Adrienne spent a sleepless night on the lumpy, musty-smelling sofa in darkness that was deeper and more intense than anything she had ever experienced. The small windows, positioned just below the ceiling, were filthy, smudged with years of accumulated grime, and effectively blocked the moonlight from entering the large building. As a result, she was unable to see the shackle that gripped her ankle in its iron claw, but she could feel the weight of it and the chain that draped off the edge of the sofa and snaked across the floor to the support column to which it was secured, stark evidence that she was captive to criminals with unknown intentions.

In all probability, the local power company had terminated the electricity to the warehouse as soon as the business had closed its doors for the last time, and she wondered why Vaughn had not supplied candles or a lantern to the hapless guard who, like her, was forced to sit in the dark. The answer came to her almost as soon as she had considered it: Any light coming from the abandoned building might be noticed, and subsequently generate unwanted attention from local authorities. It was abundantly clear by their criminal behavior that these people wanted to avoid contact with law enforcement.

Carlton carried a flashlight, which he used sparingly to make his way around the building and sometimes out the small pedestrian door, presumably to check for indications that their presence had been discovered, but for the most part, he merely sat quietly in his chair and waited for the other guard to relieve him from duty.

Her mind was active with fear and worry, wondering at the true motivation for her kidnapping and their intentions toward her and the person they apparently believed was Steve. The vague taunts from Vaughn and Carlton's brief explanation had been insufficient to satisfy her questions or convince her that this person was any more than an imposter. After his short narrative, Carlton had ended his contact with her and made a pointed effort to avoid additional discussions, preferring to keep his distance and his silence. He retreated to his chair, and passed the first few hours reading a book, until the sun had set behind the rolling green hills, making it impossible to see the words.

Sometime around midnight, her first guard was replaced by a surly, restless man he called Jennings, who was the polar opposite of the more mild-mannered Carlton. She did not bother trying to strike up a conversation with Jennings in an effort to obtain more information. In contrast to Carlton, there was something about him that gave her to creeps. Even though he rarely spoke to her and spent most of his time outside, away from the total darkness inside the warehouse, she sensed hostility and hatred him; hatred for this man they believed was her eldest brother.

Staring upward toward a ceiling she could not see, Adrienne spent most of the night wondering who this man was and why they believed him to be Steve. Her brother had survived, Carlton had said, but her mind rejected his words. Medical professionals, including his wife Kayla, had pronounced him dead. She had accepted that as fact, for she had seen the body, had touched his cold face. They must be mistaken.

She also thought of her family. Mama, Justin, and the boys must be worried sick about her. By now, they would have located her van in the parking garage, but she knew with certainty that they would never think to look for her in Salem.

Unlike Carlton, who had waited patiently in the chair, Jennings was nervous and restless, pacing almost continuously throughout the night, behavior that would have prevented Adrienne from securing any rest, had she been able to do so. His footsteps on the smooth concrete were constant when he was inside, but most of his time was spent outside the smaller pedestrian door. Occasionally, she detected a whiff of cigarette smoke. Once, he came inside and shone the flashlight on the shackle, as if to reassure himself that she was still securely bound. The flashlight was then directed into her face, noting that she was awake. She cringed away from the brightness.

"We should have done that to your brother," he said in a hostile voice. "I bet that would have tempered that smart mouth of his."

His scathing words and bitter tone were a challenge for her to defend her brother, but she refused to respond to it, uncertain how he would react and uncertain that the man he spoke of was actually Steve. She could see his face behind the flashlight beam, and stifled a shudder at his hateful scowl. The light was bright, but she resisted the urge to look away, reluctant to lower her guard around the man who clearly held so much contempt for her. She felt certain he had been given orders not to harm her, for a mistreated hostage might damage their bargaining power, but his expression told her he would like nothing more than to do physical harm to her.

Her refusal to answer him seemed to anger him, but he did not pursue a response. Turning on his heel, he flipped off the light. His footsteps moved toward the door, and she breathed a sigh of relief when he went through it. Whenever he was inside, his presence seemed to fill the large building with negative energy that gradually dissipated whenever he went outside

He did not come back inside for the rest of the night, and just as dawn turned the black interior to soft gray, permitting visibility, she heard a car approaching along the narrow road that had served as the landing strip. Stepping back inside, Jennings released a latch and manually hoisted the door up to admit the car.

The vehicle was driven slowly inside, and Jennings lowered the door behind it, effectively concealing it from passersby who might find it odd to see a car parked beside an abandoned building. The ignition was shut off, and Vaughn opened the car door and got out, dressed as impeccably as he had been the day before.

"How is our guest?" he asked. She heard the confidence in his cheerful voice, confidence that her capture had provided the bargaining chip he needed to achieve his goal. The slam of the car door as he pushed it closed echoed hollowly through the building, and his footsteps tapped on the smooth concrete floor as he walked toward her with Jennings at his side.

"She was pretty quiet all night," Jennings replied. "Unlike that smart-mouth brother of hers," he added, bitterly. "He gave us lip the whole time we were guarding him, taunting us all the time."

Adrienne felt something stir inside her, for that description sounded very much like Steve. If he had been held captive, there was no doubt in her mind that he would have given them as much grief as possible, even if it was merely verbal barbs tossed out to annoy them.

No, it can't be, she reminded herself. Steve's dead.

"Let's see how smart he is when he finds out we have his sister," Vaughn said as they started walking slowly toward her. "That should cool his heels a bit."

"I'd like to see his face when he finds out!" Jennings said with a laugh of anticipation. "That would make up for a lot of the crap he gave us."

"Now, now," Vaughn said in a voice that could have been either soothing or mocking; Adrienne was unable to determine which, and judging from Jennings' expression, neither could he. "Let's not get blinded by revenge," Vaughn continued. "We're here to do a job, and once it's done, we'll be wealthy men because of it."

"Did you get Donovan's number?" Jennings asked.

"It wasn't easy, but yes, my man at the I.S.A. finally came through. I'll give Donovan a call shortly and break the news to him," he replied, his voice tense with disgust and open hatred for his former colleague. "Once that is done, he will carry my message to Johnson, and that'll give the loving brother some time to think about it before we make final contact."

"You should let me follow Donovan," Jennings urged, eagerly. "We know where he's staying, and he will lead us right to Johnson. We know they're probably hiding him in a remote area. We could organize an assault, and -"

"And call even more attention to ourselves," Vaughn interrupted. "You can be assured that Johnson is under heavy guard. It isn't worth the effort or the risk of trying to get to him like that. Kidnapping a loved one; now that is an effective method of neutralizing him. He'll do anything to get her released. Isn't that right, Mrs. Kiriakis?" he said, raising his voice as he directed the question to her.

Still lying on the sofa, she looked at him, but did not answer. Her mind was racing frantically, trying to make sense of what she was hearing.

"I know how he was willing to go to prison when you shot your father to death. I'm sure he'll be willing to turn himself over to us in exchange for you." When she did not respond, he chuckled softly, then glanced at his watch and addressed Jennings again. "It's still quite early, so I'll give Donovan a little more time before I place the call. If he's with Johnson, we'll let her talk to her brother. Once we set up the deal, I'll get Carlton and Harding out here to help carry it out. In the meantime, I brought coffee and pastries for your breakfast. They're still in the car."

Jennings returned to the vehicle to fetch his breakfast from the front seat while Vaughn approached Adrienne.

She barely noticed him walking toward her. Her heartbeat had quickened during their conversation. Could it be true? Could Steve somehow be alive and in protective custody? Whoever this man was, they were going to let her talk to him. Could it possibly be that she was going to hear her brother's voice again for the first time in more than a decade?

"Sit up, Mrs. Kiriakis," Vaughn commanded, stopping beside the sofa.

Adrienne glared at him, prepared to refuse his command simply because did not want to give him the pleasure of totally controlling her, but then detected a whiff of coffee and felt her stomach react eagerly to the aroma. Abandoning her feelings of rebellion, she swung her legs off the edge of the sofa and sat up. He dropped a paper sack on her lap and held the Styrofoam cup of coffee out to her.

"Your breakfast."

Her first instinct was to refuse the food in protest, but the smell of the coffee and whatever was in the bag were very enticing, and she felt her stomach growl in response. Reaching out, she accepted the cup of coffee. Inside the bag was a breakfast sandwich from a well-known fast food restaurant chain, and beneath that were a pair of hash brown potato cakes.

She withdrew the potato cakes first and took a bite out of one. It was delicious, but maybe that was because she had not eaten anything at all since breakfast the morning before. She washed it down with a sip of the coffee, the best she'd ever tasted.

Vaughn did not linger, but turned and went to one of the chairs that had been set up a short distance away. Jennings joined him with the pastries and coffee. They did not watch her as she ate, but continued their conversation, waiting for the appropriate time to make the phone call to Shane Donovan.