Page 53 of The Orphan of Cemetery Hill

“Do you know where she’s gone?” he asked stupidly.

“If I knew where she was I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you,” Mr. Cooke said, fumbling in his pocket for his key and climbing the crumbling front steps to the boarding house.

“Please.” Alice stopped him with a hand to his sleeve. “Caleb has told me all about you and Tabby, about how you took her in when she was just a girl. I know you only want what is best for her. Please let us help. We think she might be in danger. Do you know of a man named Mr. Whitby?”

Slowly, Mr. Cooke placed the key back in his pocket and stepped off the stoop.

“I don’t know of any Mr. Whitby,” he said. “Just what kind of danger do you think she’s in?”

Caleb opened his mouth, but no words came out. Where to start? Luckily, Alice took over. “We think that there are men behind recent grave robberies in Boston who have her and want to use her for her abilities. We think that she is being held somewhere against her will.”

Eli frowned. “Abilities? What are you talking about? Why would grave robbers want Tabby?”

Good lord, Eli didn’t know. Tabby had entrusted her secret to Caleb, and not even her own father. He was both humbled and ashamed, but he was spared having to explain any further by footsteps behind him. Caleb turned to find Mary-Ruth standing behind him with arms crossed, her face pale and tight with worry. Wonderful. The only other person who trusted him even less than Mr. Cooke.

Mary-Ruth put her basket down and gave Mr. Cooke a kiss on his cheek. “These folks say Tabby is in some kind of trouble,” he said.

“Miss O’Reilly,” Caleb said with a tight smile. “How good to see you.”

She gave him a scowl and then her lips parted as her gaze landed on Alice. “You look just like her,” she said in a whisper.

“Tabby’s sister,” Caleb hurried to explain. “We think she may be in trouble. There’s a man, a Mr. Whitby, who—”

But he didn’t have a chance to finish. “Mr. Whitby?”

“You know him?” Caleb asked.

Mary-Ruth nodded, looking uneasy. “Well, I don’t know him, but Tabby mentioned him. She was convinced that he murdered Miss Hammond, and was after her, as well. Oh God,” she groaned. “She told me she was going to hide, to stay out of sight. I figured that was why I hadn’t seen her in so long.”

Caleb shared an alarmed look with Alice. This was worse than he’d thought, so much worse. Why had he taken the coward’s route and gone to England? Why hadn’t he stayed and tried to protect her?

“She had been doing watching for me,” Mary-Ruth continued. “The last time I heard from her she had been at Robert Graham’s house. She was supposed to send for me when he had passed, but I never heard from her again. I searched everywhere.” Mary-Ruth paused. “I had thought...that is, I had hoped that she had left town and was lying low.”

Mr. Cooke had lowered himself down onto the step, his face in his hands. “We all of us failed her,” he said.

The sky was heavy, looking like it might finally let loose its snow any moment. The day when Caleb had kissed Tabby in the gentle spring air seemed decades ago. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was no use wallowing or giving in to despair. They were going to find her, it was only a question of when and how. They had to start with what they knew. “Who’s Robert Graham?” Caleb asked.

Mary-Ruth pushed a dark strand of hair out of her tired eyes. “He is—was—a dean at Harvard, and from a very prominent family. He had a wasting condition and died about a month ago.”

A prominent family with ties to Harvard. Caleb gave a dry swallow. “Might...might he have been acquainted with Richard Whitby?”

Mary-Ruth’s gaze sharpened. “I would be surprised if they hadn’t been acquainted. You don’t think...” she trailed off.

“Well, we aren’t going to find her standing around here and speculating,” Alice said with an impatient huff.

Mary-Ruth nodded. “She’s right. We need to go to Robert Graham’s house, find out where she might have gone after that.”

As Caleb stepped out onto the street to find a hack, he looked around at the small group. They were an army that was prepared to defend Tabby and do everything they could to keep her safe. Wherever she was, he could only hope that she knew how much so many people cared about her.

A small weight lifted in Caleb’s chest now that they had the beginning of a plan. The hill was not heavily trafficked, but eventually a hack strained its way up the street and he hailed it.

Mr. Cooke was adjusting his hat, moving toward the hack, and Caleb realized he meant to come. “Someone should stay here in case she comes back,” he said.

Scowling, he jabbed a finger at Caleb’s chest. “That’s my girl, and if you think I’m not going to do everything I can to get her back, then you’re thick as they come.”

Caleb opened his mouth, but it was Mary-Ruth who put a gentle hand on Mr. Cooke’s arm. “Mr. Bishop is right,” she said. “This is Tabby’s home and when she comes back, she’ll want her father there. You won’t be helping her by running around the city and putting yourself in harm’s way.”

With obvious reluctance, Mr. Cooke nodded. “All right. I’ll go put some coffee on just in case she’s wanting something warm when she comes back. I’ve been doing the same every day for a month, but maybe today will be the day.”

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