Page 43 of The Murder Club

“There are a dozen bedrooms to choose from,” Dom continued. He wasn’t trying to force Bailey into staying with him, but it was unbearable to consider her alone in this house when there was some crazed stalker roaming the streets of Pike. “You’ll have all the privacy you want, I promise.”

Zac moved to grasp Bailey’s shoulders, gazing down at her with a somber expression.

“It would ease my mind.”

She heaved a resigned sigh, accepting it was the best solution for everyone.

“Okay. I’ll pack a bag.”

Pulling away from her cousin, Bailey turned to disappear into the narrow hallway that led to the back of the house.

Zac turned to stab Dom with a warning glare. “Take care of her.”

Dom didn’t hesitate. “It will be my greatest honor.”

Chapter 9

Bailey sat next to Dom in the Land Rover as they pulled away from her house. Any other time she would have admired the sleek elegance of the expensive vehicle. She wasn’t a person who cared about designer clothes or fancy jewelry, but she did appreciate the soft-as-butter leather seats and the dashboard that looked like it belonged in a spaceship. This morning, however, she was too distracted to do more than sigh as she sank into the seat and allowed Dom to drive them out of town.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked, breaking the thick silence.

Bailey glanced over her shoulder, making sure the dogs were snuggled on the blanket she’d tossed in the back seat. Both of them were used to riding in her truck, but they’d never been in a strange car. Thankfully, they had curled up and promptly fallen asleep.

They were obviously adjusting to the rapid changes in their world a lot better than she was.

With a grimace she turned to sweep her gaze over the chiseled lines of Dom’s profile. She hadn’t allowed herself to consider the fact that she was going to be alone with this man. She had enough on her mind without adding in a fear that proximity might prove that she was as boringly ordinary as she’d tried to warn him.

“Right now I’m just . . .” She shook her head as the trite words dried on her lips. “I’d say I’m trying to process what’s happened over the past couple of days, but I have no idea what actually did happen,” she confessed, shivering as she forced herself to consider the questions that still gnawed at her tired brain. “Nellie Warren might or might not have been murdered. Pauline Hartford might or might not have been murdered. And now Gage Warren might or might not have been murdered. I feel like I’m trapped in a hideous nightmare with no idea how I got there.”

Dom’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel as if he was struggling to control a strong emotion.

“What we know for sure is that you’ve been connected to each death,” he said in dark tones. “First from you working at the nursing home and then by the texts from the mysterious stalker.”

Bailey flinched, but she didn’t try to deny the truth of his words. There was someone out there forcing her to become involved in the deaths.

“I can’t believe Gage was the one sending them,” she muttered.

“Probably because he wasn’t.”

“I agree.” Bailey nodded. As soon as Zac told her about Gage’s death, she’d suspected that it was more than an accident. Which meant that the phone had to have been planted there by the killer.

“If Gage was murdered, why leave behind the burner phone?”

Dom slowed as he reached the graveled road. Or the road that had once been graveled. The heavy trucks that had brought supplies to build Kaden and Lia’s new house had churned the rock into mud, leaving behind a goopy mess that had dried into solid ruts.

“My first guess is that the phone was left to prove to you that Gage’s death wasn’t an accident. Just like the pearls being planted on your back porch proved Pauline Hartford’s death wasn’t an accident.” He shrugged, keeping his gaze locked on the narrow pathway as he tried to avoid the worst of the potholes. “Plus, each clue had the benefit of tying you to both crimes.”

Bailey heaved a frustrated sigh. She understood that Dom was trying to help, but his words weren’t answering her questions. Why was the mystery person sending her texts? Was she supposed to be investigating the suspicious deaths? Or were they hoping to implicate her in the crimes as some sort of revenge for refusing the numerous invites?

But that would mean that the person texting her wasn’t just interested in the deaths, but actually . . .

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

Dom flashed her a worried glance. “Bailey?”

“I thought it was a game.”

“You thought what was a game?”

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