I knocked some more, and waited some more. As I was about to shout even louder and beg her to open up, the door to the townhouse next to Tabitha’s swung open, and Millie Hedron peeked her head out.
“Oh hi, Miss Hedron,” I said. “I’m sorry if I woke you.” Millie was still in her robe.
She waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve been up for hours with all the action around here.”
“Action?”
She nodded and pulled the sides of her robe together. “Carl Haight came and took Tabitha down to the station about two hours ago. And boy-howdy can that girl scream.”
“What?”
“Mm-hmm,” she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He and Butter marched right up here, pounded on her door loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood. I couldn’t hear everything Carl said, but—” she looked from left to right, “I have a feeling this has to do with Thad being arrested for his daddy’s murder.”
I was truly shocked. Had Carl figured out that Tabitha was the anonymous source from my piece? Had Tabitha told him what she did? I needed to find out—and quickly.
“I’m sorry, Miss Hedron, but I have to go,” I said, already halfway down the walk. “Sorry I woke you!”
“You didn’t, remember?” She called after me, but I couldn’t stop to respond. I turned the corner and sped off toward the sheriff’s office.
“I’m sorry, Riley,” Gail said. “I can’t let you see her. Rules are rules.”
“Can I at least talk to Carl? Please?”
“I don’t know.” Gail looked over her shoulder toward his office. “He’s been up half the night. I’m not sure now would be the best time—”
“I’ll just be a minute! Thanks,” I said without waiting for her response. When I got to Carl’s door, I paused, took a deep breath, and readied myself. I wasn’t sure what he had on Tabitha but I knew one thing for sure: I was not here to make her situation worse by giving away information she had shared anonymously.
“Sheriff Haight?” I said as I peeked my head into his office.
Carl had dark circles under his eyes and a two-day stubble on his chin. He looked like he hadn’t been home in a while. “No comment for the press, Riley. We’ll have something for you soon—but not yet.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” I said. “I heard you’re holding Tabitha—”
“No comment.”
“Just tell me what she’s charged with and I’ll go away. I promise.”
He looked at me, his lids heavy from exhaustion. We’d known each other long enough for him to know I was going to keep asking until I got some sort of answer—one way or another.
“Fine,” he said, waving me inside. “She hasn’t been charged with anything. I’m holding her for assaulting a police officer.”
“What?” This was not what I was expecting to hear.
“We went to her house to ask her a couple of questions, in part based on your story in the Times, and she just got mad as a hornet. She ordered us to leave and when we wouldn’t, she pushed Butter and he fell backward off her front step onto a little garden ornament thing she had setting out. An angel, I think. Those wings were awful sharp. Poor Butter had to have five stitches in his backside.”
An involuntary giggle bubbled to the surface.
“It’s not funny, Riley. Tabitha needs to control herself. Butter coulda been seriously hurt. And I need all the deputies I’ve got right now.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not funny, you’re right.” I dropped into the chair in front of his desk. I felt badly for him; he was clearly exhausted and overwhelmed. He’d only been in the position of acting-sheriff for a couple of weeks and a murder case like this had to be incredibly stressful. I felt a kinship with him in that moment: we were both new to our jobs and both in just a little bit over our heads. “Have you been home since this all happened?”
“Just once to change my clothes and kiss Lisa and the baby.”
“You know, I’m writing Dr. Davenport’s obit for the Times. I’ll be conducting interviews with the people who knew him best. If you want access to any of my notes, I’m happy to share.”
I thought this sort of open communication could help us both. After all, in a small town people were far more likely to talk to an obituary writer than the law. And if Carl would open up and let me in on where things were in the investigation, it would certainly help me keep printing stories that had accurate, attributable information, like Kay wanted.
“Thanks,” he said, but his lack of enthusiasm gave me pause.
“Unless you think you already have your man?”
“Riley—”
“Do you? Do you think Thad Davenport killed his father? Because from what I’ve heard it seems like there’s room for doubt—”
He held up a hand to stop me. “I’m talking here friend-to-friend, okay? No chance of this ending up in the paper?”
I hesitated before nodding. On one hand, I wanted to know what he was going to say. But on the other, I’d already been warned about too many “off-the-record” moments.
“All right,” I said, figuring if he gave me something newsworthy, I could set about finding another source to confirm it for publication.
“It’s not looking good for Thad,” Carl said. “Between the knife and the drugs, it almost doesn’t matter what the official cause of death was, because either way Thad had means and opportunity. As for motive,” he paused, and I knew what he was going to say before he said it. My stomach churned with guilt. “The story in the paper from your anonymous source supplied plenty of motive.”
“Carl, I—”
“It wasn’t all that. The family bank account was motive enough,
