CHAPTER SEVEN
Wind buffeted their unmarked car. Although on full bore, the heater was ineffectual against the air cutting through the windows. Franklin was so cold his bones ached.
He watched Gus post a letter in the red mailbox on the street corner, far too cheery for the sleety rain and fierce wind. Then he waded through the overflowing gutter and slid into the beamer. The interior light stayed on inside the sedan and it was parked under a streetlight, so despite the blur of driving rain the cops were able to watch a discussion that included lots of nodding.
Franklin couldn’t wait for the shift to finish. The showers at the Ballarat cop shop were funky but a hot one would warm his bones. He had to suffer through another few hours yet though.
With a stab in his guts, it struck him tha
