10:47 p.m. Saturday, August 23, 1986

Lee had turned up the room air conditioner, in hopes that the hum would drown out the thoughts in his head. But so far, it wasn't working. He swallowed down the last of the amber liquid, and the ice clinked against the glass when he returned it to the table. How many more glasses would it take before he forgot about her betrayal? He wished he knew. If he knew the loss of memory would last longer than the morning, he'd drink until he could drink no more.

Could he get past this? He wanted that more than anything. His life had changed so much since he'd met her. He had changed. Amanda had shown him that it was okay to want more out of life than just work; that he was worthy of more. She had taught him to trust in someone other than himself. But what had that gotten him? If he couldn't trust her, who could he trust?

The trust between them was gone. Isn't that the first thing needed in a successful partnership, in a relationship? That thought made him think back to a few weeks ago when after dinner she had attempted to tickle him while they were snuggled up on his couch.

"Lee-eee," she squealed as she dodged his outstretched hand once again.

"A-man-da," he cooed. "I'm not going to do anything. Come here."

"Uh uh, Stetson," she refused, shaking her head as her breathing was now coming in shallow gasps. Lee's calm demeanor was only serving to make her heart beat faster.

"Amanda, Honey . . ." he tried again as he darted around the chair and ottoman with the flexibility of a ninja. "All's forgiven. Come back and sit on the couch with me," he called out sincerely.

She watched him carefully from across the room. The glint in his eye told her he was up to something. "I don't trust you, Stetson," came her raspy reply.

"You don't trust me, Mrs. King? He pouted. "Without trust, what do we have? How can we continue our partnership . . . or our relationship if we don't have trust?"

She stopped her movement abruptly at his last statement and seemed to be lost in thought when he grabbed her around the waist. "Oh," she yelped when he began tickling her sides.

Thinking back on that moment, he realized now why she had looked so tormented when he'd made the comment about trust. It had obviously been weighing on her mind.

He had to either forgive and forget or walk away. He didn't want to walk away, but if he couldn't forget, where did that leave them? Could he go back to a life before Amanda? Somehow, he had to resolve the two sides of the woman that both starred in and most recently, plagued his dreams.

Amanda was happiness, love, and warmth mixed with passion, intelligence, and bravery all wrapped into a very beautiful, sexy package. But now, now she was also this strong, capable, loyal, self-assured . . ." he shook his head and refilled his glass, swirling his finger around the ice before taking a gulp of the burning alcohol. He stood and began another round of pacing. "She was always those things," he corrected.

"Damnit," he yelled and raised his glass to throw it across the room. The need to hear and see it smash into tiny pieces against the wall was nearly overwhelming. As if he had summoned her, her image appeared, the calming force he needed. He slammed the glass on the counter and went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands to clean off the scotch that had splashed out.

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11:09 a.m. Sunday, August 24, 1986

"Come on, Marty. Don't give me a hard time. Just give me the information, would 'ya?" April rested her arm against the payphone as she squirmed under the scrutiny of her older cousin.

"Hey, I'm just relaying the message your mom gave me. She said she hasn't seen you in nearly two years." He clucked his tongue. "Just give her a call and let her know you're alive, April."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," she responded dejectedly.

"Thanks, otherwise I'm going to hear about it from my mom that Aunt Patty is upset," he chuckled. "And it'll be all my fault," he exaggerated.

"Okay! I got it. I'll call her next," she promised.

"Good. Now, as to the information you asked about," she could hear him shuffling papers and waited impatiently for him to return to the phone. "Alright, I was able to confirm your 'Mr. Stetson' is definitely a government employee. I don't know which organization he works for but he's definitely a spook."

"Just great! Why's he sniffin' around Tony?" she mumbled to herself. "What about that other bit of information I gave you? Did you find anything?" She glanced around nervously. If an agent was involved, there was no telling how much trouble she'd get in snooping around.

"Well, she's definitely alive and well," Marty stated before humming quietly to himself.

She could hear the distinct sound of computer keys being tapped and then he continued, "Your ghost is living with her two children and mother in Arlington, Virginia under the name of Amanda King."

"I don't believe it! That little bitch," she exclaimed.

"April, what are you mixed up in? Government agents, thought to be long dead college roommates . . . it sounds like a recipe for something really bad." He let out a deep sigh. "I don't want to be part of this," he rushed.

April scrunched up her face and then let out a loud sigh of frustration, "Marty," she called in an attempt to stop his diatribe.

"If anyone asks you where you got this information, you tell them you don't know."

"Marty!"

"You got that, Cuz? I'm not going to jail like your little boyfriend."

"I got it, Marty. We never talked," she griped. "Now, what's Amanda King's address?"