Page 27 of The Orphan of Cemetery Hill
Was it her imagination, or did Officer Hodsdon look disappointed at this? But then he was clearing his throat, and giving her a genuine smile. “Of course. It’s not visiting hours, but I can let you see him for five minutes. Our secret,” he said, leaning in and tapping a finger to his nose in a conspiratorial gesture.
It wasn’t nearly enough time, but she knew it wasn’t worth arguing. Nodding, Tabby allowed Officer Hodsdon to lead her through a set of double doors and down a long hallway lined with barred cells. A few men leered as she passed and Officer Hodsdon yelled at them to mind their manners.
When they finally stopped, it was not in front of the general holding room in which Caleb had been the first time, but a solitary cell with a slit for a window, and a floor covered in musty straw. He was a sorry sight to behold, sitting on a hard bench with his head in his hands, his fine golden curls mussed and wild. Gone was the rebellious spark in his eye, the flippant air that he’d had the last time she’d visited him in this dismal place.
When he looked up and saw she was his visitor, he leapt to his feet, smoothing out his rumpled shirt. “Tabby? What on earth... You shouldn’t be here.”
“Shh, there isn’t much time.” She was right at the bars, aware that Officer Hodsdon was standing a polite distance away, but still within earshot.
Caleb just stood there, gawping at her as if he were seeing a ghost. “Miss O’Reilly told me yesterday that you were missing... No one knew where you were. I thought...” he trailed off, his throat working convulsively.
“It’s all right, he didn’t hurt me.” She tamped down the memory of Mr. Whitby’s breath on her cheek, the look in his eye that told her he would not only kill her if he could, but would relish doing so.
Caleb’s brows nearly shot off his face and he rushed toward the bars. “Hurt you? Who? What are you talking about?”
She shook her head, annoyed at herself that she had let that slip. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t matter! Tabby, I—” He broke off, running his hand through his hair and muttering something to himself that she couldn’t catch. “Look, don’t worry about me. Go home to your father. Mr. Whitby will sort all this—”
Tabby shot an alarmed glance at Officer Hodsdon, sure that he was listening, and then leaned closer through the bars so that she could lower her voice further. Despite the unsavory surroundings, Caleb still smelled delicious, like soap and peppery spices. She took a deep breath, composing herself. “Mr. Whitby is the one who had you arrested. He’s the reason you’re in here in the first place.”
Caleb blinked at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. I admit I have no great love for the man, but he’s been with our family for years. He would never cast suspicion on me. Besides, he’s the one who got me out in the first place.”
Oh, but it was worse than that. Should she tell him the truth? Would he even believe her if she did? She had to, it was the only way to get him to understand the severity of the situation, to make him act. “I am not being ridiculous. I went to his house to—don’t look at me like that—I went to his house to find evidence. Here,” she said, producing the earring and holding it close to her body so that Officer Hodsdon wouldn’t see.
Caleb’s face drained of all color as his gaze alighted on the sparkling blue jewel, and he reached a tentative finger through the bars to touch it. “That...that’s from a set I gave to Rose on our engagement,” he said in a whisper. “The police claimed they found the other one in my parlor, but on my honor, I don’t know how it got there.”
Tabby knew how it had. It would have been all too easy for Mr. Whitby to slip the earring into a cushion or drawer in Caleb’s parlor, and then alert the police. Her suspicions about the earring confirmed, she continued. “He killed Rose, Caleb, and he would have killed me if I hadn’t—” She cut herself short, not wanting to alarm him unduly and incur his anger for trespassing in Mr. Whitby’s house. “I don’t know why he killed her, but he’s letting you take the blame while he walks free.”
When he didn’t say anything, she returned the earring to her pocket. “Caleb,” she said softly. “You’ll hang for this.”
He was pale as a sheet. “The business,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“What do you mean?”
From behind her came Officer Hodsdon’s voice. “One more minute, Miss Cooke.”
Caleb spoke quickly. “He wants the business. He thought my father would leave everything to him, since Whitby was his business partner, but he left it to me instead. He must want me out of the way.” Then color flooded his face and his eyes narrowed and she saw real fury there. “Why would he have killed you, and where did you find that earring? When would he—”
“Hush!” She darted a furtive glance at Officer Hodsdon who was pretending not to stare at them. “You have to get out of here. You have to escape.”
“Escape? You can’t be serious.” He looked at her like she had just suggested that he build a ship to the moon. “There’s still the trial.”
Tabby had no faith in the justice system, not when she had seen Mr. Whitby pervert it so easily for his own gain. Besides, any evidence the jury would hear would be biased against Caleb. They would hear how he was the last person to see Rose Hammond alive, how they had argued that night. They would be shown the earring that was found in his house. She shook her head. “Mr. Whitby would have no problem making sure the court ruled against you. Please,” she said, “you must find a way out of here.”
Caleb didn’t say anything and the silence stretched between them, growing heavier and tenser. Finally, he gave the smallest nod of his head. “But Tabby—” he gave her a stern look as her face brightened “—I don’t want you getting any more involved in this. If Whitby is half as dangerous as you say, then I want you as far away from him as possible.”
Tabby opened her mouth, but he stopped her. “No arguments. I can be a crafty dodger when I put my mind to it, and I’ll figure this out. Alone.”
She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t just for his sake that she was concerned, but for Rose’s, as well. It might have been the urgency of the situation, or how vulnerable he looked in his rumpled suit and unkempt curly hair, but this roguish young man had somehow found the chink in the armor around her heart. If he escaped—which was his only real course of action—she would never see him again. Would it really be so very terrible if she unburdened her secret, just this once?
These thoughts flitted through her head like an erratic sparrow in flight, and before she could let all the old arguments against it sway her, she was blurting out: “I can speak to the dead. That’s how I knew your father, and Rose. That’s how I know you’re innocent and that Mr. Whitby is responsible for her murder. I’ve never told another living soul, except for my parents and sister, and they’re all gone now.”
The air around them had gone very still as she spoke, the noise of the prison melting into the background. He stared at her.
She shouldn’t have told him. It didn’t matter that she would never see him again. What mattered was that he didn’t believe her. She could see it on his face, the wariness, the incredulity. She had been right to build up a wall around her heart. She could never hope to walk amongst the living, to thrive like a normal young woman. Her sister was gone, and with her, the only person that would ever understand Tabby. She was destined to wander through this half-life lonely and misunderstood.
She braced herself for his words, but it didn’t make it any easier when they broke over her like frigid waves.
