Elizabeth Cassadine halted in the doorway, her eyes fastened hungrily on the man who haunted her dreams.

The man whose brother she was married to.

With a sigh, Elizabeth took the tray containing the cup of coffee into the study.

“Lucky?” She said his name once and he didn’t look up. She sighed inwardly, once upon a time he would have felt her presence without her needing to say a word.

Just like she could still feel his.

She shook her head. Get over it Elizabeth. You married Nikolas. You chose Nikolas.

God help you if at this moment you can’t remember why.

“Lucky? Your mom thought you might like some coffee.” She placed the tray on the coffee table.

“I love you and I know what you have to do. It’s what I would do. Please don’t hate yourself. Please.”

Emily’s voice on the videotape caught Liz’s attention. How many times had he sat there and watched it?

She gently put her hand on his shoulder. “”You can’t do this to yourself Lucky.”

Lucky looked up at her, his blue eyes hollow. A shutter clamped down over his face when he saw who it was, a mask of professionalism. “Until the sweep teams come up with something or the lab boys gets lucky this videotape is the best clue we have.” Lucky punched some codes into his computer. He was playing the videotape on the computer, using a high density digital program to get a close up on the room, desperate for some kind of clue in the background that would tell him where she was.

“Can’t somebody else do this?”

“It’s my job Elizabeth. It’s what I’m good at it. Frisco handles the intrigue, Robin figures it out, and I do the computer work.” He tried to forget who it was he was talking to. Seeing her again, being this close to her again, it was more than he could handle with Emily missing. He didn’t love Elizabeth. Or at least he no longer actively loved her. But that didn’t mean he had no feelings for her. It didn’t mean that he didn’t feel her pull. It didn’t mean that a part of him still didn’t hate her for choosing HIM all those years ago.

God he wished Emily was here. If he closed his eyes he could almost feel her touch, hear her whisper. She would understand the mass of confused feelings in him at the moment, the same feelings he was desperate to push away and bury under twenty concrete tons of denial. He loved Elizabeth. He hated Elizabeth. He was over Elizabeth. He would never be over Elizabeth. It didn’t help any that he was here on Wyndemere where he swore he would never return. It didn’t help that in other rooms were the people he had sworn to avoid. His mother. Nikolas. Stefan. Even Luke.

And it didn’t help that the one person who could restore his sanity was the one person he was losing his mind worrying about.

It didn’t help at all.

He waited for Elizabeth to leave. Wanted her to leave. “Did you need anything else?” The words came out harsher than he intended but he didn’t care.

Elizabeth flinched and bit her tongue back to keep from saying the one thing she wanted to say. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No.” He looked up at her. Damn he hadn’t meant to hurt. “No, thank you. Unless Frisco and Robin are back....”

Elizabeth shook her head. She was still finding it hard to believe that Robin Scorpio, who she vaguely remembered from the Nurse’s Ball was a WSB agent. And engaged to Frisco Jones. Her godfather. You can’t judge Elizabeth. You loved two brothers at the same time. And maybe married the wrong one. She shivered.

“I’m worried about Emily too.” Liz said softly. “She is one of my best friends.”

That statement caught Lucky’s attention. Right. He debated arguing the statement with her, knowing full well that the relationship between Emily and Liz had been severed years ago, but he found that he didn’t want to waste any energy on Liz. Not now. Right now he just wanted to focus on doing his job and finding Emily. He turned back to his computer screen and replayed a section of the tape that he had blown up.

There had to be something he was missing. Something.

Liz watched him, aware that his attention had once again shifted from her to the computer screen. To Emily.

“That’s it.” Lucky murmured excitedly as he replayed a section again. “Dammit. It was right there. She was giving us a clue.”

“What?” Lucky’s commotion had attracted the attention of Nikolas and Laura in the other room. “What did you find?”

Lucky grinned for the first time since he had stupidly left Emily’s side to purse the phantom shooter. “That’s my girl.” Lucky exulted. He blew up the section of the message he was interested in. “Watch her hands. Or more precisely her fingers.”

“What?” Laura stepped closer and then after a moment she noticed it two. “Numbers? She’s making numbers with her fingers?”

“What is it some kind of private code?” Nikolas asked.

“I don’t know.” Lucky was scribbling down the numbers that Emily was forming with her fingers even as she read Faison’s message. Two fingers crossed. Then three. Then three again. Then one. 2331.

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s not an area code or a zipcode.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

Marcus Taggert lay awake, watching the even breathing of his girlfriend Lark Madison as she slept next to him. She’d taken the kidnapping of her boss and good friend Emily Quartermaine hard. It had been Emily who had forgiven Lark for Lark’s part in the shooting at the Outback that had almost cost Emily her life, that had cost two innocent people theirs. It was Emily who had understand why Lark had given in to Johnny’s blackmail and Emily who had not only kept Lark on at ELQ but given her a promotion. As a result, Emily had Lark’s undying friendship and loyalty. Lark wasn’t alone in her loyalty. The news of Emily’s kidnapping had roared through ELQ with an impact that hadn’t been felt there since Edward Quartermaine’s murder by his grandson Jason Morgan.

Lark had worked late at ELQ helping AJ to liquidate some assets so that they would have the ransom money on hand just in case the theory that Faison had Emily was wrong. He didn’t think it was. He remembered Faison from before when he had come to Port Charles and played his games while they all thought Lucky was dead. The man was a sick bastard. He hated the thought that a friend, and he had come to consider Emily a friend over the last six months, was in his hands. Not to mention an innocent child like Lulu. God he wanted to be on that case. Wanted it more than anything. But Mac had given him his orders. The WSB was handling it. The local boys were not getting involved in this one.

Right. His finger traced the spot on the pillow where Lark had cried softly before falling asleep. Somebody ought to tell whoever the hell directed the WSB that he was already involved.

In the morning he’d make sure that Lark was okay and then he’d head over to Wyndemere and demand that the Three Amigos let him in on the case. He’d use the fact that they owed him for almost dying when Emily’s would be assassin had shot him all those months ago. He’d even rip off his shirt and show them the scars just in case they needed any reminding.

He wasn’t above using guilt.

He’d just about fallen asleep when the phone rang.

Twenty minutes later, a hastily dressed Lark and Taggert met Lucky in front of the ELQ building.

“Hang on,” Lark used her keys to unlock the building and turn off the alarm. Then the three of them headed for the elevator to take them to the executive offices.

“I appreciate this.” Lucky mumbled.

“For Emily? This is nothing compared to what I owe her,” Lark said softly. “I’m as worried about her as you are. Or almost anyway.”

Lucky looked into her dark eyes and smiled. ‘Thanks.”

They made their way from the elevator to Emily’s executive suite. Lark looked around the files and at Emily’s computer screen.

“Okay, give me those numbers again...”

“2331,” Lucky began leafing through Emily’s files looking for any reference to those numbers.

“It’s not a phone number or an area code or a zip code..” Lark began as she moved to Emily’s desk. She wrote the numbers out on a post it and stared at them. Thinking carefully, she put in some dashes and looked at the numbers again. 2-3-31. “It’s a birthday.” She exclaimed then reached into Emily’s desk swearing softly when the top drawer was locked. “Damn it. Only Emily has a key. Now we’ll have to wait for a locksmith.”

Taggert looked at her with a grin. “Are you telling me there’s something in that drawer that can tell you where Emily is?”

Lark bit her lip. What if she was wrong? She nodded. “I think so.”

Taggert had started to draw his gun when he felt Lucky’s hand on his shoulder. He turned to find that Lucky had already aimed his weapon at the lock. With one careful precise shot, he shot the lock on the drawer, splintering it.

“Nice silencer,” Taggert said with a note of envy.

Lucky nodded, his attention on Lark as she rummaged through the desk. He made a mental note to order Emily a new desk.

“How much can a new desk cost?”

He hadn’t realized he had asked the question out loud until Lark replied as she pulled out a small leather book. “This one? Emily had it custom made. I think it ran three or four if I remember.”

“Three or four hundred? That’s not bad.”

“Three or four thousand.” Lark said absently as she began leafing through the pages.

“Good thing your girlfriend is a billionaire huh?” Taggert grinned enjoying the momentary discomfort on Lucky’s face. WSB agents might get better toys but he had a feeling the PCPD paid better.

“Here it is.” Lark murmured excitedly holding the book so Taggert and Lucky could see it. “Marcus Holstein, CEO of Littlefield Industries. Birth date 2-3-31. Emily was carefully to keep track of birthdays of people she worked with or who were affiliated with companies she was interested in. She was always careful to remember birthdays, anniversaries, etc.”

“Tell me about Littlefield Industries.” Lucky was scribbling on his notepad.

“Here I can get you the file...” Lark walked over to a filing cabinet and quickly pulled a manila folder out. “Littlefield Industries....they own a manufacturing plant, a chain of furniture stores, some restaurant franchises, an amusement park in Georgia that Emily visited last month. She said it was badly mismanaged but had potential. She thought ELQ could pick it up for a song and make it profitable fast....”

“Lark...” Taggert interrupted. “What else? Something about Littlefield ... reason why Emily would lead us in this direction”

“Okay,” Lark racked her brain trying to remember.... “Hotels. That was the other division Emily was interested in. Littlefield owns a chain of low budget motel rooms across the Atlantic Seaboard. Emily thought ELQ could expand its interest in the hotel industry to include low budget kind of hotels something like Motel 6 but with ELQ style.”

Lucky’s attention snapped forward as he replayed the tape in his mind. The bed. The cheap furniture. “The chain. What was the name of the chain?”

“It’s here....Sleepover Inn’s. They have over 25 separate locations.”

Lucky flipped open his cell phone and quickly dialed a number. “Donnelly. It’s Spencer. I think I have a clue where Emily is but I need your help....”

Ten minutes later, with Lark and a determined to be involved Taggert along for the ride, Lucky made his way back to Wyndemere feeling for the first time since that first email arrived that maybe he could beat Faison at this particular game.

The Cottage

Robin stood at the threshold uneasily. It was still hard to believe that Faison had stayed here with his associates while he stalked poor Lulu Spencer and planned her kidnapping. She was surprised to realize as she walked into the room that most of the furniture hadn’t really changed that much from when she had lived there. She could almost picture Brenda walking down the stairs and for a moment her heart ached for the friend she would always miss. She could see herself and Jason and Michael sitting on the floor in front of the couch playing with the little boy’s toys. How had one lie managed to destroy so many lives? Jason in jail. Carly....dead. Clinically, professionally, Robin had no regrets about shooting Carly. If she hadn’t, Michael might have died. Carly had snapped at the end, her desperation to get her son back sending her spiraling over the edge. Almost literally. Still even though she had been completely exonerated in the shooting, Robin knew there was a part of her that would always wonder if she could have prevented that particular chain of events from unfolding. If she had told the truth sooner? If she had recognized earlier that for all that she had once loved Jason it was a destructive love? She shuddered for a moment as she looked around her and saw only ghosts and might have beens.

“Love?” Frisco’s arm snaked around her waist as he pulled her close. He gently nuzzled her hair, unmindful of the fact that they were both WSB agents assigned to an important case involving the lives of people they held very close. For this one second she was only Robin and he was only Frisco, two people who had fallen in love and stayed together despite the odds. Two people who in a few months would be married. “Any ghosts you need me to banish?” He said the words lightly but the look on his face told he that he was ready to fight any kind of ghost that loomed.

She shook her head. “Nothing here but a beautiful future.” She gave him a quick kiss and then a look that promised more as he grinned. “Did the techs find anything?”

Frisco sighed in frustration. “Nothing. Not a scap of food. Or a loose fiber. Nothing. Nothing to indicate that Faison even stayed here. If we didn’t have a positive ID from the realtor he rented the place from, I’d say we were at the wrong house.”

Robin shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. Faison made no real effort to disguise the fact that he rented this place. It wasn’t that hard for us to track him here. Why? Faison likes to play games. He knew we would be here. It’s not like him not to leave us some kind of clue, even if it some kind of cryptic riddle that makes no sense and sends us off on a wild goose chase.”

Sonny Corinthos looked around at the various technicians and equipment that filled the room. He had tagged along when Robin and Frisco decided to check the progress on the sweep of the cottage himself. “Maybe the old boy is getting tired of playing games.”

Robin shook her head. “Not Faison. He lives to play his games. What he did to my mother....” she takes a deep breath. “Faison sees himself as the puppetmaster, pulling the strings and jerking us along. In his mind he’s already won because he’s smarter than we are. So now he has to prove it. If all he wanted was to hurt Lucky, Emily’s body would be lying in some dumpster somewhere.” She pretends not to notice the sudden paling of Sonny’s expression. “He has no reason NOT to kill her.”

“He has no reason to kill her.” Sonny inserts.

“Yes he does. He hates Lucky at the same time that he is obsessed with Lucky. With both of us really. Faison is the manipulator. . Like I said, if all he wanted to do was to hurt Lucky he would have killed them and left their bodies somewhere Lucky would find them. But he doesn’t just want to hurt Lucky. He has to prove to himself that the fact that Lucky and I and Frisco escaped his game was a fluke. He has to prove to himself that he is still the smartest, that he, not us, is still pulling the strings. He has to play the game. It’s like a sickness in him.” Robin looked around her. “The question is where did he leave the game piece?”

Sonny shrugged. “As clean as this place is I don’t think you are going to find anything.”

“That’s it.” Frisco exclaimed. “That’s what wrong. This place is too clean. Almost like he was setting a stage.” He grabbed the WSB technician walking by. “Do we have a phosphorus kit?” When the technician nodded, Frisco waved his arm to encompass the room. “Then I want this room done.”

“What...” Sonny began to ask as a sudden flurry of activity spread throughout the room.

“It’s like this,” Frisco explained a few minutes later as they sat the lamp in the middle of the room. “Phosphorus is a chemical that can pick up traces of blood. Even blood that has been cleaned up. Wherever there was blood when we turn the lights off and this lamp on, it will glow in the dark like toys you buy for kids. No matter how hard they tried to clean the blood, if there was blood in this room at all this room will light up.” Frisco paused. “Are we ready?” When the others nodded, a lab tech switched off the lights and Frisco turned on the lamp.

Sonny felt the nausea rising as he stared around the living room of the cottage. There were bright green and glowing swatches on the walls, the couches, the rugs, etc. Some of it was a large swipe and some of it was small spattering dots.

But it was the message written on the large picture over the mantel that drew Sonny’s attention. There in letters that looked like someone used their fingers to smear the blood were written the words ... One Must Die.

And not caring about the presence of the WSB technicians or Robin or Frisco, Sonny took one look at the remnants of blood that filled the room and found himself leaving the room to vomit in the bushes outside.

Someplace

Emily sat in the dark, her hands wrapped around her knees. Her mind playing back the message that Faison had forced her to read. She shivered. There was no light in the room she was in, just darkness. Not the kind of darkness you could make out shapes in, but total and complete darkness. The absence of light. Black ink.

She was going to need to stock up on nightlights when this was over. And thousands of dollars worth of therapy. Maybe move into a place that had no walls, only windows. Someplace where it would never be dark again.

Six days. Faison had given Lucky six days to find her. She knew that Lucky would do everything he could to find her. She hoped he picked up on the clue she had given him. But six days? Faison had kept Lucky hidden for three times that long and even then when Robin and Frisco rescued Lucky from everything she understood they hadn’t even been looking for Lucky.

How could anyone find her in just six days? They couldn’t. It wasn’t impossible.

Hell she didn’t want to die. Not now. Once upon a time she wouldn’t have minded. Once upon a time during her darkest days she had even fantasized taking her own life.

But to paraphrase the title of a book she had read in high school, that was then and this is now.

Now she had a job she loved and that she was damned good at. She had the respect of the business community. She had earned the respect of business leaders around the globe. She was closer to her parents, her grandmother, her brother and her nephew than she had ever been. She had friends, real friends, in Lark and Taggert. She had dreams and goals and aspirations, some her own, some she carried forth for her grandfather, and some had yet to be born. And above all of that, she had Lucky.

She didn’t want to die. Especially not this way. Even though he was being forced into it, she knew that Lucky would be tormented by the choice that Faison had put in front of him.

She stared into the darkness. So if you don’t want to die, what are you going to do about it Emily Quartermaine? She could almost hear her grandfather. See his face.

She looked into his eyes. I’m not giving up. If Lucky can’t find me in time to save me, than I’ll just have to save myself.

She could have sworn she heard her grandfather whisper “good girl....” in the darkness.