Finishing School Read Online Free PDF Page B

did.’’
    Rossi continued. ‘‘Some people thought the FBI was out to get the Chippewas, when Louis Jourdain—the son of Floyd ‘Buck’ Jourdain, Jr., the tribal chairman—was charged with conspiracy, because he knew about Wiese’s plan and didn’t tell anyone. Some believed the FBI was guilty of conspiracy, trying to get Jourdain out.’’
    Garue and Rossi were again locked in a mutual stare. ‘‘Some did,’’ the Native American said.
    Hotchner was taking this in with narrowed eyes. ‘‘Are we going to have a problem here?’’
    Jareau was thinking, Some fan . . .
    But Garue shook his head. ‘‘Not with me. When Keegan said he was going to call Agent Rossi, I was all for it. You federal guys and gals may not be much at Indian affairs, but you’re a hell of a lot better at this sort of thing than we local cops are.’’
    â€˜â€˜Thanks for that much,’’ Rossi said.
    â€˜â€˜There’s some crazy shit going on around here, and we need your kind of help.’’ Garue shrugged. ‘‘Anyway, I really do want a book or two signed.’’
    The two men shared a respectful if guarded smile; then their stare-down concluded.
    â€˜â€˜We could get started,’’ Hotchner said, looking around with frank irritation, ‘‘if we knew where our vehicles were.’’
    Garue faced Hotchner. ‘‘That’s why Deputy Swenson and I are here. Your SUVs are downtown, at the law enforcement center. Sheriff figured it would be easier for us to chauffeur you, some—just till you get the lay of the land.’’
    â€˜â€˜Considerate,’’ Hotchner said. ‘‘Thank you.’’
    Garue looked from face to face. ‘‘Any of you been to Bemidji before?’’
    They all shook their heads.
    â€˜â€˜We figured as much. Better you ride with us awhile.’’
    No one argued the point.
    With the help of Garue and Deputy Swenson, the team loaded their gear into the patrol vehicles. They split up as they got into the SUVs, Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid riding with Deputy Swenson while Hotchner, Rossi, and Jareau accompanied Detective Garue.
    Hotchner sat up front with Garue while Jareau and Rossi shared the rear. Even though wire mesh separated front and back, the inside of the Durango was toasty warm—Jareau found that a soothing relief, after their windy entrance to what seemed to be the southernmost tip of the polar ice cap.
    They had only gone fifty yards or so toward the airport’s entrance when Garue said, ‘‘The building on the right there is the regional crime lab, a division of the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension.’’
    Rossi asked, ‘‘That’s Keegan’s office?’’
    â€˜â€˜Yeah,’’ Garue said.
    The one-story glass-and-brick building was mostly dark, though Jareau could see some fluorescent lights on in the rear part of the lab.
    â€˜â€˜That’s probably his light in the back,’’ Garue was saying. ‘‘He’s been working full tilt on this one since Saturday.’’
    On the other side of the road, a two-story motel sat vacant, its windows boarded shut.
    Rossi asked, ‘‘What happened there?’’
    â€˜â€˜Northern Inn,’’ Garue said. ‘‘Too many other choices—the land was sold for a new Ford dealership and the motel lost its lease.’’
    From the airport, Garue turned left. On the right side of the road, a pine forest ended right before an overpass for Highway 71 north to International Falls, less than two hours away.
    As they passed under the highway, someone might have thrown a switch—the landscape changed from rural forest to urban sprawl, strip malls, big box stores, restaurants, and gas stations lining the four-lane thoroughfare into town.
    Hotchner asked, ‘‘How many people in