. Maybe it
was the readiness with which she had made love, or her frequent disappearances lately,
he was just curious. There was no harm in checking, before he parted with the money.
Later that evening, before going to sleep he decided to have a look at her location and
he was in for a surprise. She had not left Central City at all. In fact she was at the same
friend’s address as she had been the last time.

I can smack a ball-bearing between your abusive fiancé’s eyes before his wingtips hit the sidewalk.

Unless today is well lived, tomorrow is not important.

Even adults who were stiffened by the starch of their miserable lives, for whom breaking the stony discipline of austere and judgmental intolerance was usually off the table, melted in the magical luminescence and energetic charm of the pre-pubescent Ruka.

Black considered shooting him here. That idea lasted about a second. Thought about pushing the barrel through the man’s skull. That lasted a couple more.

Black reached for a Glock G21 SF. Two boxes of .45 Precision Tactical. Two knives. If he needed more, he was in real trouble.

He kept hearing his mother calling out, Anderson dear, you must go hide now. Mommy needs to entertain this nice gentleman.

Under the lake by Anvil Creek, a man has been frozen much like another man in the same wilderness had been frozen, in this area of Alaska where silence is the loudest sound.

The heater spits a chorus of steam, his bones no longer brittle and cold. The ice man melted, a new form waiting to emerge once all the crystals get shaken away.

You can’t let people affect you. You’ve gotta stand up for what you think is right... even if you’re wrong. Especially if you know you’re wrong. Fuck ’em! All of ’em!

Recollections of a loved one often trigger feelings of nostalgia. But, sometimes, the loss is just too raw. The pain too bitter. And recollection triggers nothing but heartache and despair. A pain that burns the soul.

It was the fundamental bifurcation of the masses of human meat into two starkly opposite classes: the haves and the have-nots. The have-nots had barely anything. The haves had it all. The haves had everything except concern and compassion for the have-nots, who they regarded as little more than cockroaches.

There should be multiple yous," Grayson says, outlined by the moonlight, a blue phantasm. "So you can help solve all of our problems. So you can help solve the world's problems.

In many ways, revenge is much like an extramarital affair. It never just “happens.” Nobody cheats without having fantasized about it in advance, without having savored the idea. Revenge, like seduction, is a process. It is a game of inches.

Anderson’s soul was turbulent. Sick at heart and restless, the two-bedroom apartment he shared with his wife had become too small, too cramped, too closed in. He could no longer endure its restraint.

His eyes swelling with tears, the alien salt stinging. Not tears of sadness, this he decides. He won't let them be anything more than a body's way of letting go.

I uncover hidden truths, I don’t pander to other’s notions of how the events of the world should come out.

The regular choreography, entrances and exits of blooms in stages such that the garden looked like an ever-evolving carousel of swirling rainbows and radiant butterflies, seemed condensed. All of the flowers still obeyed some silent urgent command to make their debut. But this year, it definitely unfolded more quickly, as if racing to meet a new compelling deadline.

Yet, all armor—from a lobster’s shell to a Navy SEAL’s flak jacket—ultimately reveals the same truth. All armor highlights vulnerability. It trumpets the fact that below that hard exterior lies an interior that is soft, fragile, and in need of protection.

The snake you don’t kill today may kill you tomorrow.

The thin line between love and hate is self-deception.

Pretty isn’t permanent.

We work in the city of Würzburg, which is between Frankfurt and Nürnberg. Eric and I are in military intelligence.

His blazing red filly switched leads and spurted forward, flattening out and making up ground. Francine left the other horses behind and lunged after Miss Smith. Was there enough track left for her to catch the leader?

Fine architecture is man’s tribute to the land it has been built on. So are the untouched, pristine lands he preserves for posterity.

So why not a woman, too—if I was dating her?

A GREENHEAD is what Mary called me—SWAT!

The biggest problem I have is I know why he has changed. What took place last night convinced me. I believe he’s been hypnotized to conduct espionage.

Darling,’ she said. ‘Darling, darling, Jack…,’ she repeated. It had an echo chamber quality. I felt dizzy and the room began turning. I grabbed the edge of the table thinking I needed to hold on to something. It felt like I was being thrown out of a swing. Then, everything went black.

I bade her ‘night night,’ and I was already waiting to meet her.

Their war maneuvers excluded shame.

You could have had an abortion.” “Mr. Ludefance, when I found out that I was pregnant, I never thought twice about getting rid of it. I could have so easily. But it was my choice to keep this baby.” “That was a brave choice to make.” “I have no regrets, Mr. Ludefance.

Some characters and situations are fictitious. Others are only too real.

In contrast, Anderson was trying hard not to show his brimful-teary eyes. He felt his face heating. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose. At the same time, anger began to grow in the pit of his stomach.

Sometimes he talked silently to himself, repeating the same thoughts. How long has the persistent brother been eluding me? How long has he had an arrangement with my wife? Am I not the humiliated one? Trusting them both?

I hardly think so. If I was ashamed, I wouldn’t have testified on your behalf, admitting the truth that I was your father in front of the United States Naval Court. But, I don’t think now is the time to discuss these matters.

I experienced what can only be described as a surreal moment in time; giddy with the prospect of a challenging case, but disheartened with the senseless death of a highly respected judge and family man. Why had he been murdered? Who was the killer? Why hadn’t the Tallahassee police been able to solve the case?

From The Other Side, Uncle Roscoe was still exercising his Second Amendment rights. Protecting me from my stalker? Or was his gun going to get me killed?

But I couldn’t help thinking—Who the hell eats bats? Probably nothing.

An idea came to me. A crazy idea. I wanted to sneak into Holler’s estate located behind Holler Enterprises and find out more about what he had going on. I wanted to know about all those other buildings that could be seen stretching back into a heavily wooded area. Did it go all the way back to Santa Rosaria Sound?

There were no clues left by the murderer inside the judge’s chambers. No fingerprints. Nothing. The only thing found that was out of the ordinary was a single strand of long auburn hair on the window ledge. A single strand of hair from an unknown female. All dead ends. From my initial perspective, the police were as thorough as they could have been.

He cringed each morning as the newspapers were brought to him. The media was eating the story up. His anger grew as he read the suppositions and the innuendos; the fact that his life was being laid bare for the entire world to see.

Dad, I need to talk to you about something that’s been bothering me for a long time. Remember when you and mom used to have fights and she would leave? I wanted her to stay and when I knew she wasn’t, I wanted to go with her. But, she would say, ‘stay with your father, you’re a boy.’ It’s a feeling of abandonment that I’ve never been able to shake. I had the same feeling when Sarah left me.

I was a small fish in a big sea of amorous deceit.

I don't make threats," she said. "I make reality.

I licked my lips where I could still taste their glove's fabric. Bitter leather and sweat. The taste of being alive.

We have three sets of passports. Two are Egyptian with false names.

If I were a lesbian, I’d probably be one of those lipstick lesbians, which I of course had in my pocket for touch-ups later.

We want to use your two army officers who dealt with Mideast spy tactics, including drugging, hypnotism, and espionage. If we do this, gentlemen, they will be far away in New Mexico. Now, it’s up to the FBI.

I sat in my brown-belted gi at the painted metal table outside of Einstein’s and Peet’s with Mr. Ho, my Kenpo Karate instructor in his black-belted gi, and my bronze, canine psychologist, wearing his/her Lacoste eyeglasses.

A detective in love with a breathtakingly beautiful stripper, who also is a major criminal: “Among her coterie of supplicants was Joe Fucci, a senior detective on the Laughlin force. Joe regarded himself as handsome, and he was. If he went without shaving for three days, a John Deere was required to cut through the growth. No electric razor created by man stood a chance in that tangle of growth.

Another mound of boulders reared up before her. She scrabbled along the base of the mound, slipping and sliding, barely catching herself from tumbling down the slope. She caught sight of the person coming after her. It was a man, brown hair in a halo around his white face. He glared up at her, lips drawn back over stained teeth in a snarl, long, bare arms eating the ground in leaps against her ineffectual progress.

When compared with what I have in mind for it, your property is blighted, dangerous, deteriorated, infectious, unhealthy, substandard, crime-infested, and irreparable. Once I have proven that, I will move in, and you will be moved away. You must leave so I can thrive.

And now Anderson stood looking at his father. His hands were trembling with eagerness, extending toward him, wanting his father to embrace him. He wanted to love it back to life for all those lost times, for all those times of hope. “Permission to sit, sir?

His foot bumped into something he feared was a body. He bent to touch it. It was human. A human with a carotid pulse. He picked it up into a cradle. Probably a female, judging by the feathery weight.

Stepping back, Anika smiled at her prisoners and clicked open the Zippo. Its flame hopped to life. Wasting no time, she underhand-tossed the lighter through the air. It hit the middle of its target, and the banner exploded into flames. 

The events unfolded with such speed and efficiency that Anderson found himself in a state of shock. His anger with Bevin and McPhearson was quickly replaced with a sense of impending doom. An unbelievable stream of events had taken place since his training exercises in the Pacific.

The summer of 2019 had overstayed its welcome in Florida, lingering well into September. As if to make a point about global warming, the rabid sun scorched the waters of Biscayne Bay for weeks, generating a haze of humidity that blurred the line between the windless sea and the sky above. Not to be accused of playing favorites, the sun’s rays beat down on the land with equal spite, pummeling grass, palms, and bushes into limp submission. The heat weaponized asphalt roads and cement sidewalks, the shimmery mirages above them a clear warning to all living things to stay away or burn.

She reached the door to the forbidden room. The door with the light escaping through the cracks. Her hands shook. Her eyes watered from the pull. She panted, her chest visibly moving in and out. Her teeth clenched. She switched off the flashlight, turned the knob, and pushed. 

Immediately after that fate-filled evening in May, the phone booth in its entirety had been confiscated by the Homicide Unit as embodying significant criminal evidence of murder. More accurately, though, the booth was like an envelope encapsulating the entire crime scene, including splattered skull fragments.

Lawson, also known by his call sign of Hiker, had been my best friend since our navy days. He now had the distinction of being the sheriff of Santa Rosaria. “Where the hell are you? It sounds like you’re far away.” “I’m on the top deck of a cruise ship in the Panama Canal.” “Swamp, I’m busy. I don’t have time for your jokes.” “Then why the hell did you call me?” “I’m calling because some hot shot lawyer called my office for a character reference on you.” “Why?” “I’ll ask you the same question. Why? Are you in some kind of trouble?” “Of course I’m not in any kind of trouble! What did you say to him?” “I told him you’re some kind of character.

Mr. Ludefance? This is Barnett Hooks. We’re a law firm over here in Tallahassee. I’ve been trying to reach you for over a week as I’m representing a client who is interested in hiring you.” “I’m currently out of the country, Mr. Hooks. Why don’t you tell me about the nature of the problem? Mind you, I don’t take infidelity cases anymore.” “No, it’s not that type of case. This is about the late Judge Russell Hastings. He was an appellate judge with the First District Court of Appeals here in Tallahassee who unfortunately was murdered about a year ago.

Mr. Hooks?” “Mr. Ludefance? Pleasure to meet you and thank you for coming in.” As he extended his hand to me, I noticed the girl at the desk staring at my face. Hooks looked back at her staring and must have given her a look of some kind. “Mr. Ludefance, this is my secretary, Cholia.” She stood up and continued to stare at my scar. Black hair, cute face, maybe five-foot-four at the most, and a little on the plump side with rosy cheeks. Young. Very young. Looked like a teenager to me. Or was I just getting ‘older?

It was golden hour in Tarrytown. An incandescent sun cast long shadows that pointed in unison toward nightfall. Birds sang. But their melodies were drowned out by crescendos of cicadas’ chattering. Not to be outdone, the wind came and went in gusts, rising up and across the hills from the lake below. As it did, it blew through the trees agitating the millions of leaves in the canopy, the rustle and crackle of which drew the eyes upward, where an infinite canvas of burnt orange and purple was visible through the branches of proud oaks.

Wadsworth opened the bottle and handed me the cork. What the heck? What do I do now? Take it? Smell it? Lick it? A slight trickle of sweat ran down the nape of my neck as he, Margeaux and Deloris stared at me. “Uh, what am I supposed to do with it?” “Take a sniff, sir. Just to make sure.” “Of course, of course.” Smelled just fine to me and I looked up at him with a big silly grin on my face as he poured a small amount of wine into my glass. I stared up at him. “Aren’t you going to fill my glass?” “Take a sip, sir. Just to make sure.” “Make sure of what?” “That it is to your liking, sir.” It was all I could do from turning red-faced. But I took that sip and smiled again. He then poured the wine into our glasses, nestled the bottle in the silver wine chiller and left. At that point I burst out laughing and my sweet ladies joined me.

Jack? It’s Margeaux.” “My sister? Why would my sister be calling me? How did she get my number? Crazy questions blipped through my head. I knew she had married and was living in New Orleans, but we rarely spoke and have never been close by any means” “Margeaux?” “I’m calling from the police station. Dad was just brought in and I thought I should let you know.” “What! Why was he brought in?” “Jack, he’s been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. He drove himself into New Orleans to Quest Diagnostic for some blood tests and he was waiting to be called. Apparently, they took other people back that had come in after him. He got upset and made a scene. The staff tried to explain that those people all had appointments and he didn’t. He became so abusive, they called security, but before they even got there, Dad knocked down one of the technicians. That’s when they called the police. They came and took him.

As Vice President of Acquisitions, Mr. Lang,” she asked. “Just what is it you are supposing to acquire?” At the very most, are you seeking a compliment in return? Of course, you are! Men are always hoping for what they seldom get.” With that, she reached up to kiss him on the cheek—the freight train of doom had passed him by on a parallel track. Doubt is good. It keeps the doors open to proof of promise. Is that why she had changed into that incredibly tantalizing little blue-black dress driving the Whaler bar crowd toward a frenzy?

Under fire, trying to get a fugitive out of Honduras: “Their pilot hopped out of the cockpit to allow them entry room. Pack sent Keto [Belgian Malinois K-9] up first. Then he dragged Triandos up. The prisoner’s head pinged off every step on the way up. His head struck the bulkhead as Pack flung his bulk into the cabin. ‘I know there’s a protocol,’ Pack thought, ‘but whoever wrote it was never in this situation.

The Director of the US Marshals Service, who does not like Pack: “Seems to me Simon Pack’s a grandstander. I remind you I’m a West Pointer myself. I remember his ill-fated year as Superintendent, acting as if he were MacArthur incarnate. The All-America player in a couple sports, the man in the College Football Hall of Fame; the Governor of a small state; the leader of a constitutional convention. And yeah, he was also a hobo, maybe the biggest grandstand move he ever undertook.

Not to change the subject, but…you do realize you’ve been going over the speed limit for quite a few miles? Never mind. And thank you Professor Ludefance. Somehow, I think this lecture is meant for me, but I have a lot more interchange of material and energy with my environment than most.” “In a physical sense, you’re not decaying at all, you’re a very vibrant young woman. The decay I’m speaking about for you is emotional. As for the professorship, that very lecture was given to me from a Turkish friend who had inherited a great deal of wealth and didn’t know what to do with himself. I learned this from him. As for you, you interact with your environment, but you are predatory, fearless, irritable, and listless. You’re getting no emotional feedback.” “And just where do you suggest I go to look for ‘emotional feedback,’ Mr. Professor?” “Aha. That’s the catch. You can’t. It’s not that mechanical. You merely have to be receptive and hope it comes along.” “Meanwhile, I’m being ground down by the second law of thermodynamics.” “In a sense, yes.” “Thank you so much, Professor. I never would have known.

The joey, large-eyed and gangly in the way of almost all young animals, frisked about. He – she – it (Saskia couldn’t tell what sex) batted its front paws at its mother – who straightened from her feeding with a look of resigned patience to fend off the tiny fists before reaching out and enfolding the youngster in her arms. The joey melted into her embrace, touching its nose against her mouth. Saskia took several photos, letting out a small “oooh!” at the cuteness of the interaction. The youngster hopped away and leapt into the air with twists that could be for no other reason than the joy of doing them. Suddenly, it returned to the doe and, once again, interrupted her grazing by thrusting its head into her pouch.

I do not possess the ability to draw or paint. I can’t sing or dance. I can’t knit or sew. But I am an artist. I have the ability to put onto paper, words that tell an intriguing story. I am a writer. A writer is someone who, with just words, can paint a beautiful picture. A writer can open up a world of imagination you didn’t realize was possible. When you open up a book and become so consumed in the story, you feel like you’re a part of it… you’re standing next to that character and feeling the same way that character feels, That’s the art of a writer. I am an artist. My inspiration is the world around me. My paintbrush is my words. My easel is my computer. My canvas is the mind of my reader.