Page 37 of The Murder Club

“Hey, Bailey.”

He looked paler than usual with his black hair tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through the thin strands. His gray eyes, however, glittered with a barely suppressed emotion.

Embarrassment? Excitement? Some gross combination? It was impossible to say.

“What are you doing here, Eric?”

“Oh, you know. Just hanging out.” He released a nervous laugh. “I didn’t have to work today.”

Bailey arched her brows. “You’re hanging out in your car?”

“There’s not a lot to do in Pike.”

She allowed her gaze to sweep down his thin body, taking in the wrinkled shirt and worn jeans. He looked as if he’d slept in his clothes. Just how long had he been sitting out here?

“Boredom doesn’t explain why you decided to park in front of my house.”

“Your house?” He widened his eyes in faux surprise.

“I didn’t even know you lived around here.”

Anger seared through Bailey. The past few days had been a nightmare. And after a near sleepless night she wasn’t in the mood to be jerked around. Especially by someone who was partially responsible for her current troubles.

“You picked me up and dropped me off from work for an entire week when my truck was in the shop last year,” she snapped. “Tell me what you’re doing here before I call Zac.”

“Okay, okay.” Eric held up his hands, a muscle twitching next to his eye. “I heard that Gage Warren had threatened you and I was worried. He’s been violent to other women and I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Any other day it might have been a plausible explanation. Since they’d started working together, Eric had been protective of her. Sometimes to the point she had to ask him to back off. But there was a nervous energy buzzing around the younger man that warned her that he wasn’t being entirely honest.

“If you were worried, why not come to the house?”

He licked his lips. “I didn’t want to bother you. I knew I could keep a watch from here and—”

Eric swiveled his head toward the passenger door as Dom abruptly jerked it open so he could slide into the car. Then, before Eric could stop him, he grabbed the phone that was balanced on Eric’s lap.

“You were doing more than just keeping watch. Weren’t you?” he demanded.

“Hey, that’s mine.” Eric made a futile grab for the phone.

Dom easily slapped his hand away, turning the phone to show Bailey the screen. “He has ten pictures. All of you.”

Bailey’s stomach clenched as Dom scrolled through the images. Two of them had been taken when she was standing on her porch, a couple were when she was walking down the street, and some were of her standing in front of Pauline Hartford’s house in Grange. Those had been zoomed in to reveal her pale face in intimate detail.

Bailey had no idea where Eric had been hidden to take the clandestine pictures, and right now she didn’t care. The mere idea that he’d been sneaking around—spying on her—was enough to make her feel sick.

“Why?”

Eric turned back with a pleading expression. “It’s not what you think. I’m not a creeper, I swear.”

“Then why are you parked outside my house taking pictures of me?”

There was a tense silence, as if Eric was going to refuse to answer. Then Dom leaned toward him with a grim expression.

“I wanted a new phone,” Eric burst out, pressed against the driver’s side door as Dom loomed next to him.

“A new phone?” Bailey shook her head. Was that some sort of slang? “What are you talking about?”

Eric scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “You know I don’t make crap at the nursing home. And my mom says she’d not going to give me any more allowance unless I start doing more chores around the house.” His features twisted into a petulant expression. “Like she does anything but sit on her ass. Why should I have to do everything?”