Love Can Be Murder

hard in a small town, running into your ex all the time."
    She shrugged. "I didn't see Deke that much after I moved out, mostly when we were in court." And when she'd seen him come and go from the house if she happened to have been looking out the window of her store. With her binoculars.
    "So I was going to be your ricochet lay?"
    "Pardon me?"
    He grinned. "You know—sex on the rebound."
    She blushed furiously and her breasts tightened against her will. Thinking about what might have happened between them couldn't be good for her cortisone level.
    "That's a lot of pressure on a guy," he said, then mischief lit his eyes. "But I enjoy a challenge."
    Desire danced in her midsection. Just talking about their missed opportunity raised her temperature. If only she'd followed her baser instincts that night....
    Thrilled to change the subject, Penny sat forward in her seat and pointed. "This is Hairpin Hill."
    "Compared to most of the flat land around here, this is a mountain."
    "It's actually a landfill," she said. "For decades, Mojo was the repository for a lot of the trash coming from New Orleans. Several years ago, someone decided to cover it up, plant grass and fast-growing trees, then divide the land into lots."
    "Amazing," he muttered.
    She was quiet as they drove another quarter of a mile up the curving road, his earlier, provocative words winding through her head. She glanced at his rugged profile and felt a corresponding tug on her senses. The man was so damned appealing. With great difficulty, she forced herself to focus and pointed. "That's where I stopped running to catch my breath, then I heard the shots."
    He slowed. "From what direction?"
    She gestured, then he continued driving. A few turns later, they drove into Diane Davidson's subdivision, Garden Willow Heights. The houses were numbingly similar, the street names disorienting in their sameness—Willow Street, Willow Court, Willow Circle, Willow Way.
    Penny's first impression of Diane Davidson's house was that she was trying to fit in with her neighbors. The little ranch house and lawn were painfully neat, the landscaping plants perfectly spaced like soldiers in a battalion, the porch furniture placed at precise jaunty angles. But the serene image was shattered by the words Get Out Witch painted in red on the pristine white siding.
    "Looks like the woman's got her own problems," B.J. said as he parked on the street near the end of the driveway.
    "Tasteless prank," Penny murmured. "This voodoo festival has everyone stirred up." They climbed out, then walked up the concrete driveway and stepped onto the shallow porch. "The paint looks relatively fresh."
    B.J. rubbed his finger against the paint, then frowned and raised his finger to his nose. "This isn't paint—it's blood."
    Her heart beat a tattoo against her breastbone. "Blood?"
    "Probably animal blood. Someone's trying to scare her."
    Penny glanced around the serene neighborhood, the perfect little houses, housing perfect little people.
    Perfectly evil?
    B.J. rang the doorbell twice, but several minutes passed with no answer. "Looks like she's gone."
    "She could be too afraid to come to the door," Penny offered.
    B.J. pointed to the flattened newspaper in the driveway. "Looks like she backed over it when she left. My guess is she went to buy white paint."
    Penny turned and started to walk back to the car.
    "Wait for me in the car," he said, then disappeared around the side of the house.
    Penny was instantly nervous. What was he doing? She glanced around to see if Diane Davidson's neighbors were peering out their windows, expecting someone to come bounding out any second, demanding to know what they were doing snooping around the witch's house. She climbed back into the messy car and slumped down in the seat, then picked up the voodoo doll she had rescued from her store parking lot, shaking her head at the cryptic note. Some people truly believed a pinprick could actually set real life events into motion.
    She turned her head and stared at the violent words scrawled on Diane Davidson's house. And some people truly believed Diane Davidson had some kind of otherworldly power, else they wouldn't be trying to run her out of town. Did Diane and other people have the ability to incite events using mere words and thoughts?
    B.J. came around the side of the house and casually stopped to cup his hands around his eyes and look in one of the windows. Then he strolled toward the car, his mouth pursed, as if he