CHAPTER NINETEEN
As Riley followed the young FBI employee down the hall toward the front entrance, her mind was racing with questions.
“How bad is it?” she asked breathlessly.
“Really bad,” he replied. “Your husband—”
Riley interrupted, “He’s not my husband.”
“Well, whoever he is, he seems to have told the reporters that Vincent Cranston was murdered, and that there’s a serial killer at large.”
Riley could hardly believe her ears.
She said, “But Ryan doesn’t even know anything about the case!”
The employee said, “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s what he said. And now it’s what a lot of reporters believe.”
Riley and the young man stepped out through the front entrance.
For a moment, Riley stopped and stared.
She saw that considerably more reporters were now gathered out here.
