Page 105 of The Murder Club

It was a vision that Bailey clung to with a fierce urgency, attempting to banish the heavy cloud of anxiety that threatened to drown her.

“That was pretty much my schedule,” she told him. “The nursing home is constantly understaffed, so I had to work double shifts or come in on my days off. Being able to stay home and sleep was better than a vacation.”

“Kaden and Lia have made the pledge to work fewer hours and spend more quality time together,” he said. “It’s worked out pretty well for them.”

Bailey nodded. “Lia did hire staff to run her family grocery store. I know that’s taken a load off her.”

“And Kaden has two full-time mechanics who take care of the routine repairs. A minor miracle considering he’s a control freak.”

She chuckled at his accusation. If Kaden was a control freak, Dom was a control maniac.

“Like someone else I know,” she said.

“Guilty,” he readily agreed. “But if they can do it, so can we. There’s no reason I can’t hire more staff and train a manager to run the day-to-day operations of Money Makers.”

We . . . Such a simple word, but it pierced her heart like an arrow. For so long she’d imagined a future where she was alone. It wasn’t until Dom that she realized her decision hadn’t been made because she preferred not to share her life—a legitimate choice—but a decision created by fear of being hurt. And that those were two very separate things.

“I have nothing but free time,” she assured him wryly.

He reached out to grab her hand, raising it to press her fingers against his lips. “You won’t be unemployed for long. But I hope when you discover what you want for your future I’ll be included in your plans.”

“Always.”

With a last kiss, he released her hand and turned into the parking lot of the nursing home. The SUV rolled to a halt as Dom glanced around the numerous cars with a lift of his brows.

“It’s busy today.”

“A lot of relatives visit on Sundays,” she told him, a little surprised herself by the crowd. Then she recalled what day it was. “Oh yeah. And it’s the first Sunday of the month. The residents host an ice cream social for the town. It’s always a big hit.”

“Do you see Eric’s car?”

Bailey scanned the lot, frustration searing through her as she was forced to accept Eric wasn’t working. There was no way to overlook his car.

“It’s not here.” She clicked her tongue. “Maybe he is off somewhere having fun.”

Dom heaved a harsh sigh. “We’ll check his house later. For now . . .”

Bailey sent him a confused glance as he seemed to forget what he was going to say. “What’s wrong?”

He nodded toward the abandoned building next to the nursing home. “Does anyone drive a silver BMW in Pike?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.” She glanced across the lot, noticing the silver car that had been pulled into a no-parking zone. As she watched, it backed out, offering her a perfect view of the license plate. HARTFORD4. “Dom,” she breathed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Kevin Hartford drove a silver BMW.”

“Yep,” he rasped. “And according to the cops in Grange, it was missing after he was found dead.”

“Whoever is driving that car has to be the killer.”

“Or a trap,” he countered.

She jerked her head around to study his grim expression. “A trap?”

“It seems pretty damned convenient that Kevin Hartford’s stolen car would appear in the parking lot of the nursing home at the same time we’re here,” he pointed out. “Not unless it followed us and pulled into a spot we were bound to notice.”

He had a point. It did seem too good to be true for the killer to be in the same place as them, driving a car with a license plate they would be sure to recognize. But as the vehicle headed toward the side exit of the lot, her heart squeezed with fear.

“You’re just going to ignore it?” she demanded.

“Hell no.” There was a tense pause. “But I want you to wait for me inside.”

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