Chapter 7: The Dipper and the Dead
She wanted a big family. Mrs. Dixon meant it, too.
She chose Billy. With her just-turned-eighteen mind, Paula thought it over and saw no other way.
It felt strange, but she smiled. The ceremony was small, just family and a few neighbors.
What counted was the promise. Nobody asked questions. In a town like this, paperwork didn’t matter.
She learned to laugh again. She started to settle in, finding small comforts in daily routines.
Everyone loved her. She became the heart of the family.
Paula started to trust him. He’d leave little notes on her pillow, sneak her extra cookies, and walk her to the edge of the yard every evening, just to watch the stars.
It almost felt normal. She told Billy the news on a rainy afternoon, and he cried—big, happy tears that made Paula laugh for the first time in months.
Everything changed in an instant. But when that water dipper covered her face, it was over. She’d never see her grandma again.
But now it meant death. It was a small, ordinary thing—something you’d use to scoop water from a well.
The evidence was clear. That dipper belonged to Gary Quinn’s family.
Nobody was safe. They rounded up everyone—Gary, his mother, his cousins.
It sent a chill through the room. He spoke calmly, almost casually, as if he were admitting to breaking a window instead of taking a life.
Nobody knew what to say. His words hung in the air, cold and matter-of-fact.
It was chilling. Gary Quinn introduced himself with eerie calm, like he was about to shake hands and say, “Hi, I’m a human trafficker…”
I thought I knew the worst of it. I was wrong.













