Surprisingly, Sean manages to make it to the meeting place. He even thought to bring Frank a fresh change of clothes. Wouldn't Boyd's spy have noticed this scruffy guy coming out of Frank's house with a bag of stuff and followed him? Sean gets in the car and they drive off. "I took a peek at your files," Sean says. Frank doesn't say anything. "How's our girl in Chicago?" Sean asks. "She's dead," Frank says. He then confesses to killing Brendan, which surprises Sean not at all. Sean blathers on about what might happen to Frank in prison, seeing as how cops aren't exactly popular with criminals, and how there might be some rape involved. Or, hey, maybe he'll get the death penalty and a nice meal before he dies! Sean salivates over the prospect. Frank pulls over along the side of one of the city's countless, desolate streets. "I'm sorry she's dead," Sean says. "That sucks, man. But being alive kinda sucks sometimes, too." Someone get that man a job writing for Hallmark Cards! They sit in awkward silence for a while. "It's hard being alive, ain't it?" Sean asks. Frank nods. After a while, Sean gets out of the car. They stare at each other for a long time. Sean looks pretty devastated, but resigned, like maybe he thinks this will probably be the last time he sees his friend. Frank looks... like he always does. Puppies or death. It don't matter which.
Frank seeks out familiar moping ground in the form of the charred remains of Katia's old bungalow. Joe finally calls him back. "You feel like a god? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Before Frank can answer, Joe has another question for him: "And what the hell were you doing at Brendan's grave? You'll mess up my good work." He's talking about his plan to pin the murder on Michael Drake -- a plan that Dawson is now firmly behind to save his own ass. But Frank says he's sick of the lies. He knows Joe killed Katia in Chicago. "Get yourself ready," he says. "Oh, you coming for me?" Joe scoffs. "No, I'm turning us in today," Frank says. Maybe it's not the smartest idea to give Joe advance warning like that, but these guys aren't really known for their great planning skills.
Frank sets up shop in a tidy little diner, spreading all the McCann files on the counter while he enjoys a nice meal. He's also got his police radio chattering away beside him, keeping an ear out for any pertinent news. That really is quite a bit of food he's got laid out before him. Perhaps he took Sean's suggestion of a "last meal" to heart. He picks up his phone and starts calling relatives of those whose deaths were covered up as suicides. "Your brother did not commit suicide," he tells one woman. He cringes as he listens to what must be a pretty colorful response. "I'm someone who knows," he says. The unheard question: "Who the fuck are you?" He tells her to find an attorney. "Tell him to request DPD closed case file number 410-98." Hopefully this woman wrote all that down. The unheard question comes again, and again Frank answers only that he's someone who knows. He repeats the file number, but his look of frustration suggests the victim's brother didn't believe him. He calls another person, and another, giving them the file numbers of their loved ones' cases. "It's not new evidence," he tells one of them. "It's a couple of dirty cops."