He stared at the lake and was considering driving to town for a fresh burner when the answer hit him. He'd taken all of Leslie's stuff when he'd left the apartment, including her purse. And in her purse was her cell phone and her burner phone. He wouldn't use the cell—the cops were surely monitoring that one. Only an idiot would use the cell phone of a dead person.

But the burner... He was the only one with that number.

He jogged outside to his car. He'd left Leslie's car near the apartment in Chelsea and had switched to his own, kicking himself for being stupid enough to choose hers in the first place. As soon as the cops found her body, they'd look for her car. Duh.

His car was clean, except for all the crap inside it. Most of it was Leslie's stuff that she'd had at the apartment. He dug through her purse, found her burner, and powered it on.

There was just enough juice in the battery to make the call.

He dialed Jessica's number.

When she answered, he said, "Hey. Sorry I didn't get back to you yesterday."

"Oh. I didn't recognize the number."

He jogged back to the house. "I'm having trouble with my phone. I borrowed a friend's. What's up?"

"It's Hunter." Her voice sounded strained.

"What's wrong?"

"We didn't end up going out of town. He's sick."

Rick closed the cabin door behind him. "Sick how? Like, really sick, or..."

"Doctors aren't sure what it is yet. They ran a bunch of tests. They're worried, because the fever came on really fast."

"Is he at home?"

"In the hospital. I thought..." She sounded like she was about to cry. "I know it's a lot to ask, but he's asking for you. Any chance you could stop by tonight?"

Rick raked his hand through his short hair. Tonight was impossible. Tomorrow would be difficult. If he could wrap this up... "I'm out of town. I should be home tomorrow or Monday."

"Are you sure you can't get here...?"

"You know I'd do anything for Hunter. Tomorrow's the best I can do."

"Okay. I'd really appreciate it." Jessica sounded relieved. He'd never known her to be that much of a worry-wart. Something must be really wrong with his little brother.

"Anything for Hunter." Rick meant it, too. His older brothers were big, boring turds. But Hunter, even if he was only Rick's half-brother, meant more to him than Andrew and John combined. That was his only regret about moving to SoCal. He'd miss the kid. "Hey, can I talk to him?"

"Oh. Actually, he's asleep right now, and he's really weak." There was a pause. "But if he's feeling better when he wakes up, I'll have him call you."

"Okay. Use this number. Maybe he just needs to get some rest."