Page 164 of Property of Bob

“I’ve been back there plenty,” Prime added. “I’d remember an old Kings cut stuffed behind a shelf.”

Vin leaned over the bar without touching the leather. “That’s old.”

“No shit,” I muttered.

Ramona bumped her shoulder lightly against my arm. “Easy, handsome,” she whispered.

Anchor studied the front. “Name patch?”

“Gone,” Skull answered. He pointed toward the empty rectangle.

Anchor bent closer.

The outline was obvious. The leather underneath was darker, protected from years of wear by the patch that used to cover it. Little pieces of thread still clung to some of the holes.

“Cut off,” Anchor muttered.

“That’s what it looks like,” I said.

“Recently?”

Skull shook his head. “Can’t tell.”

Anchor swore.

Ramona shifted beside me.

“What?” I asked.

She looked at the cut. “I still think that’s the point.”

Anchor glanced at her. “What’s the point?”

“The missing name.” She hesitated for half a second before stepping closer to the bar. “Whoever left it could’ve taken every patch off that thing. They didn’t. They left the Kings patches. They left everything that tells you what it is, but they took the one patch that would’ve told you who wore it.”

Anchor stared at her.

Ramona lifted one shoulder. “Seems deliberate.”

“It is,” McKayla said from behind us. “He’s making you work for the name.”

“Fucking games,” Anchor muttered.

“That’s what I said,” Skull replied.

I looked down at the cut again.

Something bothered me.

Not just the fact that it had been inside our haunted house. Not just that some asshole had gotten close enough to plant it without any of us knowing.

Something else. I moved around the bar. “Turn it over.”

Skull looked at me.

“The cut. Turn it over,” I repeated.

He carefully lifted it and flipped it so the back faced up.