Where Evil Hides Excerpt

The midsummer sun sets at nine o-clock in Minnesota, with twilight brightening the horizon for another thirty minutes. At the Pine Brook Inn, long before nightfall, the early evening crowd of farmers and their wives was changing over to a younger crowd of laborers, store clerks, mechanics, truckers and a couple of hard-core drinkers. They mingled with a few white-collar workers who were also trying to escape the oppressive July heat and humidity. By total nightfall, the Inn was nearly full, a blue haze of cigarette smoke hanging heavily in the air. From the jukebox, Shania Twain's "Any Man of Mine" competed with the dancing feet, the laughter of the patrons, and the low rumble of the ancient air conditioning system,
The Pine Brook Inn was one of those older structures that over the years had settled into its surroundings, much like the town of Pine Brook itself. Its wooden bar ran practically the length of the building. Occupying the stools along the bar were several young men watching the dancers. Occasionally one of the men from the bar would build up enough courage to saunter over to a table of women and ask one them to dance. Sometimes the question was met with an affirmative answer. Other times it was met with a quick rebuff and a round of giggles.
Terri Berg was sitting at a table in the back half of the room with three men. At thirty-something, Terri and her companions were a decade past the average age of the other patrons. With every slow song a different companion would ask her to dance. When they returned from their trip to the floor there was another round of Grain Belt beers sitting on the scarred oak table. Everyone had lost count of the rounds. The waitresses made sure to remove the "dead soldiers" as soon as they were drained, to make counting difficult.
Terri floated back to the table, her long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, fully aware that half the eyes along the bar were on her as she crossed the floor. Her denim shorts were cut so short that she wore thong panties that wouldn't show in the back. As she sat down, the men at her table watched her unrestrained cleavage shift against the white T-shirt that advertised the local country radio station. Jamie Arvidson, her partner for the last dance, sat down next to her.
"You boys are out to get me drunk," giggled Terri pouring the remnants of her previous beer into her Pilsner glass, while Rose, the waitress, set another round of bottles in front of the four friends.
Bill Patterson smirked at Russ Lemke and Jamie. "As if we haven't been trying to do that for the whole year."
Terri leaned over and threw an arm around Bill's shoulders as she planted a big kiss on his cheek. "For all the good it will do you." She said. "I'd bet a month's pay that you ain't been in a woman's pants since high school."
Bill, a 250-pound farmer, had never been married and still lived with his mother. He turned bright red and sputtered as the others laughed. Jamie slapped the table. "Hell, Bill's probably still a virgin!" The others roared.
Terri caught her breath and patted the denim covering Bill's ample thigh. 'Now you guys quit picking on Bill." She slid her chair closer to him. "He's the one man I can count on when something breaks. Every time I need help fixing something the rest of you disappear like April snow." She gave Bill another peck on the cheek, while pressing a breast against his arm. His ego swelled while the rest were temporarily quieted.
"C'mon Terri," Bill said, rising from his chair. "Let's dance." He grabbed her by the hand and they trotted off to the dance floor as Patsy Cline's soulful voice belted out "Crazy."
No one noticed Joey Berg stagger through the front door at half past midnight. Like an apparition cloaked in cigarette smoke haze, he stood at the end of the bar surveying the crowd. His shirt was plastered to his chest and his blonde hair was matted to his head by sweat. The crowd had thinned since the peak of the evening. Several tables of couples had departed to take their babysitters home, and one table of single women had broken up and left with various partners. The second table of women had melded with a table of couples.
Joey spotted the table in the far corner with Terri, Bill, Jamie and Russ. He staggered across the room, caroming off one of the couples dancing. The ensuing commotion brought everyone's attention to him as he shared epithets with the dancers.
"Oh shit, Joey's here." Terri slurred the words. She set her beer glass on the table and stood up to meet him. Jamie grabbed her and pulled her down, trying to head off the impending confrontation.
"What in hell do you want, Joey?" Terri asked angrily as she struggled to free herself from Jamie's grasp.
Joey's messy blonde hair and wrinkled plaid shirt made it look like he'd been sleeping in the back seat of his car. "I just came by to see what my wife was doing on her Saturday night out. I stopped at the house and you were gone. I figured you'd be getting sloshed here. Just like the old days, ain't it Terri?"
"You come to give me some more bruises? The last ones have all faded." said Terri bitterly. Suddenly, her mind caught up to what Joey had said. "What were you doing at the house? The judge says you have to stay away from me and the house. I can call the sheriff and have you arrested."
Terri stood up, but Jamie jumped up and cut off her advance. "It's okay, Terri. He's drunk. Sit down." He motioned to the heavyset bartender, Harvey, who gave a knowing nod and patted the knob of the baseball bat that rested on the counter behind the bar.
Terri plunked herself back into the chair, a pout crossing her pretty face. "You ain't worth a fight Joey Berg. We did enough of that before the divorce, and I'm not gonna waste my breath on you."
Joey's face twisted into a sneer. "You slut. You gonna bed all these guys tonight? Or are you gonna ration them out over a couple of days?" His focus changed from Terri to Jamie. "You know, she's no good after she's been drinking. She always passes out before she gets her clothes off. Course that way she can't...YEOW!!" Joey screamed out in pain as Bill's heel crushed Joey's toes. The pain caused Joey to hop on one foot until he lost his balance and fell down.
Bill leaned close to Joey's face and said. "Get outta here before someone really hurts you."
The waitress, Rose, who was a good foot shorter than Joey but at least 40 pounds heavier, laid a hand on his shoulder as he tried to stand up. Barb, the other waitress was at her side.
"You broke my toes, Bill. I'll get you for that." As Joey tried to get up, he reached back, scraping Rose's neck with his fingernails. A loud clang rang out and Rose held the large serving tray high, ready for another blow. Joey rolled onto the dance floor holding his head and swearing.
"That's enough Joey. Get outta here and get some sleep," Rose said, with a voice that meant business. She stood with one hand on her hip, the other hand firmly gripping the tray. Harvey was halfway across the floor with the baseball bat. At some point the jukebox had stopped playing and the room was silent except for the commotion at Terri Berg's table.
"Okay! I'm going." Joey picked himself up from the floor and took a step towards the door. He paused at the edge of the dance floor and pointed at Jamie. "You better watch your backside. I don't take kindly to you messing with my wife."
Terri watched Joey disappear out the door in the eerie silence. "I don't feel much like partying anymore," she said, getting up. "I think I'll go home."
Jamie stood up next to her and put a hand on her arm. "I don't think you should drive. I'll drive you home. We can come back to get your car tomorrow."
Terri nodded. "I guess. Let me pee first."
Terri disappeared into the restroom. When she came out, Barb, the other waitress, was dabbing at the scratches on Rose's neck with a damp towel. Terri stopped for a second. "I'm sorry Rose. He's a jerk."
"It's okay, Honey. I'm tougher than you'd guess." Rose pulled a few loose strands of hair back from Terri's face and touched her cheek. "But thanks for the thought anyway."
Terri shook her head. "I'm okay now."
Barb looked up at Terri. Her words came out slowly. "I got one at home just like your ex. They get crazy sometimes, especially when they drink. But they're always sorry the next day when they sober up."
Jamie walked up beside Terri and gave her a hug. "You ready to go?"
Terri nodded leaning into him. "Sure."
On the drive home in Jamie's pickup truck, Terri started to shiver in the cool dampness of the July night. They had driven nearly ten miles and were still only halfway to Terri's farm in Henriette when they hit a bank of fog and had to slow down. She leaned against Jamie and pulled his arm over her shoulders for warmth. "I don't want to be alone tonight."
"I'd kinda hoped you'd feel that way," Jamie said, pulling her tighter to his side.
Terri slid her hand across his chest and undid a button on his shirt. She ran her fingers through the thick hair on his chest. Jamie smiled, his desire for her rising.
The drive to Terri's took them west on highway 23 for three more miles. Jamie drove on the narrowing gravel roads south of highway 23, through the tiny town of Henriette, finally pulling into a gravel driveway. The car headlights lit the small farmstead which consisted of a small house, a granary and a dilapidated barn. The barn was nothing more than a heap of rubble that had fallen down in a windstorm after decades of neglect and rot. The yard was empty and dark. Jamie left the headlights on while Terri fumbled with her keys to unlock the door.
They embraced in the entryway for a few seconds before Terri pushed him back. "You go crawl into bed. I've got a few things to do in the bathroom."
Jamie's clothes fell randomly as he moved through the living room and into the bedroom. He threw off the hand-made quilt and slipped into the crisp sheets that had the fresh smell of having been dried on the clothesline in the sun. Although the outside temperature had dropped into the 60s after sunset, the house held the 90-degree heat of the day. He pulled a sheet over his naked body and lay in the dark, waiting.
Terri scampered through the living room and into the bedroom. Her figure flashed through the door, and in a second she was under the sheet. Their sweaty bodies pressed against each other with urgency as their tongues probed each other's mouths.
After their passions were spent, they each nodded off into alcohol-induced stupors.

Where Evil Hides
Prologue Timothy Ross Cooper screamed as the empty cement mixer whirled him around. He tried to focus on the hole, but his head kept banging on the sides. Timmy could clearly hear his stepfather's voice taunting him. "Crybaby. I bet you'll run and tell your mommy." The man laughed wickedly. "She won't care. She hates her ugly little boy." Timmy cried out more loudly as the spinning and laughter continued. His disorientation and fear grew until he felt his bladder release. Then he woke up. He was sobbing in his own bed, the morning sun glowing through the window shade. His sister was peering at him through sleepy eyes from her bed across the room. Suddenly the sound of footsteps in the hallway drove him to pull the covers over his head. He jammed his hands into the warm, wet crotch of his undershorts as the bedroom door flew open. As the footsteps approached the bed he curled into a fetal position, pulling his knees to his chest, his fingers clutching his penis through the sodden underwear. "What's the ruckus?" The covers flew off Timmy's body, the overhead light momentarily blinding him. "You haven't pissed the bed again, have you?" His mother jammed her hand between his legs and let out a snort of disgust. The smell of stale beer punctuated her morning breath and last night's cigarette smoke hung in her hair. SMACK! The sound of her open palm hitting Timmy's wet buttocks resounded through the bedroom. "Get your filthy butt down to the bathroom and clean yourself up." The pain of the spanking was insignificant compared to the embarrassment of the wet pants. Timmy scrambled out of the bed, fending off another blow with his left arm. He covered his crotch with his right hand as he rushed past his sister's bed. Mary rose Cooper had pulled the covers up to her eyes but he could see the crinkles of a grin in them. He stuck out his tongue. His sister lowered the covers so he could see her full smile. Timmy hated his sister. She got all the good attention, he got all the whacks. He wet beds; she was perfect. His stepfather's voice boomed from the second bedroom of the small bungalow as Timmy skittered into the bathroom. "Rosemary, what did the little brat do this time? Wet the bed again?" His mother's voice followed Timmy down the hallway. "Yeah. The little shit did it again." Timmy slipped into the bathroom, slammed the door, and pulled the chain to turn on the light. He pushed off the wet undershorts and threw them into the bathtub. With tears of shame streaming down his face he took a washcloth off the towel rack and ran cold water on it before rubbing it over his damp skin. He wanted to scrub off the shame. His stepfather's voice rang down the hallway, "Don't slam the damned door! Rosemary, you want me to tan his bottom?" Timmy froze. His stepfather was a construction worker and his hands were like stone. He had threatened to throw Timmy in a cement mixer when he'd mixed mortar for the blocks he was laying in the basement. His mother's raspy voice swept down the hall from the other direction. "No, I got the sheets off the bed. I'll take care of it myself." Timmy swiftly threw the washcloth into the tub and searched for something to cover himself. He pulled a tattered towel off the rack and wrapped it around his waist as his mother charged into the bathroom. "You little shit. Why can't you learn to hold it until morning?" She threw the threadbare sheets into the tub and ran water on top of them before turning back to Timmy. Her face was hardened from years of physical labor, smoking and hard drinking. She wore a flannel shirt as a nightgown and her pendulous breasts swung freely under the fabric as she gestured with her arms. "Then you slam the damned door and piss off the rest of the house. I should have dropped you on your head in the hospital and pretended I only had the girl." She pulled the big hairbrush from the medicine chest, then grabbed Timmy as he tried to wedge himself into the gap between the toilet and the bathtub. Timmy's wailing was punctuated by the sound of the flat side of the hairbrush slapping his wet buttocks. After the beating, Timmy wrapped himself in the towel again and ran back to his bare mattress. Without looking at his sister, he pulled the blanket over his head, curled into a fetal position and sobbed until sleep finally brought relief from his fear and loathing.
DAY ONE: SUNDAY Chapter 1 The midsummer sun sets at nine o-clock in Minnesota, with twilight brightening the horizon for another thirty minutes. At the Pine Brook Inn, long before nightfall, the early evening crowd of farmers and their wives was changing over to a younger crowd of laborers, store clerks, mechanics, truckers and a couple of hard-core drinkers. They mingled with a few white-collar workers who were also trying to escape the oppressive July heat and humidity. By total nightfall, the Inn was nearly full, a blue haze of cigarette smoke hanging heavily in the air. From the jukebox, Shania Twain's "Any Man of Mine" competed with the dancing feet, the laughter of the patrons, and the low rumble of the ancient air conditioning system, The Pine Brook Inn was one of those older structures that over the years had settled into its surroundings, much like the town of Pine Brook itself. Its wooden bar ran practically the length of the building. Occupying the stools along the bar were several young men watching the dancers. Occasionally one of the men from the bar would build up enough courage to saunter over to a table of women and ask one them to dance. Sometimes the question was met with an affirmative answer. Other times it was met with a quick rebuff and a round of giggles. Terri Berg was sitting at a table in the back half of the room with three men. At thirty-something, Terri and her companions were a decade past the average age of the other patrons. With every slow song a different companion would ask her to dance. When they returned from their trip to the floor there was another round of Grain Belt beers sitting on the scarred oak table. Everyone had lost count of the rounds. The waitresses made sure to remove the "dead soldiers" as soon as they were drained, to make counting difficult. Terri floated back to the table, her long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, fully aware that half the eyes along the bar were on her as she crossed the floor. Her denim shorts were cut so short that she wore thong panties that wouldn't show in the back. As she sat down, the men at her table watched her unrestrained cleavage shift against the white T-shirt that advertised the local country radio station. Jamie Arvidson, her partner for the last dance, sat down next to her. "You boys are out to get me drunk," giggled Terri pouring the remnants of her previous beer into her Pilsner glass, while Rose, the waitress, set another round of bottles in front of the four friends. Bill Patterson smirked at Russ Lemke and Jamie. "As if we haven't been trying to do that for the whole year." Terri leaned over and threw an arm around Bill's shoulders as she planted a big kiss on his cheek. "For all the good it will do you." She said. "I'd bet a month's pay that you ain't been in a woman's pants since high school." Bill, a 250-pound farmer, had never been married and still lived with his mother. He turned bright red and sputtered as the others laughed. Jamie slapped the table. "Hell, Bill's probably still a virgin!" The others roared. Terri caught her breath and patted the denim covering Bill's ample thigh. 'Now you guys quit picking on Bill." She slid her chair closer to him. "He's the one man I can count on when something breaks. Every time I need help fixing something the rest of you disappear like April snow." She gave Bill another peck on the cheek, while pressing a breast against his arm. His ego swelled while the rest were temporarily quieted. "C'mon Terri," Bill said, rising from his chair. "Let's dance." He grabbed her by the hand and they trotted off to the dance floor as Patsy Cline's soulful voice belted out "Crazy." No one noticed Joey Berg stagger through the front door at half past midnight. Like an apparition cloaked in cigarette smoke haze, he stood at the end of the bar surveying the crowd. His shirt was plastered to his chest and his blonde hair was matted to his head by sweat. The crowd had thinned since the peak of the evening. Several tables of couples had departed to take their babysitters home, and one table of single women had broken up and left with various partners. The second table of women had melded with a table of couples. Joey spotted the table in the far corner with Terri, Bill, Jamie and Russ. He staggered across the room, caroming off one of the couples dancing. The ensuing commotion brought everyone's attention to him as he shared epithets with the dancers. "Oh shit, Joey's here." Terri slurred the words. She set her beer glass on the table and stood up to meet him. Jamie grabbed her and pulled her down, trying to head off the impending confrontation. "What in hell do you want, Joey?" Terri asked angrily as she struggled to free herself from Jamie's grasp. Joey's messy blonde hair and wrinkled plaid shirt made it look like he'd been sleeping in the back seat of his car. "I just came by to see what my wife was doing on her Saturday night out. I stopped at the house and you were gone. I figured you'd be getting sloshed here. Just like the old days, ain't it Terri?" "You come to give me some more bruises? The last ones have all faded." said Terri bitterly. Suddenly, her mind caught up to what Joey had said. "What were you doing at the house? The judge says you have to stay away from me and the house. I can call the sheriff and have you arrested." Terri stood up, but Jamie jumped up and cut off her advance. "It's okay, Terri. He's drunk. Sit down." He motioned to the heavyset bartender, Harvey, who gave a knowing nod and patted the knob of the baseball bat that rested on the counter behind the bar. Terri plunked herself back into the chair, a pout crossing her pretty face. "You ain't worth a fight Joey Berg. We did enough of that before the divorce, and I'm not gonna waste my breath on you." Joey's face twisted into a sneer. "You slut. You gonna bed all these guys tonight? Or are you gonna ration them out over a couple of days?" His focus changed from Terri to Jamie. "You know, she's no good after she's been drinking. She always passes out before she gets her clothes off. Course that way she can't...YEOW!!" Joey screamed out in pain as Bill's heel crushed Joey's toes. The pain caused Joey to hop on one foot until he lost his balance and fell down. Bill leaned close to Joey's face and said. "Get outta here before someone really hurts you." The waitress, Rose, who was a good foot shorter than Joey but at least 40 pounds heavier, laid a hand on his shoulder as he tried to stand up. Barb, the other waitress was at her side. "You broke my toes, Bill. I'll get you for that." As Joey tried to get up, he reached back, scraping Rose's neck with his fingernails. A loud clang rang out and Rose held the large serving tray high, ready for another blow. Joey rolled onto the dance floor holding his head and swearing. "That's enough Joey. Get outta here and get some sleep," Rose said, with a voice that meant business. She stood with one hand on her hip, the other hand firmly gripping the tray. Harvey was halfway across the floor with the baseball bat. At some point the jukebox had stopped playing and the room was silent except for the commotion at Terri Berg's table. "Okay! I'm going." Joey picked himself up from the floor and took a step towards the door. He paused at the edge of the dance floor and pointed at Jamie. "You better watch your backside. I don't take kindly to you messing with my wife." Terri watched Joey disappear out the door in the eerie silence. "I don't feel much like partying anymore," she said, getting up. "I think I'll go home." Jamie stood up next to her and put a hand on her arm. "I don't think you should drive. I'll drive you home. We can come back to get your car tomorrow." Terri nodded. "I guess. Let me pee first." Terri disappeared into the restroom. When she came out, Barb, the other waitress, was dabbing at the scratches on Rose's neck with a damp towel. Terri stopped for a second. "I'm sorry Rose. He's a jerk." "It's okay, Honey. I'm tougher than you'd guess." Rose pulled a few loose strands of hair back from Terri's face and touched her cheek. "But thanks for the thought anyway." Terri shook her head. "I'm okay now." Barb looked up at Terri. Her words came out slowly. "I got one at home just like your ex. They get crazy sometimes, especially when they drink. But they're always sorry the next day when they sober up." Jamie walked up beside Terri and gave her a hug. "You ready to go?" Terri nodded leaning into him. "Sure." On the drive home in Jamie's pickup truck, Terri started to shiver in the cool dampness of the July night. They had driven nearly ten miles and were still only halfway to Terri's farm in Henriette when they hit a bank of fog and had to slow down. She leaned against Jamie and pulled his arm over her shoulders for warmth. "I don't want to be alone tonight." "I'd kinda hoped you'd feel that way," Jamie said, pulling her tighter to his side. Terri slid her hand across his chest and undid a button on his shirt. She ran her fingers through the thick hair on his chest. Jamie smiled, his desire for her rising. The drive to Terri's took them west on highway 23 for three more miles. Jamie drove on the narrowing gravel roads south of highway 23, through the tiny town of Henriette, finally pulling into a gravel driveway. The car headlights lit the small farmstead which consisted of a small house, a granary and a dilapidated barn. The barn was nothing more than a heap of rubble that had fallen down in a windstorm after decades of neglect and rot. The yard was empty and dark. Jamie left the headlights on while Terri fumbled with her keys to unlock the door. They embraced in the entryway for a few seconds before Terri pushed him back. "You go crawl into bed. I've got a few things to do in the bathroom." Jamie's clothes fell randomly as he moved through the living room and into the bedroom. He threw off the hand-made quilt and slipped into the crisp sheets that had the fresh smell of having been dried on the clothesline in the sun. Although the outside temperature had dropped into the 60s after sunset, the house held the 90-degree heat of the day. He pulled a sheet over his naked body and lay in the dark, waiting. Terri scampered through the living room and into the bedroom. Her figure flashed through the door, and in a second she was under the sheet. Their sweaty bodies pressed against each other with urgency as their tongues probed each other's mouths. After their passions were spent, they each nodded off into alcohol-induced stupors.