Survivor: 1 (42 page)

She peeked in the rearview mirror occasionally, seeing
nothing. The road ahead of her was barren, now growing
dirty from the blowing wind. The clouds loomed darker,
solid black where they met the horizon. A crack of thunder reverberated in the air and the sky lit up with lightning. To her right she could see that it was raining far off
in the distance. Judging by the way the wind was blowing, the storm was heading her way.

She drove. And concentrated on keeping her mind off
the pain of her wounds by driving. She thought about
Brad, her parents. She thought about winning, about
beating the bastards who had set this all up. And the
more she thought about them, the angrier she got. And
the angrier she got, the more determined she became to
fight the drowsiness that was now threatening to envelop her. She shook her head, forcing herself to stay awake.
Keep driving. Just keep driving, keep the vehicle on the
road and keep dr-

And then she was on another road, this one a much
larger highway. Pwo lanes, freshly paved.

She stopped the SUV, looked up and down the road,
fighting drowsiness, trying to reach a decision of which
way to turn.

She turned left.

When she pulled onto the road she saw a flash of light
in the distance. As she pulled into the lane she squinted,
fighting to stay awake. The lights loomed larger, and when
she recognized them for what they were she felt such a
rush of excitement that she almost collapsed over the
steering wheel in joy. She fought the urge and continued
on, the plan springing to mind as easily as the decision to
fight for her life back in the desert. The headlights were far
enough away that she could simply steer the vehicle into
the opposing lane, blocking its path. Whoever was driving
the vehicle would stop. Whoever it was would help her.

She turned the steering wheel sharply to the left, feeling the tires skid across the pavement. She thought the
SW was going to tip over and she automatically grabbed
the steering wheel with her right hand, a fresh wave of
pain exploding through her abdomen. Her foot was
pumping the brakes and she felt herself spinning, as if
she were on an amusement park whirligig.

When the SUV stopped she was facing the headlights,
which were now looming larger, she had made a complete three-sixty in the opposing lane. The headlights
were blinding and now she could see the vehicle clearly.
It was a tractor-trailer truck, one of those long-haul
eighteen-wheelers. She could hear the hiss of its air
brakes as it began slowing to a stop.

With a gasp of relief, Lisa fumbled for the driver's-side
door and got it open. She spilled out onto the pavement,
screaming in agony as her side exploded again. She
tasted dirt in her mouth. The hiss of escaping air from the
huge truck's braking system was loud in her ears, and she
tried to ignore the sensation of her guts sliding out of the
hole Animal had made in her side with the knife. She
tried to move her arms, to position herself to move forward, but she was feeling herself fall down into a dark
hole. She fought the feeling, shook her head to clear the
blackness that was rapidly engulfing her from the inside
out, and the last thing she was consciously aware of was
a rapid plummet toward darkness, strong hands grasping
her, and the sound of a male voice.

His parents had arrived at the hotel a little before four
P.M., and it was now closing in on five-thirty. Brad Miller
was slumped in a chair in his room, staring out the window. His mother was sitting next to him; his dad was pacing the floor, running a hand through his thinning hair,
looking worried. The head of Luxor security was in the
room with them, along with two Las Vegas detectives, trying to keep things calm.

Brad closed his eyes, trying to get past the sense of
dread he was feeling. Thirty minutes ago Mike Hall, one
of the detectives, had gotten a call from the Nevada
Highway Patrol. The thunderstorm that was currently
wreaking havoc on Las Vegas was hindering their search
efforts. All roads going in and out of Las Vegas were
closed and there were flash-flood warnings. "We won't be
able to get out there until tomorrow morning at the earliest," the detective had told Brad.

It'll be too late by then, Brad thought. He closed his
eyes, all the tears long since drained out of him from cry ing all day. He was staring at his future, and try as he
might, he simply could not Imagine it without Lisa.

Then Mike Hall's cell phone rang.

He answered. "Yeah! The long pause made Brad look
up at the detective, and what he saw brought a burst of
hope through him. The detective's features had brightened. He was actually smiling.'Ihat's good news, sir. Yes,
I'll tell him." He hung up.

Brad sprang to his feet. "Where is she?'

'They found her," Mike Hall said, beaming like a proud
father. "She's at Las Vegas County, undergoing surgery. A
trucker found her on Interstate 15. She-"

But Brad wasn't listening. He was scrambling out the
door, his mother and father trailing after him. Joan Miller
was crying in joy, calling out to her son to wait up for
them. Mike Hall could only follow, trying to keep up with
the mad caravan to the hospital.

William Grecko was both ecstatic and filled with dread.

He grew happy every time he glanced at Brad, who
was sitting next to his mother, Joan, talking to Mike Hall
or one of the other detectives. Frank Miller was always in
close proximity, either sitting near them offering smiling
words of encouragement and occasional laughter, or he
was pacing the floor of the waiting room, pausing every
now and then to glance out the window at the dark rainfilled Las Vegas cityscape amid all the glittering lights.

The dread filled him every time he laid eyes on rank
Miller.

William had been trying to get a read on Frank ever
since he'd pulled in to the hospital. He had received a
call from Brad on his car phone when he was just outside
the city limits on his way in to assist in the vigil, informing
him that Lisa had been found. William hadn't asked questions right away. He'd simply told Brad he was happy
she'd been found, then pulled over to the side of the road
and hunted up the number to his FBI contact and given
him a call. After relaying the news, he'd given the agent
the number to his car phone and resumed his drive.
When the agent called back thirty minutes later, William
was pulling into the parking lot of the hospital. He'd sat
in the car talking to the agent, getting the latest information.

A long-haul trucker had found Lisa just after three P.M.
on Interstate 15. She'd been driving a white SUV and had
swerved into oncoming traffic. The driver suspected
something was amiss, and that was confirmed when he
saw Lisa's bloodied form on the pavement. He immediately went back to his rig and raised a distress call on his
CB. Fellow truckers responded by calling 911 for him and
relaying vital information on their location. Between
then and the time it took for emergency personnel to arrive, the trucker had covered Lisa up with a thermal blanket and tried to control the bleeding. Lisa was airlifted to
Las Vegas County, where she was immediately whisked
into surgery.

Because her description had been broadcast to the
Nevada State Pblice, the FBI was immediately dispatched
to the scene. Under fierce wind and rain, they managed
to recover the cellular phone in the SUV. They immediately traced the vehicle to a rental agency where it had
been rented by a man bearing a California driver's license identifying him as Carl Whitman. William's contact
told him that when the DMV faxed their field office a
copy of the license he was stunned. "It's him," he'd said as
William sat in his car, rain pelting down on the windshield. "It's the same guy Lisa identified as Tim Murray.
Beard's shaved off, but it's the same guy. He must've gotten a false ID."

An APB was out on Tim Murray, as well as the stillunidentified man seen in the bank surveillance video
with Lisa. In addition, a still taken from video cameras at
the Luxor was now being distributed. Brads description
of the events of Lisa's abduction were fantastic but certainly credible. 'An old woman would be the perfect
ruse," one of the agents told William. 'Nobody expects
somebody who looks like their grandmother to be a
cold-blooded killer. I mean ... even criminals get old,
Billy. This old lady's probably been involved in this shit
for years!

The rainstorm was hindering search efforts, but the authorities were certain they would make progress by tomorrow Meanwhile, Lisa was in surgery, and once she
regained consciousness and was able to talk, various
law-enforcement personnel wanted to meet with her.
William would be present, and he wanted to question
Lisa himself on certain things. Once he got her by herself, he wanted to ask her questions about Frank.

William had received only one call from Phil, the private investigator he had hired. Phil had told William that
the minute he had pulled into the neighborhood where
Frank and Joan Miller lived to begin his surveillance, the
couple left their home. 'I'm following them now,' he'd
said. "Looks like they're heading out of town. What's up?"

That report had come in shortly after two. William had
been sure Frank would leave the house, maybe meet up
with Shectman. That hadn't happened. Instead, the
Millers had gotten into their vehicle and driven straight to
Las Vegas. Maybe Flank doesn't have anything to do with
this, William thought. Maybe I'm just ... being paranoid.

If he was being paranoid, he was doing a good job of
it. He watched Bank out of the corner of his eyes, noted
how the man was standing quietly at the window, looking out at the dazzling lights of the Las gas strip in the distance. William watched him, wondering what was going on in the man's head, trying to retrace his, steps. Then,
telling himself it was now or never, he rose to his feet and
approached Frank.

Flank turned around, smiled when he saw William.
"Thanks for being here, Billy," Frank said.

William nodded. "It's the least I could do." He grasped
Frank's elbow and motioned him away from the window.
"Listen, can we talk in private?" His voice was lowered,
serious. "Just the two of us?"

Frank's expression became serious. He nodded. "Sure,
Bill."

The two men headed out of the waiting room. Joan
called out: "Frank?"

Frank turned to his wife. "Bill and I are just taking a
quick walk. We'll be right back, dear."

William waited until they were out of earshot. He motioned toward the snack bar. "I could use some coffee.
How 'bout you?"

"Sure"

Coffee purchases were made from the dispensing machine, and once the cups were in hand, William nodded
at Frank. "I've got ... well, I've got some concerns I want
to talk to you about, Frank." He started feeling nervous
and he licked his lips, hating himself for it. Normally, he
was fine when it came to confronting people. He did it
all the time as a lawyer and he thrived on the atmosphere
in the courtroom. But here? At the hospital, with Lisa
Miller undergoing emergency surgery to save her life, he
was going to confront her father-in-law with suspicions
that he'd arranged her murder?

Was he losing his mind?

"I've been helping Brad deal with this the past few
days," William began, taking a sip of coffee. "When Brad told me everything, I was ... well, I was shocked. It's
just-"

"It's just so unbelievable that people would be into
such things," Frank Miller said, shaking his head. "I know
It sickens me."

William glanced at Frank, noted his expression. Was
Frank's expression of shock genuine? It was hard to tell.
William pressed on. "Anyway, I ... I employ the services
of a lot of private detectives. I'm sure you know that. And
I gave the details of the case to one of them and he went
to work on it. I've also been working with law enforcement in California in helping to find the people that ...
you know ... abducted Lisa in Ventura. Of course, we
had no idea that what happened today was going to happen. I had Lisa and Brad sent out here for their safety, not
knowing that-"

"How the hell did they find them?" Frank looked at
William, open shock and horror in his features. "How the
hell could these ... these freaks find my son and Lisa
and try to do what they failed to do in California?"

With rising doubt, William shook his head. "1 don't
know, Frank. That's what I'm trying to find out."

"It just makes no sense," Frank continued. He took a
sip of coffee. William noted that, as usual, Frank looked
impeccable in his Gucci loafers, his polo shirt, his dark
gray slacks. His wavy hair was slicked back, speckled
with gray. A gold bracelet dangled from his wrist. He
should be a criminal defense attorney, William thought,
rubbing self-consciously at his own gold chain bracelet.
"The only people that were supposed to know about
Brad and Lisa being here were your people, us, and Lisa's
parents! Who else could have found out?"

"I don't know," William said quickly."That's what we're
trying to find out"

"1 know Brad hasn't talked to anybody in California
since arriving here a few nights ago," Frank continued.
"He asked us to start looking into getting psychiatric care
for Lisa. I just don't see how anybody outside of our little
circle could have-"

William tuned him out as a slow, dawning realization
came to him. Lisa's boss, George Brooks. He had called
just yesterday, wanting to get ahold of Lisa. Something
about missing files. He'd needed to speak to Lisa desperately. And what had William done?

He'd given George their room number at the Luxor.

It can't be George, William thought. I know him. He's
no more a sadist than I think Rank is. And as far as I
know, he has no connection to Golgotha. The only way I
can pin him to anything is that he had knowledge of
where Lisa and Brad were holed up and-