With shaking hands, Sara unlocked the door and eased it open, stepping back to let Michael in first. "We should be safe here...he doesn't know about this place." She followed right after him, hastily shutting the door and locking it behind her. The cabin they had entered was secluded and newly built, on loan to Sara from one of her fellow clinic doctors. They scanned the interior, a roomy, open space with a cathedral ceiling. The wall opposite the door was windowed floor to ceiling, affording a view of the trees that surrounded the cabin; the wall to their right was made of stone with a fireplace set into it. A bathroom and small kitchen completed the entry level and there was a sleeping loft, accessible by ladder. It was well-appointed and comfortable, but most of all it felt like shelter. As they looked around, their eyes rested simultaneously on a grouping of family photos.
"Family photos, huh? Reminds me of the day we walked into Deb's condo in Miami," Michael told her softly.
"The day I found out I was pregnant with Mike."
Michael looked down at the floor, growing quiet at Sara's allusion to their son. He was trying to feel his way carefully with her. Their reunion in Crete had been very brief, with much left unsaid. They had been together again for only a few hours, and Mike had been snatched from them. Lincoln had been shot. Understandably, Sara's concern for their missing child was paramount. He didn't want her to panic again the way she had at the lake house.
"Michael, let me come with you! We'll get Mike back tonight!" Sara cried suddenly, grasping his arm.
He shook his head and told her in a sympathetic voice, "We have to wait until tomorrow, as hard as it will be."
"If I go along," she pleaded, "I can help you!"
"I'm sorry, but no. It isn't safe...we can't take that risk," he replied, regretful but firm. I'll persuade Poseidon- uh, Jacob to meet me, alone, tomorrow afternoon. You can get Mike back then, while Jacob's busy... dealing with me." His voice betrayed his barely-controlled rage. "Tonight, I need to go alone and try to get into his office."
"But-" Sara started. A tear trickled down her ashen cheek. "Tomorrow afternoon? Michael, I'm worried about him!"
"Yes, of course you are...so am I! But think about it, Sara. If we confront Jacob now, we could be putting Mike in danger. It will be dark soon. He's not going to leave a kid alone in that place, not at night, and we can't be sure where he's planning to keep him tonight...probably not at your house either."
"You're right," she conceded with a sigh. "I know you're right...but that doesn't make it any easier. I just want him back!"
Michael laid his hand gently on her shoulder. "I have spent the last four years working on a plan to bring down that son-of-a-bitch, and it can only work if you're on board. I need to know if you trust me, if you're with me on this." Michael looked at her intently, and she answered him with a silent nod.
"Okay, good! Listen, you know what he's like as...as a father," Michael reluctantly choked out the word. "How does he get along with Mike?"
Sara thought for a moment. "He's...good with him. He's never hurt him, or even spoken harshly to him. Mike thinks of him more as an uncle than a father, I'd say. They get along. But Jacob is not who I thought he was. He's a monster!" She slumped down onto the leather sofa in front of the fireplace, clearly anxious and disheartened. Sighing, she put her head in her hands.
Michael sat close to her and wrapped an arm comfortingly around her shoulder. "If we stick to the plan, we will get Mike back."
Sara turned to him. "We have to get him back, Michael! We have to!"
"And we will!" Michael took a deep breath, wondering how to deal with a version of Sara he had never known before: a mother on the verge of hysteria, whose son had been taken from her. He didn't know what else to say to allay her fears. He kissed the top of her head. "I need to go over to the campus now."
Sara stared down at her trembling hands and whispered, "Be careful then, okay?"
"Will you be alright alone here for a little while, sweetheart?" he asked her gently.
Michael drove away feeling woefully inadequate, worried he had failed to reassure Sara. Other thoughts tormented him as well: Had she been in love with Jacob? Did a part of her still love him? And what about Mike? His son had called Jacob "Dad!" Jacob Ness, the man he had known only as Poseidon, had been living with his wife and his son for three years, which was more time than he had had with them, he thought with outrage. He sighed and shook his head to clear those thoughts from his mind, willing himself to leave the past behind. Whether it was jet lag, his still-healing wounds or his sense of guilt, he was doubting himself and he knew he had to fight it. He despised Jacob; he was possessed by an all-consuming desire for revenge, and if he couldn't harness that fury it might bring him down. He had to get his son back, and Sara too. There was nothing else but that.
The stunt he was about to pull off would require him to be at the top of his game, cool-headed and clever. He would lure Jacob away from his secret office at the university, sending him to the zoo on a wild goose chase, and while he was gone, gain access to his office. In Jacob's absence, Michael could steal his incriminating hard drives and hold them as a bargaining chip. It was key to getting Mike back; he had to make it work.
After Michael left, Sara explored the cabin more fully and found it had been stocked with all the essentials: towels, toothbrushes, soap and shampoo. There were coffee, tea, cereal and cans of soup in the kitchen. She found matches and firewood and lit a fire in the fireplace. When the cabin had warmed up she took a long, hot shower, finally feeling relaxed for the first time all day. She made tea and sipped it in front of the fire, fretting about Mike, praying he was okay. Then she speculated on how Michael was doing, hoping his scheme was working out the way he had planned, wondering when he would be back. She thought about the long night that lay ahead with a mixture of dread and anticipation. She told herself to get a grip on her emotions, to steel herself to fight for her son. More than an hour later when she heard Michael's car pull up, she flung open the cabin door and peered out into the fog and the darkness, and her face fell when she saw that he was alone. "Mike wasn't there?"
"No." He met her at the door and gave her a hug. "But he was earlier! Look!" He handed her a picture, drawn in crayon that had been left behind by Mike. It was a picture of Sara standing with their dog outside their house. "I got his hard drives! We'll get Mike back tomorrow."
"Yes...tomorrow." Tears filled Sara's eyes, but she smiled at the picture. "It's beautiful... it's so like Mike to draw a rainbow in the sky."
Michael sighed, "I need you to stay strong for me. Can you do that, Sara?" He pulled back and looked into her eyes.
"I'll do whatever you say, whatever it takes, to get Mike back." Her voice held a new determination.
"That's my girl!" He kissed her forehead. "We ought to eat now and then try to get some sleep. I picked up dinner. You must be hungry!" He held out a bag of Chinese takeout food.
Sara took the bag from him and arranged the little cardboard cartons of Chinese food on the table in front of the fireplace, thinking how enchanting an evening this could have been, under different circumstances. "Cashew chicken, Szechuan beef and broccoli, egg rolls and jasmine rice?" she mused, looking up at Michael. "This is exactly what we ate in Chicago! On our first night back together. You remembered!"
He nodded. "That night was... rather memorable," he smiled, "a great beginning. Maybe it'll bring us luck."
Sara thought about Mike: by her reckoning, their son had probably been conceived that night, the very first time she and Michael had been intimate. "It's a lovely gesture, but I don't think I can eat anything."
He offered her the carton of egg rolls. "Just try a little. When did you last eat? It smells delicious," he said encouragingly. "You need to eat something, Sara, to keep up your strength. "
It did smell good, Sara admitted to herself. "You're right, I should. I probably won't sleep a wink tonight, and I haven't eaten all day."
When they had finished most of the food, Michael handed Sara a fortune cookie. She cracked it open and said ruefully, "Did you pick this one specifically for me? It says 'Make patience your ally.'" Michael opened his and his read, "'Courage is not the absence of fear; it is the conquest of it.'"