Always waking up before it hit.

Always.

He understood the symbolism, understood what his brain was trying to work out. Or at least he thought he did. It mirrored his life. The questions, the curiosity, snooping around under the hood, trying to figure out how the criminal mind worked. The fear of getting caught by surprise, of not being able to react in time.

All justified and reasonable. Both his fears and Jessica's. He debated on whether to call her, let her know he'd be late. Decided against it, sent her a text instead, telling her it was going to be a long night, and to keep the bed warm for him.

She replied right away. Told him she loved him and missed him, and to be safe.

He smiled, checked the time. Twelve minutes had pa.s.sed, and still no Barker.

He thought about Sh.e.l.ley, tried to scrutinize her profile. Atypical of what he knew and was accustomed to. Early twenties female, highly intelligent. Worked as close to Sara Winthrop as anybody could get. No real connection to the children yet, but it was close enough to matter. If she was involved with the kids, why go through all the trouble with the stripper? To frame Teddy Rutherford? Could be. From the way the people at the office talked about him, he was the obvious fall guy.

But what in the h.e.l.l would a pretty little girl from San Diego have against her boss? Has to be something big to take it this far...pretty little girl...San Diego...

San Diego...San Diego...

Something blipped on the radar in his mind. Something else about San Diego. Something from earlier in the day. Something he'd read.

Where else did I see that? Barker...Barker...the station...Sara's husband...reading his report...San Diego...

Brian Winthrop had made a trip to San Diego just months before he had gone missing.

And the connection is...?

He tried to play out the scenario in his head.

Brian Winthrop takes a trip to San Diego...he meets Sergeant somehow...she's working the bar at the hotel...couple of drinks...roll in the hay with a younger woman...thinks he's in love...flies home, can't stop thinking about her...disappears like a coward...leaves a wife and three little kids behind...

Promising. Happened often-more frequently than innocent wives and families deserved.

But if that were the case, it didn't explain what Sergeant was doing in Portland, working side by side with Sara, kidnapping her children.

He knew what Barker would say: 'Only G.o.d and walls know why people do what they do.'

He checked his watch again. Twenty minutes.

Can't wait anymore.

He opened his car door, stepped out into the street. Slowly made his way down the sidewalk.

Dreading this part. Dreading the approach.

And then he was saved from doing it alone with the slam of a car door and a loud whisper of, "DJ, hold up."

Barker trotted down the street toward him.

DJ, relieved, said, "About d.a.m.n time. What took you so long?"

"Had to stop and get you a fresh pair of panties," Barker said, patting him on the back. "She home?"

"Doesn't look like it. You think we've got enough for probable cause?"

"Wouldn't bet my paycheck on it, but I'm going with 'ready, fire, aim' on this one. I think you've earned the right to kick the door open this time. Have at it, JonJon."

DJ nodded and headed up the steps. Tried not to think about looking under the hood of a Mustang.

CHAPTER 20.

SARA.

Sara dumped Teddy into the car, lifting his legs and helping him inside. He managed to shut the door on his own, then collapsed back onto the seat.

Before getting in, she opened up the most recent texts on Michael's phone, the ones to Sis, and read through. They had started that morning.

Michael says: Packages secure. No trouble.

Sis says: Good. Samson confirms.

Michael says: Napoleon?

Sis says: Convinced him. Meet Samson as discussed. Lose the car.

Michael says: Enough time for Mother Goose?

Sis says: Yes. Stick to the plan.

Sara could see that some time had pa.s.sed between that and the next series.

Michael says: Took care of car. Barely made it. She's coming.

Sis says: Stop texting, idiot. CALL ME!

And then another break, followed by a series that must have occurred while she had been blindfolded in the back seat.

Michael says: On way to cabin. Mother Goose out of control.

Sis says: OMG, are you driving and texting?

Michael says: Yes drvng. Not sure abt this. Kids?

Sis says: They're ok. Do NOT text back. Drive.

Michael says: MG and Napo no prob, but kids? Too much. Can't do.

Sis says: You can and you WILL. If she gets out of line, use the penalty.

Michael says: ok you right. Jus dont hurt kids. Plaes.

Sis says: You will not order me, understand?

Michael says: Sry my fault.

Sis says: Mother would not approve of this disobedience.

Michael says: I no. Sry. But ples no pain for kids, okay?

Michael says: Sis?

Michael says: Sis?

Michael says: Sis?

The conversation ended there. Sara felt a cool chill ripple across her skin.

Michael had been struggling with abducting her children the whole time.

Sara got in the car, checked on Teddy, felt for a pulse. He was out cold, beaten and bruised, sitting in his own p.i.s.s-stained pants. Dried blood was caked around his nose, and his eyes were as purple as plums, his lips swollen. The gag had chafed the skin around the edges of his mouth. Bruises the size of eggplants were on his ribs and chest.

His breathing was slow, unsteady. He needed water, and she wished she'd remembered to bring the rest of her bottle.

He'd gotten the worst of it. His pain, his torture, was physical. Hers had been mental. He would eventually recover with the proper care. If he survived. She needed to get him to a hospital.

Sara cranked the ignition and sped down the gravel road. Trees and rocks and leaves and the stream flying by. She had no idea where she was, where she was going, or how far away she was from the city and her children. She remembered that they had originally been heading east. It felt east.

The sun, where's the sun? There. That way. West.

She checked the phone signal.

Searching...searching...searching...

And, just like Michael had said before he unlocked his own cage with a well-placed bullet, the familiar connection bars appeared about a mile from the cabin. She pulled over at the next wide spot along the shoulder and sat staring at the keypad. Once she sent the message, the game would resume, and she would be on her own again, trying to figure out how to turn the tables on a psychopath.

Where would I start? My own game?

She'll think I'm Michael...I can use that...misdirection...surprise her like they're doing in the Juggernaut storyline...the ally is the villain...

Or...throw her off...tell her I screwed up...the game is over...make her think I'm dead...

There's no game without me...if I'm dead, she'll have no use for the kids...bad idea.

Sara thumbed out: 'Penalty enforced. Ready for level three,' then took a deep breath, her finger hovering over the 'Send' b.u.t.ton.

Get it over with. Quit stalling.

She pressed it, and waited.

Teddy inhaled deeply, opened his eyes into two slits. "Why'd you stop?" He tried to sit up. Winced. Grunted. And then fell back onto the seat.

"We'll go soon," Sara said. "Waiting on something. Hopefully it won't take long, then we'll get you some help."

"I'm fine."

"Teddy, you don't have to do that."

"My right arm is completely numb, and my heart feels like it's beating funny, but other than that-when did I p.i.s.s myself?" he said, noticing the drying stain on his crotch.

"Earlier, when you thought he was going to shoot you."

"What a d.i.c.k. Who was that guy?"

"Doesn't matter."

"The h.e.l.l it doesn't, we need to tell the cops."

"He's dead, Teddy."

"Dead? Good. He deserved it."

"He had...problems."

"You think?"

Sara could understand the sarcasm, after what he'd been through. "It's not an excuse, I know, but he wasn't really-he wasn't in control of himself, if that makes any sense."

"You're defending him?"

"Not...he was...I felt-I felt sorry for him."

"C'mon, Sara. Really?"

"How much do you remember? Any idea whatsoever how you got here? Why you're here?" She checked the phone. No response. What's taking you so long?

"You saw me, didn't you? I wasn't exactly coherent."

"But what do you remember? You were going to tell me who you thought the woman on the phone might be, right before he-"

"Beat me half to death? Honestly, I don't have a clue. Sh.e.l.ley and I left the office about ten o'clock this morning-"

"Sh.e.l.ley? You left with Sh.e.l.ley? For what?"

He angled away from her, sucked in air through his teeth, put a hand on his ribs.