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May 4, 2001 Esther’s Mill, Oregon An unmarked, blue Ford E250 van pulled into the gas station at the end of the only paved road of the small town of Esther’s Mill. The street, rather generically named Pine Lane was really nothing more than an access road between highways. The town only consisted of about a dozen buildings, all of which had been made of dark timber. As a result, the whole town appeared to be comprised of log cabins. If it had not been for the brightly lit Chevron canopy over the gas pumps and the modern cars parked along the street, one might think that they had stepped back in time a hundred years. The van was very crowded and the trip up to the mountains had been most uncomfortable. Much to the dismay of the others, Thaddeus Foote sat in the driver’s seat. Once he had stopped next to a
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