Chapter 31

Before dawn broke, Harold Avery was up and ready. By the time he finished breakfast, Reverend Churchill was at the door with five men who had agreed to help. Harold knew them and knew they were good. All were well armed, and they all thought Mary innocent.

When the sun rose enough to pierce the thick forest they left, marching in file along the trail the short distance to Rebecca’s house. It was less than a ten-minute walk. On the way, Avery explained how they would handle it.

“Surround the house,” he said. “We do not want her escaping.”

“You think she will try?” Churchill asked. “She did not run last time.”

“I do not know. Better to be ready than not.”

When the men arrived near Rebecca’s home, they split and moved to circle it as best they could. Each took a position about ten yards away that gave them a view of a side. After being assured the men were ready, Reverend Churchill and Avery went to the door. In the sunlight, both commented to the fact the sense of evil was no longer present.

“Should we knock?” Churchill asked.

“Is it not the customary way to let those inside know you are there.”

Churchill chuckled softly. “If she does not answer?”

Avery glanced at him. “Then we will go in.”

Harold Avery banged on the door and announced himself. When there was no reply, he knocked again and once again declared his presence.

After a minute, he grabbed the latch. The door swung open. The odor of decay, feces, and other unknowns forced he and Reverend Churchill back, gagging.

Churchill turned away and stumbled several steps into the yard, retching. The four men hurried to the front. They recoiled from the smell, which seemed to creep through the open door and several feet out into the yard.

“Surely she could not live in such a manner,” one man said.

“We did not speak to her in the house last month. She met us outside,” Avery said. He was one of the men who talked with her. “We had no reason to go in. The woman is surely of Satan. No one can live like that.”

“We must assure she is not inside,” another man said.

“There is death in there,” said the third man.

“I will try,” Avery said. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand and went in.

Within seconds, he charged through the door choking and gagging.

“I think she is not inside. Nothing can live in such pestilence.” He took a deep breath. “I did not get far in, but I am sure she is gone.”

“The house must be checked,” Churchill said. He glanced at it and gave an involuntary shiver.

“I cannot go in again,” Avery said. “It reeks of death and decay.”

Churchill turned to the building. He took the few steps to the door and poked his head inside. A moment later he stepped in. Outside, the men watched the doorway. A minute later, Churchill appeared, red in the face. He exhaled and walked back to them.

“I held my breath as long as I could,” he said. “The stink is appalling. There are dead, rotting animals in there. Some look half eaten.”

“We must open it up and let the place air out,” Avery said. He studied the dwelling, looking at the windows and door. “Break all the windows and open all doors. There is a door at the back.”

“And pray for a breeze,” Churchill added.

The men laughed. Knowing Rebecca was no longer there eased their minds, and the fear and uncertainty was now gone. They went to the house and tried opening the windows. Those they could open they did, and they broke out the rest.

There was little wind, but eventually they could enter the home for a short time. The smell affected all of them, forcing them to take turns until they had searched the entire building.

The condition of the rooms shocked and sickened them. All were littered with decaying animal bodies, and they discovered Churchill was right. Some of them were partially eaten. Maggots infested the remains. There was body waste in every corner, and flies swarmed throughout the inside, covering everything.

“No one can live in it again,” Avery said later. “We should burn it to the ground.”

“Or let it fall down of its own accord,” a man said. “You are right, Harold. No one will ever live here. The house is cursed.”

“It is what hell must be like,” another commented.

Harold Avery looked up at the sun. “We must return. It is nearing the time.”

They all knew what he meant. All seven men were angry at not finding Rebecca, or any proof of her involvement in killing her uncle. Every one of the seven men felt they had failed, and it did not sit well with them.

“I hoped to find something,” one said. “If we found hemlock or another poison, would it be enough?”

“It is possible. Did not Constable Eaton say he would delay the hanging if we could show him any proof Rebecca might be guilty?” Churchill looked at the men.

“The proof may be in there,” another said, “but we cannot yet breathe inside.”

“It will take days for the stink to leave,” Avery said.

“Too late for Mary Bradbury,” a man said.

“Yes, too late for her.” Harold Avery took a last look around. “Let us return and tell what we found. Eaton might yet be able to make a favorable decision.”

Constable Eaton had a look of disbelief on his face as the seven men told him what they found. None of the men exaggerated. There was no need.

“How could she live in such filth?” he asked.

“An animal would not stay in a place like that,” a man said.

“You found nothing to say she murdered John Collins?”

“We could not take the time to look at everything,” Avery said. “If proof is in the house, we must wait until the stink clears.”

“How long?” Constable Eaton asked.

“Days. Peter, you must see it for yourself to understand.”

“You broke out the windows and opened the doors to clear it?” Eaton asked.

“We did. But it will be a time before anyone can enter and do a proper search.”

Nodding, Constable Eaton’s mind raced. Could he delay the hanging based on a hope? What if they searched and found nothing?

“What say you?” Reverend Churchill asked.

Eaton pondered the situation for a few more seconds, and then shook his head. “With nothing found, I must do my duty. I cannot call for a delay.”