Lieutenant Eve Dallas delves into the world of virtual reality gaming to stop a sadistic killer in this In Death novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author J. D. Robb. They died with smiles on their faces. Three apparent suicides: a brilliant engineer, an infamous lawyer, and a controversial politician. Three strangers with nothing in common—and no obvious reasons for killing themselves. Police lieutenant Eve Dallas finds the deaths suspicious. And her instincts pay off when autopsies reveal small burns on the brains of the victims. Was it a genetic abnormality or a high-tech method of murder? Eve’s investigation turns to the provocative world of virtual reality games—where the same techniques used to create joy and desire can also prompt the mind to become the weapon of its own destruction... Praise for Rapture in Death “Sexy, gritty, richly imagined suspense.”— Publishers Weekly 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. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five chapter six chapter seven chapter eight chapter nine chapter ten chapter eleven chapter twelve chapter thirteen chapter fourteen chapter fifteen chapter sixteen chapter seventeen chapter eighteen chapter nineteen chapter twenty Mind games . . . At the flick of a switch, Eve’s face flashed onto a monitor, all pertinent data split-screened beside her. A fascinating woman. Birthplace and parents unknown. The abused child discovered hiding in an alley in Dallas, Texas, body battered, mind blanked. A woman who couldn’t remember the early years of her own life. The years that formed the soul. Years when she had been beaten and raped and tormented. What did that sort of life do to the mind? To the heart? To the person? It had made the girl a social worker and had made Eve Dallas into a woman who had become a cop. The cop with the reputation for digging deep, and who had come into some notoriety the previous winter during the investigation of a sensitive and ugly case. That was when she had met Roarke. The computer hummed, sliced Roarke’s face onto the screen. Such an intriguing couple. His background was no prettier than the cop’s had been. But he’d chosen, at least initially, the other side of the law to make his mark. And his fortune. Now they were a set. A set that could be destroyed on a whim. But not yet. Not for some little time yet. After all, the game had just begun. But I do nothing upon myself, and yet am mine own Executioner. —John Donne There is rapture on the lonely shore. —Lord Byron chapter one The alley was dark and stank of piss and vomit. It was home for quick-footed rats and the bony, hungry-eyed felines who hunted them. Red eyes glinted in the dark, some of them human, all of them feral. Eve’s heart tripped lightly as she slipped into the fetid, damp-edged shadows. He’d gone in, she was sure of it. It was her job to follow, to find him, to bring him in. Her weapon was in her hand, and her hand was steady. “Hey, sweetcakes, wanna do it with me? Wanna do it?” Voices out of the dark, harsh with chemicals or cheap brews. Moans of the damned, giggles of the mad. The rats and cats didn’t live here alone. The company of the human garbage that lined the sweating brick walls was no comfort. She swung her weapon, crouched as she sidestepped a battered recycling unit that, from the smell of it, hadn’t worked in a decade. The stench of food gone over smeared the humid air and turned it into a greasy stew. Someone whimpered. She saw a boy, about thirteen, all but naked. The sores on his face were festering; his eyes were slits of fear and hopelessness as he scrabbled like a crab back against the filthy wall. Pity stirred in her heart. She had been a child once, hurt and terrified, hiding in an alley. “I won’t hurt you.” She kept her voice quiet, barely a murmur, kept her eyes on his, maintaining contact as she lowered her weapon. And that’s when he struck. He came from behind, a roar of motion and sound. Primed to kil