Free Criminal Minds by Max Allan Collins Page B

liaison here.’’
    Oliver turned to her, his expression slightly amused. Such condescending looks were something Jareau was used 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. If we 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 not a 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, every decision 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 us to 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