LITMIR.BIZ

      The murders were all anyone talked about on Monday morning. At the bank, at the post office, when she went to drop off her clothes at the cleaners, it was the main topic of conversation. The police were asking the townspeople to come forward if they had seen or heard anything suspicious, no matter how insignificant it might seem, and to let them know if they had seen any strangers loitering around town.

      She had seen a stranger, Vicki thought as she drove to work later that evening, although she wasn’t sure that sitting in Ozzie’s Diner could be construed as loitering.

      She felt a shiver of unease when that same stranger entered the diner a couple of hours later and again sat at the booth in the far corner. She hesitated before moving toward him, wondering if he had killed Sharlene and the Lewis woman. She glanced around the diner, noting that there were no single women, redheaded or otherwise, sitting at any of the tables tonight.

      He smiled as she approached the booth. “Good evening.”

      He had a very sexy smile.

      “Is there any point in my taking your order?” she asked, pulling her pad from the pocket of her apron.

      His smile widened, revealing even white teeth that looked like they belonged in a toothpaste commercial. “Perhaps not.”

      “Why do you come in here every night?” she asked, slipping her pad back into her apron pocket. “You never eat anything.”

      His gaze moved over her in a way that made her blush from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. “Perhaps it is your company that draws me.”

      She crossed her arms over her breasts, her expression skeptical. It didn’t happen often, but every now and then a stranger tried to pick her up. “Uh-huh.”

      “You do not believe me?”

      “Listen, we’re really busy tonight. Do you want anything or not?”

      His gaze moved over her again, lingering on the hollow of her throat. It made her uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t quite comprehend. If he told her she looked good enough to eat, she was going to slug him. “Well?”

      He glanced quickly around the room, then shook his head. “No, I want nothing but to spend some time with you.”

      “Excuse me, but I’m working here.”

      She was about to turn away when his voice, deliciously soft and sinfully seductive, stayed her.

      “Come out with me, Victoria. I will not hurt you, I promise.”

      She stared at him, thinking what an odd thing that was for a man to say to a woman. “I can’t, sorry.”

      “Perhaps you will change your mind.”

      The thought of going out with him made her mouth go dry. “I don’t think so.”

      She moved away from the table as quickly as she could without running. When she risked a glance at the booth a short time later, he was gone. Again, he had left her a generous tip.

      She was too busy the rest of the night to spend much time thinking about the stranger, but later that night, when she was at home soaking in a hot bubble bath, his image rose up in her mind—dark blue eyes, long black hair, a fine blade of a nose, a strong jaw, sensual lips, cheekbones that were high and prominent, skin that looked a trifle pale. But then, maybe he didn’t spend much time in the sun. Lots of people avoided it these days, what with all the worry about the dangers of too much sun and skin cancer.

      Still later, while lying in bed watching a late movie, she found herself thinking of the stranger again, wondering if he would show up at the diner tomorrow night, wondering what would happen if she went out with him. She quickly put that idea right out of her mind. She had seen two women leave the diner with him, two redheaded women, and now they were both dead, their bodies dumped out near the Hollow, both drained of blood. There was no proof that the stranger had killed them. But then, there was no proof that he hadn’t.

      Still, she spent a few moments thinking how good it would make her feel if she could call her mother and her sister and tell them that she’d had a date with a really hot-looking guy. But she wasn’t brave enough, or foolish enough, to go out with a total stranger, no matter how hunky he was, not when that stranger had been seen with two women who had been murdered.

      Switching off the TV, she settled down under the covers. She should have gone to the police when she first read about the murders, she thought with a twinge of guilt. Of course, someone else might have already reported that there was a stranger in town. But that didn’t excuse her. What if the stranger was the killer? How would she feel if he killed again because she hadn’t gone to the police, because she had been reluctant to get involved? Would she have gone to the police sooner if the stranger weren’t so darkly handsome and didn’t have such a deep, sexy voice?

      Not liking the answer than came to mind, she resolved to call the police first thing in the morning.