Chapter 1
It had been a long time since she'd been in Chicago. She'd forgotten how damned cold the city was. Even in the summer, the wind blew in off the lake, chilling you through to your bones. She pulled her summer jacket tightly around her. She would have to go and buy a better coat. Later. She drained the last of the coffee from the Styrofoam cup and tossed it into the trash can on the sidewalk, not taking her eyes off the entrance to the apartment block across the street. She'd been here nearly an hour now, and she was starting to feel conspicuous. Her wig was making her head itch, and sweat was collecting around the rims of the huge sunglasses on her eyes, despite the cold.
There was movement from behind the glass door of the apartment block. Finally. She set off across the street, heading straight for the door, fumbling in her bag as she went.
A young woman opened the door from the inside and Gretchen saw instantly she was struggling with a pushchair, trying to manoeuvre it whilst holding the door open. Gretchen grabbed the door and held it for the young woman.
'Oh, here, let me help' she said, smiling at the woman.
'Thanks' said the woman, smiling gratefully as she pushed the stroller and it's screaming occupant out onto the tarmac. She turned hesitantly.
'Er- do you live in the building?'
Her eyes flicked to the 'Please do not hold the door' sign in bold letters on the door frame.
'Oh, yes, just looking for my keys' Gretchen smiled disarmingly and walked through the doorway, leaving the woman on the doorstep. She walked straight over the mailboxes in the far corner and bent to look at the names. She found him within seconds. Fourth floor, apartment 15. She turned to see the young mom still at the doorway, making a fuss of the baby and sneaking a glance at her. Gretchen waved brightly and strode over to the elevator.
She found apartment 15 and pressed her ear up to the door. She was pretty sure there was no one home – she had watched the family leave earlier – but she wanted to make sure. It was quiet inside. Reaching into her bag she removed a small leather wallet, which she unzipped to reveal a selection of tools. Choosing one, she picked the apartment lock within seconds and let herself in.
Jeez, what a tip. There were clothes scattered around, shoes and baby toys all over the floor, the remnants of breakfast still sitting out on the breakfast bar.
Gretchen gingerly moved a plate, congealed with egg and grease to one side and sat down at the breakfast bar to wait.
She didn't need to wait long. About half an hour later, there was the sound of the key in the lock and the door opened. Sucre, laden down with shopping bags, struggled through the door. He didn't even notice her at first, and set the bags down on the floor. It was only when he straightened up he noticed her.
Startled, he reached over to the drawer in the cabinet by the door, but she smiled at him.
'Looking for this?' she asked, lifting his Beretta off the counter top and waving it casually in front of her.
He frowned. The voice. He recognised the voice.
'Sit down Fernando' she said, gesturing to the stool next to her. 'We have lots to talk about. And you need to make some phone calls. It's going to be a busy morning.'
Lincoln & Sara
'What did he say this was about?' Sara asked as they got out of the car.
'He didn't' Lincoln answered. 'He sounded a little off on the phone, said he couldn't go into details…' Lincoln's voice trailed off as he looked at Sucre's apartment building. He frowned. Something was up, he knew it.
'You thinking we might be walking into something here?' Sara asked, nervously.
Lincoln didn't answer for a moment.
'No' he said, finally. 'I trust Sucre'
'Then let's go see what he wants' Sara said, closing the door. She set off towards the apartment building and Lincoln followed, scanning the car park and beyond.
They pressed the button for apartment 15 and he buzzed them in immediately.
'Come on up' Sucre's voice over the tannoy.
They went inside and up the stairs to Sucre's apartment. The door was ajar and Lincoln reached out and gently pulled Sara behind him. He opened the door cautiously, but caught sight of Sucre almost immediately. He was sitting at the breakfast bar and he smiled openly as he caught sight of Lincoln and Sara.
Lincoln exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and entered the apartment.
'Hey, man' he said, putting his hand out to Sucre.
'Hey, Pappy' Sucre said warmly, standing up to greet them both.
There was a woman sitting on the stool next to Sucre. It wasn't Maricruz. Lincoln glanced over her, then looked back, sure there was something familiar about her. The way she held herself, the attitude emanating from her even as she sat casually on a stool. It was Sara that recognised her first.
'Gretchen' she said, in disgust.
'What the hell-' Lincoln turned to Sucre, confusion and anger on his face. 'What is she doing here?'
'It's good to see you too Lincoln' Gretchen said, coolly. 'I see you haven't lost your charm. I've always liked that about you.'
'I thought you were dead' Lincoln said, brushing past her and opening the fridge door. He removed a beer, popped the top and took a long swig. 'Can't say I was broken up about it. What, did you change your hair or something?'
'Something like that' Gretchen retorted sarcastically.
'Pappy, she has something to tell us' Sucre said. 'Something incredible.'
'Tell them' he gestured to Lincoln and Sara, who both turned to look at Gretchen.
'First, I need to know you'll help me-' Gretchen began.
Lincoln exhaled in disgust and turned away.
'What have you brought her here for?' he asked Sucre, unable to keep the anger and frustration out of his voice. 'We are done with this! We've been done with this for four years!'
'Michael is alive' Gretchen announced, calmly. She held Lincoln's gaze as she watched his expression change. His brows knitted together and he was momentarily speechless. Sucre raised his hands in Gretchen's direction as if to answer Lincoln's question. Sara's hand flew to her mouth.
'You're crazy' Lincoln said, finally. 'Or you're a liar. Probably both.'
'Yes, I am' agreed Gretchen, cheerfully. 'But that doesn't change the fact that your brother left that prison in Miami very much alive.'
Behind her, Sara let out a cry and Sucre moved towards her. She looked like she was going to faint, and she put out a hand to steady herself.
'What the hell are you talking about?' Lincoln asked in disgust. 'Sara saw Michael die. She saw him blow the main fuse.'
'Did she?' asked Gretchen. She turned to Sara. 'Is that true Sara? Did you actually see Michael die?'
Sara was wide eyed with shock and her hand was still covering her mouth.
'I- yes, I saw him, I saw the sparks –' her mind was reeling.
'You saw sparks?' prodded Gretchen, watching the doubt creep over Sara's face. 'Did you actually see Michael get electrocuted?'
Sara stared at her, then she looked at Lincoln and Sucre, her mind working over the details of that night, more than four years ago now.
'No – but' she started.
Gretchen raised a hand in triumph.
'Well, he was very much alive in the warden's office' she said. 'After I got busted I was taken there. I heard them talking to him. He collapsed in there, and they had to get some medics to him, but he was alive when they wheeled him out. I'm sure of it.'
Sara whimpered again and sat down, her legs no longer able to hold her up. Her mind reeled. This wasn't possible! Michael alive? How could that be? And where was he? Why hadn't he contacted her?
Lincoln strode over to Gretchen and took hold of the collar of her shirt with both of his hands. He brought his face close to hers and shook her, unable to keep his anger under control.
'You listen to me' he said, speaking deliberately and slowly, menace in his every word. 'You need to leave here now. I don't want to see you ever again, do you understand? I don't care how much you've changed your face or your hair, you're still the same lying, scheming, cold hearted selfish bitch.'
Gretchen stared back at him, unflinchingly.
'Lincoln' Sara said, her voice strained and tremulous. 'What if she's telling the truth?'
'She's not' he said, loosening his grip on Gretchen's shirt and pushing her away from him. She recovered quickly and smoothed her clothes down.
'You've got such a way with the ladies Lincoln' she said, completely unfazed. She flashed her eyes playfully at him. 'I've missed being around such a strong man. Too many doctors lately.'
Lincoln raised his fist as though to punch her, but then turned away in disgust.
'Get out of here' he said, opening the fridge and getting another beer. Gretchen stood and picked up her purse.
'Lincoln?' Sara said again, her voice stronger this time.
'What?' he snapped, turning to face Sara.
She flinched, but carried on anyway.
'What if she is telling the truth?' she repeated.
'It's over Sara!' he said quietly. 'Michael is dead. I don't want that to be true any more than you do, but we've just started picking up the pieces again. You know we can't trust a word that woman says. You above all people know that!'
Sara shivered. The skin on her back prickled slightly.
'I don't trust her any more than you do' she said with a quiet determination. 'But if there is even a chance that Michael is still alive, then we have to listen to what she has to say.'
'I'm not listening to a word that woman says' he said, hotly. 'Even if it were true, that doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean he's alive now. It's been over four years Sara. He would have found a way to get in touch with us. We would know!'
He turned away.
'Lincoln' She waited until he turned back to look at her. 'The whole time you were in Fox River, Michael never gave up on you. Even when things went bad and it looked like you were going to the chair – he never gave up. What would he do if he were here now and it was you we were talking about?'
Lincoln rubbed his stubble, his face and then his head. He knew she was right. Fox River seemed like another lifetime ago. Nobody wanted to believe Michael could be alive more than he did, but….. Gretchen? She had proved she couldn't be trusted. Repeatedly.
He looked over at Gretchen.
'Tell us what you know' he said gruffly. 'But if this turns out to be bullshit, I swear to God, you will need more than a plastic surgeon.'
'There you go again with the sweet talk' she said, arching her eyebrows.
'Just tell it' he growled.
'Ok, ok' she agreed.