Page 29 of The Orphan of Cemetery Hill
But what was more important was the message she had brought about Whitby. If Tabby was to be believed, then he was dangerous, malicious.Couldshe be believed about anything, though? His brief, unbelievable conversation with her played through his mind over and over. If what she said was true, then his situation was hopeless, dire, even. But why would Whitby work to get him out of prison the first time, only to make sure he was arrested again shortly thereafter?
Rubbing his stiff knees, Caleb finally stood and stretched, the rush of fresh blood that pumped through his body revitalizing him. The most sensible course of action would be to hire a good lawyer, see the trial through, and hope that the jury was reasonable. But that was in a perfect world where things were fair and actually worked the way they should, not in a world where greedy men killed innocent young women for their own gain. It was a gamble, and while he relished a good game of odds, he was not particularly keen to do so when the stakes were his life.
If Whitby was truly the murderer, as Tabby claimed, then Caleb would be sitting in this cell until his hair turned gray or he was executed, whichever came first. Whitby would never fall under suspicion, and even if he did, he would quickly be cleared thanks to his connections and name. As the sounds of carts and fishmongers transitioned into the laughter and chatter of dock workers making their way home for the day, the only possible solution became clear: Tabby was right. He had to escape.
As Caleb took stock of his miserable cell and what was available to him, he couldn’t help but let out a grim laugh. If someone had told him a month ago that his father would die and leave him the business, and then his father’s scheming business partner would murder Caleb’s fiancée in order to exact a perverse revenge and gain control of the company, he would have slapped them on the shoulder, saying it was the best joke he’d heard in a long time. But here he was, plotting his escape from prison so that he would not risk standing trial and being found guilty by a bribed jury. God worked in mysterious ways, as his mother was so fond of saying, but he would have paid good money to ask God what He was thinking with this level of absurdity.
His thoughts were interrupted by an officer bringing Caleb’s evening tray of stale bread and thin barley soup. Caleb recognized the blond man with the close-cropped hair as one of the officers that had been present at his first arrest, and then had supervised his visit with Tabby earlier that day. Officer Hodgeson or something to that effect.
It wasn’t until the next morning when the same officer came to collect his tray that the spark of an idea took root in Caleb’s head. An inventory of his cell the previous night had made it clear that Caleb was not going to carry off some daring escape involving a tunnel or scaling walls. He hadn’t the patience for digging, let alone the musculature. No, there was only one way out of here, and it was to use his wits.
Caleb had noticed the way the officer had watched Tabby’s every move, the quick duck of his head when she turned her gaze in his direction, the color touching his cheeks when she addressed him. Despite the officer’s look of wide-eyed innocence and his boyish demeanor, he was well built and tall, bigger than Caleb.
Officer Hodsdon—as Caleb learned his name was eventually—did not come every day. Sometimes it was the warden or some other nameless officer. But when he was on duty, Caleb made a point to chat with him, find out everything he could about him. He learned that the young man had injured his hand in the line of duty, and that he had been relegated to work within the prison until he mended. He’d recently lost his mother, and her dying wish was that her son reach the rank of sergeant.
“Back on dinner duty?” Caleb asked in a pleasant tone.
Officer Hodsdon was juggling three trays in one hand, grappling with his ring of keys in the other. He grunted in answer.
“Seems like you could use some help.”
Slipping Caleb’s tray through the slot in the bars, Officer Hodsdon gave a little shrug. “We used to have a girl that handled all the meals and linen collection, but it became clear that her presence was a distraction to the prisoners and guards alike, and she was let go.”
As far as steering the conversation went, it was rather clumsy, but Caleb had only a few seconds before Officer Hodsdon moved on to the next cell, so he took his chance. “Speaking of girls, do you know that young woman who visits me? The one with red hair and the clouded eyes?”
Pausing, Officer Hodsdon regarded him with something between wariness and suspicion. “Miss Cooke.”
“That’s right.” Caleb gave him an encouraging smile. “She mentioned you the last time she was here. Said you looked too kind to work at a place like this.”
If Officer Hodsdon was intrigued, his face didn’t betray anything. A flush of shame ran through Caleb that he would dangle Tabby in front of this man, like some sort of pretty fairground prize. He decided to try a different angle. “She’s a medium, you know.” Caleb held his breath, trying to look nonchalant as he waited to see if the officer would take the bait.
Now this seemed to pique his interest. “She is?”
Caleb rubbed at the back of his neck. God, he was dirty and in need of a bath. “Oh yes. I’d wager she could contact someone for you. Your mother, say.”
Unmistakable interest crossed the officer’s face, and immediately there was a shift in his demeanor. “You know, we see each other every day. You might as well call me Billy,” he said.
When Billy was done with the trays, he came back, a pack of cards in his hand. “I don’t suppose you play? Half the men in here can barely count to ten and I’m fit to expire of boredom.”
Caleb was only too happy to oblige. Dragging a little table right up to the cell, Billy began dealing and Caleb scraped his chair over to position it between the bars.
They played their cards in silence, Billy occasionally getting up to patrol the other cells in the hall, and Caleb making sure to play well, but not well enough to beat his guard.
“I could put in a good word for you with her,” Caleb said carefully as he laid his cards out.
He didn’t say who, and he didn’t need to. The cards in Billy’s hand stilled. “You would?”
“Of course!” Caleb exclaimed, like they were the oldest friends in the world.
There was silence as Billy considered his play before sliding Caleb a sly look. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t you? You’re sure you’re not just trying to see her again?”
Caleb feigned intense interest in his cards. He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “She doesn’t mean anything to me. Just a friend of my mother’s.”
Billy rubbed at his chin, presumably to hide the pink flush from creeping up farther. The man really was smitten with Tabby, and could Caleb blame him? She might have been a fraud and a liar, but she was an uncommonly striking young woman.
“I don’t know,” Billy said at last, folding his cards on the table and leaning back, his fingers laced behind his head. “I can’t just accept favors from prisoners. If I want to make sergeant, then I have to walk the straight and narrow.”
“Well, let me know if you change your mind.” Caleb flashed him his most charming smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”
