Finishing School Read Online Free PDF

Gideon—something about their age, Jareau figured. This man did not do that. He went like a heat-seeking missile to Hotchner.
    â€˜â€˜Detective Lewis Garue,’’ the man said, extending his hand.
    â€˜â€˜Special Agent in Charge Aaron Hotchner,’’ Hotch said, and they shook.
    â€˜â€˜Thanks for coming in,’’ Garue said. ‘‘I know the facts are a little sketchy, but you took us serious and we appreciate it.’’
    â€˜â€˜That’s our job,’’ Hotchner said. ‘‘Let me introduce the team. . . .’’
    Garue stepped to his right, facing Rossi. ‘‘You’re SSA David Rossi.’’
    Rossi shook hands with the detective.
    â€˜â€˜Your reputation precedes you, Agent Rossi. I’ve read your books, seen you on TV. Thought you were a bigger man.’’
    â€˜â€˜I don’t seem to be,’’ Rossi said with a grin.
    Morgan, hands on hips, was grinning, too. ‘‘So it’s true—you do have fans.’’
    â€˜â€˜One or two,’’ Rossi said.
    Garue had half a smile going himself. ‘‘I’m gonna wanna book signed.’’
    â€˜â€˜We can make that happen. But let’s find out who’s burying bodies in your woods, first.’’
    â€˜â€˜Fine by me.’’
    Hotchner made the rest of the introductions, ending with Prentiss, who asked, ‘‘Lewis Garue?’’ A smile tickled the corners of her mouth. ‘‘As in, Lew Garue?’’
    The detective nodded, straight-faced. None of the others were following.
    The detective said, ‘‘But my parents did change the spelling.’’
    Hotchner asked, ‘‘What am I missing?’’
    â€˜â€˜A phonetic game,’’ Garue said. ‘‘Agent Prentiss speaks French, obviously.’’
    â€˜â€˜She speaks a bunch of languages,’’ Morgan said. ‘‘But how did you know she speaks French?’’
    â€˜â€˜I’m a detective, son. Phonetically, ‘Lew Garue’ sounds very much like a French phrase—‘loup-garou. ’ ’’
    â€˜â€˜Which means what?’’
    But Rossi answered: ‘‘Werewolf.’’
    Garue chuckled. ‘‘Very good, Agent Rossi. A little favor my parents did for me—thought it would make me tougher.’’
    â€˜â€˜Must have worked,’’ Rossi said. ‘‘You look like you can handle yourself.’’
    â€˜â€˜I’m still here,’’ Garue said with a shrug.
    Rossi seemed to like that response. Then he asked, ‘‘What band are you?’’
    â€˜â€˜Bear clan of the Red Lake Band of the Chippewa Nation.’’
    The two men stared at each other for a long moment and Jareau wondered what was going on.
    Very softly, and evenly, Rossi said, ‘‘That wasn’t us, you know.’’
    Garue waved a dismissive hand. ‘‘There’s still a lot of bad blood about the feds on the rez, but here in town? You guys will be welcomed as heroes.’’
    â€˜â€˜The rez?’’ Prentiss asked. ‘‘You mean, reservation?’’
    For once Rossi, not Reid, was spouting facts: ‘‘On March 21, 2005, Jeffrey Wiese, a troubled sixteen-year-old, killed his grandfather, the grandfather’s girl-friend, then entered Red Lake High School and in three minutes fired off forty-five rounds. He killed five students, a teacher, and a security guard. He wandered the grounds of the school for another six or seven minutes and randomly wounded five more students before killing himself. Since the tragedy happened on the Red Lake Reservation, the FBI came in to investigate, and many people were unhappy with the way the case was handled. They thought the FBI overstepped.’’
    â€˜â€˜In some cases,’’ Garue said mildly, ‘‘they