Visions in Death (In Death, #19)

by J.D. Robb

“When people talk about Roarke’s cop over their cocktails and canapés, they say she’s a little scary, a little mean, and very relentless. Would that be a fair description?” “Close enough.” “Good. Good.” Deann held out her hand, took Eve’s firmly. “Because you’re my cop now, too.”

This is what happened when you went and made friends. They had to go out and make friends, and then those friends somehow insinuated themselves into your life, or your work. Before you knew it you were hip-deep in people. And half of them were crazy.

“Overcoming and getting over are two very different things.” Mira spoke briskly now because she wanted to get up, to go over, to draw Eve into a hug that wouldn’t be appropriate, or understood. “Yes, you should strive to overcome. To survive, have a life, to be happy, to be productive. You’ve done all that, and a great deal more. But no, you’re not required to get over it. To get over being beaten and abused and raped and tortured. You ask more of yourself, Eve, than you ask of anyone else in the world.”