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She heard the moans again. They were louder this time, and as Marna Thompson lay listening, all she could think was that something was very wrong.
The slim thirteen-year-old slipped out of bed and found her bathrobe. She slipped it on quietly. Marna did not want to turn on a light, for fear that whoever was responsible for the moaning would stop before she could find out what was going on.
Marna opened the door to her room, turning the knob slowly. Carefully, she inched the door open, doing her best to keep the old hinges from creaking. She gave a sigh of relief as she slipped into the darkened hall.
Standing very still, she waited. Then she heard it, the moaning. It was coming from the direction of her mother’s bedroom.
Cleo Thompson was a thirty-three-year-old divorcee. Since parting from her husband, she had made a home for herself and the two children by working as a secretary.
Because her mother enjoyed good health, Marna doubted that she was ill. Still, an emergency was always possible.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.