LITMIR.BIZ

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quite fourteen years ago she’d offered her virginity to Truman, and he’d turned her down. In retrospect, she’d been a kid and he probably hadn’t wanted to go to jail, but still…he shouldn’t have laughed. The rejection had been humiliating enough, but for him to laugh at her when she’d been so in love and decidedly serious about seducing him, that was just wrong.

      She wasn’t sixteen any more, and she wasn’t a lost little girl clinging to what she thought was love. But the truth of the matter was, she still found Truman just a little bit too attractive. Her childish infatuation had died a long time ago, but she still had a soft spot for the guy. The last thing she needed was to get involved with a man from Garth. She’d never escape. She’d be effectively and completely sucked in. Instead of quick trips where she stayed a couple of hours, tops, she’d be forced to remain here for days at a time.

      Like now.

      Best to avoid Truman as much as possible, Sadie decided stoically. Aunt Lillian would just have to find someone else to take the morning shift if Mary Beth called in sick again. Sadie was desperate. If she had to spill coffee on some poor unsuspecting customer to get out of waitress duty, so be it.

      Even better, she’d hire a new waitress ASAP.

      The cart laden with towels, toilet paper and cleaning supplies was still parked outside room 119. Sadie knocked, shouted, and then used her key to open the door. The room was, as Jennifer had said, a mess. The covers on the bed had been torn off, drawers were opened and one was even on the floor. A bottle of wine had been emptied…all over the floor and the bed. Crackers had been crushed and scattered, too, and so had what looked to be cubes of cheese.

      And Jen hadn’t been kidding when she said it smelled. Oh, what was that? The cheese? Sadie leaned over the bed and sniffed at a cube. Yikes, that was part of it.

      She snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Trash can in one hand, she walked around the room picking up offensive garbage. Food, mostly, along with the occasional wrapper or empty bottle. She couldn’t believe that there were people out there who didn’t pick up after themselves in the most basic way. What slobs.

      A bottle of spray cleaner and a soft rag worked wonders on the nasty surfaces. Still, there was only so much a good scrubbing could do. She stripped off the sheets, being very careful that only the latex gloves came into contact with the linens. Yikes. No matter how bad her life got from here on out, she could always be assured that there were women out there who had it worse.

      Linens stripped, Sadie snagged her trash can once again. As she neared the bathroom, the smell that had hit her as she’d walked into the room got worse. Holding her breath, she leaned over a small trash can just outside the bathroom, expecting to find a stack of nasty diapers. Nothing.

      A knock on the open door made Sadie jump and turn. She squinted. A shadow filled the doorway, cutting off the sunlight. A tall, broad-shouldered shadow.

      Truman leaned against the door jamb and grinned. “A woman of many talents,” he teased.

      Sadie walked toward the door. She was in no mood…“What are you doing here?”

      Truman stepped back as she exited 119. Fresh air had never smelled so sweet.

      “I thought I saw you head into this room,” Truman said.

      “Please tell me you’re not stalking me,” she responded casually, not looking him in the eye.

      “Of course not. That would be illegal.”

      She’d had enough. “Truman McCain, what the hell do you want?”

      Most men would take the hint and retreat. Sadie had gotten very good at telling a man to back off with nothing more than a look. Most of them didn’t just back off, they slunk away with their gaze pinned to their shoes. But not Truman. He held his ground. His smile didn’t go away. Not completely. “Dinner,” he finally said.

      A date. He was actually asking her out on a date. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

      “Nope. I never kid about such serious matters.”

      Sadie didn’t beat around the bush, not anymore. She didn’t give lame excuses, she didn’t worry about hurting any man’s feelings. Did they have feelings? She thought not.

      “You want to feed me?” she said sharply. “Fine. But I am not sleeping with you. Not now, not ever. So if this is your slick country-boy way of trying to worm your way into my bed, forget it. You had your shot, and you blew it.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

      Truman didn’t seem at all offended or dismayed. “I thought we could have dinner and catch up. That’s all.” He leaned slightly toward her. “I don’t want to sleep with you, either, Sadie. You’re a lousy waitress, and you smell like something nasty I stepped in down by Ted Felton’s farm last week.” His smile never wavered. “Literally. Seven o’clock? I’ll pick you up.”

      Oh, she was going to regret this. Quickly, she reasoned that if she was out for a few hours, she couldn’t watch the desk, field phone calls, or dish up grits and coffee. Besides, deep inside she was not entirely opposed to dinner with Truman.

      “Seven-thirty,” she said.

      Business done, she turned and walked away from Truman McCain. No, that was not a little bubble of excitement in her chest. There was nothing to get excited about. They’d eat, she’d ask questions about what had happened to him in the past eleven years—like she didn’t already know—and if Truman did dare to make a move she’d put him in his place so fast he wouldn’t know what hit him.

      Sadie was actually smiling when she opened the bathroom door, but the smile didn’t last. The stench hit her so hard she reeled back a split second before she realized what she was seeing in the bathtub.

      She backed away from the half-open door, her eyes on the body in the tub. A part of her mind logically catalogued the details. Male. Naked. Definitely dead, probably for hours. She didn’t recognize him, but then…would she, even if she knew who the man had once been? The face was distorted, and the neck…what was left of it…was…oh…

      Another part of her mind screamed silently. Run.

      After a few seconds, Sadie listened to that command. She turned and ran to the door. Truman wasn’t even halfway across the parking lot.

      “McCain!” she shouted.

      He stopped and turned, a half grin on his face. “You didn’t change your mind already, did you?” His smile faded, and he walked toward her with that slight limp that still surprised her, even though she knew what had happened. “What’s wrong?”

      Sadie moved back, clearing the doorway so Truman could step into the room. “You need to call somebody,” she said softly. “There’s a dead man in the bathtub.”

      His eyes snapped in that direction, and he moved past her. “Stay here,” he ordered in a soft voice.

      As if she had to be told. She’d seen enough, thank you very much.

      A glance was all Truman needed. He backed away, took Sadie’s arm, and led her outside. Grabbing the two-way radio that hung from his belt, he alerted dispatch of the situation. That done, he looked down at her without a smile, without even a speck of that McCain charm.

      “Did you disturb anything?”

      “Hell, Truman, I cleaned the room. All but the bathroom. I disturbed just about everything.”

      He muttered the word that was very much on Sadie’s mind, a word that would have shocked Aunt Lillian out of her orthopedic shoes.

      “I didn’t vacuum,” Sadie said. “And all the garbage I collected is in one bag.”

      “Good.”

      “Did you recognize him?” Sadie asked, curiosity pushing aside her early revulsion.

      “No, but then I didn’t take a really close look.”

      “I

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