Page 175:

"At the end of the room, a shadowy figure stood over a wooden operating table surrouned by a lantern and candles on a high shelf.  The candlelight reflected in dozens of dark glass jars lining the wall, like the glowing prayer candles in a dark cathedral.  Only these jars didn't hold votives, but things I could only imagine.

Specimens.  Experiments.  Nightmares.

And the figure at the front, the unholy priest, was my father."

                                                                         

Page 212:

"I squeezed the knife harder.  Then I realized that anyone who saw the pile of pits would know I'd passed this way.

I threw them into the jungle to hide my trail...As I turned to go, one of the pits sailed back through the air in a graceful arc and landed at my feet.  

I clutched the knife and spun around.  Something was out there."