Page 105 of Property of Bob

“Ash?” Ramona called.

I held up my hand. The memory was there, and I needed to catch it. It was like trying to grab something through fucking smoke.

Someone standing near her. I couldn’t see a face, couldn’t make out clothes, but I heard the voice.

Low. Angry. “You should’ve kept your mouth shut.”

My eyes opened.

Ramona had moved closer. “Bob?”

I swallowed. “You should’ve kept your mouth shut.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “What?”

“I remember that.”

She went still. “The night Bernice died?”

I closed my eyes again, trying to pull up more. Nothing. Just blood. That fucking voice.

I opened my eyes. “Someone said it to Bernice.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“But you’re sure they said it to her?”

I nodded.

Ramona slowly lowered herself into the chair again.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she looked at me. “If they told her she should’ve kept her mouth shut…”

“She knew something.” The words settled between us.

I looked toward the clubhouse. “And she told someone.” But who?

For weeks, we’d been chasing whatever this motherfucker wanted us to see.

Bodies. Pictures. Messages. Clues left specifically for us.

This was different. This hadn’t been left for the club. It was something I’d heard. Something I wasn’t supposed to survive long enough to remember.

I grabbed the wheels of my chair.

Ramona stood. “Going to tell Anchor?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded and moved beside me.