Chapter Forty-ThreeThe inside of the church smelled of damp and wood rot. Standing just inside the doorway, having approached the building from the side and keeping himself low, Simms surveyed the empty pews, the simple decorations and the cloth covered altar at the far end. He eased back the hammer of the Colt, the mechanism resounding loud around the empty space as if it were the onset of a symphony orchestra. Wincing, he waited, ears straining for the slightest sound.
Nothing stirred.
Taking his time, easing one foot after the other, always alert for any movement or sound, Simms moved down the central aisle. At the far end, behind a stone font, the bell ropes dangled from the open entrance to the tower far above. When he reached them, he peered upwards, expecting at any moment a figur
