Picture this.

You're deep in the middle of the woods lost, cold, hungry.

And through the trees, you spot a little wooden house, a house that shouldn't be there,

a house that feels strangely inviting.

And old woman steps outside, wrapped in shawls, her voice warm and welcoming, reassuring,

she invites you in, offering shelter, food, safety, everything you've been longing for.

It feels like a gift, a miracle.

The old woman's name is Baba Yaga.

She's a character from an old Russian folktale, and nothing in her house is what it seems.

It moves when she wants it to.

It opens for who she chooses,

and the kindness she offers is never free.

The home you step into adjust itself around you,

shifting and twisting, rearranging until you can't quite tell where the door is

anymore. And the thing that felt like salvation starts to feel like a trap. Because Baba Yaga

doesn't capture travelers by chasing them.

She captures them by giving them exactly what they think they need.

In today's story, one man leans on the only friend he thinks he can trust

without realizing she built an entire house of lies all

around him. I'm Harvey Gehan and this is Killer Stories. In March of 2014, Detective Steve Floyd weaves his car through a breathtaking forest.

He's now entering Cherry Grove, Oregon.

Population barely 500.

...