Evil at Heart

E V I L  A T  H E A R T

Chelsea Cain

For Eliza Fantastic Mohan, who continues

to live up to her name

E V I L  A T  H E A R T

C H A P T E R 1

The rest stop off I-84 on the Oregon side of the Columbia River was vile, even by rest-stop standards. Graffiti covered the white subway-tile walls; the paper-towel and toilet-paper dispensers had been emptied, their contents now strewn on the concrete floor. Two of the metal stall doors were pulled off their top hinges and hung at odd angles. It smelled like a parking-garage stairwell, that peculiar marriage of urine and cement.

Eighteen miles from the nearest bathroom, and they end up at a rest stop trashed by hooligans. There was no alternative. Amy put her hands on her hips and stared at her eleven-year-old daughter.

“Come on, Dakota,” she said.

Dakota’s blue eyes widened. “I’m not going in there,” she said.

This is what the whole road trip had been like. They had been making the annual drive up from Bakersfield to see Erik’s family in Hood River every summer since Dakota had been a toddler. She had always loved it. This year she had spent the whole trip texting friends and listening to her iPod. Maybe if Dakota hadn’t been such a little jackass for the last two days, Amy would have been more sympathetic.

“Just squat over the bowl,” Amy said.

Dakota bit her lip, leaving a glob of pink lip gloss on her front tooth. “It’s gross,” she said.

“Want me to see if the men’s room is any better?” Amy asked.

Dakota’s cheeks flushed. “No way,” she said.

“You said you had to go,” Amy said. In fact, after not going in the restaurant they had stopped at for dinner, Dakota had quickly begun insisting that her bladder was going to burst and that if it did she was going to use it to seek emancipated minor status under California law. Amy didn’t even know what the fuck that was, but it seemed serious. So here they were, at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere.

There was a banging at the door. “What are you guys doing in there?” Erik called. They were twenty minutes from his sister’s house. If they didn’t get there soon, Amy knew that Erik was going to lose it. He had already been white-knuckling the wheel for the past ten miles. Who was she kidding? She was the one who was going to lose it.

“She doesn’t want to use any of the toilets,” Amy called to her husband.

“Then come outside and go behind a tree,” Erik called back.

“Dad!” Dakota said.