CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As they walked toward the FBI headquarters in New Haven, Riley reviewed the shooting gallery episode in her mind. Her thoughts were interrupted by Bill’s deep sigh of despair.
“It’s started,” he grumbled.
Riley looked up and immediately saw what he was talking about.
A small group of reporters, some with TV cameras, were gathered around the building’s front entrance. Their hopes of keeping the media away from this case were about to get wrecked.
As Riley and Bill pushed past them, the reporters called out questions.
“Are you FBI agents?”
“Are you investigating the murder this morning at Wickenburg Reef?”
“Is it true that the fisherman’s death was connected to an earlier murder in Wilburton?”
“Have you got a suspect for both murders?”
Riley and Bill kept saying “
