“That’s nowhere near Willy’s cabin,” Colcord said grumpily.
“Maybe we should get a list of people who applied for wilderness camping permits up there during that time period,” Cash said.
“I don’t think the killers would have been stupid enough to get permits.”
“No shit. But the permit holders might have seen something.”
Colcord grunted. “Okay, not a bad idea.” He turned suddenly—out of nowhere, the fuzzy head of a microphone was thrust into their faces. A contralto voice rang out. “Our viewers want to know: Are the Neanders back and killing again?”
They both halted as the person who had just ambushed them—a reporter—blocked their way forward.
Behind the reporter, a man crab-walked with a television camera plastered withKBFR, the logo of a local television station, on his shoulder.
Shit, thought Cash,we’re on camera.
“Do you mind?” Colcord asked.
“Robin Twen, KBFR Investigative Beat. Can we have a moment of your time?”
The press had been instrumental in screwing up the Erebus investigation, and Cash was none too keen on repeating the experience here in Burns. At any hint of the Neanders, they seemed to froth at their collective mouths. At the same time, it was never a good idea to snub the press, and people did have a right to know.
Cash regarded Twen. The reporter was in their mid-twenties, wearing black dress pants, suspenders, and a pastel-blue bow tie. She—or he, Cash wasn’t sure—was tall and skinny, wearing tinted lip gloss and sporting an inky pixie cut that stuck out every which way in spikes.
Cash coolly stepped forward to the mic. “The Neander case has been taken over by the FBI,” she said. “We’re no longer heading that investigation.”
“You must be Frankie Cash,” said the reporter, “of the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. I’m Robin Twen. They/them. Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m sorry?”
“My pronouns.”
“Oh… right, of course.” Cash shifted. “I usesheandher. Sheriff Colcord here isheandhim.”
She glanced at the sheriff, who looked bewildered. Cash had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at his confusion. The old cowpoke had been living in Colorado long enough to know about this pronoun stuff—he needed to get it together.
Twen continued, “I understand the murder of Willy Grooms had certain bizarre ritualistic aspects to it. Could you elaborate?”
Cash needed to cut this interview short. “Unfortunately, there isn’t any information we can disclose at this point.”
“The folks in Burns and the surrounding area are looking for reassurance,” said Twen. “What can you tell us about the state of the investigation? Are there any suspects? Are peoplesafe?”
Colcord interjected quickly, Twen swinging the mic over to him, “Although there are no suspects at this time, we’re following up a number of leads and making good progress. We believe this to be an isolated incident and that there’s no danger to the general public.”
Twen swung the mic back to Cash. “I understand, Agent Cash, that CBI took charge of the investigation and that you’re pursuing a possible UFO angle?”
Jesus Christ, Cash thought,how does Twen know that?“CBI is in charge,” she said, “but there’s absolutely no ‘UFO angle.’ ”
“It is also my understanding that you interviewed Father Timothy Moore, the local priest at Saint Mary’s. How do you respond to his allegation that you were aggressive in your questioning and disparaged his Catholic faith?”
Cash took a step backward, feeling really ambushed now. “I did no such thing. He was being uncooperative.”
“He also claims you called him an obscenity that I cannot repeat on air. What do you have to say to these allegations?”
Cash’s mouth dropped open, and all she could do was stammer.
Colcord hastily stepped in front, putting himself between her, and the cameraman and Twen. “I can assure you, it was a routine and respectful questioning according to long-established procedures. Naturally, we’re sorry Father Moore feels there was a misunderstanding, but nothing improper occurred.”
“Are you sure, Sheriff? According to Father Moore, Agent Cash specifically said—”
