Shade of the Moon

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“No. Jon. No.”

Jon Evans sat upright in his bed. It was Gabe, he told himself. Gabe must have had a bad dream. He listened for Carrie, Gabe’s nanny, to calm the little boy. He waited to hear Lisa run down the hallway to soothe her son.

But Carrie was quiet. Lisa was quiet. The house was quiet.

It wasn’t Gabe he’d heard. It was Julie.

How long had he known her? A month, six weeks. But he’d been haunted by her for two and a half years.

Jon knew better than to believe in ghosts. Billions of people had died in the past few years. There’d be no room for the living if all the dead were ghosts. And if there were ghosts, there were others Jon would prefer to be haunted by. His father, who died of exhaustion and hunger on the way to Sexton, Tennessee. Jon would welcome his ghost.

But it was Julie’s voice he heard in his sleep. Julie who cried out to him in panic, in anger, her accusations too real, her death too unforgivable.

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