Right. She wanted people to dig up the old footage for her. Huck wanted to break something; instead, he set his beer bottle on the table now vacated by his feet.

She sighed. “Captain Rivers went through a difficult time that included counseling for serious PTSD, and then he moved to the middle of nowhere to protect people from bears. But I can tell you that he’s the best. When I spoke with him earlier today, he was unusually tight-lipped about the FBI involvement in this case. In fact, he sounded downright angry.”

She held a hand to her chest. “To be honest, I think Captain Rivers is brilliant and can outsmart any criminal, so I’m glad he’s out there defending us like this. But considering how well I know him, and how upset he seems to be about this case and FBI Agent Snow’s behavior regarding this brutal killer, I have to ask. What in the world is the FBI doing, and how many more women need to be brutally murdered?”

The segment ended.

Huck held still for a moment, concentrating on his breathing. This was the last thing Laurel needed right now with Walter in surgery and Christine Franklin’s body being autopsied tonight. The woman was feeling guilty enough, and she’d be pissed at him.

His phone rang and he knew who it was before he lifted the device to his ear. “That was a bullshit report,” he snapped.

Rachel sighed. “I’m trying to get a new show off the ground, Huck. There was not one thing I said that wasn’t true.” She was quiet for a couple of moments. “But I’ll tell you what. Let me interview you about the Witch Creek Killer, and you can say anything you want about the FBI and Agent Snow. You can defend her and them to your heart’s content. Just come on my show.”

“No comment.” He wasn’t going to give her an inch. He knew better.

“Fine. I’ll get my news elsewhere.” Her voice lost the cajoling tone. “I can’t believe you’re dating an FBI agent with the emotional range of a potato. I’ve looked back at the few interviews she gave after the last case—she can’t possibly interest you.”

He wasn’t going there, either. “No comment.”

“Whatever. Seriously. She’s boring and fake. So much for your liking authenticity in women. There is no way that hair is real. That color doesn’t exist,” Rachel snapped.

Huck let his chuckle flow through the line. That segment of hers had probably ended any chance he and Laurel had for a romance, if either one of them had wanted one. One night together hadn’t done anything but make the situation more confusing. But now Rachel had possibly made it more difficult for him to catch a murderer who bludgeoned women to death.