“Correct—Miles Jordan with the Spokane crime lab processed the scene, but Kara and I are going to take another look around after we’re done with the lake.”

“Good—but I really need you both at the briefing. I need to nip this article in the bud, and the only way to do that is to control the message. This isn’t my fucking job, but I have to do it,” Matt said.

“Talk to Brian Maddox—he’s good at this.”

“Thanks.” Matt hung up and made the call to Maddox to set up a meeting then another press briefing. Brian concurred that the article had far too much information.

“I thought Packard and I had an understanding yesterday,” Brian said. “For him to do this—well, it’s petty. I’ll make sure he understands the situation.”

Was he suggesting that the chief himself talked to the press? That was bullshit, but Matt bit back his tirade. He didn’t want to lose Brian’s support.

“I’m counting on you, Brian,” Matt said, swallowing his anger. “I need your department. I don’t have the staff to manage a case of this magnitude. But listen to me—I am absolutely serious that I will pull everything if there’s another breach. We have to control the message. Make sure Packard understands that, or SPD is out—and I don’t want to do that.”

“Understood, Agent Costa.”

Maddox hung up. Matt didn’t like playing hardball—well, truly, he did. It got the job done, but didn’t make him a lot of friends.

“Ryder...” Matt turned to his analyst, who had returned to the briefing room while Matt was talking to Maddox. “We need to reach out to private and public taxis about any fares they picked up on March 2 and the week before, in Liberty Lake. A single rider, male. He wouldn’t use his own name or phone or credit card, so focus on the description Catherine gave us. If we need to get a warrant, call Tony—he’ll expedite it.”

The killer may have made his first mistake. If they caught him because of this, Matt owed Kara Quinn a drink.

“Got it,” Ryder said.

“And can you send me the contact information for Kara Quinn’s boss? I need to mend a small fence there.”

Ryder tapped a few keys on his computer. “You got it. Also, an ASAC at LA-FBI wants to talk to you about Detective Quinn.”

Shit. He’d forgotten to tell Ryder to back off from the background into the detective.

“Dammit, I meant to tell you to drop that avenue. I talked to Quinn. I’m good with her assist. Send me his information, I’ll follow up when I have time, but it’s not a priority.” He hesitated. Why would an ASAC reach out to him? LA had at least a dozen ASACs because it was one of the largest field offices in the country—they should all be overworked and not interested in a low-level inquiry. “What else did you learn about her?”

“We confirmed her identity and her hire date—she graduated from the police academy twelve years ago this coming July and received her gold shield five years ago.”