I cannot wax eloquent enough about Nora Roberts and her alter ego, J.D. Robb. This is her 44th “In Death” book, and I hope to all the gods that may be that the series never ends. At least, not in the next 4 years when our reality is substantially worse than my favorite fictions.
In this 44th installment of Lieutenant Eve Dallas‘ homicide investigations, the primo NYPSD cop and her billionaire husband, Roarke, literally almost ran over a naked and dazed woman on the street, as they were on their way home from a party. It’s the year 2061, and, apparently, people still suck. Dallas and Roarke bring her to the E.R., where they found out she was not only physically and mentally abused, she was also raped several times. While it’s a hard start to swallow, it does make for another great story.
I’ll admit: I’ll probably never read a detective story by any other author again. J.D. Robb’s ruined me for others (i.e., Marie Force’s own serial modern-day detective books, which, in my opinion, are poor and lame carbon copies of this series). I don’t think I’ll ever stop raving about Dallas, Roarke, and their friends. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been reading these books for too long that I guessed pretty early on in the book who the bad guy was, but man oh man, the ride J.D. Robb takes me on is still a rush every. Single. Damned. Time. Because of that epilogue in “Echoes in Death.” It made me think: well, dang, I don’t really know anything at all.