Evil at Heart by Chelsea Cain Read Free Book Online Page A

said.
               
                Susan’s fingers tightened again. Another pissed-off reader.Excellent. Why did people feel the need to let her know every time they found her irritating? “If you have a problem with something I’ve written, the best thing to do is write a letter to the editor,” she said.
               
                “You wrote to me on my Web site,” he said. “You said you were interested in writing about our group.”
               
                Susan had written to hundreds of Gretchen Lowell fan sites over the last few weeks asking for interviews and information. “Who are you?” she asked. “What site?”
               
                “There’s a body at three-nine-seven North Fargo,” the man said.
               
                Not funny. “Who is this?” Susan asked.
               
                “Someone who appreciates beauty,” he said.
               
                There was something deadly serious in the man’s voice that gave her a sudden chill.
               
                “Is this for real?” Susan asked.
               
                Someone behind her honked and she looked up to see that the light had changed.
               
                She turned around to see a man in a black SUV giving her the finger. She hit the gas. “Hello?” she said into the phone. She looked at the phone LCD screen. Disconnected.
               
                Susan’s heart was racing now. She pulled over to the curb, letting the guy in the SUV whip around her without even giving him a dirty look. “What the fuck?” Susan said quietly. She highlighted the incoming number and called it back.
               
                No one answered. No voice mail. It was a local area code. But she didn’t recognize the number.
               
                If there was a body, why tell her? Why not call the police? Should she call the police? That would be silly. Bothering them based on some weird phone call. Henry would think it was another joke.
               
                But if it was real, and that guy was from one of those Beauty Killer fan clubs, then she’d really have a book. She’d have her pick of agents. Archie might even agree to be interviewed. And she’d have a great opening chapter . . .
               
                What was the address? Fuck. Three something?Three-nine-seven? Susan looked around for a pen, and found several on the floor of the passenger seat. She grabbed a candy wrapper out of where she’d stuffed it in a cubby in the car door and turned it inside out. Fargo. She wrote that down on the white inside of the wrapper. It was North Fargo. Three-nine-seven North Fargo. She was almost positive.
               
                The Gorge would have to wait.
               
                C H A P T E R 10
               
                There were eight therapy sessions a day at the Providence psych ward. Archie went to four. Two mental-health groups.Two substance-abuse groups. Archie wasn’t sure why they bothered breaking them up. It was all the same people. Most of them went to every session. It was something to do in between episodes of Emergency Vets.
               
                “Do you want to stay?” Sarah Rosenberg asked him.
               
                “No,” Archie said. He’d helped push the tables to the side, and then to arrange the chairs in a circle at the center of the room. “This is the schizophrenics and bipolars session. The depressives aren’t meeting until two.”
               
                “Your sense of humor is returning,” she