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Dearly Devoted Dexter (Dexter Series #2)

Dearly Devoted Dexter (Dexter Series #2)

4.4 407
by Jeff Lindsay, Jeffry P. Lindsay

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Dexter Morgan has been under considerable pressure. In trying to avoid the deep suspicions of the dangerous Sergeant Doakes-who believes Dexter is a homicidal maniac (which, of course, he is)-Dexter has had to slip further into his foolproof domestic disguise. While not working as a blood spatter analyst for the Miami Police Department, he now spends nearly all his


Dexter Morgan has been under considerable pressure. In trying to avoid the deep suspicions of the dangerous Sergeant Doakes-who believes Dexter is a homicidal maniac (which, of course, he is)-Dexter has had to slip further into his foolproof domestic disguise. While not working as a blood spatter analyst for the Miami Police Department, he now spends nearly all his time with his girlfriend, Rita, and her two children. But how long can Dexter play Kick the Can instead of Slice the Slasher? How long before his Dark Passenger forces him to drop the charade of family life and let his inner monster run free?

In trying times, opportunity knocks. A particularly nasty psychopath is cutting a trail through Miami-a man who "slices and dices and leaves vegetables behind." Dexter's dark appetite is revived, but it's not until his nemesis, Sergeant Doakes, is abducted that Dex can finally throw himself headlong into the search for a new plaything. Unless, of course, his plaything finds...

Editorial Reviews

Marilyn Stasio
I honestly didn't think that Jeff Lindsay could get away with a sequel to Darkly Dreaming Dexter, his flamboyantly offbeat debut novel about a witty homicidal maniac who makes a point of killing only those who deserve it. Dearly Devoted Dexter proves me wrong. No less macabre (indeed, rather more gruesome) than its morbidly funny predecessor, the story provides the unorthodox hero with enough subhuman forms of life to sharpen his skills without compromising his identity as ''a well-designed artificial human.''
— The New York Times
Publishers Weekly
Forensic blood-spatter analyst Dexter Morgan is a nice guy who enjoys his job, but what he'd rather be doing is killing people. In this follow-up to 2001's Darkly Dreaming Dexter, Dexter is kept from his games of "slice the slasher" (he kills only murderers and pedophiles) by a suspicious Sergeant Doakes. Luckily for listeners, Dexter still finds a way to engage in his grim specialty when a fiendish "doctor" comes to town and leaves his victims brutally butchered, yet alive and crippled. Landrum, who is also an accomplished songwriter, hits all the right notes in this superb audio production, flawlessly matching the sarcastic and sinister tones of the novel. At times lighthearted and good-natured, Landrum's first-person narration of Dexter truly makes the character come alive. His transitions between character voices are perfectly consistent-he handles cocky men, grizzled veterans, tough female cops and demure women with equal flair, including a wonderfully quirky and disturbing voice for the novel's villain. Dexter is the most darkly charming and compelling serial killer since Hannibal Lecter, and this production is a sure-fire candidate for audiobook of the year. Simultaneous release with the Doubleday hardcover (Reviews, May 23). (July) Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.
Library Journal
Fiction's most lovable serial killer returns in a hilarious follow-up to Lindsay's popular first novel, Darkly Dreaming Dexter. Dexter Morgan, a Miami P.D. blood splatter analyst and ethical serial killer, is in a funk: his police department arch-nemesis, Captain Doakes, who rightly believes that Dexter is guilty of illegal behavior, is shadowing him. Unable to satisfy his hunger for killing, Dexter must resort to playing the role of a normal human, spending countless hours with girlfriend Rita and her children. So when a new serial killer with Doakes on his list arrives in Miami, Dexter is excited. Not only does he get to hunt a fellow hunter, but he also sees the opportunity to be rid of Doakes. The only thing worrying him is the involvement of his sister, since she's the only person for whom Dexter has feelings. Everything works in this one, especially the scenes depicting Dexter and his not-quite domestic bliss. There's plenty of graphic violence and dark humor, but Lindsay manages to retain a light edge. Recommended for all public libraries. [See Prepub Alert, LJ 3/1/05.]-Craig Shufelt, Lane P.L., Oxford, OH Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
A second outing for Dexter Morgan, the sociopathic blood-spatter analyst who helps the Miami Police Department catch bad guys when he's not busy killing them himself (Darkly Dreaming Dexter, 2004). Someone took his time with Salvadoran importer Manuel Borges, maybe four to six weeks. By the time the Miami cops discovered his torso-shorn of hair, tongue, lips and limbs, incapable of speech or thought but not dead-some of his earlier do-it-yourself surgeries had actually healed. Fastidious Dexter, who admits that "I do not like blood" even though he makes a living from it, would like nothing better than to clear the case so he can get on with his current project: murdering Steve Reiker, the pedophile children's photographer whose homicidal accomplice Dexter's already executed. But the breaks don't go Dexter's way. First, the case is snatched from the Miami cops by mysterious Beltway heavy-hitter Kyle Chutsky, a former Special Forces colleague of Dexter's nemesis, Sgt. Albert Doakes; then Chutsky himself is snatched and his finger sent to Dexter's sister, Sgt. Deborah Morgan, who's gone sweet on the lug; and Dexter realizes that he's up against nothing less than a serial killer. When will he get his own chance to shine?Not, sad to say, till the very last pages, though he does do yeoman's sleuthing work on the uncompelling mystery. While he's waiting to kill, however, Dexter is never less than brainy, witty and macabre.
From the Publisher
“A macabre work of art.” –The Miami Herald“The first serial killer who unabashedly solicits our love.” –Entertainment Weekly “Morbidly funny.”–Marilyn Stasio, The New York Times Book Review“Creepily over the top. . . Snappier than ever.”–The Oregonian“Like a breath of fresh air blowing across all of crime-novel conventions, there is Dexter.”–The Denver PostDearly Devoted Dexter is fascinating, entertaining, and brilliant. Let Jeff Lindsay introduce you to the serial killer next door—Dexter (and his Dark Passenger) are the freshest, most terrifying creations you are ever likely to meet . . . and live to tell about.”—New York Times bestselling author Robert CraisPraise for award-winning Darkly Dreaming Dexter:“A dark and devious novel about Dexter Morgan, the serial killer with a heart . . . Lindsay’s tale is daring and unexpectedly comedic.”—USA Today“A macabre tour de force . . . so snappy and smart.”—The New York Times“It’s [the] human touches, including self-pity, that make Dexter come to life and Lindsay’s book so enjoyable.”—Chicago TribuneFascinating, entertaining, and brilliant.”—Robert Crais

Product Details

The Doubleday Religious Publishing Group
Publication date:
Dexter Series , #2
Product dimensions:
8.53(w) x 5.59(h) x 0.94(d)

Read an Excerpt

Dearly Devoted Dexter

By Jeff Lindsay

Random House

Jeff Lindsay
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0385511248

Chapter One

It's that moon again, slung so fat and low in the tropical night, calling out across a curdled sky and into the quivering ears of that dear old voice in the shadows, the Dark Passenger, nestled snug in the backseat of the Dodge K-car of Dexter's hypothetical soul.

That rascal moon, that loudmouthed leering Lucifer, calling down across the empty sky to the dark hearts of the night monsters below, calling them away to their joyful playgrounds. Calling, in fact, to that monster right there, behind the oleander, tiger-striped with moonlight through the leaves, his senses all on high as he waits for just the right moment to leap from the shadows. It is Dexter in the dark, listening to the terrible whispered suggestions that come pouring down breathlessly into my shadowed hiding place.

My dear dark other self urges me to pounce--now--sink my moonlit fangs into the oh-so-vulnerable flesh on the far side of the hedge. But the time is not right and so I wait, watching cautiously as my unsuspecting victim creeps past, eyes wide, knowing that something is watching but not knowing that I am here, only three steely feet away in the hedge. I could so easily slide out like the knife blade I am, and work my wonderful magic--but I wait, suspected but unseen.

One long stealthy moment tiptoes into another and still I wait for just the right time; the leap, the outstretched hand, the cold glee as I see the terror spread across the face of my victim--

But no. Something is not right.

And now it is Dexter's turn to feel the queasy prickling of eyes on his back, the flutter of fear as I become more certain that something is now hunting me. Some other night stalker is feeling the sharp interior drool as he watches me from somewhere nearby--and I do not like this thought.

And like a small clap of thunder the gleeful hand comes down out of nowhere and onto me blindingly fast, and I glimpse the gleaming teeth of a nine-year-old neighbor boy. "Gotcha! One, two, three on Dexter!" And with the savage speed of the very young the rest of them are there, giggling wildly and shouting at me as I stand in the bushes humiliated. It is over. Six-year-old Cody stares at me, disappointed, as though Dexter the Night God has let down his high priest. Astor, his nine-year-old sister, joins in the hooting of the kids before they skitter off into the dark once more, to new and more complicated hiding places, leaving me so very alone in my shame.

Dexter did not kick the can. And now Dexter is It. Again.

You may wonder, how can this be? How can Dexter's night hunt be reduced to this? Always before there has been some frightful twisted predator awaiting the special attention of frightful twisted Dexter--and here I am, stalking an empty Chef Boyardee ravioli can that is guilty of nothing worse than bland sauce. Here I am, frittering away precious time losing a game I have not played since I was ten. Even worse, I am IT.

"One. Two. Three--" I call out, ever the fair and honest gamesman.

How can this be? How can Dexter the Demon feel the weight of that moon and not be off among the entrails, slicing the life from someone who needs very badly to feel the edge of Dexter's keen judgment? How is it possible on this kind of night for the Cold Avenger to refuse to take the Dark Passenger out for a spin?

"Four. Five. Six."

Harry, my wise foster father, had taught me the careful balance of Need and Knife. He had taken a boy in whom he saw the unstoppable need to kill--no changing that--and Harry had molded him into a man who only killed the killers; Dexter the no-bloodhound, who hid behind a human-seeming face and tracked down the truly naughty serial killers who killed without code. And I would have been one of them, if not for the Harry Plan. There are plenty of people who deserve it, Dexter, my wonderful foster-cop-father had said.

"Seven. Eight. Nine."

He had taught me how to find these special playmates, how to be sure they deserved a social call from me and my Dark Passenger. And even better, he taught me how to get
away with it, as only a cop could teach. He had helped me to build a plausible hidey-hole of a life, and drummed into me that I must fit in, always, be relentlessly normal in all things.

And so I had learned how to dress neatly and smile and brush my teeth. I had become a perfect fake human, saying the stupid and pointless things that humans say to each other all day long. No one suspected what crouched behind my perfect imitation smile. No one except my foster sister, Deborah, of course, but she was coming to accept the real me. After all, I could have been much worse. I could have been a vicious raving monster who killed and killed and left towers of rotting flesh in my wake. Instead, here I was on the side of truth, justice, and the American way. Still a monster, of course, but I cleaned up nicely afterward, and I was OUR monster, dressed in red, white, and blue 100 percent synthetic virtue. And on those nights when the moon is loudest I find the others, those who prey on the innocent and do not play by the rules, and I make them go away in small, carefully wrapped pieces.

This elegant formula had worked well through years of happy inhumanity. In between playdates I maintained my perfectly average lifestyle from a persistently ordinary apartment. I was never late to work, I made the right jokes with coworkers, and I was useful and unobtrusive in all things, just as Harry had taught me. My life as an android was neat, balanced, and had real redeeming social value.

Until now. Somehow, here I was on a just-right night playing kick the can with a flock of children, instead of playing Slice the Slasher with a carefully chosen friend. And in a little while, when the game was over, I would take Cody and Astor into their mother, Rita's, house, and she would bring me a can of beer, tuck the kids into bed, and sit beside me on the couch.

How could this be? Was the Dark Passenger slipping into early retirement? Had Dexter mellowed? Had I somehow turned the corner of the long dark hall and come out on the wrong end as Dexter Domestic? Would I ever again place that one drop of blood on the neat glass slide, as I always did--my trophy from the hunt?

"Ten! Ready or not, here I come!"

Yes, indeed. Here I came.

But to what?

It started, of course, with Sergeant Doakes. Every superhero must have an archenemy, and he was mine. I had done absolutely nothing to him, and yet he had chosen to hound me, harry me from my good work. Me and my shadow. And the irony of it: me, a hardworking blood-spatter-pattern analyst for the very same police force that employed him--we were on the same team. Was it fair for him to pursue me like this, merely because every now and then I did a little bit of moonlighting?

I knew Sergeant Doakes far better than I really wanted to, much more than just from our professional connection. I had made it my business to find out about him for one simple reason: he had never liked me, in spite of the fact that I take great pride in being charming and cheerful on a world-class level. But it almost seemed like Doakes could tell it was all fake; all my handmade heartiness bounced off him like June bugs off a windshield.

This naturally made me curious. I mean, really; what kind of person could possibly dislike me? And so I had studied him just a little, and I found out. The kind of person who could possibly dislike Debonair Dexter was forty-eight, African American, and held the department's record for the bench press. According to the casual gossip I had picked up, he was an army vet, and since coming to the department had been involved in several fatal shootings, all of which Internal Affairs had judged to be righteous.

But more important than all this, I had discovered firsthand that somewhere behind the deep anger that always burned in his eyes there lurked an echo of a chuckle from my own Dark Passenger. It was just a tiny little chime of a very small bell, but I was sure. Doakes was sharing space with something, just like I was. Not the same thing, but something very similar, a panther to my tiger. Doakes was a cop, but he was also a cold killer. I had no real proof of this, but I was as sure as I could be without seeing him crush a jaywalker's larynx.

A reasonable being might think that he and I could find some common ground; have a cup of coffee and compare our Passengers, exchange trade talk and chitchat about dismemberment techniques. But no: Doakes wanted me dead. And I found it difficult to share his point of view.

Doakes had been working with Detective LaGuerta at the time of her somewhat suspicious death, and since then his feelings toward me had grown to be a bit more active than simple loathing. Doakes was convinced that I'd had something to do with LaGuerta's death. This was totally untrue and completely unfair. All I had done was watch--where's the harm in that? Of course I had helped the real killer escape, but what could you expect? What kind of person would turn in his own brother? Especially when he did such neat work.

Well, live and let live, I always say. Or quite often, anyway. Sergeant Doakes could think what he wanted to think, and that was fine with me. There are still very few laws against thinking, although I'm sure they're working hard on that in Washington. No, whatever suspicions the good sergeant had about me, he was welcome to them. But now that he had decided to act on his impure thoughts my life was a shambles. Dexter Derailed was fast becoming Dexter Demented.

And why? How had this whole nasty mess begun? All I had done was try to be myself.

Excerpted from Dearly Devoted Dexter by Jeff Lindsay Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

JEFF LINDSAY is the author of Darkly Dreaming Dexter. He lives in South Florida with his wife and three daughters.

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Dearly Devoted Dexter (Dexter Series #2) 4.4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 407 reviews.
BooCat More than 1 year ago
While working for a non-profit I wrote a VISTA grant that brought me in contact with five very bright and wonderful Type-A young people. When they heard me lamenting that I had come to the end of the Odd Thomas series, until another is written, they all recommended Dexter. They told me he was like Odd but with a twist. Oh dear, what a twist he has. If anyone had told me I would read a book about a serial killer, root for him, laugh at him and stay up late finishing the book, I would have thought that person to be as insane as Dexter. Dexter actually works in the Miami PD Crime Lab as a blood spatter expert, oh yeah, is he ever. There are more crazy characters in all of these books including his "sister" from the foster family that raised him, police department denizens, a girlfriend that is a half-a-bubble off level, her two kids who are future serial killers in the making and the assortment of child molesters that Dexter dispatches via vivisection in each book while tracking down other killers. Dexter has no respect whatsoever for killers who do not clean up their crime scenes. These books are pure escapist fare, but loads of fun. They are well written. One of the premium television channels has made a series out of them, but since I have not had a television hook up in my house since 1998, I will have to wait until they put them on DVD to see those. I might also add, they are not for the squeamish.
Megan Gaul More than 1 year ago
The first book was okay...but this one was so much better! The first book was kinda difficult to get through, leading me to think I might not enjoy the series bc of the fact that I had already watched all five seasons of the show before reading the books. But the second book completely changed my mind. This book kept me in suspense, excited to find out what would happen next. I can't wait to read the next five books in the series!!!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I love the Dexter series, they are so easy to read! They're fun to read and bring you a total escape. This one is very slow to get going, but really good once you get to the middle.
smsnow1 More than 1 year ago
I didn't like it as much as the first book. But maybe that's because not much was added to the overall plot. It was completely drug out...almost like it just kept going and going and going....booooring. I expected more of a story about Doakes as well. It was kinda predictable at times. I did like it, but it was just too similar to the first book. I am hoping the 3rd book goes in a different direction because I can't take much more of the same stuff.
Cruenta More than 1 year ago
Dexter is a whole new kind of serial killer. One can't help but like him and his dark charm. Even though he kills, he only kills those who harm or murder others. In this way, he doesn't seem to be such a bad guy. The way he thinks and talks are so different then anyone else. His dark humor and twisted morals draw people in. Through this book, the reader can enjoy the morbid fun that is Dexter.
Rocco44 More than 1 year ago
I have read all three of the dexter book s and I also love the show. I can't wait to see what Jeff writes next. The story about Dexter and his life show how similar it is to anyone else in the world, trying to fit in and deal with the world around us. I hope therwe will be another book.
harstan More than 1 year ago
Miami-Dade police forensics lab blood spatter analyst Dexter ¿the Avenger¿ Morgan obsesses in euphoria when he slices and dices a person, but he also is selective in who he carves up choosing the dregs of society, and psychopaths especially serial killers. He recently notched number forty, homicidal pedophile photographer Steve Reiker and eagerly awaits his next victim..................... A serial slicer Danco apparently leisurely over a few weeks surgically removes extremities from his victims who he keeps alive as he slowly mutilates them one body part at a time. When a still alive Salvadoran Manuel Borges is found, he has no body part hanging off his torso the medical examiner estates he underwent at least a month of torture as some of the slits left by the carved off body part healed. Dexter admires this newcomer to the slice and dice game, but also decides to stop this rival although some DC outsider Kyle Chutsky claims lead until he is abducted and loses a finger with more to follow. Now Dexter goes hunting to find the killer....................... As with DARKLY DREAMING DEXTER, DEARLY DEVOTED DEXTER is a wild macabre perhaps insane South Florida police procedural starring a psychopathic hero who enjoys the finer things in life, eviscerating serial killers. How crazy Dexter is comes out loud clear when unlike his peers and his adversary in the police department who are horrified by Danco¿s work, the Avenger recognizes a fellow artisan albeit one that he must stop. Readers expecting a High Noon showdown between two professional slashers will enjoy the duel when it occurs but will wait for quite a while as Dexter the sleuth investigates................... Harriet Klausner
Anonymous 10 months ago
He smirked and he sat down beside her. "Admit you're a masochist. You love the pain." He wraps his arms around her, licking her cheek. (Want me to describe myself? I'll make a bio soon at the camp.)
Anonymous 10 months ago
She flys in tapping her foot!
LisaDunckley More than 1 year ago
A funny book with an interesting premise—the serial killer who knows he can't control his urges, so he limits himself to only killing bad guys (mostly other serial killers). His foster father recognized Dexter's dark side, so he taught Dexter to fake having emotions and a conscience, and pass as a normal human. He was a cop, so he also taught Dexter how to find the bad guys, AND how to escape detection from other cops. Dexter works in the crime scene industry, so he has contacts within law enforcement. While this is not the first book that uses the Serial Killer Who Only Kills Bad Guys character (Dean Koontz did it for one), this is definitely the funniest hero and the most engaging. Dexter's attempts at pretending to be a normal guy work better than he anticipates, and he gets involved in a relationship. This particular book in the series involves a serial killer who is nasty even by Dexter's standards, and Dexter has to make choices that may compromise his own ability to remain under the radar.
Wiliam_Maltese More than 1 year ago
AND A BIG, “YES!” FOR THIS SECOND BOOK OF THE DEXTER SERIES! I came to this book, second in the “Dexter Series”, and to book one, late in the game, only after seeing on the TV screen, countless times, while fascinated by the Dexter television series, the insightful, “Based on the novel, Darkly Dreaming Dexter”. Always tempted to start reading, then and there, I’m glad I waited, enough time having transpired, between the TV series and the now, for me to find none of the differences between the books and the TV episodes (and there are several) in the least disconcerting. I’m so caught up in the author’s engrossing, humorous, dramatic, first-person narrative of all the mystery, suspense, blood and guts life-style of the book’s protagonist, a Miami Police Department’s blood-spatter expert, who just happens to be a good-guy sociopath serial killer (he only kills fellow serial killers), with a policewoman sister, that I have all intentions of reading through to the series’ final-book conclusion. I can only recommend that YOU do the same, only being sure to start at the beginning, and following through, in consecutive order, to the book at the end. While you’re more than able to get the gist of each and every novel, on its own, you’ll lose out on some fascinating details and enlightenment by taking on the books piece-meal. Just sayin’.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
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They just keep getting better
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
The TV series is loosely based on these books, but there is soooo much more here. And very different!
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
i've been into the show for a while, but just started the books, the first one was'nt great, but this one, simply amazing. i can't wait to finish the series, i'm only on the third one now, but from the sounds of it this one is shaping up to be the best... they so should of used dr.danco in the show, would of been great :).
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
It is nothing like the show (what book is?) But it was still a good read :)
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