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Zusatztext “Topical and terrifying, author J.D. Robb serves up another intensely riveting and unforgettable chapter in the ongoing saga of Det. Eve Dallas and her mysterious husband Rourke.” — RT Book Reviews More Praise for the In Death series “Robb is a virtuoso.”— Seattle Post-Intelligencer “It’s Law & Order: SVU —in the future.”— Entertainment Weekly “J. D. Robb’s In Death novels are can’t-miss pleasures.”—#1 New York Times bestselling author Harlan Coben “Anchored by terrific characters, sudden twists that spin the whole narrative on a dime, and a thrills-to-chills ration that will raise the neck hairs of even the most jaded reader, the J. D. Robb books are the epitome of great popular fiction.”— New York Times bestselling author Dennis Lehane Informationen zum Autor J. D. Robb is the pseudonym for a #1 New York Times bestselling author of more than 200 novels, including the bestselling In Death series. There are more than 500 million copies of her books in print. Klappentext From #1 New York Times bestselling author J. D. Robb comes a tantalizing novel in the futuristic In Death series, as Detective Eve Dallas searches for a Casanova killer with a deadly appetite for seduction... Dante had been courting his victim in cyberspace for weeks before meeting her in person. A few sips of wine and a few hours later, she was dead. The murder weapon: a rare, usually undetectable date-rape drug with a street value of a quarter million dollars. Detective Eve Dallas is playing and replaying the clues in her mind. The candlelight, the music, the rose petals strewn across the bed-a seduction meant for his benefit, not hers. He hadn't intended to kill her. But now that he had, he is left with only two choices: to either hole up in fear and guilt. Or start hunting again…Death didn’t only come in dreams. Eve stood over it now, in the balmy early morning air of a Tuesday in June. The New York City sidewalk was cordoned off, the sensors and blocks squaring around the pavement and the cheerful tubs of petunias used to spruce up the building’s entrance. She had a particular fondness for petunias, but she didn’t think they were going to do the job this time. And not for some time to come. The woman was facedown on the sidewalk. From the angle of the body, the splatter and pools of blood, there wasn’t going to be a lot of that face left. Eve looked up at the dignified gray tower with its semicircle balconies, its silver ribbon of people glides. Until they identified the body, they’d have a hard time pinning down the area from which she’d fallen. Or jumped. Or been pushed. The one thing Eve was sure of: It had been a very long drop. “Get her prints and run them,” she ordered. She glanced down at her aide as Peabody squatted, opened a field kit. Peabody’s uniform cap sat squarely on her ruler-straight dark hair. She had steady hands, Eve thought, and a good eye. “Why don’t you do time of death.” “Me?” Peabody asked in surprise. “Get me an ID, establish time of death. Log in description of scene and body.” Now, despite the grisly circumstance, it was excitement that moved over Peabody’s face. “Yes, sir. Sir, first officer on-scene has a potential witness.” “A witness from up there, or down here?” “Down here.” “I’ll take it.” But Eve stayed where she was a moment longer, watching Peabody scan the dead woman’s fingerprints. Though Peabody’s hands and feet were sealed, she made no contact with the body and did the scan quickly, delicately. After one nod of approval, Eve strode away to question the uniforms flanking the perimeter. It might have been nearly three in the morning, but there were bystanders, gapers, and they had to be encouraged along, blocked out. News hawks were already in evidence, calling out questions, trying to snag a few minutes of recording to pump i...
