Page 162 of Property of Bob

Skull examined the stitching. “Don’t see where anything else was cut.”

“Then probably regular patch,” Bob said.

“Looks like it,” Prime agreed.

I glanced at Pearl. “Is that important?”

She shrugged slightly. “Maybe.”

That seemed to be the answer to everything on Skull Island.

I didn’t know what the hell the cut meant. At this point, I wasn’t sure any of us did. Every clue we found only seemed to give us more questions.

McKayla stepped closer but kept a good distance between herself and Skull. “Can I see the front?”

Skull held it toward her.

Her eyes moved over every patch.

“What are you looking for?” Bob asked.

“Anything unusual.” She leaned closer. “There’s no name, but these patches might narrow down when it was worn.”

Skull nodded. “Anchor will know more.”

“Or one of the older guys,” Pearl said.

“Not here,” Prime reminded her. “Bob is the oldest guy here.”

Bob’s mouth tightened. “Shit had changed by the time I got here. The club was pretty much being rebuilt from the ground up. Anchor turned it into what it is now.”

I knew enough to understand what that meant too.

The current Kings hadn’t started this club. They’d inherited pieces of it. The island. The name. Whatever history somebody was currently digging up and throwing in their faces.

“Can we get the hell out of this room now?” Shay asked.

Everyone looked at her.

She pointed toward the mannequins. “We found a creepy old cut hidden in the wall. I’m officially done hanging out with those three staring at my back.”

“Let’s take this to Anchor,” Skull agreed.

Bob nodded.

Skull folded the cut carefully enough that he wasn’t rubbing his hands all over it, then carried it toward the door.

Prime went first.

Pearl, Shay, and McKayla followed.

I started after them, but Bob caught my hand.

I looked back. He was staring at the place where the cut had been hidden. “What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“Bob.”