“Dreams?” Jo blurted out. Nessa shot her a look.
“Amber Welsh thought Mandy was interviewing for a job out at Culling Pointe, and her body was dumped in the water off Danskammer Beach Road,” Nessa said. “The girl we found was left nearby in the scrub. There are houses on the Pointe with a view of the entire coastline. Maybe someone there saw something suspicious.”
Franklin shook his head. “We can’t just go knocking on doors on the Pointe.”
“Why not?” Jo demanded. “You’re a detective investigating a murder, and they’re citizens just like the rest of us.”
“In theory, yes. But that’s not how things operate in the real world. I’ve made discreet inquiries regarding our Jane Doe, and we’ve run background checks on the staff at Culling Pointe to see if anyone out there has a criminal history, but we will not be going door-to-door asking billionaires a bunch of questions.”
“There could be a serial killer around here, and the police are making ‘discreet inquiries’？” Nessa scoffed.
They’d reached Jo’s car. Franklin stopped Nessa before she could reach the passenger side. “What makes you think there’s a serial killer?”
“Two girls have been murdered—” Nessa started to say.
“We have one body at the moment, and it belongs to a girl who died of a fentanyl overdose. We have no proof she was murdered—and no evidence that she and Mandy Welsh are connected in any way. Or do we?” Franklin paused for the answer. “Nessa?”
Nessa hadn’t told him about the third girl, and she wasn’t ready to reveal the true nature of her gift. An uncomfortable minute ticked past as the three of them remained frozen, engaged in a silent standoff. When it became clear that Nessa’s lips were going to stay sealed, Jo sighed and unlocked her car.
Franklin shook his head and opened Nessa’s door for her. “There’s no reason to hold back,” he said quietly. “You know you can trust me.”
Nessa climbed into the passenger seat of Jo’s Highlander and looked back at him. He bore no resemblance to her late husband, but his manner called Jonathan to mind. Back in the city, the two men hadn’t known each other well. But Jonathan had considered Franklin one of the good guys—and he’d made it clear that good guys were few and far between.
“I’ll be in touch,” Nessa told him. Franklin nodded and closed the door.
“What the fuck?” Jo said as she turned out of the parking lot. “You haven’t told him you can see these girls, have you?”
“No,” Nessa admitted.
“Why the hell not?” Jo asked.
“It just doesn’t feel right,” Nessa replied sullenly.
“You don’t trust him?”
“Of course I do!”
“Well, then how’s he supposed to help us if you’re keeping things from him?” Jo demanded. “Two girls could be a weird coincidence. Three dead girls in the same spot is a totally different story.”
“I know,” Nessa growled back. “And I’ll tell him as soon as I’m ready.”
Jo leaned over and put a hand on Nessa’s arm. “Aww. Look at us. We’re having our first fight!”
Nessa tried not to laugh, but a giggle slipped out before she could catch it. “I’m serious, dammit,” she said in her serious voice.
“Me too, sweetheart,” Jo said, giving Nessa’s arm a light squeeze. “You better tell Franklin everything soon, or I’ll fucking do it.”
Picket Fences
“Be careful what you let others have,” Nessa’s mother had advised her the day she graduated from nursing school. “Everyone you help’s gonna want a piece of you. Give what you can, but you’ll be worthless to all of them unless you stay whole.” It wasn’t until Nessa took her first hospital job that she truly understood what her mother had meant. By the end of the first week, she’d vomited six times and shed buckets of tears. She could feel the work chipping away at her soul.