Herb should have known not to trust the voodoo witch. As he fell to the floor, he felt his own blood gush out with each beat of his bypassed heart. His eyes went wide and he tried to figure out how this had happened.
He had made no mistakes. The phone, the power, the alibi, the fake doctor’s notes, the truck without a print, it all flashed through his mind. It had to be her.
The witch had come up behind him in the bayou. She must have taken some of his own hair, put them both into the doll, thus craftily resigning his own fate to be the same as that which he so desired for his enemy.
The silver devil dagger pierced both their hearts, and a second piercing scream rent the air as the sister found them both bleeding in her house. Pressing her guest bed sheets to her sister’s chest, she whipped out her cell phone to dial 911.
“Tulliver, it was Tulliver,” gasped the teacher before she passed out.
“Hang in there, Margy!” Heard Herb before he heard nothing else.