“Medium lemonade,” the girl said. “Anything else?”

Hotchner leaned in and twitched a smile. “Make that two.”

“Three,” Lorenzon said, making the Boy Scout sign.

The girl got their drinks. Hotchner paid the bill, then joined Jareau and Lorenzon and their lemonades next to the SUV. Fitting,Jareau thought. We need to make lemonade out of the lemons Chief Oliver and DetectiveDenson have tossed our way.…

Jareau gave Hotchner a look. “You’re not going to ask her if she was working the day the girls disappeared?”

Shaking his head, Hotchner said, “That wouldbe crossing the line.”

After a quick sip of his drink, Lorenzon looked back toward the building. “I’m not FBI. I could ask her.”

“You’re working with us now,” Hotchner said. “That would constitute breaking the rules, as well.”

“What the hell,” Lorenzon said with a smile. “I’ll just bend ’em a little—they won’t break.”

“Not this time,” Hotchner said, easy but firm. “If we want to win Chief Oliver over to the side of a joint task force, going behind his back is not the way to get that done.”

“What do you call this?” Lorenzon asked, gesturing to himself and them.

“I call this,” Hotchner said, “three coworkers sharing a nonalcoholic drink at the end of a hard day.”

“ Riiight,” Lorenzon said.

Jareau watched as Hotchner sipped his lemonade through a straw, and for one brief moment she could imagine her stoic boss a young man standing on a beach like this, as human as the next guy or girl. But it was just one brief moment.…

Hotch was slowly scanning the lake, then the beach, then the parking lot. A great deal of the lake’s perimeter was wooded. On the south and east sides businesses and houses lined the shore and up the west side were a small marina and more homes. The beach was large enough for a couple of hundred sunbathers as well as swimmers, Jet Ski enthusiasts and boaters. The parking lot was smallish, room for maybe fifty cars, tops. As the sun set and the shadows thickened, Jareau could have sworn she felt the killer somewhere out there.…

As they loaded back into the SUV, Lorenzon asked, “So, what did we just do?”

“We learned,” Hotchner said.

“Learned what?”

Shaking his head as he put on his seat belt, Hotchner said, “Not much.”

He started up the Tahoe.

“But something,” Jareau said.

As they began the long trip back to the city, Hotchner said, “We learned there are something like one-hundred places our UnSub could have observed his prey from.”

“A hundred?” Lorenzon asked.

“Easily. With high-powered binoculars, he could have been anywhere around the perimeter of the lake.”

“And that tells us what?”

Hotchner drew in a breath. Let it out. “It may tell us he was particular. He was trolling for a specific kind of victim—he picked two girls who were at the lake that afternoon, unaccompanied girls. He might have watched all day waiting for just the right set of victims to satisfy his needs.”

Lorenzon asked, “What were his needs?”

“Not the normal needs of a serial killer, if the word ‘normal’ can be applied. Not sex, although obviously murderous rage. He was coolly seeking two young women like Janice Ott and Denise Naslund, the two young women Ted Bundy abducted from Lake Sammamish State Park.”

Lorenzon’s voice was hushed. “And he found them.”

“He found them.” Hotchner glanced at the detective. “The thing is, with Bundy, several people saw Janice Ott talking to a well-dressed young man with a cast on one arm. One witness even heard her call him ‘Ted.’ Did Denson mention to you anything about that? A man with a cast on one arm, spotted at the lake that afternoon?”

Lorenzon said, “Denson didn’t talk to me—he spoke to Tovar. But Tovar never said anything about witnesses or a cast, either. Judging from our reception by Denson and the chief, though, I wouldn’t exactly be shocked if the Wauconda boys had neglected to share all they knew with Tovar, either.”

Jareau shook her head and said, “You would think that someonemust have seen him.”

Hotchner lifted his eyebrows in a sort of shrug. “This guy is very good at his job.”

“His job?” Lorenzon asked.

“On one level, that’s what it is to him. This is what he does, it’s what defines him. He is a master at blending in. Someone probably didsee him, but they don’t even know it.”

“You have to ask the right questions to find out that kind of thing,” Lorenzon said. “And I have no particular faith that Detective Denson did.”

“There were probably lots of people at the beach that day,” Jareau said. “Still, our UnSub picked out two victims and managed to abduct them, without anyone noticing.”

“Which means,” Hotchner said, “he’s a smooth operator.”

Lorenzon said, “He’s smart, he’s smooth, he plans things well and he blends in. So we do know a thing or two, at that. But how in the hell are we going to catch him?”

Hotchner glanced into the rearview mirror. “If we do our job, we may be able to catch him before he strikes again.”

“And if not?”

Hotchner’s sigh must have started down around his toes. “Then we have to make sure we’re there when he makes a mistake.”

Lorenzon was shaking his head. “What if he doesn’t make a mistake?”

“He will,” Hotchner said. “He will. They all do.”

Hotch was right—Jareau’s experience told her as much. But experience also told her that an UnSub could take his time, making that mistake.…

He sat in his car watching them. They had strolled across the parking lot, got into an SUV and pulled out. He’d let them get out in front, then eased in behind them. They were headed for the city now, but he hoped they would give him a chance to take care of business before they got into the witness-filled streets of Chicago.

Night had fallen and their headlights were on as were his, but in this traffic he knew he would not look suspicious as he trailed them. Once they hit the expressway, things would get more complicated and it would be harder to tail them without their noticing. At least at this hour. During rush hour, when traffic was at a standstill, he could practically take care of business while they were sitting in line waiting for someone to move.

He could tell now, they were headed for the expressway; and he started to wonder if tonight was going to be a missed opportunity. He hoped not, even though he was already following the SUV onto the ramp of eastbound I-90. Trying to keep his karma good, he pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial number two—home.

She answered on the second ring. “Hello,” she said, her voice a little frosty.

“A late job came in, honey—sorry.”

“How long will you be?”

He smiled at the thought of what lay before him if things went his way. “It could take quite a while. I’ll just get something to eat on the way home later.”

“The boys will want to stay up and wait for you.”

“Tell them to go ahead to bed. I’ll take the day off tomorrow, and we’ll do something as a family.”

“Really? Do you mean that? Darling, that would be wonderful.…”

She sounded almost giddy, like when they first had met. For a moment he felt a twinge of nostalgia. “Sure,” he said, trying to sound magnanimous.

“That’ll be great. Should I tell the boys? I don’t want to tell them if there’s any chance you’ll cancel.…"

The SUV sped up a little and switched lanes. He kept his eyes on the rear bumper but did not change lanes himself.

“Sure, go ahead and tell them.”

“I love you,” she said.

He mumbled something and pushed the button to end the call. He knew that by the time he got home, much later if he had his way, she would have the whole day planned out.

The SUV was in the fast lane now, pulling away. Switching lanes, he gunned it and his car slowly eased closer, two cars between him and his prey.