Page 104 of The Murder Club

Her soft words touched the place deep inside Dom that he had always tried to ignore. The empty place Remy had chiseled out with his callous indifference for the boy who had desperately craved his love.

He sent her a glance that held all the emotions that bubbled inside him. “How did I survive without you, Bailey Evans?”

Chapter 22

Bailey spent the return trip to Pike trying to ease the guilt that gnawed at her like a cancer. It wasn’t her fault that Nellie was dead, she told herself over and over. Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have stood up for Eric Criswell when the staff complained that he was odd. If he’d been fired, he would never have been able to steal from Nellie and the other residents. Not that it would have stopped Logan Donaldson from getting his hands on the cash and jewelry, she silently acknowledged. He might be a lazy jerk, but he was in a position to force one of his employees to help him. Whether they wanted to or not.

Her dark musings were thankfully distracted as they veered off the highway. Eventually she would look back and put everything into perspective. For now she needed to concentrate on making sure no other resident at the nursing home was put in danger.

“Are we going to have a chat with Logan?” she demanded, straightening up in her seat. “Maybe include Lorene in our discussions?”

Dom shook his head, taking the exit that led directly to Main Street. “Not until we’ve had a chance to share what we’ve discovered with Zac. I don’t want the Donaldsons disappearing before they can be locked away.”

She scowled, but she didn’t argue. They couldn’t risk alerting Logan to the fact that they knew he was stealing from the residents. He was cowardly enough to go into hiding and leave his mom to face the consequences.

“Dammit,” she muttered. “I want to look Logan Donaldson straight in the eye when I kick his balls.”

Dom made a choked sound of surprise at her violent fantasy. “That’s very specific.”

“Don’t make me mad.”

“Noted.”

His lips twitched as they pulled into the parking lot next to the courthouse. A quick glance revealed that it was empty except for a tan Bronco that no doubt belonged to the deputy on duty.

Dom muttered a curse. “He’s not here.”

“I’ll give him a call.” Bailey dug out her phone and pressed her cousin’s number. Zac answered after the first ring. “Hey, Zac. Are you at home?” she asked, her heart sinking as he answered her in distracted tones. “Nope. No worries,” she assured him when he finished.

“You take care of Rachel and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She ended the connection and tossed the phone back into her purse.

“Is everything okay?” Dom asked.

“It’s fine, but Zac is getting ready to head out of town. He’s spending the night with Rachel in Madison. She has a routine ultrasound at the hospital tomorrow morning,” she told him.

Dom’s jaw tightened, but he knew as well as she did there was nothing they could do about the Donaldsons. Not until Zac returned.

“What now?” he muttered, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “We could go back to the house—”

“If we can’t confront Logan and his mom, we can at least find Eric and talk to him, right?” she interrupted. As much as she enjoyed having time alone with Dom, she was too on edge to relax. “He followed Logan to the pawnshop. He has to be the guy who bought all the phones.”

Dom pulled out of the lot and headed south. “Oh yeah. We need to talk to him. The sooner, the better,” he agreed.

It took less than ten minutes to reach Eric’s house. They slowed as they neared, but before Dom could pull into the driveway, she reached out to touch his arm.

“Eric’s car isn’t here,” she said, her hands clenching in frustration. “He must be working this afternoon.”

“It’s Sunday.” Dom rolled past the house, stopping at the end of the block. “He might be out enjoying his weekend.”

Bailey shook her head. “If he’s not home, he’s usually at the nursing home. He doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

Dom grimaced, doing a U-turn to drive the short distance to the nursing home.

“I’d say that was pathetic, but there’s an old saying about not throwing stones in glass houses,” he admitted in wry tones. “My life revolves around work and work and more work. I collapse in my bed by nine o’clock unless I fall asleep on the couch even earlier. Worse, I live on the property, so I never leave.”

Before the past week Bailey assumed Dom Lucier lived a Vegas lifestyle that was filled with late-night parties and glamorous women. Now it was remarkably easy to imagine him cuddling her on the couch while Bert and Ernie battled for the prime spot next to them.