New York Times bestselling author Kay Hooper turns up the heat even as she chills readers to the bone with a new suspense novel that distills the essence of fear itself. In this relentless thriller, two psychics put more than their lives on the line to stop a killer darker and more evil than they could ever imagine. . . . FBI agent Quentin Hayes always knew he had an unusual talent, even before he was recruited by Noah Bishop for the controversial Special Crimes Unit. But, as gifted as he is, for twenty years he's been haunted by a heartbreaking unsolved murder that took place at The Lodge, a secluded Victorian-era resort in Tennessee. Now he's returned one final time, determined to put the mystery to rest. Diana Brisco has come there hoping to unlock the mystery of her troubled past. Instead, she is assailed by nightmares and the vision of a child who vanished from The Lodge years ago. And an FBI agent is trying to convince her that she isn't crazy but that she has a rare gift, a gift that could catch a killer.
Something old, and dark, and cold. Something evil" is on the loose at a remote, exclusive resort in the Tennessee mountains in the easy-reading second installment of the Hooper's Fear trilogy (after Hunting Fear). When an eight-year-old girl mysteriously goes missing-at least the sixth disappearance in the past few decades-a crack team of paranormals, the FBI's Special Crimes Unit (SCU), aka Spooky Crimes Unit, is on the case. SCU head Noah Bishop and telepathic new recruit Quentin Hayes recover the girl and stick around to track down the lurking evil once and for all. This isn't Hayes' first stay at the Lodge: on vacation with his parents there 25 years earlier, 12-year-old Hayes discovered the strangled corpse of his friend Missy, an unsolved crime that has haunted him since. On this visit, Hayes meets Lodge guest Diana Brisco, a striking redhead who's at the resort taking a therapeutic art class to treat the nightmares, disorientation and blackouts she's suffered since childhood. Hayes helps Diana understand that she's not crazy but rather powerfully psychic, and they join forces to rid the Lodge of evil. Hooper's latest may offer her fans a few shivers on a hot beach. (Aug.) Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
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July 26, 2005
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Excerpt from Chill of Fear by Kay Hooper
Nightmares again "
Diana Brisco slipped her cold hands into the front pockets of her smock and frowned at him. "What makes you ask "
"That." He nodded at the canvas on its easel in front of her, a canvas with a dark background and bright, harsh slashes of color in the foreground.
She joined him in staring at the canvas, and finally shrugged. "No, no nightmares." For once, at least. "Just in a mood, I guess."
"A dark mood."
"You told us to paint what we felt," she said defensively. "I did that."
He smiled, the expression lending his already angelic features such beauty that she unconsciously caught her breath.
"Yes, you did. And quite powerfully. I'm not worried about your work, Diana. It's superb, as usual. I'm concerned about you."
She mentally shook off the almost mesmerizing effect of his physical presence and ignored what she suspected was a pat-the-pupil-on-the-head compliment, saying, "I'm fine. I didn't sleep well, but not because of nightmares. Just because . . ." She shrugged again, unwilling to admit that she had been up half the night staring through her bedroom window, out over the dark valley. She had spent far too many nights that way since arriving in Leisure.
Looking for . . . something. God only knew what, because she certainly didn't.
Gently, but also matter-of-factly, he said, "Even if this workshop was designed for self-expression rather than therapy, I'd be offering the same advice, Diana. Once we're done here, get out of The Lodge for a while. Go for a walk, or a ride, or a swim. Sit out in one of the gardens with a book."
"In other words, stop thinking about myself so much."
"Stop thinking. For a while."
"Okay. Sure. Thanks." Diana knew she sounded brusque and wanted to apologize for it. He was only doing what he was supposed to do, after all, and probably had no idea that she'd heard it all before. But before she could form the words, he merely smiled and moved on to the next of his dozen or so "students" here in the bright, open space of the hotel's conservatory.
Diana kept her hands in the pockets of the paint-stained smock and frowned at her painting. Superb, huh Yeah, right. To her eye, it looked more like the finger painting of a highly untalented six-year-old.