Roberts Nora. Possession in Death

She spent the morning with a murderer.He'd been under guard in a hospital bed recovering from a near-fatal wound — courtesy of a misstep by his partner in crime — but she'd had no sympathy.She was glad he'd lived, wished him a long, long life — in an off-planet concrete cage. She believed the case she and her team had built to be solid — as did the nearly gleeful prosecuting attorney. The sprinkles on the icing of this particular cupcake was the confession she'd finessed out of him as he'd sneered at her.Given that he'd tried to kill her less than twenty-four hours before, the sneer was small change.Sylvester Moriarity would receive the best medical care New York could provide, then he'd join his friend Winston Dudley behind bars until what promised to be a sensational, media-soaked trial, given their family fortunes and names.Case closed, she told herself as she pushed her way through the heat-soaked Saturday afternoon traffic toward home. The dead now had the only justice she could offer, and their families and friends the comfort — if comfort it was — that those responsible would pay.But it haunted her: the waste, the cruelty, the utter selfishness of two men who were so puffed up by their own importance, their station, that they'd considered murder a form of entertainment, a twisted sort of indulgence.She maneuvered through New York traffic, barely hearing the blasts of horns, the annoyingly cheerful hype of the ad blimps heralding midsummer sales at the Sky Mall. Tourists swarmed the city — and likely the Sky Mall as well — chowing down on soy dogs from the smoking glide-carts, looking for souvies and bargains among the shops and street vendors.A boiling stew, she thought, in the heat and humidity of summer 2060...