No doubt someone would come looking for the girl who’d reported the accident, but we had a little time. The first responders would be too focused on helping those who needed them. I’d purposely left my cell phone back at the van. There was nothing incriminating in the call history. Not much at all beyond the call to Eric, who they’d already have, and Bobby’s calls to me. His phone would have to go as well. Marcy’s cell was our best bet to call for help. She’d been with Brent practically non-stop. They’d have had no reason to call back and forth. “Marcy, give me your phone,” I ordered. She didn’t ask why. “Nelson, frisk Bobby for his. Separate the battery from the body and toss them as far as they’ll go in different directions.” Bobby moaned, as if in weak protest at being frisked, and my heart nearly restarted at the evidence that he was alive … or at least, undead. “He’s waking up,”
