West

Three heads were at the bottom of the well. One bony skull stared up at me, its long blond hair all that identified it as a woman. Another head with long, blonde hair was face down with its skeletal remains covered by a faded blue gown while the third head was off to one side, alone, with no body or clothing or anything identifying about it except for her hair.

Blonde hair. Like mine. Three girls sent back to pretend to be the daughter of a kind but senile man named John. It made sense that they'd all look similar, which meant every girl who came before me ended up murdered at the bottom of the well.

But why and by whom?

"Sheriff?" I whispered hoarsely. He knew or suspected me of being just like the other three. He'd flat out admitted that none of the other girls made it out of the town alive, and he'd been prowling around the well earlier that day.

Had he somehow figured out they were in the past to stop him from the massacre that was coming?

If so, who had put the phones in the armoire? Why did he offer to help me and rescue me the way he had?

I stared at the images, nauseated. The dry well had been filled with dirt to a point, but the fall was still far enough to kill someone if they went in headfirst.

Or were thrown in after being killed elsewhere.

My shock began to wear off, and I sent the image to Carter with a note. Not totally sure, but I think these are the other three women you sent.

He had already texted a response to me about leaving.

"You leave when you succeed in changing history. The plains have a lot of lightening storms this time of year with enough power to send you back," I read aloud. "What if someone figures me out and throws me into a well, Carter?" Once again, I was stuck on the idea that there was more than bad communication here, that the darkness I sensed came from my intuition warning me not to trust Carter fully.

My hands shook. There were tears on my cheeks and the image of the girls in the well remained on my screen. I could hardly believe it was real, that I lived a hundred feet away from a well filled with the remains of the women who might've been there for the same reason I was. At least I figured out my danger, though I had no idea which direction it'd come from. Philip was first on my list, followed by the sheriff.