“If she dropped Candace in the mine, we’d never have figured this out,” Regan said.
“Or maybe someone would have come forward because they didn’t have the scapegoat in Joseph Abernathy.”
“Good point. Let’s go.”
“Go?”
“Yes. I’ll call the police on the way, but I don’t want to wait for them. Rachel certainly isn’t going to wait. As soon as she gets there, Lucas is going to die. I’m a great driver, I’ll gain on her. How long ago did she get him?”
Lizzy looked at her phone. “I called you, like, one minute after. That was at four fifty-six.”
It was five twenty-five now. Rachel had thirty minutes on them.
“It’s nearly a three-hour drive. We’re going to punch it. I hope you don’t get carsick.”
Forty-Seven
Regan called Detective Hernandez as she drove and laid everything out, including what she was doing. He would contact the Gila County Sheriff’s Department and the Payson Police Department. Regan told him which mine they were going to first but gave him all three locations. When he suggested she stand down and let the authorities handle it, she hung up.
She was not standing down. Lucas was in danger. If the police could set up a command center first and find him, great; if not, she wasn’t going to take the chance that he might die.
They drove in silence for a long time, which was fine by Regan. South Lake Mary Road wound through Coconino National Forest, but she knew it well. Eventually, it would hit Highway 87, which was just as winding but smoother.
There were better roads, but this was the fastest way. She assumed that Rachel had gone this way as well—less chance of being seen by law enforcement than on the interstate, and Rachel would assume that they’d be looking for her car. Rachel would also be following the speed limit to avoid being pulled over; Regan didn’t care. She’d gone through extensive road training at FLET-C and took every advanced driving class that she could because she enjoyed it. So while she was breaking a lot of traffic laws as she drove, she was gaining on Rachel.
She wasn’t going to lose Lucas. She should have insisted he stay at her dad’s.
She hadn’t seen who Rachel really was. She’d suspected that once Rachel knew that Nicole was going to make a full recovery, she’d bolt. That self-preservation was more important to her than revenge. Clearly, Rachel was far more devious and unbalanced than Regan had seen from her actions.
“Your driving is scaring the hell out of me,” Lizzy said.
That’s what her older brother used to say, and that was before she had offensive driver’s training.
“Are you going to puke?”
“No.”
“Just navigate for me once we hit Payson. We’re still an hour out. Hold on.”
Rachel mentally went through her checklist.
She had money, but it wouldn’t last forever. Once she dumped Lucas she would head down to Fountain Hills. One of her sorority sisters lived there, and she had done Donna a huge favor…namely, helped her get her dream job. She’d stay there one night, trade her Jeep in for another car, then leave and head east. She wanted to go to Tucson—she knew that area well—but being smart meant avoiding familiar places.
She had another friend who lived in Las Cruces, and Rachel could make that drive in a day. She’d close out her bank account and continue heading east. Or north. A big city where she could disappear, get another identity, rebuild her life. Dye her hair, get a stylish new cut, find a way to lie low.
She needed a better long-term plan, but she’d work on it along the way. She’d never thought she’d have to leave Flagstaff. She’d built something really amazing there, and now it was gone, thanks to the drooling dope in the back seat.
Rachel would be okay for a while. She emailed the department head, saying she had a personal crisis and was going to stay with her aunt in Oregon. She apologized but sent along the rest of her semester plans for her classes and said her assistants could handle everything. She didn’t want to leave anyone in the lurch.
It infuriated her that she had to do it in the first place.
Because of Lucas Vega.
She did have the wherewithal to switch out her phone. She couldn’t have the police tracking her.
She would have to dye her hair. Dammit, she wasn’t as cute as a brunette. Maybe…red? A nice strawberry blonde. That: she’d still be cute.
Still didn’t make her happy.
She should have had at the ready a better escape plan, except that Rachel had never actually thought she’d have to leave.