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country-western music." She turned off the radio.
    Max stared, open-mouthed.
    She glanced over her shoulder. "Sit!" she ordered the dog.
    Fleas paced for a moment, then sank onto the bed of the truck. Jamie turned and caught Max's astonished look. "He hates country-western music," she repeated.
    "I'll try to keep that in mind. Turn right once you pull out of the parking lot."
    Jamie did as she was told. The truck bounced along the pockmarked road.
    "Where are you staying?" Max asked.
    "I found a motel in town."
    Max looked surprised. "In Sweet Pea? Dave said there were only two places. One is being repainted, and the other one is a dump."
    Jamie offered him a grim look. "That means Dave and I are staying at the same place."
    "No, he's staying in Knoxville. I offered him the spare room at my place, but the mattresses and pillows are stuffed with feathers. Dave has allergies. You're welcome to use the spare room, Jamie."
    "No, thanks."
    "It would be easier if we worked together. We could share information. I have a complete printout on Rawlins, the kind of information you can't get anywhere else."
    Jamie looked at him. "I'm not going to ask how many laws you broke getting it. What kind of information?"
    "I'll let you look through it if you like."
    Oh, he was a cool one, Jamie thought. "I can find out what I need on my own."
    "Whatever you say, Swifty."
    "I told you to stop calling me that."
    "It suits you." His voice dropped. "Especially now that you've got all that curly red hair. And I'll have to admit that skirt does your legs justice."
    "Don't start, Max." Nevertheless, her stomach did a quick flip-flop at the thought.
    "You're one of those women who look good in everything," he said. "I'll bet you look even better in nothing."
    "I should have made you ride in the back with the dog."
    Max merely smiled.
    They rode in silence for a few minutes. Jamie wondered what kind of information Max had. It
would
make her job easier if she knew exactly what she was up against, but that would mean playing ball with him again, and that's the last thing she wanted to do. Max Holt played fast and loose, took way too many chances. If that weren't stressful enough, he seemed to have trouble with the word
no.
    Yes sir, she was better off on her own.
    "What did you think of Rawlins's sermon tonight?" Max asked after a minute.
    "He certainly has stage presence."
    "He has to be good in order to steal all that money. Those poor people are so desperate they'll believe anything."
    "People need hope. Harlan gives it to them."
    "You're not falling for any of that holy baloney, are you?"
    "Of course not. I'm just telling you why he's able to get away with all that he does."
    "I saw the way you were staring at him. Don't forget what he tried to do to us."
    "If I was staring, it was because I was trying to get a fix on him. I have to be objective here. We don't know that he was responsible for ordering the hit, and we don't know that he's scamming people. All we have are suspicions."
    "Trust me, he's as greedy as the people he does business with."
    "Nevertheless, he is helping the community. Oh, I'm sure he's skimming money, but some of it is actually going to a fine cause. Did you take a good look at the people in that church, Max? They live in poverty." She looked at him. "I don't expect you to understand what being poor is like." Not that she'd actually been poor, but she had certainly lived on the fringes from time to time.
    "I've seen poverty, Jamie. I've seen much worse than this. And I've tried to help people."
    Jamie stared straight ahead. She knew he spoke the truth. Max Holt might be an egomaniac and the world's worst womanizer, but one only had to pick up a newspaper to see that he did more than his share of giving. He pumped millions into various research facilities and children's hospitals, and he'd started a watchdog program that badgered companies that refused to spend the kind of money necessary to control pollution.
    "I know you do your