White Space Season 2

there either.
    He wondered if they were in the holding cell area? They could have arrested someone last night and brought them in. Or maybe Houser had given them trouble, even though the big man was shackled to his bed following his little outburst, and had been quiet since the psych exam.
    What the hell?
    Brady went to the back, waved his palm on the panel beside the holding cell door, then stepped inside.
    His hand reached for his gun the second he saw the bodies — Willis and Elmer, both lying in a pile, dead on the ground with gunshot wounds to the head.
    “Jesus!”
    Brock Houser’s holding cell was open, and empty.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 6 — Jon Conway

    Jon hoped to God this was the last funeral service he’d ever have to attend until he was the one in a long box.
    He didn’t think he could stand to see another body lowered into the ground. The sequence of misery that started when he buried Sarah had now ended, four bodies later (including Mrs. Heller and her son), with the burial of Emma, the daughter they shared only in DNA, but never in practice.
    The thought of Emma’s name conjured images of her peaceful, angelic face, a sweet smile now laying frozen in an open casket at the front of the church, underground in a few more hours. Emma would be buried, six feet under, in a plot beside her mother’s. How long until her skin started to rot? How long until the bugs came to chew through her carcass?
    Jon tried not to think such horrible thoughts, but a rising panic forced him to consider those and more. What if Emma wasn’t dead? He had read stories of people’s brains still being alive days after their bodies had passed. He wasn’t sure how long, or if it was theory, wives’ tales, or scientific fact, but he couldn’t help imagine that some part of Emma might be alive, and conscious of her funeral.
    Soon, they would lower her into the ground as she screamed for her daddy, “No, please don’t bury me! I’m not dead!”
    Jon shuddered, closing his eyes as he tried to bleach his mind of awful thoughts.
    To his right, beside him on the pew, Cassidy reached out and slipped her hand into his.
    From Cassidy’s far side, Jon heard Vivian crying, along with her neighbor, Mrs. Lindley, bawling as if it were her daughter being buried. Jon wondered if she’d known Emma well, or if she was crying for attention.
    As he held Cassidy’s hand, Jon could feel Father, sitting to his left, glancing down. He didn’t dare meet his judgmental gaze. Not here, or now.
    Blake, Warren, and Melinda sat side by side to Jon’s left. While he was glad they showed up for support, a part of him wished they hadn’t. He knew their presence made Cassidy extremely uncomfortable, as did the hundreds of others in the church. Jon wondered how many people knew Sarah and Emma versus how many had swooped in like vultures, eager to feast on the spectacle: a funeral for Jon Conway’s daughter.
    He tried not to think like that — tried not to make the day about him. Tried telling himself that these people were here because they loved Sarah. Clearly, he and Sarah had run in separate circles. Her circles were where people meant what they said and cared for one another. He admired Sarah for her ability to see the good in so many people. That quality was what made her so popular on the island. When tragedy struck Emma, it struck them all, it seemed.
    Jon listened as Pastor Avery spoke of Emma, God’s will, and all the other bullshit pastors spouted when parishioners lost a loved one. Jon wondered if people felt true comfort through such well-worn clichés and platitudes.
    Jon certainly didn’t.
    Though he heard the words, they rang hollow, and their dull thud added to the pain of knowing his daughter was lying dead and waxen in front of the room. Jon wept as the pastor spoke of Sarah and Emma, telling stories of them at church. Listening to Avery’s details reminded Jon of how much he had missed in nine years without them. Hearing the pastor speak of things as mundane as a drawing Emma made for a child with cancer, made him wish he could travel back in time and live through those moments beside them, holding tight to Sarah and Emma then never letting go.
    “Would anybody care to say a few words?” Avery asked.
    Jon swallowed. If he didn’t force himself into motion, the missing moments would crush him later.
    He stood, then quickly approached the front of the church, stopping beside the casket and peering down at his daughter. The