Page 90 of Property of Bob

“No shit.”

“I’d started checking around online and making some calls. I figured I’d find something within a week or two and move on.”

Ash nodded.

“Then somebody broke into my RV.”

Every trace of amusement disappeared from his face. “Somebody broke into your RV?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“A couple days after I quit.”

“What’d they take?”

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed. “Nothing?”

“Nothing I could find. That’s why I thought maybe I’d forgotten to lock the door.”

“You don’t forget to lock your door.”

That shut me up for a second. “No,” I admitted.

“What else?”

I sighed. “I started seeing the same truck.”

“What truck?”

“Dark pickup. Black or maybe dark blue. I never got close enough to see the plate.”

“Where?”

“Around.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Gas station. Grocery store. Once when I was leaving a diner. It could’ve been nothing.”

“What else?”

I looked down at the blanket.

“Ramona.”

“One of my tires got slashed.”

Ashland didn’t say anything. That was somehow worse than if he’d started yelling. “It could’ve been some asshole kid.”

“Your RV got broken into, you started getting followed, and then somebody slashed your tire.”

“When you put everything together…”

“That’s generally how shit works.”