Criminal Minds Read Online Free PDF Page B

mustache and goatee, and close-cropped hair. He wore a black T-shirt under a black suit and had the build of a former athlete, maybe one who still took time out for hoops.
    Morgan said, ‘‘This is Chicago Detective Tate Lorenzon.’’
    Hotchner shook hands with the black detective, who had a firm grip and eyes that met Hotchner’s.
    ‘‘Thanks for seeing us, Agent Hotchner,’’ Lorenzon said. ‘‘I know we’re kind of barging in.’’
    ‘‘Not a problem,’’ Hotchner said. ‘‘My friends call me Hotch.’’
    ‘‘And I’m Tate.’’ Then, turning to his companion, Lorenzon added, ‘‘Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, meet Detective Hilario Tovar, Chicago Heights PD.’’
    Grinning and extending his hand, Tovar said, ‘‘It’s Hilly, and we really do appreciate your time. I mean, we know all about the BAU—you’re the first team, and you don’t waste time on the small stuff.’’
    ‘‘Hilly,’’ Hotchner said with a nod, shaking the man’s hand. ‘‘We’re happy to help, if we can.’’
    ‘‘That’s good to hear,’’ Lorenzon said. ‘‘There are plenty of cops back our way who think Hilly and me are off the rails on this one. You say ‘serial killer’ to a cop and he thinks you’ve seen too many movies.’’
    A needle of apprehension jabbed Hotchner. ‘‘You both know we can only enter cases where we’ve been invited.’’
    ‘‘You and vampires,’’ Lorenzon said.
    The remark was one, in seemingly endless variations, that Hotchner had often heard before; he hid any irritation and said, ‘‘Be that as it may . . .’’
    Tovar held up a hand. ‘‘Listen, both our departments may think we’re gonzo, but Tate and me have pretty good track records, so to shut us up, if nothing else? They’ve agreed to extend you an invitation . . . if you think the two of us are on the right track. On the other hand, maybe they just wanted to get us out of town where you could talk some sense into us.’’
    ‘‘So you know what you have,’’ Hotchner said flatly—a statement, not a question.
    ‘‘We think so,’’ Lorenzon said, and sighed. ‘‘But like I say, nobody else wants to believe it.’’
    Morgan said, ‘‘Who’d want to?’’
    Jareau came up to them. ‘‘Everyone’s ready.’’
    Introductions were made and she shook hands with both men.
    ‘‘We appreciate your time,’’ Tovar said to her.
    ‘‘It’s our job,’’ she said. ‘‘If this develops into anything, I’ll be working media.’’
    "From D.C.?"
    ‘‘No, if we come to Chicago, I’ll be part of the team.’’
    Hotch saw Morgan smile, just a little. The two out-of-town detectives could hardly have failed to notice just how striking a young woman Jareau was, and having her around wouldn’t be the worst fate in the world.
    Jareau led them into the conference room, giving Tovar and Lorenzon seats on Hotchner’s left, Rossi on his right, the rest of the team fanned out around the large mahogany table that was the room’s center-piece. Morgan and Reid sat to Rossi’s right, Prentiss to the left of Lorenzon, Jareau remaining on her feet as she made the introductions.
    A picture window with venetian blinds occupied the wall immediately to the right of the door, a twin to the window in Hotchner’s office. To the left was a cupboard and counter with a copier, a fax machine in the corner beyond. The wall to the left had three narrow bulletproof windows that served only to let in light, a brown sofa under them, a potted tree beside it. A wall-mounted whiteboard had been cleaned.
    The sections of corkboard on either side of the whiteboard still held tacked-up notes, photos, reports, and other detritus from their previous case. The wall opposite the door contained a HDTV flat screen on which could be displayed PowerPoint presentations and videos from cases.
    ‘‘The reason these detectives came to us,’’ Hotchner said, ‘‘is these photos you are about to see. JJ?’’
    Jareau