In this thriller in the #1 New York Times bestselling In Death series, it's game over for the criminals who cross Lieutenant Eve Dallas as she investigates the murder of a virtual reality wunderkind. Bart Minnock, founder of the computer gaming giant U-Play, is found in his locked private playroom, in a pool of blood, his head separated from his body. Despite his violent end, Eve can’t find anyone—girlfriend and business partners included—who seemed to have a problem with the enthusiastic, high-spirited millionaire. Of course gaming, like any business, has its fierce rivalries and dirty tricks—as Eve’s husband, Roarke, one of U-Play’s competitors, knows well. But Minnock was not naïve, and he knew how to fight back in the real world as well as the virtual one. Eve and her team are about to enter the next level of police work, in a world where fantasy is the ultimate seduction—and the price of defeat is death... “Perennial No. 1 Robb takes the locked-room mystery to a whole new level in her latest gritty puzzler. As always it's the interpersonal relationships and character connections that breathe real life into her long-running and always riveting series. A most excellent addition!”— 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 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. Lieutenant Eve Dallas badged the shell-shocked doorman and breezed by. The sun and sultry heat left over from the night’s storms boosted her mood. At her side, her partner, Peabody, wilted. “A couple months ago all you did was bitch about the cold. Now you bitch about the heat. Never satisfied.” Peabody, her dark hair pulled back in a stubby tail, continued to bitch. “Why can’t they regulate the temperature?” “Who are they?” “The weather people. We must have the technology. Why not give us at least a couple weeks of steady mid-seventies? It’s not too much to ask. You could get Roarke to work on it.” “Oh yeah, I’ll tell him to get on that, right after he buys up the last ten percent of the universe.” Eve rocked back on her heels as they took the elevator up, and thought of her husband of almost two years. Actually, he probably could figure something. “If you want regulated temps, get a job where you work inside with climate control.” “June’s supposed to be daisies and wafty breezes.” Peabody waved a hand in the air. “Instead we’re getting thunder boomers and humiture to kill." “I like the boomers.” Peabody’s dark eyes narrowed as she studied Eve’s angular face. “You probably had lots of sex last night. You’re almost perky.” “Shut up. I’m never perky.” “Almost. You’re verging on perk.” “You’re verging on a boot up the ass.” “That’s better anyway.” Amused despite herself, Eve straightened her long, lean frame, then strode out the elevator when the doors whisked open. The uniforms in the hallway came to attention. “Lieutenant.” “Officer. What have we got?” “Victim’s Bart Minnock, the U-Play guy.” “You play what?” “U-Play, sir, it’s the comp and holo-game company. The girlfriend found him this morning. He stood her up last night, she says, and she came to read him the riot act. House droid let her in, and when she got here he was locked in his holo-room, got the droid to open it up.” The uniform paused. “I think you’re going to want to see for yourself.” “Where’s the girlfriend?” “CeeCee Rove. We’ve got her inside, and an officer’s with her. Got the droid on hold.” “We’ll take the scene first.” She stepped inside, scanned. What she could see of the first level struck her as a clubhouse for a very rich, very indulgent adolescent boy. Bright, primary colors with more cushion than structure, walls of screens, games, and more games, toys—heavy on the war toys. Not a living area so much as a big playroom. She supposed, given his profession, it fit. “Third floor, LT. There’s an elevator.” “We’ll take the stairs.” “It’s like a personal fun park,” Peabody commented as they started up. “McNab would weep with joy and envy,” she added, thinking of her main man. “I’ve got to say, it’s pretty frosty.” “He might live like a kid, but he had very grown-up security on the door.” She detoured on the second level long enough to determine the master bedroom was another playground, the guest rooms equipped for plenty of entertainment. He kept a home office that remi