Previously: War Secretary Stanton holds the Lincolns and janitor Gabby Zook captive in the White House basement. Private Adam Christy takes guard duties. Duff and Alethia become Lincoln impostors. After two years of deceit, love and death, the war is over. Duff confesses to Alethia that he is married.
Lamon raced up the Executive Mansion steps, past the drunken guard, and up the grand staircase, eager to confront the man who pretended to be Lincoln. Less than an hour earlier, a deputy marshal had burst into his office with the news that Lee had surrendered to Grant, and Lamon wanted to find out the truth that Stanton had kept from him for more than two years. Opening the president’s bedroom door, he saw the man stretched out on the bed, a gangling arm across his face.
“Sir?” Lamon said. “I just heard the war’s over.”
The man sat up, revealing red, moist eyes, and replied, “Yes, everything’s over.”
“No, sir. Everything won’t be over until I see Mr. Lincoln again.”
“Everything’s over for me.”
“You have to help me.”
“What do you mean?”
Lamon shut the door and sat on the bed next to him and whispered, “You can tell me the truth. Mr. Stanton can’t hurt you now.”
“The truth.” He bowed his head. “The truth doesn’t solve anything.”
“The truth will solve everything. Look. I know you were lying about all this business being Mr. Lincoln’s idea.” Lamon waited for a response. “Are you still scared?”
“No, not really.”
“Then why not tell me where Mr. Lincoln is?”
“You don’t know?” The man looked up.
“No. If I can rescue Mr. Lincoln, we can stop Mr. Stanton before he does anything else,” Lamon said. “You want to help us, don’t you?”
“We’re beyond help.” He sighed.
“All right.” Lamon paused to control his emotions. He wanted to throttle the man, but knew that would do no good. “I know after two years it seems like everything’s hopeless. That’s what Mr. Stanton wanted you to think, but we can still help each other.” He searched the man’s face. “Mr. Lincoln could die if you don’t help.”
“What? How do you know this?”
“Know? I don’t know anything. But my gut tells me if Stanton was crazy enough to do all this he’s crazy enough to kill Mr. Lincoln.”
“Then Mr. Lincoln is going to die despite what I can do. I’m already dead.” He put his head in his hands for a moment and then looked up, his hands cupped in front of his mouth. “But we all don’t have to die.”
“That’s right.” Lamon’s eyes widened as he leaned forward. “Nobody has to die.”
“Baltimore.”
“Mr. Lincoln is in Baltimore?”
“And Mrs. Lincoln,” the man added.
“Where in Baltimore?’
The man blinked several times.
“Where in Baltimore?” Lamon repeated.
“Fort McHenry.”
“They’ve known all along?”
“I don’t know.” The man turned to smile. “I’m only the double.”
“I’ll leave right now.”
Lamon stood, but the man grabbed his arm.
“Take the woman with you.”
“What woman?”
“Her.” He nodded toward the other bedroom. “I want her out of here tonight. I don’t trust Mr. Stanton.”
“Very well.” Lamon said. “Do you want to go too?”
“No.” He let Lamon’s arm go and looked down. “I have meetings to attend. There’s a candlelight parade tomorrow night. The people still need to see the president.”
“Good man.” Lamon patted the man’s back. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
“Thank you.”
Lamon left and went next door and knocked. The woman softly told him to enter, and he did. He found her sitting in a rocking chair, staring out the window.
“Mrs. Lincoln?”
“Yes?”
“May we speak?”
“Of course, Mr. Lamon.”
Her voice sounded lifeless. Lamon walked over to her and went down on his haunches. Her face was expressionless.
“You can leave, miss,” he said in a whisper.
“What?” She continued to look out the window.
“I know you’re not Mrs. Lincoln,” he said as kindly as he could, sensing she was emotionally fragile. “I know Mr. Stanton put you here.”
She looked at Lamon.
“How long have you known?”
“Since the beginning. Mr. Stanton told me it was Mr. Lincoln’s idea, but I didn’t believe him.” Lamon paused for her response. She was as forlorn as the man. “Miss, I know this has been very stressful for you.”
“Not all of it.” She smiled slightly. “Tad is a delightful child.”
“I’m leaving for Baltimore tonight.” He leaned toward her. “I can take you with me. There’s no reason for you to stay any longer.”
“I can leave now?” She straightened her back. “Mr. Stanton said I could leave tonight?”
“No, the man—Mr. Lincoln’s double—suggested it. He’s worried for your safety. Mr. Stanton knows nothing of this.”
She fell back in the rocker, the air seemingly leaving her body, and looked back out the window.
“Miss?”
“I don’t care what he wants,” she said in a rueful whisper.
“I don’t care what Mr. Stanton wants either,” said Lamon. “He’s had what he wanted for the last two years. Now it’s what we want.”
“No, I mean…” Her voice trailed off as her hand went to her cheek. Her eyes seemed to focus on a distant object. “I don’t want Tad to be left alone.”
“His parents will be back soon,” Lamon said, “and the man is still here.”
“The man is still here,” she repeated blankly. “No, I don’t want him to be left alone. He’s been through so much, and he’s come to depend on me. I can’t let him down.”
Sighing, Lamon stood and put his hand on the rocking chair.
“As you wish.” He smiled. “I must say, miss, I’ve been wrong about you and the man.”
“Wrong?” She looked up.
“I didn’t think much of you for replacing the Lincolns,” he explained. “But now I see both of you are fine people.”
“Both of us?” She smiled queerly. “Fine people?” Her eyes returned to stare unseeingly out the window. “Thank you.”