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New York to Dallas Cover Image E-book E-book

New York to Dallas

Robb, J. D. 1950- (Author).

Summary: In the locker room Eve tied on the hard black uniform shoes. She hated them-- always had-- but regulation was regulation. She pushed off the bench, then reached for her uniform cap. Turning to the mirror, she fixed it squarely on her head. She could see herself as she'd been a dozen years before, green as spring, with a shine on her shield and on those damned hard black shoes. A cop, then and now, without any question, any hesitation, over what she was meant to be. Had to be. She'd thought she'd known, but she hadn't known, really hadn't begun to know what she would see and do, what she would learn and come to accept. What she would live through and live with. A lot of corners turned, she thought, and one sharp, jagged corner had been turned the moment she'd stepped into apartment 303 on 258 Murray one sweltering day in late September, barely six weeks after she'd graduated from the Academy. She remembered the fear, the coppery smear of it in her throat, and she remembered the horror like a red haze.

Record details

  • ISBN: 9781101536919 (electronic bk.)
  • ISBN: 1101536918 (electronic bk.)
  • ISBN: 9781101536902 (electronic bk.)
  • ISBN: 110153690X (electronic bk.)
  • Physical Description: electronic resource
    remote
    1 online resource (402 p.)
  • Publisher: New York : G.P. Putnam's Sons, 2011.

Content descriptions

Reproduction Note:
Electronic reproduction. Requires Adobe Digital Editions (file size: 431 KB).
Source of Description Note:
Description based on print version record.
Subject: Dallas, Eve (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
Women detectives -- New York (State) -- New York -- Fiction
Police -- New York (State) -- New York -- Fiction
New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
Genre: Science fiction.
Mystery fiction.
Electronic books.
Electronic books.

Summary: In the locker room Eve tied on the hard black uniform shoes. She hated them-- always had-- but regulation was regulation. She pushed off the bench, then reached for her uniform cap. Turning to the mirror, she fixed it squarely on her head. She could see herself as she'd been a dozen years before, green as spring, with a shine on her shield and on those damned hard black shoes. A cop, then and now, without any question, any hesitation, over what she was meant to be. Had to be. She'd thought she'd known, but she hadn't known, really hadn't begun to know what she would see and do, what she would learn and come to accept. What she would live through and live with. A lot of corners turned, she thought, and one sharp, jagged corner had been turned the moment she'd stepped into apartment 303 on 258 Murray one sweltering day in late September, barely six weeks after she'd graduated from the Academy. She remembered the fear, the coppery smear of it in her throat, and she remembered the horror like a red haze.
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