“Because this devil is definitely an older man, probably foreign. The FBI would classify him as a type IV killer, the worst kind and difficult to catch. A type IV serial killer has no remorse, doesn’t understand the concept. He has what they call an anger-excitation profile. The whole process he performs is his own way to sexual gratification. This man kills for sport. He’s not out of control, quite the opposite in fact. Most importantly, in regard to your daughter’s safety, the rules of his game are that he must murder strangers. He doesn’t kill people he knows. So if your daughter’s with people she knows then she cannot be with the killer.”

“Is it morally acceptable to murder one hundred innocent people in the process of catching a serial killer who has murdered ten people? If you think World War II was justified, your answer should be yes.”

“He's a gypsy killer. He has a special gypsy killing knife.”

“He would have been handsome—in a serial-killer kind of way—if not for those tattoos.”

“You do know him, so that's a lame excuse."It was a lame excuse, but it was the best I had. "How do you really ever truly know someone?"Brit smacked her hands to her cheeks and she shook her head. "He's not a serial killer.""Speaking of serial killers, everyone thought Ted Bundy was a really charming, handsome man. And look how he turned out. Psycho."Jacob stared at me. "He's not Ted Bundy.”

“The thing that Buffalo Hump was most grateful for, as he rode into the emptiness, was the knowledge that in the years of his youth and manhood he had drawn the lifeblood of so many enemies. He had been a great killer; it was his way and the way of his people; no one in his tribe had killed so often and so well. The killings were good to remember, as he rode his old horse deeper into the llano, away from all the places where people came.”