“Our sleepy little town is getting national attention following the murder of a local woman,” said the man’s voice from the radio, “a man who briefly went missing and returned just two days ago, apparently, to kill his mate.  Police have yet to comment on the murder, and local journalist Donald Berk claims that local law enforcement --” 

Sinclair yanked the cord from the outlet and topped up his mug of coffee.

“I was listening to that!” Tanner protested, “I want to know what they’re saying about us.”

“No you do not,” Sinclair shook the younger man’s shoulder, “I need to make sure we’re all hands on deck right now.  We gotta be ready for the media shitstorm when it finally hits.”

“The news crew outside?”  Tanner scoffed, “that’s nothing.”

Sinclair stared at the bulletin board on the wall.  “They multiply like rats.”

“Maybe in the big city,” Tanner said.

“‘National attention’ means we’re about to get big city crews, Tanner.  We make one slip, say one word out of place, and they’re going to descend on us,” Sinclair grimaced, “if we’re careful, we can wait out the news cycle and keep Cobalt Peak’s sleepy reputation.”

“Can we do that?” Tanner asked, adding three sugars to his coffee and enough creamer to turn it white.

Sinclair shot him a crooked smile.  “I can.”

Deputy Gaye and Eden joined them in the breakroom.  Deputy Gaye collapsed in the chair next to Tanner with a sigh and Eden helped herself to the dwindling coffee.

“Well, guess you oughta tell them that, eh sheriff?” Tanner said.

Sinclair turned.  “Glad you’re all here.  You aware of the situation?”

“We’re aware,” Deputy Gaye growled.

“I just making sure we’re all on the same page, deputy.  We’re about to get more media attention than any of you have ever seen, and I want to keep this place tight -- for Alice’s sake, and for your sakes.  A homicide like this fucks up everyone involved, excuse my French,” he set his mug down on the counter so he wouldn’t spill it, “I’ve had camera crews set up in the hallways of apartment buildings, pay off taxi drivers, break into evidence archives,” Eden clutched her chest, offended at the thought, “high profile gets ugly.  Luckily, we’re a small force.  We can keep it contained unless someone,” he glared at Tanner, “lets something slip.  That being said, the rumor mill is about to start spinning so I need to make sure we’ve all got our story straight,” he nodded at Erin, “Deputy, what’s our story?”

“We got a call about a domestic disturbance after you got back from your hiking trip with the ranger,” she began.

“Forest service is handling that as an animal attack,” Sinclair confirmed.

“Got a second call about a wild animal in the same area.  You said it might be the bear that mauled the ranger, so we armed ourselves for a bear before we checked on the domestic in case the two were related,” she paused, “happens with bears sometimes.”

“We found Tiffany Bean deceased in her driveway,” Sinclair shot her a gentle look, “I left you with the body, and found Brain assaulting Alice, who killed him in self defense.”

The break room fell quiet.  Eden stared into her coffee.

“All evidence, witness testimony included, points to Brian being the sole aggressor,” Sinclair glanced back at the bulletin board with the menus and phone numbers pinned to it, “None of us fired any weapons.  That’s all any of you have to say about it.  For Mrs. Decker and Ms. Bean’s sake, we lock down any other details.  Ideally, none of you speak to the press at all.  Redirect them to my phone, leave any contact information they give you in my office.  No matter what kind of deal they make you, remember Alice in the hospital and do not speak to them.  The goal is to keep her face out of the news as much as possible.”

“What if she wants to speak for herself?” Eden asked.

“That’s her choice once she’s out of the hospital,” he nodded at Deputy Gaye, “Erin and I will help her organize that,” he scanned the room, meeting everyone’s eyes and stopping on Tanner, “what happened on Pinyon Way?”

Tanner straightened up in his chair.  “You and Deputy got a call about an animal in the same area as a domestic disturbance, thought they were related.  Saw Tiff’s body in the driveway when you came up.  Deputy stayed outside, but you went inside and saw Alice kill Brian in self defense.”

He nodded at Eden, who repeated the same.  When he met Deputy Gaye’s eyes, she nodded curtly at him.

“Great,” Sinclair clapped his hands together, “let’s get out there.”

Sinclair slapped a file down on the interview room table.  The windowless office and faux-wood table read more “detention” than “interrogation” with the fluorescent lights flickering above.  He pulled out the chair without picking it up off the linoleum floor so the metal legs squealed and sat down across from Donald Berk.  The scrawny man shifted uncomfortably on the other side of the table.  

“Donald Berk.  I didn’t expect to find anything on you, if I’m being honest,” Sinclair flipped the file open, “but here we are.  Breaking and entering, trespassing, and restraining orders a-plenty.  I’m not surprised the newspaper is failing with you as star reporter.  I haven’t seen this kind of unprofessional behavior since I had to deal with the Uptown Sun on a case in ‘78.”

“I’m looking -- I’m looking for the truth.  It comes at a cost,” Donald stuttered.

“It comes at the cost of --” Sinclair picked up one of the files, a restraining order, “-- the harassment of an eight year old autistic boy.”

Donald shrunk.  “I ran a story on indigo children.”

“You interviewed a child with a behavioral disorder on an elementary school playground without his parents’ permission, then went to his house and tried to talk to him again in his own backyard despite being told by his parents to leave him alone, eventually publishing an article that resulted in so much harassment that they took out a restraining order and left Cobalt Peak altogether,” Sinclair dropped the paper, “so what I’m seeing is a history of criminal interference in the lives of my citizens.”  He glared at Donald until he squirmed in his seat opened his mouth to make an excuse.

“Mr. Berk, I’d like you to give me one good reason why I shouldn’t consider your presence at my crime scene one more instance of a pattern of criminal interference?” Sinclair interrupted him.

“I was called, someone called me I swear!”  Donald Berk pleaded, then regained his composure, “I got a tip about a homicide in progress.”

Sinclair looked at him strangely.  “You got a tip?”

“Um, yeah.” Donald stared at the table, then the wall.

“See, I assumed you’d heard the call over the police scanner and got lucky, but you got a tip,” Sinclair sat back in his chair, “Deputy Gaye and I, we weren’t responding to a homicide.  Not that we knew.”

“Wh-what?” He squeaked.

“You can go, Berk,” Sinclair said.

Donald stared at him open-mouthed.  “That’s all?”

Sinclair stood up and led him to the door, but blocked it, “That’s all.  If I see you at one of my crime scenes again, it’s jailtime.  Do you understand me?” 

Donald nodded.

“Good, check with Ms. Windrose on your way out, and make sure to compliment her flowers.  She grew them herself.”  Sinclair slapped him on the shoulder as he stepped aside and let Berk out of the interview room.  He followed him to the door leading into the lobby and leaned against Eden’s counter to watch him check out.

“Lovely roses,” Donald mumbled to Eden before leaving.

Eden turned her chair to the vase of  orange roses on the counter and adjusted the positioning of one.  “That’s the fourth time today someone’s commented on my roses,” she said, side-eyeing Sinclair.

“What can I say, Ms. Windrose, they’re a beautiful bunch,” he gave her a sly smile, “would you mind calling Mr. Khalid to see if he’s in?  I’d like to pay him a visit.”