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the third grave. Somehow, the critters got to it and they picked at the plastic, and picked the hand clean, too . . . but that was all they got.’’
    Rossi said, ‘‘We came to the same conclusion, Detective—that the killer, or whoever buried the bodies for the killer, might’ve wanted to protect them.’’
    â€˜â€˜It was the peacefulness of the graves that shook me. This is one cool-as-a-cucumber character. You just take these kids out and bury ’em in the woods like a dead pet? You can do that, man, you got something a lot colder than ice water in your veins.’’
    In the next block, on the left side, the redbrick building carried the legend BELTRAMI COUNTY JAIL AND JUDICIAL CENTER. Garue pulled up to the curb in front of the third matching building. Over the door, this one had the words LAW ENFORCEMENT CENTER.
    Garue and Hotchner had to open the back doors to let Rossi and Jareau out. Jareau looked over and saw two black SUVs in the parking lot with U.S. government plates.
    â€˜â€˜This is home,’’ Garue said. ‘‘This building houses both the Beltrami County Sheriff’s Office and the Bemidji PD.’’
    Hotchner said, ‘‘Looks fairly new.’’
    â€˜â€˜Nineteen ninety-eight,’’ Garue said. ‘‘All three buildings. The county decided to do it all at once and consolidate everything. Actually’s made life easier.’’
    Rossi asked, ‘‘Any closer on the cause of death?’’
    Garue shook his head. ‘‘Tomorrow, if we’re lucky. The coroner had to send material off to the lab. You want to go in and get set up, or just wait for morning?’’
    A part of Jareau hoped that Hotchner would let them check into their hotel and catch one last good night’s sleep, because she could anticipate what kind of hours were coming; but she knew better.
    Predictably, Hotchner said, ‘‘We might as well get started right away.’’
    Garue raised a finger. ‘‘One more thing, while I’m thinking about it—Bassinko Industries likes to consider itself a part of this community. So don’t be surprised if they send someone around to talk. The bodies were found on Bassinko land, and that’s the sort of press they don’t want. I wouldn’t be surprised if they send you a sort of . . . liaison. Or maybe envoy is more like it.’’
    Hotchner nodded. ‘‘JJ here usually handles that kind of thing.’’
    Jareau—who had dealt with cops, media, angry parents, and a thousand things worse than a company hack—said brightly, ‘‘I’ll gladly meet with him or her.’’
    Inside, the tiny lobby held a bulletproof-glass-enclosed cubicle with a door on either side. One was marked BEMIDJI PD, the other SHERIFF’S OFFICE. The uniformed policewoman behind the glass waved at Garue and pressed the button unlocking the latter door.
    Only a couple officers were working at desks in the outer bull pen; the light was off in the sheriff’s office and the chief deputy’s. Garue led them into a conference room, flipped on the switch and fluorescent lights in the ceiling flickered to life.
    â€˜â€˜Let’s get our equipment set up,’’ Hotchner said, ‘‘make sure everything’s ready for tomorrow—want you all to get a good night’s sleep, and then tomorrow, we’ll hit the ground running.’’
    They all knew their jobs, and in less than an hour, the conference room resembled their own back at Quantico. A white board on one wall was filled with questions written by Rossi and Hotchner, Prentiss and Jareau had set up the laptops and established contact with Garcia to make sure their computer communications were up, Reid was using a bulletin board on another wall to display the crime scene photos. While they all did that, Morgan added equipment to what had already been