Bed of Roses

<p><strong>I'm afraid of death.</strong></p><p></p><p>Working at a funeral home will do that to you. And when my parents died that fear became impossible to ignore. I needed out. A clean break. So I ran to a forgotten little town in Utah where no one knew my name.</p><p></p><p>The rental was cheap a so-called <em>fixer-upper</em>. I didn't mind the work. But no one warned me how bad it really was-shattered windows Pepto-pink toilets peeling yellow wallpaper. Oh and the bloodstains on the floor.</p><p></p><p>Or that the last tenant <em>vanished without a trace.</em></p><p></p><p>They also didn't mention the man sent to do the repairs: brooding intense hot... and freshly released from prison.</p>