Criminal Minds by Max Allan Collins Page B

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 someone must 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 did see 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