Lights. Camera. Murder. Take a wild ride through Hollywood with “the first serial killer who unabashedly solicits our love” ( Entertainment Weekly )—the character that inspired the latest Showtime hit series Dexter: Resurrection. “Gory? Yes. Appalling? Absolutely! Funny? Amazingly so!”— Los Angeles Times Mega-star Robert Chase is famous for losing himself in his characters. When he and a group of fellow actors descend on the Miami Police Department for “research,” Chase becomes fixated on Dexter Morgan, the blood spatter analyst with a sweet tooth and seemingly average life. Chase shadows Dexter’s every move, trying to learn what makes him tick. However, Dexter’s favorite pastime of hunting down the worst killers who’ve escaped legal prosecution—and introducing them to his special brand of justice—presents, well, a bit of a problem. It’s a secret best kept out of the spotlight if Dexter wants to stay out of the electric chair, but even Dexter isn’t immune to the call of fame. . . . Look for all of Jeff Lindsay’s deliciously twisted Dexter novels: DARKLY DREAMING DEXTER • DEARLY DEVOTED DEXTER • DEXTER IN THE DARK • DEXTER BY DESIGN • DEXTER IS DELICIOUS • DOUBLE DEXTER • DEXTER’S FINAL CUT • DEXTER IS DEAD Killer Acclaim for Jeff Lindsay's DEXTER novels:   "Lindsay just keeps getting better. His stories are wonderfully fresh." -- USA Today "One of the most likable vigilante serial killers in recent thriller literature."-- The New Yorker   "Gory? Yes. Appalling? Absolutely! Funny? Amazingly so!"-- Los Angeles Times   "Totally captivating. . . . Totally original. The characters are beautifully drawn, particularly Dexter, who is tremendously likable, his hobby notwithstanding."-- St. Petersburg Times "Maybe the first serial killer who unabashedly solicits our love."— Entertainment Weekly   "The real appeal of this macabre tour-de-force is Dexter's sardonic voice, so snappy and smart, and yet so full of self-loathing that we hate ourselves for laughing."— The New York Times Book Review   "It's like very little else you've read. Imagine if Hannibal Lecter starred in CSI: Miami instead of David Caruso, and you're halfway there.”—Time   "Just when you think (hope?) that the tired and rarely credible device of the serial killer next door has hit a wall, along comes a writer like Jeff Lindsay to prove you wrong." – Chicago Tribune   "An entertaining, funny series that draws us in and makes us root, almost against our will, for a ruthless, yet appealing killer." -- The South Florida Sun-Sentinel   Jeff Lindsay is the New York Times bestselling author of the Dexter novels, which inspired the hit Showtime series Dexter, and the Riley Wolfe novels. He lives in South Florida with his wife and three daughters. Chapter One It all started so peacefully, just a few short weeks ago, on a lovely day in early autumn. I had driven in to work as I always did, through the happy carnage that is rush hour in Miami. It had been a bright and pleasant day: sun shining, temperature in the seventies, the other drivers cheerfully honking their horns and screaming death threats, and I’d steered through it with a blissful feeling of belonging. I had pulled into a spot in the parking lot at police HQ, still completely unaware of the lurking terror that awaited me, and carefully carried a large box of doughnuts into the building and up to the second floor. I’d arrived at my desk punctually, at my usual time. And I made it all the way into a seated position in my chair, a cup of vile coffee in one hand and a jelly doughnut in the other, before I ever for a moment suspected that today would be anything other than one more day of peaceful routine among the newly dead of Our Fair City. And then the phone on my desk began to buzz, and because I was stupid enough to answer it, everything changed forever. “Morgan,” I said into the receiver. And if I’d known what was coming I would not have said it so cheerfully. Someone on the other end made a throat-­clearing noise, and with a jolt of surprise I recognized it. It was the sound Captain Matthews made when he wanted to call attention to the fact that he was about to make an important pronouncement. But what momentous declaration could he possibly have now, for me, before I even finished one doughnut, and why would he speak it on the phone to a mere forensics wonk? “Ahem, uh, Morgan,” the captain said. And then there was silence. “This is Morgan,” I said helpfully. “There’s a, um,” he said, and cleared his throat again. “I have a special assignment. For you. Can you come up to my office? Right now,” he said. There was another slight pause, and then, most baffling of all, he added, “Uh. Please.” And then he hung up. I stared at the phone for a long moment before I replaced it in its cradle. I was not sure what had just happened, or what it meant: “Come up to my office right now”? Captains do not hand out special assignments to blood-­spatter analysts,