A town in the thrall of evil. A summons that can't be ignored. The SCU returns in a nail-biting novel from New York Times bestselling author Kay Hooper. The Chosen have been warned. Powerful psychics across the globe have gotten the same eerie and insistent message: Go to Prosperity . Because in this small North Carolina mountain town, madness has taken hold... Trapped in a nightmare they can't escape, the residents of Prosperity are killing one another, waking up with no memory of the monstrous acts they've committed--or the reasons why. Chief Deputy Katie Cole knows that whatever evil is afoot is beyond her expertise, and beyond the understanding of Sheriff Jackson Archer. They need help. The Special Crimes Unit is called in for its specific brand of investigation, to aid the Chosen as well as the once-peaceful mountain town. It will take all the agents' training, all their experience, and every extra sense they can call on to get to the bottom of things in Prosperity. And as a sinister pattern begins to emerge, even the most experienced and hardened SCU agents must brace themselves for a flood of darkness unlike any the world has ever seen... Praise for Wait for Dark   “Kept me on the edge of my seat, guessing as to who the darkly villainous mastermind was...I love how Kay Hooper expertly combines solid police work with paranormal abilities to craft one heck of a stunning thriller! Wait for Dark grips the reader tightly from the very first page as the horrific crimes only intensify with each new victim. If you love dark thrillers that delve into the paranormal, then Wait for Dark is perfect for you!”—Fresh Fiction   “Without question, Hooper is a master of the eerie and creepy, as she continues to creatively demonstrate in this latest Bishop/Special Crimes Unit novel...If you love your serial killer mysteries layered with psychic and paranormal elements, then Hooper is just the author for you!”— RT Book Reviews   Praise for New York Times bestselling author Kay Hooper and her novels   “A dark thriller that plunges readers into the disturbing side of the paranormal.”—Fresh Fiction   “Filled with page-turning suspense.”— The Sunday Oklahoman   “A stirring and evocative thriller.”— Palo Alto Daily News   “When it comes to delivering the creepy and supernatural, Hooper is on a roll.”— RT Book Reviews   “Kay Hooper has given you a darn good ride, and there are far too few of those these days.”— Dayton Daily News   “It passed the ‘stay up late to finish it in one night’ test.”— The Denver Post Kay Hooper , who has more than thirteen million copies of her books in print worldwide, has won numerous awards and high praise for her novels. She lives in North Carolina. Tuesday, October 7 Olivia Castle had experienced some monster headaches in her time, but this one, she felt sure, was about to make her head quite literally explode. It had come out of nowhere, as if something had just yanked her head into an invisible, tightening vise without warning. A vise with teeth. In pain, queasy, and shaking, she managed to lever herself up from the couch, holding one hand against the head she was sure was about to fall off, and hardly spared a moment to wonder why she'd been on the couch. Work. She should have been at work. Shouldn't she be at work? Had she come home for lunch? She didn't remember. Her head hurt too much to keep thinking about that. She made it to the kitchen by holding on to various pieces of furniture as she passed, fighting nausea and accidentally grabbing Rex's tail when she gripped the edge of the sink. "Waaaurr!" "Sorry, sorry," she muttered, the headache so bad by then that her cat's cry sounded like a dozen angry crows, her own quiet voice sounded like booming thunder in her head, and even her vision was affected in some way she didn't understand; she couldn't see the pleasant Vermont view normally visible from this window. She couldn't see any real view at all. She was seeing colors she was reasonably sure didn't exist in nature. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Moving, swirling, like colorful smoke driven by a capricious breeze, opaque and translucent by turn. And everything was so damned bright. "Shouldn't sit on the counter. How many times have I told you? Didn't see you, pal. Oh, damn, what is going on?" There was a large economy-sized bottle of an OTC painkiller near the sink (just as there was one in almost every room of her small house, and in her purse, with a box of extra bottles in the storage closet, in case the zombie apocalypse came without warning and all the pharmacies got looted before she could get to them). Olivia closed her eyes against the unnatural brightness, fumbling the bottle open while bitterly cursing childproof caps foisted upon people who had no children, fumbled just as blindly for a glass and the faucet, and managed, finally, to swallow about eight pills, hoping she could keep them down long enough