White Space Season 1

tell me.”
    She looked away for a second. Exactly long enough to confirm his suspicion.
    He was going to let the silence do the heavy lifting again, but decided to talk, instead. “Mrs. Heller, I can tell something has you scared. Something more than worrying about someone seeking vengeance on your family. I do more than just find missing kids, you know. I also help people.”
    She looked back at the stairs where her son might come down any second, or in 20 minutes.
    “I dunno,” she said, turning back to Houser and rubbing her hands nervously together.
    “Mrs. Heller, let me help you. I promise, whatever you tell me is confidential. I don’t want to make the hard time your family is going through even harder.”
    She met Houser’s eyes, like she was analyzing for trust.
    “I found something else besides the list — a flash drive my husband had hidden. I brought it to the library because the police, Paladin, and the feds took all our computers. All the files on the flash drive were locked, except one.”
    Houser could see the fear surfacing in Mrs. Heller’s eyes, and hear it in her voice.
    “Roger said in the video that he had proof of something. But I didn’t see what it was before I had to turn off the computer and leave the library.”
    “Proof?”
    Alex began to descend the stairs, saying goodbye to his girlfriend.
    “Can you open the files if I give the flash drive to you?”
    “Yes,” Houser said, though he couldn’t truly be certain until he saw the security used with the flash drive.
    Mrs. Heller reached into her pocket and pulled the flash drive from inside, then slipped it into his hand and whispered, “Don’t show anybody.”
    She then thanked him out loud, “Thank you again, Mr. Houser. I appreciate your help.”
    “Yes, Ma’am,” Houser said, handing her his card and whispering, “call me.”
    “You take care,” he said to Alex, still saying goodbye. “Thank you,” Alex said, waving, though he probably had no clue what he was thanking Houser for.
    As Houser left their house and climbed inside his rental, he felt the eyes of the Paladin guard on him, watching his every move.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 10 — Milo Anderson

    Friday evening…

    Milo thought himself lonely two days earlier, but lying alone in his hospital room, soaking in the aftermath of Manny’s death, Cody’s call, and Beatrice’s kamikaze run into Jordy’s Foods, made the previous two days feel like a laugh riot.
    The surgeon had already met with Milo, as did a pair of Paladin guards, who stayed twice as long as the surgeon, and seemed to ask three times the number of questions.
    Everyone seemed especially interested in what would possibly make Beatrice floor her way through the front of the store. As if Milo had any idea. He wished he knew. Milo had called Bea a crazy bitch plenty of times, but he had only meant the second part.
    He felt sick to his stomach, and had had to reach for the barf bowl sitting by the bedside when the taller of the two Paladin officers informed him that there were two fatalities in the accident — an elderly couple named the Marshalls that Milo had known since forever. There were a few other injuries as well, but nobody else in critical condition. Milo and Beatrice got it the worst. But she shouldn’t still be breathing, not if her breath had stopped the Marshall’s from getting theirs.
    Milo remembered the first time he saw Mrs. Marshall, in the produce section of Jordy’s ironically enough , though back then the store had been called, Lucky’s .
    Milo was in the middle of a temper tantrum, one of his worst ever. He wasn’t sure if it was the severity of that particular tantrum, or Mrs. Marshall coming up to him which made him remember the incident, but the memory was clear as a perfect spring sky on the island.
    Mrs. Marshall came up to Milo, mid-scream, and kneeled on the linoleum. “How old are you, honey?” she said. “You must be four!”
    Something about her voice must have stopped Milo from crying. He sputtered to a stop, then turned to the old woman and said, “I turned three last birthday.” Milo remembered holding three proud fingers to the sky.
    “My goodness,” Mrs. Marshall said, turning toward his mom. “He’s quite tall for his age.”
    Milo’s mom agreed. Mrs. Marshall then leaned closer to his mother and whispered, just loud enough for Milo to hear, “Don’t worry, honey, it gets better. The only time I really hated being a mother was when my