Kim shifted her weight and checked her watch. It was already ten-thirty, and she’d not even been to the compound yet.

The woman reappeared with a manila pocket folder. She handed it to Kim. “You can’t take this out of the room,” she said. She pointed to some Formica tables and molded plastic chairs along the back wall. “You can sit over there if you like.”

Kim took the folder over to an empty chair. She sat down and slipped out the contents. There was a lot of material. All of it was written in reasonably legible longhand.

At first Kim thought that the file contained only documents associated with civil suits Ronald had filed with the court for debts owed to him. But then she began to find more interesting things, like reference to a contested will involving Ronald.

Kim carefully read the document. It was a ruling in Ronald’s favor involving a will contested by a Jacob Cheever. Reading on, Kim discovered that Jacob had been a child of Hannah’s from a previous marriage and that Hannah had been significantly older than Ronald. Jacob had testified that Ronald had duped his mother into changing her will, thereby depriving him of his rightful inheritance. Apparently the justices disagreed. The result had been that Ronald inherited several thousand pounds, a sizable fortune in those days.

Kim marveled that life in the late seventeenth century hadn’t been as different as she’d imagined. She’d been under the delusion that at least legally it had been simpler. Reading about the contested will suggested she was wrong. It also made her think again about Ronald’s character.

The next document was even more curious. It was a contract dated February 11, 1681, between Ronald Stewart and Elizabeth Flanagan. It had been drawn up and signed prior to their marriage, like a contemporary premarital agreement. But it wasn’t about money or property per se. The contract merely gave Elizabeth the right to own property and enter into contracts in her own name after the marriage.

Kim read the whole document. Toward the end Ronald himself had written an explanation. Kim recognized the handwriting as the particularly graceful script she’d seen on many of the bills of lading in the castle. Ronald wrote: “It is my intention that if actions pursuant to my mercantile endeavor require my prolonged absence from Salem Town and Maritime, Ltd, that my betrothed, Elizabeth Flanagan, may justly and legally administer our joint affairs.”

After finishing the document, Kim went back to the beginning and reread it to make sure she understood it. It amazed her. The fact that such a document was necessary in order for Elizabeth to sign contracts reminded her that the role of women had been quite different in Puritan times. Their legal rights were limited. It was the same message Kim had gotten from the letter Elizabeth’s father had written to Ronald concerning Elizabeth’s hand in marriage.

Laying the premarital agreement aside, Kim went back to the remaining papers in Ronald Stewart’s folder. After a handful of additional debtor suits, Kim came across a truly interesting document. It was a petition by Ronald Stewart requesting a Writ of Replevin. It was dated Tuesday, July 26, 1692, a week after Elizabeth’s death.

Kim had no idea what Replevin meant, but she quickly got an idea. Ronald wrote: “I humbly beg the court in God’s name to return to my possession forthwith the conclusive evidence seized from my property by Sheriff George Corwin and used against my beloved wife, Elizabeth, during her trial for witchcraft by the Court of Oyer and Terminer on 20 June 1692.”

Attached to the back of the petition was an August 3, 1692, ruling by Magistrate John Hathorne denying the petition. In his denial the magistrate said: “The Court advises said petitioner, Ronald Stewart, likewise to petition his excellency the Governor of the Commonwealth for the aforementioned evidence since, by executive order, custody of said evidence has been transferred from Essex to Suffolk County.”

In one sense Kim was pleased. She’d found indirect documentary evidence of Elizabeth’s ordeal: she’d been tried and evidently convicted. At the same time Kim felt frustrated that the nature of the “conclusive evidence” was never mentioned. She reread both the petition and the ruling in hopes she’d missed it. But she hadn’t. The evidence was not described.

For a few minutes Kim sat at the table and tried to imagine what the evidence could have been. The only thing she could think of was something to do with the occult, and that was because of her father’s vague statement. Then she got an idea. Glancing back at the petition, she wrote down the date of the trial. With the date in hand she returned to the counter and got the clerk’s attention.

“I’d like to see the records of the Court of Oyer and Terminer for June 20, 1692.”

The clerk literally laughed in Kim’s face. Then she repeated the request and laughed again. Confused, Kim asked what was so funny.

“You’re asking for something just about every Tom, Dick, and Harry would want,” the clerk said. She sounded as if she’d just come from the back country of Maine. “Trouble is, no such records exist. Wish they did, but they don’t. There’s no record of that Court of Oyer and Terminer for all the witch trials. All there is is some scattered testimony and depositions, but the court records themselves plumb disappeared.”

“How unfortunate,” Kim said. “Maybe you could tell me something else. Do you happen to know what ‘conclusive evidence’ means?”

“I ain’t no lawyer,” the clerk said. “But hold your horses. Let me ask.”

The clerk disappeared into an office. Seconds later she reemerged with a heavyset woman in tow. The second woman had oversized glasses balanced on a short, wide nose.

“You’re interested in a definition of ‘conclusive evidence,’” the woman said.

Kim nodded.

“It’s pretty much self-explanatory,” the woman said. “It means evidence that is incontrovertible. In other words it can’t be questioned, or there is only one possible interpretation that can be drawn from it.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kim said. She thanked the two women and went back to her material. Using a copy machine in the corner, she made a copy of the petition for a Writ of Replevin and the ruling. Then she returned the documents to their envelope and handed the envelope back to the clerk.

Finally Kim drove out to the compound. She felt a little guilty, since she’d told Mark Stevens she’d be there in the morning and already it was approaching noon. As she rounded the last bend in the road leading from the gate and broke free from the trees, she could see a handful of trucks and vans parked near the cottage. There was also a large backhoe and mounds of fresh earth. But Kim didn’t see any people, not even on the backhoe.

Kim parked and got out of her car. The noontime heat and dust were oppressive, and the smell of the freshly turned earth was pungent. Kim closed the car door, and, shielding her face from the sun, she followed with her eyes the line of the trench that ran across the field toward the castle. At that moment the door to the house opened and George Harris stepped out. Sweat lined his forehead.

“Glad you could make it,” George said. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

“Is something wrong?” Kim asked.

“Sorta,” George said evasively. “Maybe I’d better show you.”

George motioned for Kim to follow him toward where the backhoe was parked.

“We had to stop work,” George said.

“Why?” Kim asked.

George didn’t answer. Instead he encouraged Kim to come over to the trench.

Hesitant to step too close to the edge for fear of its giving way, Kim stretched forward and looked in. She was impressed by the depth, which she estimated to be more than eight feet. Roots hung out of the sheer walls like miniature brooms. George directed her attention to the end, where the trench stopped abruptly fifty feet short of the cottage. Near the bottom Kim could see the damaged end of a wooden box protruding from the wall.