Page 73 of The Murder Club

“It’s about time.” Eric didn’t seem surprised by the interruption. At least not until he turned to discover Dom standing a few feet away. With a frown, he dropped the cigarette and crushed it beneath his heel. “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” Dom agreed. “Who were you expecting?”

Eric hunched his shoulders, looking more jaundiced than usual in the murky light. “No one.”

Did Dom believe him? Nope. But right now he was more interested in getting information.

“Good.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I thought we might have a chat.”

Eric shook his head. “I’m working.”

Dom glanced around the empty space. “Do your employers know that you’re on the clock?”

“I get a break.”

“So it’s a perfect time.”

Eric hissed out an annoyed breath. “I come out here to be alone.”

“And have a smoke.”

“So?” His thin face settled into a petulant expression. Dom was going to guess his mother nagged at him about his smoking habit. “It’s not illegal.”

Dom didn’t bother to point toward the large “No Smoking” sign taped to one of the windows.

“That’s debatable, but I don’t give a shit,” he assured the younger man. “I want to talk to you about the phone you got from Ford Smithson.”

“Christ, not that again.” Eric shoved a hand through his roughly chopped hair. “I haven’t been taking any pictures of Bailey. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Dom ground his teeth, reminding himself he wasn’t there to punish the creep. Not unless he discovered Eric was involved in terrorizing Bailey. There was, after all, a very real possibility that there was more than one stalker.

“It’s very much my business,” he warned. “But I’m more interested in the fact that Ford claims he never asked you to take pictures of Bailey.”

“What?” Eric’s brows lowered. “That’s a lie.”

“He told me that he asked you to take pictures of random people around town. Nothing else.”

“Bullshit. That’s not what he said.”

“You’re sticking to your story that Ford Smithson specifically asked for pictures of Bailey?”

Eric’s lips parted, but he hesitated, as if trying to recall the conversation. “I can’t remember his exact words, but he said he wanted pictures of ‘my friend.’”

“Just your ‘friend’? As in any of your friends? Or specifically Bailey?”

The boy hunched his shoulders. “Everyone knows that Bailey is my only friend.”

“So he didn’t use her name?”

“I told you, I can’t remember his exact words.”

Dom swallowed a curse. “Has he asked for the phone back?”

“I haven’t seen him.”

Well, hell. Dom had been hoping to catch one of the men in a lie. There would have to be a reason for that person to deliberately try to mislead him, right? Now it was possible it might have been nothing more than a miscommunication.

Dom ground his teeth in frustration. Time to change the subject. “How did you get involved with the Murder Club?”

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