“Fuck,” Harper said under his breath.
“Say nothing. I’ll handle it,” Murphy responded.
Harper opened the door and got out quickly. Murphy did the same.
“Stephen McNeil, RTN—” the reporter started as Harper trudged past him, heading into the building with his head down and not saying a word.
Hearing Murphy’s door shut, the reporter spun his head toward Murphy. Murphy took a deep breath and put on her game face before stepping up to the curb.
“Stephen McNeil, RTN—”
“Yes, Mr. McNeil, I heard you the first time.”
“What can you tell me about the grizzly assassinations of Cynthia Dunning and Daniel Hawthorne?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Murphy said, shrugging. “You know I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation.”
“So, it’s true they were assassinated?” McNeil asked.
“You know I won’t answer,” Murphy responded, easily batting away his question without breaking a sweat.
“What will you tell me?” McNeil countered.
“Nothing,” Murphy said flatly. “If you want to speak to someone, call the Office of Public Affairs in Washington, DC, and they’ll point you in the right direction.”
“We already tried,” McNeil said. “They told us to contact the local FBI Field Office because they knew nothing.”
“Well, that must be the official statement from the FBI,” Murphy said.
“So, you’re saying you learned nothing while on Dunning’s houseboat?”
“How did you know—?”
“I have eyes and ears all over this town, Agent Murphy. The second the NOPD asked for help on this case, I knew about it.”
Murphy took a deep breath before staring past McNeil and right into the camera. “The FBI does not comment about ongoing investigations. I have no statement to make. Any official statements from the FBI about this case or any case will come directly from the Office of Public Affairs.” She then looked at McNeil, “There, you have your soundbite. Now, could you please get that thing out of my face? I need to go to work.”
McNeil motioned for the cameraman to turn off the camera as he lowered the microphone himself. “So, off the record,” McNeil started. “What happened?”
“Off the record?” Murphy asked.
McNeil’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas about to open his first present, expecting some piece of juicy information.
“Off the record, the FBI does not comment on ongoing investigations.”
“Oh, come on!” McNeil said exasperatedly. “You gotta give me something here.”
“I don’tgottagive you anything, Mr. McNeil,” Murphy countered. “We’re in the initial stages of this investigation. I don’t have any information to give you.”
“Well, if you hear anything—”
“If I hear anything? How’s this? I’ll let you know once I arrest someone.”
“Remember,” McNeil started. “I came to you first.”
Murphy narrowed her eyes at the reporter and took a half step toward him, slightly invading his personal space. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Murphy watched as McNeil unconsciously took a step backward as he said, “I mean, I want to help. I meant nothing else by it at all. I promise,” he rattled nervously.
