Page 42 of The Murder Club

“In my job I’ve discovered you really never know a person,” Zac warned. “It’s possible he pretended to be incompetent to cover his tracks.” Zac held up his hand as Bailey’s lips parted to argue. “But I intend to keep an open mind. Not only about Gage’s death but about whether or not this burner phone even belonged to him.”

Dom clenched his teeth as Zac’s words clicked inside his head. Whether the burner phone even belongs to him . . .

That was the answer, of course. Gage didn’t write the messages. Whoever had pushed him off the ladder had left the phone on his desk. And Dom had no doubt why it was left there. It was a message to Bailey. The only question was whether it was a clue for her to follow. Or an attempt to connect her once again to a murder.

“Is there anything else I should know about?” Zac asked his cousin, his tone hard. He didn’t need to be a genius to suspect that whoever was sending the text messages was playing a nasty game with Bailey.

She hesitated, as if she was reluctant to reveal the harassment she’d been enduring. Dom understood. She was the sort of person who was used to offering support and sympathy to others. It made her visibly uncomfortable to accept that she needed help. Clearing her throat, she reluctantly revealed the fact that she’d gone to Grange to discover what had happened to Pauline Hartford, along with her conversation with the neighbor who’d implied there’d been an argument between Pauline and her grandson shortly before her accident. Zac’s expression hardened as Bailey continued with her story, revealing the pearls that had been found on her back porch and her suspicion that they had been left there by someone who wanted her to connect them to Pauline’s death. When Bailey at last fell silent, Zac rose to his feet, shoving the baggie with the phone into his jacket pocket.

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

Bailey scowled at his sharp tone. “I was going to.”

Zac sucked in a deep breath, as if trying to control his burst of temper at Bailey’s reckless disregard for her own safety.

“Is that it?” he demanded.

“Yes,” Bailey said.

“No,” Dom intruded into the conversation.

She sent him a startled glance. Had she forgotten he was there? That was a humiliating thought. Then she wrinkled her nose as she realized why he’d said no.

“Oh, right.”

Zac planted his fists on his hips. “Tell me.”

“Eric Criswell was parked across the street this morning.”

Zac looked confused. “I think I met him when I was driving here. Hard to miss that piece of crap he drives. Why was he here?”

“He was taking pictures of me.”

Zac narrowed his eyes. “Repeat that.”

“He claimed that Ford Smithson traded him a new phone in return for sending him my picture. It’s supposedly for a new work of art or something.”

“Dammit, I knew there was something odd about him,” Zac growled.

“Which one?” Dom asked.

“Both. I’ll deal with them.” Zac reached out to grab Bailey’s hand, his expression worried. “Bailey, you need to be careful.”

“I am.”

“I mean really, really careful,” the lawman insisted. “I’ve been through this before and it feels like you’re a target.”

Bailey parted her lips as if she intended to offer a flippant retort, but seeing the blatant concern on her relative’s face, she heaved a frustrated sigh.

“How can I be careful when I don’t know who’s doing this?”

“Come stay with me.” The words left Dom’s lips before he could consider the wisdom of his offer. Not that he was sorry. The thought of having Bailey living beneath the same roof as himself felt extraordinarily right. Probably because he’d already accepted that their future was meant to be together.

Bailey, on the other hand, looked shocked by the mere suggestion. “What?”

“Kaden and Lia’s house has top-of-the-line security, plus it’s remote enough to keep away any casual visitors,” he said in light tones, as if living together was no big deal. “Not to mention the fact that four dogs under one roof are better than two.”

“He’s not wrong,” Zac surprisingly added.

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