White Space Season 2

over to take “the body” back to the city for an autopsy. But first, Jon and Cassidy had to identify the girl.
    Outside the room, Jon stopped and met Cassidy’s red eyes. “You don’t have to do this. I can identify her.”
    “No,” she said. “I need to do this.”
    Jon didn’t ask why — if it was that she didn’t trust him to identify his own daughter, or if it was some sort of needed closure. Perhaps she was hoping to see something which would rain hope that it wasn’t Emma, something Jon might not recognize.
    “OK,” Jon said, reaching for her hand as they followed Brady. Cassidy kept her hands folded in front of her, and her eyes set straight ahead.
    They entered a door marked “11” and stepped into the basement morgue. Jon remembered learning on a movie set once that morgues didn’t usually identify themselves in hospitals. They often had innocuous names, or in this case, a number, facing the public’s view.
    The room was small and sparse with four drawers sunk into the left side wall, and two empty gurneys against the right. A door to an office, also on the right, was open, though no one manned the desk.
    Brady went to the closest drawer and pulled it out revealing a small shape draped beneath a dark gray blanket. A cool mist rolled out from the refrigerator. He wasn’t sure what he expected, the scent of death, or what, but all Jon could smell was seawater. His knees shook as he stepped forward.
    Brady looked up at Jon and Cassidy, to ask if they were ready, or maybe give one of them a chance to back out.
    Jon nodded to his old friend and Brady pulled back the sheet, revealing Emma’s dead body.
    “Oh, God,” Cassidy cried out, falling beside the drawer.
    Jon stared at his daughter, her pale, gray flesh, her wide-open eyes, staring up. The same tiny eyes that just one month earlier he had seen dancing with life as Emma mischievously looked over at him, while sneaking cookies into her purse at Sarah’s funeral. The same eyes he’d imagined one day asking to help her with homework, to borrow the car, to meet a boyfriend. The same eyes he thought he could spend an eternity looking into and never fully realizing the depths of his love.
    The eyes which had reminded him so much of Sarah’s were now staring up at him, hollow and dead.
    Jon shook his head. It was too much to take in. Too much to believe.
    Cassidy stared, tears streaming her red face, hand over her wide-open mouth, screaming on mute. She fell to the ground, waving Jon away as he tried to help her up. After a moment, she stood, staring down at Emma, devastated.
    “It’s her,” Jon said, nodding and looking at Cassidy to see if she was also verifying, hoping she might see a blemish, some birthmark that wasn’t right, anything which would say no, this is not Emma.
    She nodded instead.
    Jon looked down, closed his eyes, and reached out. His hand found Emma’s, but when his fingers felt the coolness of death rather than the usual warmth from her hugs, he cried harder.
    “How did this happen?” Cassidy asked. “And did you find the bastard who did it?”
    “We don’t know how yet,” Brady said. “There were no visible bruises or signs of foul play, so we’ll have to wait for the medical examiner to make a determination. As for Mr. Houser, we have him in custody.”
    “What?” Cassidy asked.
    Jon’s eyes shot open and caught the rage in her expression.
    “Yes, we found him at your house, Jon. His rental was parked in front, and when we went inside, he was oblivious to our bursting through the front door. He was just sitting on the floor in front of the TV, Playstation controller in hand. We approached him and he turned, looking at us with a blank expression. He’s not said a word since we booked him.”
    “I want that motherfucker dead!” Cassidy said, spitting.
    Jon wanted to defend Houser, advise that they not rush to judgment. But staring down at Emma, thinking of how she had been so fond, and trusting of his friend, sent a surge of anger through Jon’s body. He wanted to lash out, hit something, break something, make someone pay. Make Houser pay.
    “I want to see him,” Jon said, meeting Brady’s eyes.
    “I’ll see … ”
    “No,” Jon said, putting his hand on Brady’s chest, “I want to see him. Now.”

    * * * *

CHAPTER 8 — Sarah Hughes

    Sarah tried sorting through her mind’s conflicting images as they strobed her senses with no order or reason. She reached as far as she could, back into