“No. Of course not.”

“Then perhaps Detective Denson could explain how it is we’re taking credit for something that hasn’t happened yet.”

Not liking where this was heading, Jareau smiled and spoke up. “Chief Oliver, if I might? I’m the police liaison here.”

Oliver turned to her, his expression slightly amused. Such condescending looks were something Jareau wasused to. More than one cop, and criminals too for that matter, had made the mistake of underestimating young, pretty Jennifer Jareau; she no longer felt annoyed about such attitudes, knowing they provided her with an advantage.

She stared at the chief as the man gaped goofily at her. Men, she knew, could at times act like little boys, even men in power like the chief here; and she didn’t have to have children of her own to know the look a disgusted parent gave a misbehaving child. Seated across from Chief Oliver, she focused that look on him.

Hotchner, for his part, sat silently, letting his agent establish control so she would be able to do her job when he wasn’t present.

Finally, the smile slipped from Oliver’s face and his eyes met hers squarely. “Police liaison, yes. Go on, Miss, uh…”

“Supervisory Special Agent Jareau. But you can call me Agent Jareau. Or JJ, once we start working together. Ifwe start working together. Could I outline what we have in mind?”

The chief swallowed. “Go ahead.”

“What we propose,” she said, “is to help you and your police force join in with other police entities in greater Chicago to bring to ground a vicious killer who has killed elsewhere in the area.”

Hotchner said, “And this is a killer who will continue killing, if we don’t join together to stop him.”

Oliver nodded. “With all due respect, Agent Jareau, Agent Hotchner… we’ve heard all this before— you scratch our back, we’ll scratch yours and so on. What we’ve gotten out of such collaborations is an extremely itchy back.”

Jareau said, “We’re sorry you’ve had bad experiences cooperating with federal agencies before but—”

“You’re different,” he interrupted.

“We are,” she said, the words sounding more defensive than she meant them to. “The BAU operates in an advisory capacity. We don’t steal credit. We’re not interested in credit, just results.”

“That we’ve also heard before, Agent Jareau. You have to understand, we’re a small force and our political decisions must be made on a basis of—”

“This is nota political decision,” she cut in. “This is about stopping a killer.”

Oliver bestowed a patient smile, as if he were the parent now, and dealing with a very slow child. “Agent Jareau, as I’m sure Agent Hotchner would tell you, everydecision is a political decision.”

She glanced at Hotchner, whose expression might have been carved out of a chunk of wood.

“I would think,” Hotchner said softly, with no inflection whatsoever, “that it would be politically advantageous for you to catch the killer of the two girls in your town.”

“You make my point, Agent Hotchner,” Oliver said. “It would be politically advantageous for usto catch the killer.”

“That’s why you don’t want our support?” Jareau asked. “So you can do this yourself?”

“You don’t seem to understand,” Oliver said.

“No I don’t,” Jareau said flatly. “Neither will the family and friends of the next victims.”

The chief ignored that. “We’re a small department in a small town. Our budget is a tenuous thing. If the feds solve local crimes, the budget goes down. If we solve them, the budget goes up.”

Jareau frowned. “This is about money?”

“Most everything is, Agent Jareau.”

She shook her head. “The lives of potential victims can’t be measured in dollars and cents, Chief Oliver. Are you prepared to let a serial killer run free over fiscal issues?”

Oliver’s face reddened and his eyes narrowed as he rose. “We’re not idiots here. We’re not ‘letting him run free.’ We’re going to catch this bastard, and when we do, the community will thank us, not you. When this perp’s been caught, whether you do it or we do it, you’re outa here—back to D.C. or wherever the hell you come from. We, on the other hand, will still be right here in Wauconda.”

Jareau said, “I don’t get your point, Chief.”

“If youcatch him, we look like a bunch of Barney Fifes and our budget goes down. If wecatch him, we’re heroes, and the budget goes up.” He was almost shouting. “Because, you see, on the average day in our fair little city, when the high-and-mighty FBI isn’t around to ‘help’ and ‘support’ us? We stillhave crimes to deal with. And for some strange reason, that’s an easier task for us if we have enough money to keep officerson the goddamn street!”

Realizing he was on a rant, Oliver let out a breath and sat down.

Rising as the chief sat, Hotchner said, “Thank you for your time.”

Jareau and Lorenzon also rose and followed Hotchner out of the station and back to the SUV. Hotchner climbed behind the wheel, Jareau next to him, Lorenzon in the back.

As they pulled away, Jareau could hold her tongue no longer. “What was that?”

“It’s something I’ve run into more than once,” Hotchner said. “Never as extreme, maybe.…”

Lorenzon said, “Sorry. I should have warned you about some of these outlying suburbs. They want to cover their asses more than they want to solve crimes.”

Trying not to sound too critical, Jareau said to the Chicago cop, “I noticed youdidn’t wade in.”

“I just couldn’t see getting in a pissing contest with those small-minded jerks.”

Hotchner sighed. “That doesn’t mean his points aren’t valid.”

Jareau goggled at her boss. “You’re sidingwith Oliver and Denson?”

“Not a chance,” Hotchner said, driving along the lake where the two girls disappeared. “We’re still the best option for catching this killer… but I understand what Oliver said about living here after we’re gone. He knows his town better than we do. And he doesn’t know we were being straight with him about our willingness to give him and his people the credit.”

“What are we going to do, then?” Jareau asked. “We can’t investigate without being asked in.”

“No, we can’t,” Hotchner said, pulling the SUV into the parking lot on the lake’s beachfront. “But there’s no law against stopping for a cool drink before we head back to the city.”

The beach was nearly deserted, the sun a ghost on the horizon, the lake looking cool and choppy as an evening breeze rolled in. The July heat still hung in the air, but the crowd had gone home for the night and the kids who ran the refreshment stand were pulling umbrellas out of the few tables outside their boxy little concrete building, stacking plastic chairs.

Jareau gave Hotch a look. “Aren’t you breaking the rules? Visiting a crime scene when we haven’t been invited?”

Shaking his head, as he pulled into a parking spot, Hotchner said, “I’m just thirsty—aren’t you?”

“Well, I don’t know about JJ,” Lorenzon said from the back, “but I’m parched.”

With a little half smirk, Jareau said, “I guess I could use a drink, too, although right now I might prefer something a little harder than what that stand offers up.”

“You’ll settle for lemonade or bottled water,” Hotchner said. “Anyway, I’m buying.”

“Better hurry,” Jareau said. “Looks like they’re about to close up.”

“No problem,” Hotchner said. “I don’t want to spend a lot of time here, anyway. I just want to get the lay of the land.”

They got out of the SUV and strode over to the screen-covered service window of the refreshment stand. Behind the counter, a teenaged girl stood smiling. “May I help you?”

She was blonde and perky, even for the late hour, and Jareau couldn’t help but remember her own teenage jobs back at East Allegheny High.

Jareau swiftly scanned the menu on the wall behind the young girl. “Lemonade, medium.”