We were parked outside the cordoned area of the crime scene proper, and therefore, fair game. Now that I had called down their unrelenting attentions upon us, we had become the main course.

The muffled exterior noise jumped in amplification as the driver’s side door of the van opened, and a chaotic mix of voices began ricocheting around us.

“I said, NO COMMENT!” I heard my friend shout over the unintelligible questions as he folded his large frame in through the opening and levered the door shut.

The intensity of the clamor was once again suppressed, but the beams of garish light still sliced through the shadows. If they were to be denied a sound byte then they were intent on fighting like a pack of wild dogs for the best clip of video.

“Thanks, Rowan,” Ben snarled at me with thick sarcasm in his voice as he thrust his keys into the ignition and started the van. “Thanks a whole hell of a lot. Just what the fuck did you think you were doing?!”

“Giving them what they want!” I barked in return.

“Have you lost your goddamned mind?! Where the hell do ya’ think that’s gonna get ya’?!”

“Someone has to tell them what’s going on.”

“That’s for the public relations officer to handle, not you.”

“I’m talking about that bitch upstairs! Someone’s got to tell them what she’s doing!”

“Don’t you get it?!” he declared, thumping his fingertips against his forehead and gesturing angrily. “Have you suddenly gone stupid on me or somethin’? You run off at the mouth about Albright, and you’re screwed! Like it or not, in this situation, you’re the odd man out. They’ll spin the whole fuckin’ thing to make you look like a freak, and the way you’re actin’ right now it wouldn’t be hard!”