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table. She sucked in her breath and held it, then forced burps. OK, so she sounded like a garbage disposal with a paperclip in crosswise, but this was a guaranteed hiccough killer.
    “You know,” Eva popped her gum again. “Iheard you have to date a hundred men before you find the right one.”
    Lexie stopped burping. She suddenly did not feel well. “A hundred men? I’d rather have a hundred root canals, thank you.”

    Lexie tossed and turned all night. By morning she was tired and stiff. When 5 a.m. rolled around, sleep was not an option. She decided the garden therapy must have taken its toll and she made mental note not to go at it with such gusto on Sunday. She did, after all, need to take into account her advanced years, as her daughter so kindly reminded her.
    “Good morning, sweetie,” she said to Eva as she shuffled into the kitchen, surprised to see her at the kitchen table hitting the books at this unholy hour of the morning. She headed for the coffee pot that was set on a timer. A rich hazelnut brew called to her, the aroma tickling her nostrils. “You’re up way early.”
    “Morning,” Eva mumbled around a mouthful of fruit loops, then swallowed. “I need to get ten chapters of this history book read by Monday or I’m dead.”
    “We wouldn’t have been
procrastinating,
would we?”
    “I got busy.” Eva glared at her book.
    Lexie imagined the busy part had something to do with dorm parties and such. “You need anything for your room? Junk food? Sheets? Stuffedanimals? Voodoo dolls?”
    “Nope.”
    Ahhh. She hadn’t even caught the joke. “How about your roommate? Is she working out?”
    Eva shrugged, her gaze plastered to the textbook. “OK, I guess.”
    Lexie poured herself a cup of coffee. Leaning back against the counter sipping the hot brew, she began to go over her to-do list for the day. Then it hit her.
    I left my purse at Captain Caveman’s place.
    Crapola, she’d completely forgotten about it. Growling with frustration, she told Eva she’d be right back, ran upstairs and dressed, then drove over to his pumpkin-colored cottage.
    As she approached, she wondered why Tiny wasn’t barking his fat head off. She checked the bushes and spotted the dogless chain on the ground. He must have run off again. She knocked on the ripped screen door. No answer.
Ru roh.
Whitehead was probably still in bed. He’d think she was nuts for coming over so early. Oh, well, too bad. She really needed her purse.
    The front door was ajar. Stepping inside, Lexie spotted her purse sitting beside the coffee table.
All righty then. I’ll just slip in real quiet like, get what I need and beeline outta here.
    Feeling like a thief and sweating like a pig, Lexie tiptoed inside and snatched her purse. But as she turned to go, her eye caught something in thekitchen that froze her legs in place like pretzels in plaster castings. Her heart flip-flopped and started to play the tango.
    In the middle of the floor, Whitehead lay in a pool of blood.

C HAPTER 2
    L EXIE REELED BACKWARD AND LEANED AGAINST the wall for support. Unwelcome memories of her last date with Hugh Glenwood flashed through her mind. One minute they’d been laughing in the crisp winter woods, his snowmobile slicing through the trails while she rode on the seat behind, clinging to his waist. The next, he’d fallen sideways, tipping them over onto the cold ground.
    She remembered screaming, then blood on snow …
crimson soaking into white.
    With a sudden jolt, she was back in the present. A small voice told her to do something, call someone for help. An ambulance?
    Lexie had no medical training, but from the looks of Whitehead, he was no doubt beyond any paramedics’ ability to resuscitate. His hairy skin had a bluish tinge and his lips were set in a silent scream. The front of his shirt was ripped and covered in blood.
    Unable to stomach the sight any longer, she turned away, fumbling for her cell phone in a jacket pocket. She dialed 911 with