Chapter 5: The Evil Pact
I couldn’t help myself. The first thing I did when I got there was look into a case from fifteen years ago.
The files smelled like old paper and coffee. They were dusty, tucked away in a metal cabinet at the sheriff’s office.
A pregnant woman. Almost due. Murdered, her body hidden in her house.
It made my skin crawl. The words jumped out at me, stark and cold.
A week went by before they found her. Her own family hadn’t said a word—and even protected the killer.
It drove them crazy. Because there was no evidence, the police couldn’t do anything to the real murderer—they just watched her get away with it.
There it was—just like in the dream: the well.
I could’ve been the fourth. The thought hollowed me out.
Officer Mike Sullivan—an old hand at the sheriff’s office—walked me through the case.
I liked him right away. He was the kind of guy who’d seen it all—grizzled, gray at the temples, with a voice like gravel and a handshake that could crush walnuts.
I wasn’t sure how he’d react. On my first day there, I asked him about Gary Quinn’s case.
He raised an eyebrow, like he wasn’t sure if I was brave or just stupid.
It sounded like something out of a detective novel. PeachTreeDreamer said, “If you want to untangle this, start with the one who started it.”
He didn’t laugh. I repeated the advice, feeling a little self-conscious, and Officer Sullivan just gave a slow nod.
He shook his head with a sigh. “Guy was slippery as an eel. You almost got sold by him too, huh?”
He looked tired, lips pressed into a thin line.
Maybe you read my piece, “The Evil Pact.”
People argued about whether something like that could happen in America. I always said it could. It was a story I’d posted online, half fiction, half fact—about a town where evil ran deeper than the river.
That scene haunted me. Remember that twisted little town where the wife was trafficked, and the husband, even with dynamite strapped to his chest, couldn’t get his wife and kids out?
Real life, not fiction. This case happened in that very town.
Everyone knew. Nobody said a word. Half the brides in that town were trafficked in.
It was a spider’s web. So, once a girl entered the town, there was no escape. Everyone helped each other keep an eye on their bought wives.













