The Pagan Connection

By Wayne Huffman

Loosely based on true events, and told from the points of view from those involved, The Pagan Connection is the story of Jacqueline, a woman who gives up everything to join a group of Wiccans. Not knowing the true nature of the coven, which is a front for a meth manufacturing operation, Jacqueline blindly follows the leader into the fold where she is soon initiated into the coven and eventually learns to cook meth.
With a history of using her body to get what she wants, Jacqueline begins to work a plan to take over the business. With little thought to the aftermath of her actions, she single-handedly destroys the coven with a sex scandal no one saw coming, and with a surprising turn of events, death follows from a most unlikely source.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wayne Huffman
• Release date: Apr 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311164209

Wayne Huffman

Wayne Huffman has lived every level of meth addiction, from casual user to one of four ‘alleged’ leaders of a methamphetamine manufacturing and distribution organization that included over 250 known members and spanned several states.Wayne began his career as a meth cook in east Tennessee where he has made his home for the last 23 years.

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THE PAGAN CONNECTION

By Wayne Huffman

Published at Smashwords by

MIDNIGHT EXPRESS BOOKS

THE PAGAN CONNECTION

Copyright © 2014 by Wayne Huffman

Smashwords Version

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. While a lot of the events in this book did happen as described, the author changed people’s names and locations of those particular events to protect the innocent and unindicted.

Smashwords License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters are totally from the imagination of the author and depict no persons, living or dead; any similarity is totally coincidental.

As for the portrayal of the Wiccan coven and rituals, I spent many years as a practicing Wiccan so I already know that most of what I wrote is inaccurate or exaggerated but I hope you know that it was all necessary for the story.

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FORWARD

For Drug Task Force (DTF) Agent Mike Commons, the methamphetamine problem in Carter County was only a part of his job. He would often jokingly refer to the never ending flood of the drug as, job security, simply because he knew that no matter how many people he arrested, the problem would never stop. Not that he would particularly want it to, truth be told. Commons was a realist, and he knew that if there were no drugs, there would be no need for drug agents such as himself.

Of course, meth was not the only drug problem Agent Commons was called upon to fight in the never ending War on Drugs. It was just the most interesting. Since beginning his career as a drug agent, Commons had seen it all. Thefts, murders, assaults, child neglect, spouse abuse, incest... Hell, you name it and he has seen it. What always amazed him however was the mind of the meth addicts rather than the crimes they committed. Sure they sometimes went hand in hand, but it was still confusing to him that so many people would consume a drug that they KNEW was going to cause them to basically freak out and lose their grip on reality. And for many of the users Commons had come in contact with, losing a grip on reality was the whole reason they did the drug.

That was the case with the person that Agent Commons was currently leading into the Carter County jail at this particular moment. Gary Avery, age 37. Mr. Avery had called the Sheriff’s office six hours earlier to report several Mexicans running around his property, trying to steal his tractor, bush hog, and any number of other items that he reportedly had begun noticing missing that day. Since Avery was a known drug abuser, and a suspected meth cook, the Sheriff contacted the DTF to ask them if they wouldn’t mind making the trip out to the Avery farm to check things out. This was a common practice with law enforcement in cooperating counties. There was a list of suspected meth cooks, pot growers, crack houses, and prescription pain pill suppliers that the DTF had interests in. Even 911 operators had a copy of this list and when a call came in that required law enforcement to roll out to one of these properties, the call more often than not got transferred to the DTF. It was a good system, and it worked well. Since the DTF had begun rolling out on these calls they had made more than 150 arrests. Some of these arrests were for outstanding warrants, but most of them were for things the responding agent happened to notice that a normal, everyday road cop might have overlooked.

This particular arrestee was noticeably stoned and hallucinating when Agent Commons arrived at his house in response to the suspected trespassing/theft call. Not that Commons could arrest him for that reason alone, seeing as Avery was on his own property and not really a danger to himself or anyone else. The charges Avery was arrested on came from things notice by Commons trained eye. Such as the metal casings from the AA Energizer lithium batteries that were laying, unburned, in the burn pile where Avery burned his trash. Trash burning is common in these rural areas where people live so far out of town that there is no city pick up, and the county dump is just to far to drive to.

Commons also noticed a problem with the propane tank on the suspects grill. It had a brass ball-valve on it instead of the usual tank valve commonly found on these types of tanks. Experience had taught DTF agents that meth cooks commonly change these valves on propane tanks to make it easier to steal anhydrous ammonia from the larger tanks used by most of the local tobacco farmers. Unfortunately, a lot of the gas is not always stolen. More and more farmers have turned to selling the gas to drug makers because of the high return they get on their investment. A few dollars worth of anhydrous ammonia can net a economically struggling farmer several hundred dollars with little risk. Commons did not fault the farms for selling the gas.

These were tight times and the farmers were just trying to survive. A lot of them didn’t even know why their ammonia was so valuable but they also had enough sense not to ask either. Not that it made the selling any less illegal, but it did keep their conscience clear.

Avery had sobered up a little as the Drug Task Force descended upon his little farm after receiving a call from Agent Commons. They brought with them a large, flat-bed truck with several metal drums to clean up the lab site of any harmful chemicals. Commons knew they would go overboard. They always did. Animal medications, rubbing alcohols, peroxides, mason jars, aluminum foil, coffee filters... Hell, anything they could find that could in any possible way be used in the manufacture of meth would be loaded in those steel drums, sealed up, then disposed of. Any anhydrous ammonia, cold pills, or processed pseudoephedrine would go into the custody of Agent Commons himself to be weighted and held if, and until, needed in court for evidence. Most of the time, there was never a trial because the suspect always took a plea bargain for a term of probation and/or rehab rather than going to a jury, who would find the person guilty 9 times out of 10, and send him away to prison for a long, long time. After the person get sentence, Agent Commons would destroy the evidence held for that case by sending it to a State approved disposal plant. It was a good system.

Entering the booking area, Commons put Avery into a small cell and locked the door. He approached the booking officer and turned in his arrest report along with Avery’s personal belongings retrieved from his pockets during the pat down at the time of arrest.

Got another one, huh? The booking officer asked as Commons signed-in in the visitor’s book provided on the booking desk. Yeah, but he’s not been any trouble so far so how about taking it easy on him for me? Let him stay here in the booking cells until he can come down enough to sleep. I think he might want to talk to me once he has time to think about what kind of trouble he’s in right now.

The booking officer shrugged. I got no problem with it, as long as he keeps quiet. But if we have a surge of incoming I might have to move him to the hole.

Commons thought about that a second, You know? That might not be a bad idea itself. Go ahead and put him in the bucket for a couple days then I’ll come back when I get the chance and have a little talk with him.

Whatever you say, Mike.

I would appreciate it, Commons said as he turned to leave, taking a last look at Avery, who was lying down but twitching so much he appeared to be having a seizure. Commons headed for the door but was stopped by the man walking in.

Hey Mike. It was Assistant District Attorney Jerry Pickle, not one of Commons favorite people. A.D.A. Pickle had a habit of backing out of deals that Commons had all but promised to more than a few of his confidential informants for information they had provided to him against dealers who actually meant something to law enforcement; people who needed to be taken off the street. Pickle couldn’t see the bigger picture, couldn’t understand that a low level user was better off to them on the street where they could relay information to the DTF then they were in jail. Pickle thought the users were just as bad as the dealers so he tried throwing the book at everyone he could.

How are you today, Jerry? Commons didn’t really care how he was but he made it a point to be sociable to all the A.D.A.’s. Piss one off and you were likely to piss them all off and not all of them were so bad.

Pickle smiled and turned his back towards the booking officer, who was paying him no mind as it was. Lowering his voice, Pickle said, I don’t know if anyone has told you or not but District Attorney Wilson has been looking for you all day.

Well, I’ve been kind of busy busting up a lab today, Commons liked to remind Pickle just how important he was to the D.A.’s office. Without his bust’s, A.D.A. Pickle wouldn’t get to send all these fancy drug dealers off to the state prison.

Yeah, well Wilson has put word out to everyone to send you her way if you are seen. I guess you might want to go see her. It sounded fairly important. Pickle had just a hint of a smile that didn’t say he was just passing on a friendly request. This smile was more of the gloating kind that said he hope Commons’ ass was in the wringer this time.

Alright. Thanks for the heads up but I think I know what she wants. Commons said, watching the smile fade slightly. I guess I’ll head on over there now. Get this over with before I go on home. Commons turned for the door, throwing a hand up he said to the booking officer, See you later, Ted.

Alrighty, Mike. Oh, by the way, I’m supposed to tell you the D.A. is hunting you.

Commons grinned and said, You don’t say. Well, I reckon I’ll go see what she wants. With that he nodded at Pickle and went through the door.

It was late afternoon by the time Commons made it to D.A. Wilson’s office. He had to stop along the way for his briefcase, and to pick up the file he had been waiting on before he went to see the D.A.

Rapping one time on the door with his knuckles as he opened it, Commons entered the office without waiting to be invited in. Wilson was seated at her desk reading a thick file. Looking up as Commons entered then seated himself across from her, Wilson met him with a disapproving glare.

It’s so nice of you to finally accept my invitation to stop by, she said as way of greeting.

Busy. Meth lab bust, was his only answer. Wilson knew just what it took to clean up after one of these busts. She had been to the State committee meetings when they discussed the costs of such cleanup’s, and had been bored out her mind on more than one occasion as the experts described in bitter detail just why they had to charge what they did in order to make these area’s safe for people to inhabit once again after the bad men had been taken down. No one ever seemed to bring up the fact that when one of these bad men turned States witness against worse men, their homes were never considered too contaminated for them or their families, which usually consisted of a couple children, to inhabit. In fact, it seemed like the only places that ever needed cleaned up where places worth enough money that they could be confiscated as drug proceeds or purchased with drug proceeds, and could be sold at a good profit; a profit that would be split between the state and county.

Well, at least you’re here now, Wilson conceded.

And could you tell me why I’m here. Your request wasn’t specific. But of course, he already knew the answer to his own question.

I want to talk to you about this Wallace case. I am really curious as to why it hasn’t been given to my office yet. We need to start preparing for a trial, and I can’t do that without your reports. Commons knew that a case this big would not be handed off to one of the lowly A.D.A.’s. This was too big, after all. D.A. Wilson always took a special interest when there were dead bodies involved. With that fact in mind, Commons knew that there was no way she wouldn’t be right on top of this case.

Okay, let’s talk.

Wilson looked at Commons like he had just grown a second head. "Let’s talk? How about you just tell me what the holdup is.

I have been waiting on you to submit your reports but so far I have not heard shit from the DTF. So, if we are going to talk, let’s talk about why you haven’t gotten around to coming to see me. I mean, this is only a murder investigation after all." Wilson was definitely ready to take this case on and the sooner the better.

Commons reached into his briefcase and pulled out the file held within. He laid it on the desk in front of Wilson and said,

Actually, I’ve been waiting on this to come in before we talked.

What is it? Wilson asked, picking the heavy file up and moving it to her blotter.

You needed to read it before we talk trial.

Wilson did not like the sound of that. She put her reading glasses on, and looked at Commons over the tops of them, Going to like what I read in here?

"Would you like total confessions from all parties involved?

Yes, I would actually, Wilson replied, smiling woodenly.

Commons laughed a little, but there was no humor in it, Well then, read on. I’ll wait.

CHAPTER 1

Tell me how everything started, how everyone first met.

Jacqueline

I am not going to start by claiming, as so many do, that my meth addiction was someone’s fault other than my own. If I made that claim then that would be nothing short of a lie, and what I want to do here is set the record straight as to why I became a drug addict, why I did the things I did, made the choices I made, and basically ruined my life, as well as the lives of a lot of other people. I recognize that the choices I made where what ultimately led to my addiction, and to the acts I committed during that time in my life. I freely admit that the path I followed into the drug world in general, was by my own conscience decisions, and although I kind of wish it was not the case, cannot be blamed on anyone else.

When I say that what I did cannot be blamed on anyone else, I do not mean to deny the fact that, at one time or another, I definitely tried placing a lot of blame where it should not have been placed. My husband will be the first to tell you that I shifted a lot of things onto his shoulders that he had nothing to do with. In most cases, he did not even know there was anything going on for me to place blame on him. Truth is, I lied a lot in order to get attention and to get what I wanted. That was the nature of the game in those days, as I am sure it still is today. Although, I would have no way of knowing for sure as I have been out of the game for a while now.

Let me start at the beginning, since my story will make a lot more sense to you if you know everything.

First of all, my name is Jacqueline Wallace. I am 35 years old and