Matt couldn’t blame Ryder—that’s exactly what he’d said—but he hadn’t been thinking straight. He’d thought the press would want details on his unit or someone in authority to say no comment. But the amount of information in this article was staggering. Information about forensics, speculation about the connection between Manners and the Portland and Missoula murders, the fact that the FBI was on the scene in twenty-four hours and working with both the Liberty Lake and Spokane police departments.

But the biggest problem with the article was panicking residents. The reporter highlighted the fact that a local nurse was killed, and that the killer picked his victims at random. Terrific. SPD was probably fielding hundreds of calls from worried residents this morning.

“Any more press inquiries, send them to me—at least I can feel them out before I tell them to take a hike.”

Who talked? Or, rather, who didn’t talk, because the reporter had information both from the briefing and from the crime scene investigation that Matt hadn’t shared at the briefing. He’d included photos of the lake and—shit, a photo of Matt in the parking lot of the SPD talking to Kara. Kara was visible only from behind, but Matt was clearly identified.

“¡Juro que voy a estrangular a quien haya hablado con la puta prensa! ¿Por qué la gente ya no piensa? ¿Creen que esto es una broma?” I swear I’ll strangle anyone who spoke to the fucking press! Why don’t people think? Do they think this is a joke?

Ryder frowned. “Do you, um, want me to create a digital news alert?”

“Excuse me?”

“So we see these things immediately when they’re posted online. I should have thought of it before.”

“Ryder, you’ve been doing the work of three people since we landed this case. Sure. Yes—do it, don’t worry that it wasn’t done. We’ll be more organized next time.”

“I’ll get on it now.” He left the lobby.

Matt called Andy. “Did you read the article by Greene?”

“Yep.”

“Who talked?”

“Probably everyone. Packard likes to keep an open door with the press.”

“I don’t. How do I keep a lid on this shit?”

“That ship has sailed, Matt.”

Andy was right. Matt should have also thought of this before—but he wasn’t a press guy. He was a field agent. He did his job and let others deal with the media. How could he solve this case if he had to play politics? “Odio la política,” he mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Andy said.

Matt didn’t translate. “Can you be at the station later for a possible press conference?”

“Just tell me when. Kara and I are working the ATV angle out here—she has a theory that’s interesting.”

Matt shifted gears. “What?” He was short-tempered, but bad press could do that to cops.

“She’ll tell you. I’ll put you on speaker.”

“What do you know, Quinn? I don’t have much time.”

“The killer took a taxi or bus or Uber to the hospital sometime on March 2.”