EVIL AT HEART, Chicago Sun-Times

Cain is among a new breed of women writers stepping way out of the stereotypical female comfort zones of writing purple prose and chick lit, and instead serving up meatier and more gruesome stories.

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Archie Sheridan and Gretchen Lowell once again waltz around the chalk lines of murder in Chelsea Cain’s latest cat-and-mouse thriller, Evil at Heart (Minotaur, $24.99).

Sheridan is the dogged detective who has chased the Beauty Killer through two previous novels.

Lowell is the sexy serial killer who turned herself in only to escape from justice and is now on the lam.

Evil at Heart is the third in a series pitting Sheridan against Lowell, the femme fatale known as the Beauty Killer, who has terrorized the citizens of Portland, Ore., for more than a decade.

The characters first surfaced in Heartsick, and the saga continued in Sweetheart.  

Cain clues readers in to the Beauty Killer’s earlier exploits and Sheridan’s dereliction of duty via recall and flashbacks, which is an excellent tool for those who haven’t read Heartsick and Sweetheart.

Sheridan, once a stalwart detective, now wears a tarnished badge, having succumbed to the Beauty Killer’s charms. Formerly the leader of the task force hunting Lowell, he is now a self-admitted patient in a psychiatric ward.

Lowell is a drop-dead serial killer that makes Hannibal Lecter look like a lamb. Her calling card is conducting X-acto knife splenectomies on victims, along with other mutilating acts like throat-slicing and glass-rod penile injections. She also leaves hearts drawn on walls, carved on bodies, etc.

Susan Ward, the quirky pink-haired reporter, returns with purple hair and an obsession of her own with the Beauty Killer.

In Evil at Heart, Sheridan is forced out of his self-imposed cocoon in the nut house after a clogged toilet in a rest stop on a lonely stretch of highway spits up a spleen. Further inspection of the rest stop reveals six human eyeballs afloat in the toilet’s tank.

Cain is among a new breed of women writers stepping way out of the stereotypical female comfort zones of writing purple prose and chick lit, and instead serving up meatier and more gruesome stories.

Cain delves into the morbid curiosity of human nature by tapping into the world of sub-cultures and the followers who worship the Beauty Killer. Even Ward, the reporter, who surfs the net to find every blog, Web site and Tweet devoted to the killer, owns Beauty Killer earrings that she bought for “fun.”

Cain zeroes in on the psychological damage of police work, dissecting the detective’s disturbed world after having become a pawn in Lowell’s game of murder. In his mind Sheridan’s not certain if he is the hunter or the hunted, questioning his own capability to catch the killer. He is uncertain how a face-to-face confrontation with Lowell will go. After all, he had fallen prey to her deception before.

Sheridan is by far the most interesting of Cain’s characters. He toys with guilt, questionable behavior as cop and a sick attraction for a serial killer.

Cain knows how to keep readers fortified with psychological drama. But with body parts as abundant as meat in a butcher’s freezer, the kills actually became boring after a point. The first spleen is gross; the third, fourth ... enough.

Cain redeems herself with an ending packed with surprises.

by DENISE I. O'NEAL