Night of the Purple Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

Emily said.
    Jordan lowered his eyes. It surprised him to see that her hand was in his. “We’ll stick together,” he said and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
    * * *
    From the Couture’s front porch, Abby skirted her eyes across the dark shape next to the truck and up to Jordan’s bedroom. He wasn’t in the window, but the shade was up. Her brother had the situation under control. She wished they could say the same. Abby nodded to Kevin, as if to say, ‘we have to do this’, and then rang the doorbell.
    When nobody answered, she stood on a deck chair and peered through the door’s glass panes. The flashlight revealed that the furnishings were as she remembered them. A reclining chair in front of the television, chairs and couch covered in red fabric, a grandfather clock, oriental carpets, magazines neatly stack on a table. It seemed wrong to enter.
    “Nobody locks their doors on Castine Island,” Abby said and turned the knob.
    “We do,” Kevin said.
    The odor of disinfectant brought back the memory of Mrs. Couture declaring, “Germs live on our clothing,” before blasting her with Lysol.
    “Hello,” Abby called out. “Mr. Couture? Mrs. Couture? Hello? Is anybody home?”
    They stepped inside and the door creaked closed behind them.
    Abby had been this afraid one other time in her life. She was five years old. Grandpa had taken her to the harbor playground when thick island fog rolled in and they became separated. Unable to see, Abby wandered away from the playground and onto the dock where she curled into a tight ball on the damp wooden planks. She heard people calling her name in the white-as-milk fog; their voices seemed to come from all directions. The fog muffled her cries like a blanket. A man with strong calloused hands wearing a yellow raincoat finally found her. That evening, Abby overheard her grandparents talking to each other. She heard Grandma crying in relief. They had said that she was lucky she had not fallen into the frigid water because she would have gone into hypothermic shock and drowned.
    Abby removed her mask and tiptoed through the dining room. “Hello, my name is Abby. Abby Leigh.” Her voice quivered. “I live across the street. I’m here with Kevin Patel. He’s my neighbor.”
    Her heart boomed as she climbed the stairway to the second floor. Kevin clutched her arm so tightly that it hurt. She didn’t mind. She peered down the hallway and saw light shining beneath the last door on the right. Together they inched toward it.
    Kevin suddenly grunted and slammed into the wall, knocking over a vase on a table. The vase shattered on the floor.
    “Something touched my leg!” he said, whimpering.
    Abby shone the light all around. A pair of yellow eyes lit up. The gray cat raced by them and down the stairs.
    It felt like her body had received an electric jolt. Her heart wouldn’t slow down and she took quick, shallow breaths. “Kevin,” she stammered in a whisper, “please, stay calm.”
    “Will they be angry?” Kevin seemed more fearful of getting in trouble for breaking the vase than what they were about to find in the bedroom.
    The vase was in many pieces, too many to glue it back together. “It was an accident,” Abby said. “They’ll understand.” She had no idea how the Coutures would react, it didn’t matter now.
    A loud moan came from the lighted bedroom, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stiffen like quills.
    Glued to each other’s sides, they crept down the hallway. Abby tapped on the door. “Hello?” She turned the knob with a sweaty palm and stuck her head inside.
    Mr. Couture lay in bed with the covers up to his chin. His white hair and ivory skin blended into the pillowcase. Eyes closed, he groaned and twisted his head back and forth before his cheek came to rest on the pillow. “My legs hurt so damn much,” he moaned, unaware of the visitors.
    “Mr. Couture. It’s Abby Leigh.” Her voice trembled.
    He squinted. “Abigail Leigh?”
    She