And then we are off to lovely Trinidad, Colorado. The big black van takes Lincoln and L.J. to a house in a secluded area. Some bland dude opens the van doors to let Linc out; Linc growls, "What are you looking at?" "A rude person!" El Blando replies. I wish. Anyway, we head inside the house, and Linc is still going on with the questions. The blonde, Jane, says, "All I can tell you is [that] he's on his way. His flight lands in an hour." Linc asks why he should trust Jane, and she replies serenely, "I don't see you have much of a choice." I should just reveal here that I dig Kristin Lehman, so I am tickled to see her here. It is my dream that she and Elaine Hendrix star together on a show where they play wise-cracking trophy wives who solve crimes. Can't you see it? Isn't it a beautiful dream? ["I feel that. She was so delightfully annoying on Felicity, too." -- Sars]
Ahem. Getting back on track... Jane quickly establishes that she's in charge of the situation and points out that they had also been expecting Michael. She asks where he is, and Linc replies, "Do you really think I'm going to answer that?" Jane replies, "You need to start cooperating with us, Lincoln." As if to emphasize how much Lincoln has already irritated her, Jane then touches her bloody lip. She points out she's only trying to help, and Linc broods as she waltzes off.
Speaking of broody, here's Michael's mug shot. Mahone's asking some hotel clerk if the little felon looks familiar, but... no dice. That would be because the hotel's a far classier joint than the one Dr. Sara's crashed at. The clerk alludes to the other hotel in town, which is our cue to transition to Dr. Sara just finishing her post-travel ablutions, and getting interrupted by a knock on the door.
A voice on the other side of the door tells her she's got a fax. Dr. Sara tells him to slide it under the door. He does, and she reads the message, "One hour. 16781 Butterfield Road." Well. Michael is nothing if not pithy.
And now, we cut to a shot of a car on an open road, and the music that we've associated with incipient race riots and improbable scheming. We're in Dinosaur, Nebraska, with a shirtless Sucre. That is the good news. The bad news is, the rest of his plot is ridiculously boring. Let's sum the whole thing up: Sucre's car breaks down. Yet he still manages to move around this great nation of ours and make a phone call to Maricruz's place, wherein he learns that she is currently taking what would have been her honeymoon in Mexico. Sucre asks her to call him back at the payphone, but when it rings, there's a cop nearby, and in a rare moment of self-preservation, Sucre decides not to answer. So he then calls back and asks Maricruz to meet him at the Ixtapa airport in a week. The reunion promises to be a fun one, as Maricruz's honeymoon plans are apparently news to Hector, and now he's off to reclaim his runaway bride.