Criminal Minds by Max Allan Collins

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 you catch him, we look like a bunch of Barney Fifes and our budget goes down. If we catch 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 still have crimes to deal with. And for some strange reason, that’s an easier task for us if we have enough money to keep officers on 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 you didn’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 siding with 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