After she hangs up, I get less than twenty seconds of silence to reflect on the conversation. Then Caitlin is standing in front of me with her eyebrows arched and her hands on her hips.

“Today we talked about our old deal,” she reminds me. “I thought we’d decided to throw it out the window in this case. How can I help Tom if I don’t know everything that’s going on?”

She’s talking about my father’s needs, but her eyes tell me that her hunger for a major story is already overriding all other considerations. My recognition of that hunger unsettles me. I’m about to reply when her gaze lights on the sofa back where Jewel’s file lay a minute ago.

“You moved that autopsy report so I wouldn’t pick it up?” she asks with disbelief.

I feel like I’m talking to an addict who’s rationalizing her need for vodka or pills. “I’m not even supposed to have that report. Jewel Washington put her career on the line to pass me that.”

Caitlin’s incredulity changes into anger. “You think I’d do something that could hurt Jewel?”

“No. But you might well find yourself on the witness stand before this is over. I don’t want you committing perjury to protect me or anybody else, even if you’re willing to do it.”

The familiar pink moons have appeared on her cheeks. Before she can attack, I add, “We’re in unmapped territory, Caitlin. I tried to use the picture on Shad today, but he and Billy Byrd had already figured a way to defuse that particular bomb.”

This gets her attention. “How?”

“Billy will swear Shad was working undercover for him when that photo was taken. I could still release the photo, but it won’t stop the case against Dad.”

“I still think Shad would be run out of office.”

“Maybe. But I’m not sure I want that.”

She’s grinding her teeth now, which isn’t good, but it’s better than yelling. God only knows what she told Annie to keep her in the kitchen. “You don’t trust me,” she says flatly.

“That’s not it. You know it’s not.”

“Henry was going to come to work for me. You keeping this stuff from me is just—insulting.”

I toss the autopsy report onto the sofa. “The preliminary report pegs Viola’s cause of death as adrenaline overdose, but all that really does is muddy the water. And you obviously can’t report it.”

She stares at me for several awkward seconds. Then she nods once. “Thank you.”

“Why do you think Henry was going to say yes to working for you?”

“I just know it. You’ll see.” She shakes her head again, as though words have failed her. “I’m going back to work.”

“Can’t you stay and eat some ice cream with us?”