Franklin laughed. “I like the house. Solitude is overrated. Have a seat. You want a beer?”
“Sure,” Nessa said, settling down into one of the wooden chairs and trying to remember the last time she’d had a beer.
She listened to Franklin bustling about in the kitchen, opening the fridge and popping the tops off bottles, and realized she felt at home. She’d expected it all to be awkward, but it hadn’t been. It was like easing into a warm bath on a frigid day.
Franklin appeared on the deck with two bottles in hand. He passed one to Nessa before taking a seat beside her. For a few minutes, they sat in silence, sipping their beers and watching the waves.
“I’m sorry about how we left things,” Nessa said.
“You’re sorry you did what you had to do?” Franklin asked. “If you guys had taken my advice, Spencer Harding would still be murdering girls. And Jo had every right to be furious after what happened to her daughter. I should be the one apologizing to the three of you.”
“I’m sorry Chief Rocca lied and said you were the source for the podcast. I know you lost your job because of it.”
Franklin looked over at her. “Do you honestly think I wanted to keep it after everything that happened? You and your friends were right. The system is broken. If you’re looking for justice these days, you have to find it by other means. That’s what you did. Then they went and blamed Harding’s escape on you. What they did to me was bad. But that was damned low.”
“Can I ask you—was anything the chief said on Newsnight true? Was Danill Chertov really an informant?”
She wished she could be more direct, but unless she wanted to see Harriett arrested, she couldn’t let on that Chertov was dead.
“Not to my knowledge,” Franklin said. “I was the lead detective on the case. If they brought Chertov in for questioning before Harding’s death, they must have hidden him pretty well, because I didn’t see him. Half of what the chief said on Newsnight was meant to cover up his incompetence. I just haven’t found a way to prove it.”
“He wasn’t covering up incompetence,” Nessa said. “He and Harding were working together. Harriett went out to the Pointe this morning and spoke to a woman who works there. The lady said Rocca was at Harding’s house before the helicopter took off that night.”
“Doing what?” Franklin asked, his curiosity clearly piqued.
Nessa shrugged and took a drink. “No idea. But it means the chief lied when he said Harding escaped after he was tipped off by the podcast. Rocca was at Harding’s house. He could have arrested Spencer at any point, but he didn’t. There should be security tapes that can prove it. We’re going to see if we can get our hands on them.”
“I’m impressed,” Franklin said. “You guys are turning out to be better detectives than I am.”
Nessa stared out at the water. “We’re still missing most of the story. I can feel it. The gift has limits, and this sure isn’t how my grandmother taught me to use it. I think you were right, Franklin—the two of us are meant to work as a team. I shouldn’t have pushed you aside like I did. We need your help. I need your help.”
“You really mean that?” Franklin asked.
Nessa nodded. “I do,” she said.
“Then come on,” he said, rising out of his chair.
“Really?” she asked. “Now?”
Franklin laughed. “Look who’s got a dirty mind.”
Nessa felt her cheeks burst into flame. “I’ve been spending too much time with Harriett.”
“Sounds to me like Ms. Osborne is an excellent influence,” Franklin said, holding out a hand to help Nessa up. “We’ll get to that later, after I cook you dinner. There’s something I want to show you first.”