"So. How's Bill?"

"He seems fine. He's a very cheerful guy, eats like a horse—"

"He always did." Angie slit open another envelope and extracted a piece of official-looking letterhead, which she added to the pile of correspondence relating to Martha's speaking tour.

"I like his wife. She's very easygoing. She seems to be coping pretty well with having Aaron's mother in the house."

"Ann was one of the sweetest people I ever met. When I heard she and Bill were getting married, I was really happy for both of them. I knew they'd do well." Angie eyed Martha understandingly. "Mrs. Pierce is a little like Aaron, really. She can be difficult to get to know."

"She was—I don't know. Not unfriendly. She was very polite and I could see she was trying. She just seemed sort of tepid about the whole idea that I was dating Aaron."

"She probably was, and I don't think it had anything to do with you." Angie sat back from the table. "She's always had strong ideas about the way she thinks things ought to be. Aaron's the eldest, and she adored him. When he moved to Washington she didn't try to talk him out of it, but I know she was upset."

"That's what Diane said."

Angie stared across the table: "You talked to Diane?"

"She came over after Christmas dinner, she wanted to talk to Aaron about Nathan reenlisting. They had a fight. I went into the kitchen to help pack up some dessert for her and Nathan, and we wound up having a conversation on our own."

"What did you think of her?"

"She was everything you said she was. The good and the bad." Martha hesitated. "She said something I've been thinking about, that I would need a lot of patience to deal with Aaron."

"Of course she would say that, not having any herself."

"I don't know. Nathan told me she was very supportive of Mrs. Pierce when she was trying to live on her own, before she moved in with Bill and Ann. If she had no patience at all she wouldn't have been able to do that."

"Well, for what it's worth I think any relationship needs a lot of give-and-take. What about your ex-husband? You tried with him, didn't you?"

Martha sighed. "I sure as hell did."

"Then don't worry about it. If you could put up with Charles Logan, Aaron's got to be a piece of cake."

"He says he wants to move back to Texas when he retires."

Angie grimaced. "What did you say?"

"I said okay. I had to admit it would be easier to afford than California. And there's no reason for us to stay here in Washington."

"When did he say?"

"Not for awhile. We thought about seven years."

"Well, think it over." Angie shook her head. "I admit I'm biased, but think it over."

"Oh, believe me, I will. But I can tell he misses Texas. He knows everybody in town. We stayed at this motel run by a Mr. Wynn—"

Angie's eyes widened. "I remember him. His son used to date this friend of mine."

Martha smiled. "Angie, the next time we go back, why don't you come with us?"

"I don't really think… I'm not sure." Angie paused. "Why'd you ask?"

"You've got this monkey on your back. Speaking as an expert, I think a trip back might help you get rid of it."

Her assistant gave a short laugh. "You might be right."

"Bill's oldest daughter is going to meet us in Dallas, on the tour. Her name's Jennifer. I'm taking her to Neiman-Marcus to talk to a friend of mine—she's really interested in clothing design, and I think she's got real talent. I promised Ann I'd take her home and drop in for a visit." Martha raised her eyebrows. "How about it?"

"I suppose I could. Give me some time to think about it."

"Okay." Martha let the subject drop.

Jon Cardona's investigation was beginning to bear fruit. The backgrounds of the manager, mailroom staff and maintenance crew of Martha's apartment building had been quietly but thoroughly checked. One of the maintenance workers, who turned out to have a long gambling history, had been heavily in debt to his bookie; his account had been paid off shortly after Martha had moved into the building.

"What do you think, Aaron? Do we plant somebody in there? Talk to the manager?"

"I wouldn't do either one yet, it might tip the guy off." Aaron thought for a moment. "Can we get a warrant for his cell phone records? Tap his home phone? We could try following him, but the kind of information he's passing he wouldn't have to meet with anybody. Maybe get his bank account info as well. They probably paid him in cash, but it can't hurt to try."

Cardona nodded. The two of them had agreed not to inform Martha of their theory that a spy had been planted in her building for fear of alarming her. Aaron had debated the question of whether or not to warn Angie, but Cardona had ruled against it for the time being; Aaron reminded himself that he was no longer on Martha's detail and gave Jon the final word. He returned to his desk, eyed the paperwork waiting on it for a moment and then, yielding to temptation, called Martha.

"How are you, sweetheart?"

"Just fine. I've been pounding out a couple of drafts for my tour. I keep wondering what on earth I'm going to talk to these people about, but I think I'm managing okay. How are you doing?"

"Like you, just fine. It's amazing how the paperwork piles up when I'm gone for a few days. I'll be here late tonight. What about you? Any plans?"

"I'm having dinner with Jane. It sounds like she broke up with George Friedman—the man she was with at the White House reception."

"Oh, right. I didn't think that would last long."

"Well, she's in the mood for a pity party. I'm going over there to hold her hand. You don't know any single guys I could introduce her to, do you, Aaron?"

"Only Service agents. Jon's married, or I'd recommend him in a heartbeat. Let me think about it and I'll see if I can come up with anyone."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow night?"

"You'll see me tomorrow night," he confirmed. They hung up and Aaron turned back to his desk. He tried to focus on drawing up an agenda for the next staff meeting, but thoughts of Martha continued to run through the back of his mind. They'd fallen into a routine where he now spent most of each weekend with her, in addition to one or two weeknights. In her closet hung one of his work suits and a couple of clean shirts, and she'd convinced him to keep a spare razor and toothbrush in the bathroom to make mornings easier. The camel's nose in the tent, he thought confusedly, wondering when she'd suggest that he move in with her. He knew it was coming.

"I don't think either one of us is ready yet," he said to Angie over lunch a few days later. "Besides, I don't want us to live together. I want us to get married."

Angie gave him a surprised look. "Talk about mixed messages." She leaned back as their orders were placed on the table, inhaling the aroma of barbecue sauce. "Damn, this looks good. We haven't been here in months." Their chosen lunch spot was run by a fellow Texan who had emigrated to the Washington environs years before; its location in a somewhat dicey part of town did nothing to hinder its popularity. She bit into a second corn muffin with a contented sigh. "I'm not saying you're not right. Things between you have been moving a little fast. But tell me why you think Martha's not ready."

Aaron hesitated, trying to organize his thoughts. "She needs time to get over what happened. I know she loved him. She believed in him. I was there, I saw them together every day, and I know. I'm not saying she's in love with him now, I know she isn't. But she went from being in love with him one day to finding out what he really was the next, and that's just like having somebody die. And she was an emotional wreck before all this happened. I don't mind telling you, I thought she'd wind up back in Vermont for sure." He took a bite of his lunch. "I've seen her down, having what she calls 'bad memories'… things that remind her of him. It'll get better. But it seems to me that this is not the time to commit to a new relationship."

"Everything you're saying makes sense. But have you asked her?"

"No." He said nothing more for a few moments. Angie remained silent, and presently he continued. "Ever since we got back from Russia, I've been so happy I didn't want to bring it up. I just wanted to enjoy what we had and not analyze it to death."

"Is that why you aren't ready?"

"I guess that's part of it. But it isn't the real reason." He looked down at the table, speaking more quietly. "I thought I'd gotten past what happened to me. When I decided to stay with the Service, I thought I could go along the way I always had. I like working with President Gardner, my promotion has kept things interesting, and I have Martha. But I can't get over it, Angie." Aaron pushed his plate away abruptly. "Every time I think about what he did to David Palmer, every time I think about what he did to her, I want to kill him." He met her startled look. "I've never felt this way before. I've never really wanted to kill someone before. But if I had the chance, I know I could do it and not think twice about it. And I can't tell her that. She's come to terms with it somehow, I don't know how, but when she goes to visit him I don't say anything, because I'm afraid. I don't want her to know how I feel."

After a long pause Angie answered him. "You're definitely not ready to get married." He nodded silently in response. "Aaron, whether the two of you get married or live together is not the big issue here. You can't do either one until you get this straightened out. And I'll be honest with you, I think Martha's more stable emotionally right now than you are."

"What?"

"Two things. First, she's been meeting with her psychiatrist. I happen to know she hasn't missed a single appointment. She knows this is something she needs to do. That's a resource you don't have. Second, I know the ending of her marriage was a shock, but she's said several times what a relief it's been not to have the responsibility of being First Lady any more. I think it's also been a relief not to be Charles Logan's wife any more. The man was playing her like a fish, and she knows it. Just getting away from him was half the battle. You were right to be concerned about her, but I don't think it's been as bad for her as you think."

She waved the waiter away. "Eat your lunch," she ordered. "Now it's your turn. You keep talking about how much Martha's been through, but you never mention what you've been through. You were nearly killed twice in the space of a couple months, Aaron. Did you really think you could just walk away from that and not have it affect you? The man you were supposed to protect sold you out; you lost two people you cared about, Agent Williams and President Palmer. And then you fell in love. That's something that's guaranteed to bring all your emotions to the surface. Martha told me you had a fight with Diane at Christmas—"

Aaron groaned. "I really lost it," he agreed. "I thought I could keep my temper with her, but I couldn't believe how angry I was even before she said anything. I think I scared her," he added, upset. "I've never seen her look like that."

"That's another thing you've never dealt with. I told you you needed to see somebody—"

He nodded. "Yes, you did. And no, I didn't."

"Do the math, Aaron. I understand how you feel. I think everything you've told me is totally normal when you consider what you've been through. Stop feeling guilty about it and do something about it."

"What do I do?"

"Talk to her. I know it'll be difficult, but I really don't think she'll be all that shocked. I mean, she was there, she saved your life—" Angie stopped.

Aaron gave her a half smile. "She told you?"

"It was in the hospital after you got shot. I was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I'd actually killed somebody, and that's when she told me what happened. She was really helpful, Aaron. She'd make a pretty good psychologist." Angie chuckled. "You know I haven't been back home in years, but she convinced me to go back with her when she meets your niece in Dallas. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I'm gonna do it."

Aaron stared at her, impressed. "Really." He took an absent bite of his barbecue. "You know what, I'm full. I can't eat this stuff the way I used to."

Angie eyed him approvingly. "You look like you've lost some weight."

"I probably have. Martha mostly eats diet food. I've eaten more vegetables in the last few months than I have in the last few years, I think." He smiled. "Every once in awhile when I can't stand it any more we go out for pizza."

The next day an excited Cardona accosted Aaron in the hallway: "I've got it! Your idea about the cell phone records worked." He gestured to his office; Aaron followed him, curious. Cardona picked up a sheaf of faxed records. "Look. Mrs. Logan—Powell," he corrected himself, "moved in four months ago. We pulled records starting three months before that date. See this number? Six days before she moved in, and it's the first time it shows up." He pointed to a number circled in red.

"Yeah, Jon."

"These are his monthly statements since then, in chronological order. We highlighted that number every time it showed up. He made and received several calls involving that number while you and Ms. Powell were out of the country."

"Did you trace the number?"

"We sure did. It wasn't easy; the phone company gave us a bit of a hard time. It belongs to a man whose name comes up from time to time with law enforcement. The cops around here all know who he is, but he doesn't have an arrest record. We don't know much about him. He's active around Washington, does the socialite thing. He shows up at charity events and fundraisers for both political parties. We don't know what his means of support is. His income source is a well-kept secret. And," he paused for emphasis, "we know he knows that attorney. Dunlap. He hired him once when he was questioned in regard to a shooting that took place about a year and a half ago. He was never charged, but he was placed at the scene. The case was never solved."

"Who got shot?"

"A private detective who specialized in government investigations." He traded looks with Aaron. "He worked with the Attorney General's office a lot. A friend of mine on the Maryland police force told me that by the time they got to the victim's office it had already been searched. Somebody had gone through his files."

Aaron frowned. "What's this guy's name?"

"Christian Whitcomb."

Aaron made a quick decision. "Let's pull the White House security records, Jon. It might be worthwhile to see if this Whitcomb ever met with anyone there."

"All right, I'm on it."

"Martha?" Aaron called to the kitchen. He was trying to watch the football playoffs, but Jon's information kept running through the back of his mind, distracting him. He muted the sound on the television, the better to focus on his thoughts.

"Uh huh?" Martha emerged carrying a tray, which she set down on the coffee table next to their drinks.

"Do you know somebody named Christian Whitcomb?"

"Whitcomb. Whitcomb." Martha frowned. "It sounds familiar somehow, but I'm not sure how." She curled up next to him on the sofa. "Is it important?"

"I'm not sure. I've heard the name, but I'd rather not tell you where just yet. Let me know if you remember anything about him." He stared at the contents of the bowl he'd picked up. "What are these?"

"Edamame. They're soybeans. Try them, they're really good." She smiled at him encouragingly.

"No chips, huh?" Aaron watched as Martha split a pod, extracted the beans and popped them into her mouth. "This is just like shelling peas." Cautiously, he imitated her actions and tried the beans: "Hey, these aren't bad."

She patted his stomach. "These are better for you." Smiling, she leaned her head on his shoulder and added: "Have I told you you're looking fantastic?"

Aaron grinned. "Even Angie noticed." He slid an arm around her shoulders and added, "She tells me you're having Marie over for lunch."

"Marie's been a huge help. With the tour coming up I had to get a lot of research done really fast, and Angie couldn't do it all, so she called Marie. Things at the Smithsonian are pretty quiet right now and she was able to help us out. I still haven't met her yet, and I wanted to thank her."

"You'll like her. She's kind of hyper, but she's really nice." Aaron eyed the TV screen again, frowning: "This is a lousy excuse for a game. Somebody forgot to teach these guys about defense." He shrugged and turned back to Martha. "So you're leaving when, in a week?"

"Eight days. I've got a whole list of stuff to get through before I go, and I have to make final arrangements with Ann to meet Jennifer in Dallas. And," she hesitated, "I've got to go talk to Charles again." Martha glanced at him uncertainly. "I'm sorry—" she began.

"You don't need to apologize, Martha. It's got to be your call." Aaron forced himself to add calmly, "You said you had the feeling he was about to tell you something more. Is that right?"

"I really think he was."

"I hate to ask this, but do you think he's just stringing you along? Maybe he wants the attention. I doubt anybody else is visiting him."

"I agree that's possible. But the last time I talked to him it really shook him when I told him I was the target of the Russian terrorist attack. It wasn't what he had expected to hear."

Aaron stared straight ahead without answering. After nearly thirty seconds of silence, which felt like an eternity, frustration overwhelmed Martha and she decided to attack the issue head on. "Damn it, Aaron, be honest with me!" She gripped his arm, shaking it for emphasis. "I can tell you hate my mentioning him. I just wish you'd tell me how you feel. It doesn't help when you don't say anything."

He looked directly at her, hesitated, then spoke. "You're right. I do hate it when you talk about him, but it's not for the reasons you think. I don't really know how to tell you this without sounding—" He broke off and tried again. "It's something I kept hoping would go away, but it hasn't." Slowly, he began to share with her the issues he'd spoken about with Angie: the pain he'd felt since the death of David Palmer. His humiliation when Adams had beaten him nearly senseless, and again when Logan had assumed he could be bribed into keeping his mouth shut. Hearing Logan abuse her, verbally and physically, on the recording. "When I heard that, I wanted to kill him," he concluded. "I still do, every time I think about him. And I'm ashamed to have to tell you that." He looked down, afraid to meet her gaze.

Martha slipped her hand under his chin. "Aaron, look at me." She gently raised his head; as he looked at her he was amazed to see her eyes brimming with tears. "You are the best person I've ever known. It isn't in you to hate. I believe this is why you feel so badly about this." She was crying now; wiping her tears away, she threw her arms around him. "I'll never forgive him for what he did to you. There's nothing wrong with feeling like this. I wanted to kill him too—remember? I told you that the day after the attacks, when you told me about Evelyn." He nodded. "But something happened, I'm not sure what. I had to meet with him in order to get the divorce, and when I did I realized that he'd been nothing but a pawn. He deserves to be punished, but the people who set him up for this got off scot-free. And before that, when we went to David's lying in state, you told me what was happening to him was the worst punishment he could receive. The more I think about it the more I think you were right. That's why I can see him now without wanting to kill him." She buried his face in his shoulder. "Please, promise me you won't try to deal with this by yourself any more. That's what I'm here for. You shouldn't be afraid to tell me how you feel. I love you."

Overwhelmed, Aaron held her tight for several seconds before he could speak. "I love you too, Martha. I'm sorry. I should have told you—" she cut him off with a kiss. He took her face gently in his hands and kissed away her remaining tears, then suddenly realized she had moved onto his lap and was unbuttoning his shirt. Before he could say anything, she was kissing him deeply. It felt completely natural for him to respond, and without thinking he pulled her down with him onto the couch.

Though their first night together had been more than satisfactory for both Martha and Aaron, it had been somewhat guarded due to Aaron's recent injuries and the emotional scarring they had both suffered in the past. Now healed in both respects, neither of them found any reason to hesitate or feel self-conscious. In a very few minutes they were completely naked, and Aaron's only remaining concern was the mechanics of making love on Martha's somewhat narrow couch. The bedroom, he realized, would have been easier, but neither of them were in a mood to stop what they were doing. It was clear this would require some adjustment.

"How are we going to do this?" he muttered breathlessly.

"Let's try this way—" she slithered on top of him.

"Okay," he managed, and then both of them were swept away by desire. Knowing they would soon be separated for several weeks made them even more eager to experience each other fully, and the restrictions of the couch turned out not to be a problem after all.

Some time later, Aaron groped for the afghan slung across the back of the couch; despite their frenzied activity it had miraculously stayed in place. Martha, still on top of him, was nearly asleep. He shook out the afghan as best he could and flung it over her, then reached for the remote to turn off the TV. His eye was caught by the "Breaking News" banner across the bottom of the screen; suddenly his eyes widened and he turned up the sound.

"What is it, Aaron?" murmured Martha.

"Sshhh…" he gestured toward the television. Her eyes widened as the newscaster's words sank in:

"Local attorney Gene Dunlap, famous for his defense of organized crime figures, found dead today in a suspected carjacking. Stay tuned for more news as it happens…"