Page 134 of Property of Bob

I ran my hand around the inside. “Please tell me you aren’t digging through Ron’s old trash with your bare hands,” Skull said.

I looked at him. “You worried about me?”

“Little bit.”

I set the can aside and looked underneath the desk. Nothing.

I ran my hand beneath the edge. Still nothing.

Then my fingers hit something. I stopped.

“What?” Anchor asked immediately.

“I don’t know.”

I bent lower and felt underneath again.

Tape. Something was taped beneath the back edge of the desk. “Got something.”

Everyone stopped.

I worked my fingers beneath the tape and pulled. Folded pieces of paper dropped into my hand. I sat up and held it in the air.

“What is it?” Piney asked.

“Paper.”

“No shit,” Post scoffed.

They’d been folded together into a thick square and taped beneath the desk like Ron had wanted them close but didn’t want anyone walking into his office to see them.

“What the fuck?” I muttered.

Anchor moved closer. “What is it?”

I separated the pages.

Six of them.

They weren’t full sheets. Each one looked like it had been cut from a regular piece of printer paper, with a short message printed in the middle.

No handwriting. No signature.

Just words.

I laid the first one on the desk.

DO WHAT I TELL YOU.

The second:

THEY CAN’T KNOW YOU’RE HELPING ME.

The third:

GET HER ON THE ISLAND. I’LL HANDLE THE REST.

My eyes stayed on that one.