White Space Season 1

way down the hallway, then into his parents’ bedroom. Beatrice was standing statue-still in front of the TV, staring blankly at a screen with snow as a constant woosh of white noise filled the room.
    “Mom?” he repeated, slowly approaching.
    Still nothing.
    Other Mother stood, as if in a trance, not seeming to realize Milo was in the room.
    Great, she’s started using drugs. More shit dad can’t afford.
    Milo turned to leave, but got halfway to the door before circling back. He couldn’t step into the hallway when every fiber inside him was screaming that something was wrong.
    He tiptoed back toward Beatrice, suddenly terrified that maybe she’d had a stroke.
    Is it possible to suffer a stroke standing on your feet?
    Milo inched closer until he was standing directly in front of Beatrice.
    Her pupils were large and black, and … empty.
    He stepped back, mostly nervous, though slightly terrified.
    Milo turned around and looked back at the TV, thinking that there might be some connection between the snow on the screen and the lost look in her eyes. If there was, he couldn’t see what was holding her attention, assuming she was actually aware of anything.
    He turned back to Beatrice and saw again the empty in her eyes, and terror swallowed his anxiety.
    “Beatrice?” he said softly, his upper lip now trembling.
    She turned, just slightly, from the TV to Milo. He wasn’t sure if she was moving in slow motion or if it was merely a trick of his imagination and the surreality of the moment.
    Other Mom closed her eyes, tight, shook her head and then opened her eyes again, the dilated pupils now normal sized. She flashed her plastic smile, “Oh hi, Milo,” she said. “I didn’t see you come in. How was your day?”
    “F … fine, I guess,” he said.
    Beatrice headed toward the kitchen, opened the fridge, then started shoving sliced meat into her purse. She looked up from the fridge’s glow as though caught in a puzzle. Then her face brightened with memory.
    She thrust her face back in the fridge, wrapped her hand around a large tub of whipped butter, then dropped it into her purse and smiled at Milo on her way out the door.
    “Okay, see you later, honey,” she called, and went out the door.
    Milo stared at the door in disbelief.
    What the fuck?

    * * * *

CHAPTER 9 — Cassidy Hughes

    Hamilton Island, Washington
    Thursday
    September 7
    10:20 p.m.

    Cassidy and Jon had knocked on every door in their neighborhood, and searched a chunk of the woods in the area, but had come up blank.
    They stood on her doorstep, exhausted.
    “See you in the morning?” he asked.
    “Yes,” she said. “And thank you. I appreciate your help.”
    So far, they’d avoided talking about why Emma had been kept secret and why Sarah had broken up with Jon. Cassidy hoped to keep it that way, at least until Emma was found. Once Jon knew the truth, there was a good chance he’d go ballistic, hating his family, and hating her. Right now, she needed his help, not his hate.
    They’d also avoided talking about what would happen once they found Emma. Would Jon seek custody? Was there any way he’d trust her to care for his child? The odds slimmed along with the hours. That was, assuming of course, they even found Emma.
    What if Emma was gone for good? What if she had wandered off and drowned in a lake or the sea? What if someone had kidnapped her and was holding her in some kinda dungeon? What if someone had taken her off the island before Paladin sent guards down to the ferry? Kids went missing every day. And many just vanished with no explanation or trace.
    Just gone.
    Forever.
    She began to cry again and Jon took her into his arms, hugging her tight.
    “We’re gonna find her,” he said, making the same promise as Chief Brady.
    She wished she could believe him.
    Fate had never really worked out in Cassidy’s favor. If something could go wrong, it inevitably did. Perhaps Jon’s involvement would neutralize her negative karma, however. Bad things didn’t happen to Jon, or the Conways. They were blessed. Bad things don’t happen to the children of the blessed.
    Even as she thought it, she knew that was a lie.
    At the moment, Cassidy would take any lie she could find, though, if it meant holding out hope.
    “I’m going to meet a buddy of mine tonight,” Jon said, “and we’ll get started fresh in the morning. He’s a private eye and damned good at finding people.”
    “Really?” she said, pulling from the hug and