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Craig woke up with another coughing fit. This time, the sun was up. Nearly thirty-six hours had passed since Rachel's attempt to strangle him. He still had a partially blocked airway, and he had coughed up more blood.
He looked at his watch. It was seven-thirty on Monday morning. Craig had planned on laying low for at least a week to allow enough time for the authorities to call off their search for Rachel, but now things had changed. He would either have to get medical attention, or risk dying in the wilderness. Unable to eat, he opened another boxed fruit drink, slowly sipping its contents as he figured out his next move. The route he intended to take home would take him north through Colorado to Wyoming, and then Interstate 80 to Sacramento. Now he would have to come up with a faster way to get to California. He opened the glove box and took out his road maps. If he went through eastern Arizona to Interstate 40, he would be in California by day's end, and he would look for a hospital in Needles. Along the way he would have to come up with a good cover story about camping alone, slipping on a rock, and somehow landing on his throat.
He stuffed the road maps back into the glove box and took down his tent. His labored breathing made even the simplest of tasks long and painful. An hour later, he locked up the cargo box and fired up his truck. The drive through the New Mexico backcountry was uneventful, but his senses went on high alert once he crossed into Arizona. He stopped for gas in the town of Pinetop, but he had difficulty speaking when he tried to tell the cashier he would be paying cash.
"Sounds like you have a really bad case of laryngitis," said the woman behind the register.
Craig gave her a smile and nodded his head.
"I'm so sorry. Why don't you give me a couple of twenties and I'll turn on the pump. If it's gonna be more than that, you can come back in and we'll figure the rest of it out. Otherwise, I'll give you your change and you'll be on your way."
Craig smiled again and mouthed the words, "Thank you." Ten minutes later he was back on the road, being extra careful to not go over the speed limit or do anything else to attract attention. His body relaxed once he reached the town of Holbrook and got on the eastbound Interstate. A few more hours and he would be in Needles.
The traffic grew heavier as he drove into Flagstaff. He stayed in the right lane, trying to blend in as he made his way through town. Checking his rearview mirror, his heart skipped a beat. A highway patrol cruiser was on his tail. He reminded himself to stay calm. Plenty of cars and trucks were passing him in the left lane. Sooner or later some speeder would come along for him to chase. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead, but the cruiser never passed. He looked back in the rearview mirror. It was still on his tail, only now its lights were flashing. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead and he checked his speedometer. He wasn't speeding. Moments later he heard a siren.
His mind raced as he cursed under his breath and fought the urge to panic. He had come up with the perfect plan, but then Rachel somehow got loose and tried to strangle him. No doubt her body had been found by now. Somehow, they must have identified her and linked him to her disappearance.
He had two options. Pull over and surrender, and end up serving life in prison, or worse, or simply run. If he could ditch the cops and find a place to hide, he might, with any luck, make his way into Mexico, especially if he traveled at night. It would be risky, but he had no other choice. He punched the accelerator and wove his way through the traffic. The cruiser stayed on his tail. Three more soon joined the chase. Craig was doing well over ninety miles per hour as he drove out of Flagstaff, weaving in and out of traffic and nearly colliding with a minivan and a tractor-trailer rig. As he tried to outrun the cops, the ending scene from the old movie, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, played through his mind. Butch and Sundance fought until the very end, choosing to go out in a blaze of glory instead of being captured. He would do the same, and even if he didn't make it, he would at least have the satisfaction of knowing he had taken his revenge on Rachel Bennett by making sure she had proceeded him in death. With any luck, he would get to spend an eternity in Hell tormenting her.
Craig whipped around a gray Jeep, nearly knocking it off the road. He was now well past the city limits, and, for the moment, there were no other cars immediately ahead of him. He clamped down on the accelerator. The truck was now going over one hundred miles an hour. He looked back in the rearview mirror. Five cruisers were in pursuit. He turned his sights back to the road ahead. Traffic had suddenly bunched up in both lanes. Seconds later he realized it had stopped, and he was coming up too fast on a tanker truck. He slammed on the brakes with both feet, but it was too late. He heard the loud boom as his airbag deployed, along with the sound of metal crunching into metal as he was engulfed in a fireball. He screamed in agony as the flesh burned off his body. Several excruciating seconds would pass before his world finally went black.
***
IT WAS A FEW MINUTES past nine o'clock on Monday night when Bruce called Matt and Shane for another meeting. Detective Anderson had new information for the family. Donny and Alice were already there when Matt and Emma arrived. Shane rang the doorbell a few minutes later. As he came into the dining room, Alice stood from her chair and greeted him with a hug.
"How are you holding up?" she asked.
"As well as can be expected. How about you?"
"The same."
She pointed to the empty chair on her right. The doorbell rang again as Shane took his seat between Alice and Emma. Both detectives had somber expressions on their faces as they came in and took their seats.
"So, I take it you have news for us," said Bruce.
"Yes, we do." Cruz looked at his partner. "Earlier today a state trooper in Flagstaff spotted a red Dodge Ram truck with California plates on westbound Interstate Forty. He ran the plates, and they matched Craig Walker's truck."
"Thank God," said Julie. "Our prayers have been answered. So, where's my daughter?"
"I'm afraid we still don't know where Rachel is," said Anderson.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Shane was clearly angry. "Didn't you question him once you got him into custody?"
"I'm afraid it's not that simple. They tried to pull him over, but it quickly escalated into a high-speed chase."
"Wait a minute!" exclaimed Matt. "I saw the story on the six o'clock news tonight. Is this the same red pickup truck that crashed into a tanker truck and burst into flames? They said they couldn't release any of the names until they notified the next of kin."
"I'm afraid so," said Cruz. "They set up a roadblock a few miles west of Flagstaff. Unfortunately, Craig Walker's truck crashed into a tanker truck carrying gasoline. The tank ignited and the pickup truck caught fire. Fortunately, the truck driver escaped injury and no one else was hurt. However, the driver of the pickup truck was killed."
The color drained from Julie's face. Her voice sounded mechanical. "Was my daughter in the pickup?"
"No ma'am, she was not," said Cruz. "They only recovered one body. It was a male, burned beyond recognition. The body has been taken to the coroner's office in Flagstaff. They'll have to use dental records to make a positive ID, but we have every reason to believe he's Craig Thomas Walker."
Everyone sat in stunned silence.
"They recovered something from the wreckage we think may have belonged to Rachel." Cruz opened his folder and removed a photo. "This was found inside the truck cab. It's part of a woman's shoe. Do you recognize it?"
He handed Julie the photo. All that remained of the shoe was the heel. A section of the leather hadn't burned and was still blue. As she studied it, her eyes filled with tears.
"It's from one of her blue shoes. The ones she wore at her sister's wedding." She dropped the photo and started sobbing. Alice picked it up and also started crying.
"So what happened to my sister?"
Donny squeezed her hand. "No, Alice, don't."
Alice was undaunted. "So why aren't you out looking for my sister? She wasn't in the truck, which means she's still out there somewhere, and you need to go find her."
"No, Alice," said Donny.
"Ma'am, I know you want us to find your sister," said Cruz, "and I wish, more than anything, that we'd been able to get to her in time, but I'm afraid it didn't work out that way. Based on the evidence found in the suspect's home, and by some of the witness statements, we believe that Craig Thomas Walker kidnapped your sister with the intention of raping her."
Alice cried harder. Donny tried to console her.
"They also found a shovel locked in a steel cargo box in the back of the pickup truck. It was undamaged by the fire, and there was fresh dirt on the blade, indicating that it had been recently used."
Julie and Bruce fell into each other's arms. Both were crying.
"No!" shouted Shane. "She's not dead, and you'll never convince me that she's dead. I'm going to find her. If I have to look under every rock, tree, and bush between here and Flagstaff, I'm going to find her."
Alice wrapped her arms around him. Emma grabbed him from the other side and both women tried to console him. Julie turned to Bruce.
"I have to call Al. He needs to know." She started sobbing again.
"I really wish we could have had a better outcome for this," said Anderson. "However, based on the evidence, we believe Rachel was killed sometime between Saturday night and this morning, and, as well all know, there's a lot of open wilderness in northern Arizona, especially up on the Navajo reservation. I'm afraid the chances of her body being found are slim at best. My partner and I are both very sorry for your loss." He placed a few of his business cards on the table. "The case is officially closed, but please, don't hesitate to call us if you have any further questions. We can see ourselves out."