J. Gonzalez - Survivor

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?"