Herb Tulliver: Hideout
He knew he had won over Madame Esmerelda when she took the hair. He also knew he’d never find her again. She’d move her hut for sure. He was the kind of customer she liked, not a repeat, a one-time deal.
Phase Two of his plan now complete, he tucked the voodoo doll safely inside his shirt and began walking. There was no use going back to the truck, he’d already called it in as stolen. As long as he headed North, he’d come to something eventually.
Hitchhiking to the nearest city, he bought a bus ticket and rode almost all the way home. He was nearly free. His heart felt lighter even as his thoughts turned dark. The doll scratched his ribs. The witch said it would be even stronger the longer he held it and imbued it with his thoughts.
Going to a storage unit that was used for his getaways, he warmed up a laptop and flopped in bed with a dehydrated dinner. His goal: his ex-teacher’s new temporary home. Hacking the hospital files to see who was her next of kin was easy.