Aaron tossed his briefcase onto the couch and loosened his tie. It was the first night of Martha's tour and he was suddenly struck by how empty and lifeless his apartment felt, though home décor had never been a matter of interest for him. He'd always viewed his home as a haven, a place to relax, despite occasional sarcastic remarks from Angie and Nathan. ("Monasteries are more luxurious than this place," Angie had commented soon after his divorce.) That evening he'd had an administrative meeting scheduled with the Service director, but it had been unexpectedly canceled. Trying not to think of how he and Martha could have spent a free evening if she had been in town, he shook his head impatiently. I miss her already, he thought.

His thoughts drifted back to the first hectic days after Logan had taken office. At the time Aaron had been more concerned with establishing a safe atmosphere in the White House and protecting the new President than with sizing up Logan or the First Lady as individuals. He had heard the gossip that Logan's wife was, as they said, "unstable," and had had a few encounters with her as the wife of the then Vice President. She would not hesitate to disrupt meetings or social events if she was upset about something, and at first this had put him off; in some obscure way it had reminded him of Diane throwing a scene. Gradually he had realized that she was open to reason, and that her moments of acting out occurred only when she was particularly frustrated. She was more supportive of her husband and more sensitive to difficult political issues than he had at first given her credit for. As time went on he had sensed that she was desperate for attention and affection from her husband, and having himself been through a difficult marriage, he began to feel empathy for her. As his respect for her increased, his contempt for Logan increased proportionately. Although he knew as a Service agent that he should not let his personal biases sway him, he had not let this bother him at first; after all, he had experienced a similar situation with Sherry and David Palmer.

When Martha had agreed to be hospitalized, Aaron was forced to question his assumption that he could remain uninvolved; the intensity of his reaction startled him. It seemed remarkably obvious that Logan had taken the easy way out, sending his wife somewhere out of sight to get her off his hands during a particularly shaky moment in his presidency. Her cooperation had initially puzzled him, given that it had taken multiple meetings with Walt Cummings and her psychiatrist to get her to agree to voluntarily admit herself to the hospital. When Logan had come to him and asked him to accompany Martha to Vermont, he had of course agreed.

"It was a mistake," she blurted out several days later. "I shouldn't have come here. I don't know what I was thinking." She was agitated, twisting her hands together and pacing back and forth the length of her suite. "I hate the way these medications make me feel. I thought maybe I could find some peace here, but it isn't working. Everybody's just humoring me, they're not really helping." She came to a stop in front of him. "Except you. I think you're the only one who's actually interested, Aaron." A tear ran down her cheek. "I'm so tired of being treated like a freak." She turned away and stared out the window, clearly trying to gain control of her emotions.

"Mrs. Logan." Ordinarily this was the sort of scene that would have made him intensely uncomfortable, but he felt no embarrassment; he only wanted to comfort her but had no idea what to say. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't think so. I don't think there's anything anyone can do." She moved back to the center of the room. "I need to be with Charles. I need my husband. Why won't he come? He promised me he'd visit… and then he sends Walt Cummings." The disgust in her voice was obvious. "Walt says everything is fine and I'm getting better, but I don't feel any better."

"Ma'am, your admission is voluntary. I don't see that there's anything keeping you here if you wish to leave."

"Charles wants me here. That's why I agreed to come in the first place. I haven't been much help to him lately." She bit her lip, trying not to cry again. "He said I needed rest, and I thought he was right. I'm so tired of the speeches, the traveling… it was bad enough when he was Vice President, and now it's even worse." She shook her head and sighed. Now somewhat calmer, she looked at him again: "I'm sorry to be dumping all this on you, Aaron. I don't normally talk about myself or my marriage like this. I must be boring you to tears."

"You're not, Mrs. Logan. If it will help, I'll be happy to listen, but I think talking with your therapist would be more effective."

She shrugged impatiently. "All she wants to do is talk about my mother. She thinks this is all a bereavement reaction." Amy Powell had died two months before her daughter's hospitalization, after a long struggle with cancer; Martha had been close to her mother, her only near relative. "I know that has something to do with it, but it isn't the real problem. No, I'll stay here for now. Walt says Charles will be here soon and I've got nowhere else to go, really. Just promise me you'll stay here, Aaron." They looked at each other for a long moment; he nodded in agreement, and he could see her relax. "I need someone here I can trust. Someone that I know."

Sitting in his living room, Aaron sighed in the half-darkness. From that point on he had been wholeheartedly supportive of the First Lady. No husband had any business leaving his wife unsupported and alone at such a time. Martha Logan could still be difficult, but after guarding her in Vermont he found himself more understanding of her emotional swings, even when they were directed at him. Being followed constantly by the Secret Service was not an easy thing to adjust to, and his insistence that she adhere to protocol had led to a few clashes between them. Unlike Logan, who treated the Service agents like pieces of furniture, she recognized them as human beings and was scrupulous about apologizing when she lost her temper. Ironically, though she was more difficult to deal with than her husband she was better liked by the White House staff.

The qualities he'd always known she possessed had been revealed for all to see after the terrorist attacks. He had feared her ordeal would cause a relapse of her depression, but somehow it seemed to have strengthened her. Looking back on the days that had followed he wondered when it was that he had fallen in love with her. A more honest question, he thought, would have been: when had he admitted to himself that he had fallen in love with her? Supposing it had been Mike Novick who had saved his life, would he have taken the blame for shooting Adams upon himself? Had it been when Martha came to find him after the Palmer funeral and he'd held on to her like a drowning man? Or when he had thought it possible that she might go back to Charles Logan, and been terrified at the very idea?

In the days following Martha's departure Aaron found himself regressing to his old habits and burying himself in work. His first action was to meet with Henry Nunez, the federal liaison officer for the DC police. Officer Nunez had known Cardona for years, dating back to the days when they had worked together on the District's police force before Jon had transferred to the Secret Service. When Aaron requested a confidential conversation outside work, Nunez suggested meeting at a delicatessen halfway between their offices.

"Jon says you're the man." Nunez regarded his sandwich for a moment, leaned back in the booth and shot a fleeting look around the restaurant before returning his gaze to Aaron; he'd picked a seat with a view of the front door and away from the windows.

"He told me pretty much the same about you. You guys worked together a lot?"

"A lot, yeah. He's a good guy. We miss him on the force." Nunez sighed. "Well, I don't have all that much time so we'd best get right to it. Jon told me you're interested in the Dunlap shooting. This guy Whitcomb, you think he might have done it?"

"Might have. We don't have any proof. If I could tell you exactly what made us suspect him I would, but Attorney General Haslett put the brakes on. You know how that goes." Nunez made a face in agreement. "We think Whitcomb was somehow connected with the Logan conspiracy. And he hired Dunlap after being questioned in some shooting that took place about a year and a half ago—"

Nunez nodded grimly. "I remember that case. I worked on it. We suspected Whitcomb, but we couldn't get enough evidence to arrest him, especially with Dunlap blowing smoke in our faces. So you think he killed his own lawyer? Almost makes you want to give the guy a medal, doesn't it?"

"Not quite. We almost had Dunlap ready to talk." He waited as Nunez ingested this, along with a bite of his sandwich. After a pause the officer countered with a question of his own: "How does a Secret Service agent come to be mixed up in a case like this?"

"I didn't ask for it, it just happened. I was in California that day with the First Lady; we were with the Russian President when he got attacked on the way to the airport. I wound up working with one of CTU's agents to try to get Logan to confess that he'd been involved." Seeing doubt on Nunez's face, he went further: "The reason I'm still concerned in it is because Logan's ex-wife may be in danger. You know she helped stop him, everybody does." Now engrossed in Aaron's explanation, the officer nodded eagerly. "It's still our job to protect her. She's been getting threatening messages, and we know somebody got access to her apartment. Jon's in charge of her detail now, but I'm still involved." He left the explanation there, hoping Nunez wouldn't ask further questions. "She's out of town on a speaking tour and Jon's with her. That's why he asked you to meet with me."

"Okay." Nunez looked convinced. "So what is it you want me to do?"

"Have you looked into Whitcomb's whereabouts that night? Or, do you have any leads that might make you think this theory is totally wrong?"

"No leads." Nunez's frustration was obvious. "We've got nothing. No witnesses, no evidence left at the scene, nada. To be honest, that's half the reason I met with you today. Dunlap had a lot of friends in this town. It's pretty funny when a Mafia magnate calls you screaming that nobody's safe in Washington." He raised an eyebrow at Aaron. "They haven't gone so far as to say 'we know where you live,' but I wouldn't be surprised if they did."

Aaron found himself enjoying Nunez's acerbic sense of humor as he continued: "We thought about the possibility that it might have been a setup. He's got an ex-wife—I mean, who doesn't—" he paused as Aaron gave a chuckle of appreciation. "But he was paying her pretty generous alimony, and that's gone now that he's dead. Give her credit, she seemed genuinely sorry the guy had been killed. They'd stayed on pretty good terms since the divorce; she helped him out once in a while when he needed to entertain clients. She said he was a good guy but a lousy husband." He shrugged. "And his law partner, Tenney, seems like a pretty straight arrow. We can't find any reason to think he might have wanted Dunlap dead."

Now looking more serious, Nunez finished his coffee. "To answer your other question, no, I haven't looked into Whitcomb yet. I wanted to talk to you first, Agent Pierce." He gave Aaron an appraising look. "You look like you know what you're doing, and Jon Cardona vouched for you. This isn't going to be easy, going after a guy like Whitcomb with no evidence. He knows a lot of influential people, he can scream 'harassment' any time he wants." He waited for Aaron's nod. "Plus, if you're right and I'm right, he's killed two people that we know of. He probably wouldn't hesitate to kill again if he's threatened."

"I know I'm asking a lot." Aaron spoke in a low tone. "I spent a lot of time talking to AG Haslett about this, and he knows I'm meeting with you. It wouldn't be appropriate for us to horn in on a shooting that's in your territory; on the other hand, it looks like we have most of the information about the motive. He wants us to work together, and you've got his backing. You run into any trouble, you come to me and I'll take it to him. That sound fair?" He waited while Nunez considered and finally nodded agreement.

"We got along fine, Jon." Aaron was reporting to Cardona, who had spent the first several minutes of their conversation complaining about the rain in Seattle. "He admitted he doesn't have any leads right now, and he knows enough about Whitcomb to believe he might have done it. I didn't tell him that Whitcomb was the one threatening Martha. I'm going to pick up the janitor next and have a talk with him."

Ron Slater, the suspect Cardona's investigation had uncovered, had worked on the maintenance staff of Martha's building for nearly six years. So far he had shown no awareness that he was suspected and had continued to show up for work. After thinking over various approaches, Aaron decided it would be best to wait for Slater to leave the building at the end of his shift rather than arresting him on the premises, hoping this would lessen the chance that Whitcomb might learn Slater had been questioned. The Attorney General issued a federal warrant and agreed to make himself available should Aaron require his presence. Realizing the chances were good that Slater would recognize him, Aaron turned to Agent Mitchell for assistance. The younger agent was happy to accompany him to the stakeout.

"Mr. Slater?" Mitchell caught up to Slater as he headed for his bus stop; Aaron was waiting in a parked car further down the street.

"Who are you?"

"Secret Service. You're wanted for questioning." Mitchell flashed his badge. Slater stiffened and backed away as though about to make a run for it, but when Aaron stepped out of the car he realized this would be useless.

"About what? Am I under arrest? You can't do this."

"Actually, we can," Aaron answered firmly. "We're federal officers. And I think you know what this is about. You aren't under arrest but we'd be glad to do that if you'd prefer it. We'll call your wife—" Slater flinched.

"She's about ready to leave as it is. I'll talk to you. Just don't call her." He got into the car without further resistance.

"He came up to me after work one night and told me he was with the FBI. He showed me some ID, said that Logan's wife was being investigated." Slater was slumped over a table looking panicked. Aaron put a cup of coffee in front of him, but he merely stared at it.

"I never heard of the FBI offering people money before." Aaron sat across from him. "Didn't that make you the slightest bit suspicious?"

"He said… he said there was a 'reimbursement account' for witnesses who helped in investigations." Slater was looking sheepish. "When I told him the kind of money I needed, he said he could get it for me, no problem. After that I knew he wasn't legit, but he knew why I was in debt, how much I owed, he knew my wife was about to leave me because of it… he knew my bookie was threatening to beat me up."

Aaron glanced across at Mitchell. "He did his homework."

"He didn't bother to pretend any more after the first money drop. He just said we were helping each other out and if I knew what was good for me I wouldn't tell anybody." Slater shuddered. "That guy scares me more than my bookie does."

"You haven't heard from him lately?"

The caretaker shook his head. "It's irregular. When he needs something he'll call with instructions. Then he might not call again for a month or more."

"Okay, here's what you do. Next time you hear from him, you call us and tell us exactly what he wants and any details about meetings or money drops." Slater looked unsure; Aaron leaned toward him and spoke emphatically. "This is a government case, Slater. It's huge. You get dragged into this and you'll never get out, I guarantee it. Agent Mitchell here is the one you'll stay in contact with. Check in with us once a week."

"I got no other options?" Slater looked desperate.

"Not unless you want to be known across the country as the man who sold out Martha Powell Logan. We're not asking you to return the money, that's not the point. The information you're passing could get her hurt or killed. Do you really want to be responsible for that?"

As the door closed behind Mitchell and Slater, Aaron quickly looked at the two-way mirror posted on the wall behind him and headed for the room next door.

"Well, sir, we didn't get much."

Haslett waved his hand. "We got a confirmation. That's always useful, but you're right, he didn't tell us anything we didn't already know." He thought for a moment. "It looks like this is a dead end. The police are looking into Whitcomb, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"I can't see any other possibilities for now. Can you?"

Aaron hesitated. "I thought of one, sir."

"And what is that?"

"I could go and talk to Charles Logan myself."

"What are you doing here, Aaron? You're the last person I expected to see in this place." Logan was regarding Aaron with unconcealed curiosity as well as caution. He'd been careful to pick a seat removed from the other inmates and was shooting wary glances around the room.

"I'm not really sure." It was as much as Aaron could do to utter the sentence. This was the first time he had seen the former President since their conversation in the stables and he found himself beset by conflicting emotions and thoughts. The thought of David Palmer's murder, committed on Logan's order, infuriated him; memories of Martha under attack in the Presidential limousine were streaming into his mind. Yet as he viewed the man in front of him he suddenly remembered what he had said to Martha when he escorted her to Palmer's lying in state: No matter what sentence he gets, he's already lost what he cares about most. The Presidency, and you. Suddenly calmer, Aaron took a deep breath and willed himself to speak as dispassionately as possible. "Why did you agree to see me?"

Logan looked at him thoughtfully for a second. "Like you, I'm not really sure. I haven't exactly been looking forward to this, but I didn't see any point in refusing." He paused and then added awkwardly, "As you may know, Martha has been good enough to visit. I felt that if you wanted to talk to me it was the least I could do. At least to thank you for allowing her to come."

Aaron felt his hand clench at Logan's assumption that Martha had had to ask his permission. "It wasn't a question of allowing her. I didn't want her to come, but I would never prevent her from doing something she felt she needed to do."

"Is she… well? She's all right?"

"She's fine. She's away on a speaking tour, perhaps she told you about it."

"She did mention it. I've caught her on the news a couple of times. And talk shows…" Logan shook his head. "She used to hate them."

"She's a different person now, Charles." Logan blinked as he registered Aaron's deliberate use of his first name; seeing he'd been knocked off-balance Aaron added, "She's put her life back together, she's doing things for herself she's never done before. Maybe because she was never given the chance."

Logan dropped his gaze to the table. "I'm glad to hear she's doing well, but I'm sure you must have had another reason for coming. Why don't you just tell me what you want?"

"You know what I want, Charles. I want Whitcomb. I want the people who bankrolled your plan." He read disbelief in Logan's eyes but continued, driven to make his case: "You know they've gotten into Martha's apartment more than once. Whitcomb was behind that. I can't prove he killed Dunlap, but I'm 99 percent certain he did. If I were talking to anybody else, I'd appeal to your patriotism, your sense of justice—" he saw Logan bristle at his sarcasm—"but I don't feel like using those words to you. Not after what happened between us. Not after what you did to David Palmer."

The antagonism between them was obvious now, and Logan seemed to gather strength from it. "There's very little I can tell you. I'm stuck in here. Dunlap was my only contact and he's dead. You know all my visitors have to log in; all you have to do is check the records. I don't communicate with the outside world much, and after that kiss-off message Martha brought me, I doubt I'll be hearing from anyone anytime soon. What did you expect?"

"I expected you might be willing to help. After all, it's your lawyer that got killed. Not to mention that Martha could still be in danger."

"I told her to leave Whitcomb alone." Logan was shifting in his chair and starting to look anxious.

"She hasn't gone near him. He's the one that went after her, remember? She found the second note the night we got back from Russia. She showed it to me the next morning and that's when we started investigating."

Logan flinched as he suddenly registered that Aaron had spent that night with Martha, but gave no other response. He seemed to withdraw from the conversation and went back to staring at the desk surface. After half a minute, Aaron prodded him: "Our time is nearly up. Can you at least give me any information that might help the DC police charge Whitcomb?"

"I can't. I don't know him that well. I don't think he usually resorts to killing; he's more the information-gathering type. He knows how to put pressure on people. If he's the one who shot Gene Dunlap, he must have had a reason other than money."

Aaron looked thoughtful. "Dunlap represented him in a murder case once. Maybe Dunlap was the one putting the pressure on him for a change. We know he leaked the information about Martha's trip. We were ready to pull him in and he was desperate to escape. Maybe he tried to get Whitcomb to help him leave the country by threatening to turn him in."

During their discussion Logan had been getting steadily more nervous; now he changed the subject abruptly. "Aaron, leave it alone. There's nothing more I can tell you. I need you not to come back here. I don't think I can help you, but if there's no choice then send Martha. Her visits can be explained, but yours can't. If someone gets access to the visitors' logs and they see you signing in, they'll know what's going on. I can't afford that."

"So you want Martha to run the risk instead?" Aaron asked, indignant.

"Stop it. I am not trying to use her. I am stating a fact. I'd be just as pleased if she didn't come back, if that's what it takes to keep her safe." Logan leaned forward intently. "I care about Martha. I know you despise me, but believe me when I say I don't want her hurt. What happens to her is more important than what happens to me."

"I'm glad to see we agree on something." Aaron glanced over Charles' shoulder. "The guard is coming."

"Aaron. Promise me—" Logan hesitated, took a deep breath and then blurted, "Promise me you'll take care of her."

"I intend to." Aaron pushed his chair back and stood up as the guard tapped Logan on the shoulder; the former President gave him a final glance and then turned around and left the room without a backward look. Aaron registered the slump of his shoulders as he left the room, and then realized something else.

Charles Logan had still been wearing his wedding ring.

Aaron felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach as he thought back to the years he'd continued to wear his ring, even after his divorce. Remembering his disbelief, the feeling of this can't be happening, his head spun as he realized that he knew exactly how Logan felt. Somehow he made it to his car, ran the windows down and sat slumped over his steering wheel for long minutes. He hadn't wanted to believe that he could have anything in common with a man capable of ordering the death of a former President or sending his wife off to an asylum when it was too inconvenient to keep her around. For the first time he realized that he understood Logan better than he had ever imagined, and then it struck him that he no longer actively wanted Charles dead. You can't want someone dead when you know what they're going through, he thought. Feeling shaken but relieved, he finally managed to start the car.

Driving back into the city, Aaron glanced at the dashboard clock and realized that it was only the middle of the afternoon. Not feeling ready to return to work and at a loss for what to do, he ransacked his memory for undone errands and realized that he had meant to purchase some new shirts. He found himself pulling into the parking lot of the mall he and Angie had visited before Christmas. Shirts in hand, he wandered the mall and finally passed the jewelry store where he and Angie had picked out Martha's Christmas present. Wanting to cheer himself up, he decided to look around and see if he could find anything Martha might like.

"Can I help you, sir?" A smiling sales clerk approached Aaron as he stood staring into the display cases.

"Yes." Suddenly Aaron knew what he was there for. "I'd like to see your engagement rings, please."