Page 92 of The Murder Club

“And I suppose we also discovered that Eric was telling the truth when he claimed the pretend Ford Smithson asked him to spy on me.”

“The question is whether Eric believed he was helping an artist who needed a muse or if he knew that he was helping a paparazzo blackmail you into betraying your best friend.”

Bailey winced. Even after everything that’d happened she didn’t want to think she could be so wrong about Eric. Not everyone could be horrible, right?

“I refuse to believe he would have accepted the phone if he knew the truth,” she stubbornly insisted.

“We’ll ask him. Tomorrow.” Dom reached up to punch the opener attached to the sun visor. Then, pulling into the drive, he waited for the gates to swing open. “Tonight I want to go home and hold you in my arms.”

Bailey allowed the tension to drain away. It’d been another stressful day. And tomorrow wasn’t looking any better. Alone time wrapped in Dom’s arms was exactly what she needed.

“Yes, please.”

After a glorious night of exploring every inch of Dom’s hard body, Bailey slept late and then enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in bed while Dom took the dogs on a long hike. At last she forced herself to get dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a chunky sweater.

If they wanted to speak to Eric when he was alone, they needed to get to his house while his mother was at church. That was the only time the elderly woman ever left her house. That gave them a limited time frame.

Pulling into the driveway at exactly eleven o’clock, Bailey hopped out of the SUV and glanced toward Dom. Before leaving the house she’d explained that Eric wasn’t going to tell them anything if he tried to use intimidation. The only way to get to the truth was for Bailey to coax it out of him. But as her lips parted to remind him of their plan, she caught sight of the golden hair that was ruffled by the breeze and the impossibly beautiful features. An aching tenderness dried the words on her lips, along with a wistful regret that they couldn’t have simply met and fallen in love without a dark cloud hanging over them.

Then again, Dom had proven beyond a doubt that he would always be there for her. Through the good and the bad and the downright scary. She had zero fear that he would bolt at the first sign of trouble.

Swallowing a sigh at the regret they couldn’t turn around and head back to the privacy of Lia’s house, Bailey climbed onto the narrow porch. The house was a small bungalow set over a full basement with faded green shutters and peeling white paint. It wasn’t derelict, but it was bordering on shabby. No wonder Eric’s mom was always bitching at him to do more around the property.

Squaring her shoulders, Bailey knocked on the screen door. Now wasn’t the time to be distracted. Eric not only worked at the nursing home; he’d been taking pictures for Thorpe Curry. He might not be on the top of her list of suspects, but it was possible he had information that could help them pinpoint the villain.

There was the sound of footsteps before the front door was pulled open to reveal the young man. He was wearing a pair of scrub pants and a wrinkled T-shirt and his hair was limper than usual. As if it’d been a few days since he’d bothered to wash it. His thin face lit up as he caught sight of her.

“Bailey.” He leaned forward to shove open the screen door. His expression tightened as he caught sight of Dom. “And you.”

Dom stepped forward. “And me.”

Eric deliberately returned his attention to Bailey. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a few questions,” she said, sending him a reassuring smile.

“From him?” Eric jerked his chin toward Dom without allowing his gaze to stray from Bailey. “I already answered them.”

“These are new ones,” she reassured him.

He pressed his lips together, as if torn between slamming the door in her face and spending more time in her company. At last he gave a furtive glance from side to side before stepping back to wave them inside.

“Come in,” he ordered. “I don’t want the entire neighborhood knowing you’re here.”

Together, Bailey and Dom stepped into the front room, all of them grimacing at the overwhelming smell of pine. Someone had recently polished the dark wooden paneling, along with the furniture that was almost a duplicate of the couch and love seat in Dorinda’s house. Bailey’s grandmother had told her there used to be a furniture store in Pike. Obviously they’d had a limited selection.

“No!” Eric called out as Bailey reluctantly moved to perch on the love seat. He flushed as she sent him a startled frown. “My mom doesn’t like people touching her stuff. We can go downstairs.”

Wondering if Eric’s mom understood the basic function of furniture, Bailey was distracted as Dom moved to stand directly beside her.

“Absolutely not.”

“We can talk here,” Bailey said, heading off any argument. “This won’t take long.”

“Whatever.” Eric hunched his shoulders. “Why are you here?”

Bailey cleared her throat. Before leaving the house they’d agreed to start the conversation with discovering how much Eric knew about Thorpe Curry.

“Tell me what happened when Ford Smithson gave you the new phone.”

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