Invited on an exclusive getaway to a remote mountain lodge, eight strangers arrive to discover nothing is as it seems. They’re isolated, stranded, and not too long after their arrival, they realize they’re being hunted.
Readers of crime fiction will recognize this setup: Loreth’s story nods to And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie’s classic, enduring tale of strangers trapped and murdered one by one. But In the Dark goes several steps farther: readers are treated to a dual timeline, ushered back and forth between the buildup and the aftermath, constantly on edge as the story swells like a raging river to its inevitable end.
There, I’ve hit on a good analogy: Reading this book is like clinging to a raft in rapids. In winter. With falls up ahead. You can sense something terrible coming, first in the way the rapids urge the raft along, swiftly and with no remorse, with unexpected jolts and changes of direction. Then there is the slow increase in ambient noise, the volume amplifying until the sound of the water is all at once overpowering, stopping your ability to think straight and prematurely stealing the breath from your lungs in grotesque anticipation of the fall.
This is a book to read while wrapped in cozy blankets, with a mug of tea by your side and the doors securely locked. Or on a plane, or a park bench, or waiting in line at the grocery store, or at your desk on your lunch break, or in the bathtub—anywhere, really, where you want to immerse yourself in a haunting suspense tale. I hope you love it as much as I do.
- Alison Dasho, Editor