Chapter Forty-Two
T hatcher stared down at his hand, intertwined with Vickie’s. He had lost his mind. Impulsive gestures weren’t common for him. So maybe this one could be chalked up to the darkness. There was something about being able to hide in the shadows that made him feel a little more open. “I have some bad news,” he said quietly.
She stared at him in silence, her lips parted ever so slightly.
He squeezed her hand. “We’ve been had. Or more to the point, I’ve been had. You were just along for the ride.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Thatcher pulled his hand from hers. “I told you about Clark, my colleague who has it in for me.”
She nodded. “Yes, but you never told me why.”
He flinched. “That doesn’t matter. While you were gone, I found out that Clark was never looking for the Lincoln papers. The whole thing was supposed to be a distraction for me. I guess Clark figured sending me on a wild goose chase would keep me from concentrating on going after the chairmanship.”
Vickie pulled her brows together. “I don’t understand.” She gave him a shaky smile. “I know I keep saying that. But why would he do that?”
Thatcher shrugged. “Revenge. Hate. Because he’s a bad seed?”
“So this means. . .” she trailed off and searched for his eyes in the semi-darkness.
“It means that we can stop trying to find out new information about Abraham and Ann. It means that there probably weren’t any letters to begin with.”
She was silent for a moment. “That stinks.”
He let out a soft chuckle. “That it does.” He’d been disappointed to learn the truth about the Lincoln papers. But his was an even bigger disappointment. He lowered his voice. “It means that I should just pay you for your help and let you get back to your normal life.”
Over the past few days, he’d convinced himself it was better this way. Because he knew he wasn’t good enough for a girl like her. It was better they part ways now, rather than spend more time together.
A family of four stepped into the flag viewing room. A little girl pressed her face up against the glass wall. “Look at the flag, Daddy.” She beckoned her father to her side.
“Come here, Macey. You’re standing in front of those people,” the woman said, struggling with a stroller.
“Oh, she’s fine.” Thatcher rose. “We’ve been here for a while. It’s all yours.” He turned to look at Vickie, who was still frozen to the bench. “Ready?”
She nodded and followed him from the exhibit.
“It seems so bright out here now,” Thatcher said, blinking as they stepped from the dark room. “Is there anything else you want to see?”
Vickie shook her head.
“How about that lunch? Are you still hungry?”
“Food would be good.”
A few minutes later and they were in his truck. “Do you mind if we just swing by somewhere and get you something to eat?” he asked. “I probably need to get home and let the dog out.”
She glanced at him. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. I just remembered I have a frozen pizza in the freezer.” She gave him a tiny smile. “I think I should probably just fix that and go to bed. I’m really tired.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
They were silent for a moment.
“Um, listen. About the research. You never did tell me what kind of payment you wanted. I don’t want you to feel like you wasted those hours.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She must be really tired, the way she was slumping in her seat. He’d noticed soon after they met that she almost always had perfect posture. But not today.
“Why don’t we just consider you picking me up from the airport as payment? I really don’t want to take any money from you.” Her voice was sweet, but firm.
“But think of all the time we wasted. I know we both had better things to do.” He pulled the truck into a spot near her apartment.
She shook her head. “I learned a lot, actually. If it makes you feel any better, I can probably work some of the information into one of my ranger programs.” She shrugged. “So it isn’t like it was a complete loss.”
He left the truck running and hopped out. By the time he got to the passenger side, Vickie was already lugging her suitcase from the truck. “I was going to do that.” He made a motion toward her suitcase.
Vickie tightened her grip on the handle. “I’ve got it. No problem.” She pushed her carry-on bag over her shoulder. “Thanks for the ride.” Vickie stood just outside the door to her apartment building, watching him.
“Take care,” he said, climbing back into the truck.
As he pulled into traffic, he glanced in the rear-view mirror. Vickie was still standing on the sidewalk, clutching her luggage and watching him drive away.