“Look,” Donovan said. “You guys are the reporters and I don’t want to put words in your mouths—but when you write your stories I’d encourage you to exercise a little restraint. What we have here so far is an old forgotten graveyard, nothing more. As for the two unexplained bodies, well, that’s just what they are—unexplained. We’ll let you all know the minute we figure this out—but in the meantime, please try not to concoct any wild conspiracy theories, okay? That doesn’t help anybody.” He threw a glance at Decker with his last comment.

The press conference ended here; photographers began to snap caps onto black, barrel-shaped lenses and fold the legs of tripods with dull metallic clicks. Reporters gathered up their belongings and began to work their way back to their cars, escorted by the public liaison officer.

Decker turned to his cameraman. “Did you get anything worthwhile?”

“Oh, yeah,” the cameraman said, “a nice head shot of a talking FBI man telling everybody, ‘Go on home, there’s nothing to look at here.’ I also got a shot of a big field with people digging in the dirt about a mile away—they’ll look like ants even in high-def. Terrific stuff—the station oughta pay us top dollar for this.”

“You’re right,” Decker said. “We won’t make the 5:00 p.m. with this garbage—we need to find a better angle.” He searched the dwindling group and spotted Donovan collecting his notes at the portable lectern. “Mr. Donovan! Hang on a minute.”

Donovan looked up and recognized him; he didn’t smile.

“I have a follow-up question, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead.”

“What’s the real story here?”

“What do you mean, Mr. Decker?”

“I can’t go back with a story like this. Help me out here.”

“Sorry,” Donovan said. “I don’t write stories; I just relay facts.”

“Then give me some more facts. Does the senator know about all this?”

“Does the senator know that he might lose millions in interest on construction loans because his project has been shut down? Think it over, Paul—of course he knows.”

“Does he have any explanation for the two bodies?”

Donovan shook his head. “You’re just dying to bring Senator Braden into this, aren’t you?”

“Why are you protecting him?”

“C’mon, Decker, it’s an election year and politicians make easy targets. If you don’t like Braden then write about his fiscal policy or his stand on global warming. But don’t throw this in his face—it’s just not fair.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“Telling stories that don’t make people fall asleep.”

“Ever hear of a bedtime story? Some stories are supposed to make people sleep.”

“Not the ones I write.”