Page 102 of Property of Bob

She smiled. “Not a lot. Just a little.”

“You’re really taking this whole physical therapist thing seriously.”

“I’m pretty sure there are licenses and degrees involved in that. I’m just trying to help you walk and get back to normal.”

“Probably.”

“But I can walk beside you.”

I stared at her. That shouldn’t have hit the way it did, but it fucking did.

I reached out and caught her hand. Ramona looked down at our hands. “Thanks.”

Her fingers curled around mine. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“Still am.”

She squeezed once before letting go. Then she pulled one of the chairs closer and sat down.

For a minute, neither of us talked. I needed the break. She seemed to know that. Eventually, my breathing settled.

Ramona leaned back. “So.”

I knew what was coming. “My turn?” I sighed.

She smiled. “You promised.”

I knew it.

“And I told you everything.”

“Not everything. I don’t think you covered twenty years this morning.”

“I told you everything that matters.”

I studied her. She had. At least as far as she knew.

“Okay,” I said. I looked toward the yard. “There’ve been bodies.”

Ramona went completely still. “Bodies?”

“Yeah.”

“As in more than one?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus.”

I rubbed my beard. “Somebody’s been targeting the club. We don’t know exactly why yet.”

“What do you mean, targeting?”

“Bodies. Messages. Pictures. Shit left where we’re supposed to find it.”

Her eyes moved toward the clubhouse. I watched everything click into place as I ran through everything that had been happening the past months. I hadn’t been here for most of it, but I knew it all.

The guys watching the parking lot. Nobody letting her go anywhere alone. The hospital. Me. Bernice.