Chapter Twelve #2
That was the part that didn’t make sense. If somebody was sending Ron instructions to get Bernice here, plant posters, or whatever else he’d done, why the hell would Ron tape the evidence beneath his desk?
“Insurance?” Skull suggested.
Anchor looked at him.
Skull shrugged. “Ron knew he was in deep. Maybe he kept them in case he needed something against whoever was controlling him.”
“Or he got scared,” I said.
Nobody answered.
I looked at the note about Bernice again. Maybe Ron had known exactly what he was doing at first. Maybe he hadn’t.
Either way, at some point he’d started saving the messages instead of destroying them.
“Could’ve been planning to give them to us,” Piney suggested.
Post scoffed. “Then why didn’t he?”
“Because he blew his fucking brains out before he got the chance,” Skull grunted.
“Or because he never planned on giving us shit,” Anchor cut in. “We’re not turning Ron into some fucking victim because we found six pieces of paper under his desk. He planned on Bernice getting killed. He knew Erin was taken. He helped this asshole. Whatever his reasons were, he made his choices.”
Nobody argued with that. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to.
Ron hadn’t been the mastermind. We’d already known there was somebody else, but now I could almost see the chain.
Somebody told Ron what to do. Ron did it.
Somebody told him where to put things. Ron put them there.
Somebody told him to get Bernice onto Skull Island.
“Hey, who suggested Pearl paint the haunted house?” I asked.
Anchor scowled. “Fucking Ron. I played right into his fucking game.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Vin,” Anchor called.
“Yeah?”
“Check the printer history again. Anything stored. Anything that might’ve been printed from an email or downloaded.”
“On it.”
“Post, Piney, keep going through those cabinets. Skull, take every fucking binder off those shelves. I want the backs checked too.”
Skull grabbed the first binder. “You got it.”
Anchor looked at me. “You good?”
I frowned. “Why does everybody keep asking me that?”
“Because you almost died.”
Fair, but he could see that I was doing fine. “I’m good. What do you want me to do?”
Anchor nodded to the notes in front of me. “Comb over those notes. There aren’t many words on them, but just check them for anything we missed.”
I sat down again and pulled the notes toward me. Just stared.
BERNICE KNOWS TOO MUCH.
My throat tightened and I swallowed carefully. Every time I thought of her, guilt suffocated me, and I wished I could go back to that night.
I tried to focus on the note and not my own fucked-up feelings.
Bernice hadn’t been random. I’d already known that but knowing and seeing it printed in front of me were two different fucking things.
Whoever was doing this hadn’t just decided to kill her that day. They’d been watching her.
The question was why.
What the fuck had Bernice known that was worth killing her over? And who had she told?
I leaned back in the chair.
My mind flashed to Ramona. She was probably awake by now. I hadn’t told her where I was going because she’d been sleeping, and I hadn’t wanted to wake her.
I could already hear her. You disappeared.
I’d tell her I hadn’t disappeared. She’d tell me leaving while she was asleep was pretty much the definition of disappearing. Then I’d kiss her, and she’d probably forget what we were arguing about.
I smiled.
“You’re fucking smiling.”
I looked up, and Skull was staring at me. “No, I’m not.”
“You were.”
“Mind your business.”
Skull’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Ramona?”
“Fuck off.”
His mouth curled.
“Can we concentrate?” Anchor grunted.
“I am concentrating,” I grunted.
“On Ramona,” Piney laughed.
I pointed at Piney. “I’m about to concentrate on kicking your ass.”
Piney held up both hands. “There he is. Definitely feeling better.”
I flipped him off.
The fax machine beeped, and every bit of humor disappeared.
I turned my head, and nobody moved. The machine sat on the table against the wall beside the printer.
It beeped again.
“What the fuck?” Post whispered.
A mechanical hum filled the office, and a paper started feeding through.
Slowly.
My skin prickled. Anchor straightened. Skull put the binder in his hand down. Vin pushed away from the computer. Piney stared at the machine.
Nobody said a fucking word.
In any other office, it would’ve been nothing. Some invoice. Order sheet. Schedule. Whatever the fuck people still used fax machines for.
But this was Ron’s office and Ron was dead.
The page dropped into the tray.
Silence.
Post took one step toward it. “Wait,” Anchor ordered.
Post stopped.
I stared at the machine. Something cold slid down my spine. “Why now?” I asked.
Anchor looked at me. “What?”
“The fax.” I pointed toward it. “Why the fuck is something coming through right now?”
Nobody answered.
Skull’s eyes moved toward the window. Piney looked at the ceiling. Vin slowly stood. We’d been in here close to an hour.
Six of us going through everything, and now a fax came through.
“No fucking way,” Post muttered.
Anchor’s expression hardened. “He knows we’re here,” I said.
The words settled over the room.
Nobody laughed. Nobody told me I was being paranoid.
Because we’d all had enough of this motherfucker to know better.
Skull moved to the window and looked outside. Piney headed for the door and checked the hallway.
Vin looked around the office like a camera might suddenly appear if he stared hard enough.
I stayed where I was. My eyes were on the piece of paper sitting in the fax tray. Whoever was doing this could’ve sent that fax an hour ago. Yesterday. Last week.
Instead, it came while we were in Ron’s office going through the shit he’d hidden.
Anchor walked toward the machine. He stopped in front of the tray and looked down. His entire body went still.
“What?” Skull asked.
Anchor didn’t answer.
I pushed myself out of the chair. “What does it say?”
Anchor stepped to the side.
There were five words printed in huge black letters across the middle of the page.
YOU’RE ALL GOING TO DIE.
The office went completely fucking silent.
I stared at the words. Just a promise.
Post was the first to speak. “Well, that’s fucking comforting.”
“Shut up,” Anchor snapped. His eyes moved to Skull. “Call the clubhouse.”
My stomach dropped.
Ramona.
I already had my phone out. I hit her name and lifted it to my ear.
One ring.
Two. “Come on, doll,” I whispered. I had just got her, and I was not about to fucking lose her.
Three.
She answered, “Hey.”
Just hearing her voice loosened something in my chest. “Where are you?”
A pause. “Good morning to you too.”
“Ramona.”
Something in my voice must’ve registered because the teasing disappeared.
“I’m at the clubhouse.”
“Inside?”
“Yes.”
“Who are you with?”
“Pearl and Shay. McKayla’s here too. What’s wrong?”
I looked at the fax.
YOU’RE ALL GOING TO DIE.
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Bob.”
“I’ll tell you when I get back.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I know.”
Anchor was already talking to Skull, telling him to get everybody accounted for. Piney stood in the doorway watching the hall while Post pulled the blinds over the office window.
I tightened my grip on the phone. “Stay inside. Tell everyone to stay inside, and do not go anywhere until I get back to you.”
Ramona was quiet for a second. Then, “Okay.” No argument. That told me she heard enough in my voice to know this wasn’t the time.
“I’ll be back soon,” I promised.
“Be careful.”
“Always. See you soon, doll.” I ended the call and looked at Anchor.
“All the girls are together. I told her to tell everyone to stay put until we get back.”
He nodded.
Skull lowered his phone. “Everyone’s accounted for. Lost’s at the clubhouse. Pull and Wannabe are with Erin. Cross is over at the ghost town with Push.”
“Get Cross and Push back,” Anchor ordered. “Nobody alone until we figure out how the fuck this asshole knew we were here.” Skull nodded and walked into the hallway to make the call.
I looked around Ron’s office again.
Desk. Shelves. Computer. Window. Printer. Fax machine. Normal fucking office. Except somebody knew six Kings had walked into it this morning. And they’d waited until we found Ron’s notes to remind us they were still watching.
I looked back at the fax.
Ron was dead.
Whatever part he’d played in this was over, but the person behind him wasn’t done.
Not even fucking close.