She had called her white Sampson County farmhouse home for more than a half-century, friends said. Retired from Governor Morehead School for the blind for nearly two decades and a widow, her days were filled with senior center lunch dates, singing gigs at nursing homes and church meetings.

A stranger lurked in McNair's crossroads community of Westbrook this weekend. Sampson County Sheriff's deputies -- tipped off by a South Carolina trooper who pulled over a nervous, bloodied man speeding in McNair's stolen Chevrolet Impala -- found her half-clad body in a pool of blood in her hallway.

Christopher Terry, 42, of Miami had stashed a .38-caliber revolver under the seat of McNair's car, said Lt. Tom Marshall of the Dorchester County (S.C.) Sheriff's Department.

Terry, who had been stranded in McNair's neighborhood after he ran his father's truck into a ditch, confessed to killing McNair, Marshall said.

McNair had been shot in the back of the head, Sampson County Medical Examiner Falvey Carl Barr Jr. said. Terry told South Carolina authorities that he sexually assaulted McNair, Marshall said.

Terry is scheduled to appear before a judge in Dorchester County today for a bond hearing. Authorities there will submit papers to have him extradited to Sampson County to face the homicide charge, Marshall said.

Terry, who had been visiting his father in Dunn, was trying to get someone to help after he wrecked his dad's truck, Marshall said. He had no luck and randomly picked McNair to attack and rob, Marshall said. Trinkets, clothes and books were strewn about the floor of McNair's usually tidy house, said Roderick Peterson, a next-door neighbor who helped the family clean the home Sunday.

McNair, a staunch Baptist, returned home Saturday afternoon after a church union meeting, said Christine Peterson, a childhood friend and next-door neighbor. A niece checked in with her on the phone about 3:30 p.m.; McNair begged off going to a New Year's Eve church service, Peterson said. A relative saw McNair's car speed down the road just after dusk, Peterson said. McNair had long since given up driving at night, friends said.

McNair attended a two-room schoolhouse in this community and helped her parents and first husband farm cotton. She'd reared two boys of her own -- one who died in a car accident -- and shepherded dozens more through a then-segregated 4-H program in the 1950s.

She served lunches as a cafeteria manager at Pleasant Grove High School in the 1960s. Later, she moved to Raleigh to live during the work week at the Morehead School for the blind, where she watched over the students as a house parent.

"She has left us such a heritage," said Carolyn Jernigan, who helps run the senior programs McNair attended. "She was a proud woman."

She'd barely slowed down as she aged. McNair was one of a trio of local women who competed each fall in the Senior Olympics in Fayetteville. She'd won her share of medals in horseshoe tossing, speed-walking and quilting, said Jernigan and another friend, Betty Mae Lee. A robust alto, McNair traveled with a senior singing group to nursing homes to sing hymns she knew by heart, Jernigan said.

For much of the past year, McNair compiled a family history, which she sketched in a bound book given to her clan at a reunion this fall, Peterson said. In the book, McNair writes about her proudest moment, speaking at the General Baptist State Convention in 1999.

"I delivered my five-minute address to thunderous applause -- even I was impressed!"

McNair's son, Lloyd Lee, said Monday that the family did not wish to comment.

McNair's death shook the sense of safety in a community where people still lift their hands off the steering wheel in a wave at passing motorists. Jernigan is brainstorming how to bolster a calling tree for seniors in the community during the holidays. Roderick Peterson, a schoolteacher who must leave his aging mother alone in her home sometimes, is thinking of buying her a gun.

"I can remember growing up here not knowing what a house key was," said Peterson. "Now, I don't want to leave her alone, but I've got to earn a living."