Page 66 of Property of Bob

Piney shook his head. “I don’t think so, but we’re not ruling anything out yet.”

Prime looked toward me. “What did it do before it died?”

“Lost power.”

“All at once?”

“Not exactly. It started feeling sluggish maybe twenty minutes before I got here. Lights dimmed. Radio cut out. Then it started coughing when I was going over the bridge.”

Piney looked at Post.

Post stood. “Could be alternator.”

“Could also be a belt,” Pull said from underneath.

I crouched beside him. “Which belt?”

He slid out far enough to look at me. “You gonna crawl under here?”

“If I need to.”

He smiled. “Bob’s gonna love that.”

I frowned. “What does Bob have to do with me crawling under my own RV?”

“Nothing.”

“That sounded like something.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I was really starting to hate that phrase.

I stood again.

Anchor had moved around to the driver’s side. “Keys?”

I tossed them to him. “Don’t wreck it.”

“It doesn’t move.”

“Still.”

He opened the driver’s door and climbed inside.

I went right back under the hood. Piney was wiggling a connection when the engine cranked.

Everyone jumped.

I slapped a hand against my chest. “Jesus.”

Anchor leaned out of the driver’s door. “Sorry, but you had to know, since I asked for the fucking keys, that I was going to try to start it.”

“Yeah, well, still, you could have warned us,” Piney grumbled.

“I’m gonna try again, assholes,” Anchor shouted. The engine tried to catch again.

Once. Twice. Then nothing.