“Exactly. Where was it, and who had it?” Benton says, causing more questions and comments, people talking on top of each other.
“And she didn’t call looking for it until some five or six hours after it was left on the porch?”
“Who finally dropped it off to her not long before she was attacked?”
“Could be anyone who picked up the package at the office, maybe off the front porch,” Benton suggests. “And the manager living there might not have been aware of it.”
“What about time of death?” General Gunner directs this at me.
“Early evening,” I estimate. “Possibly an hour or two after she called looking for the package.”
“The DNA will be interesting, whatever might be on the outside of the box,” says the FBI as if I might not have thought of it.
“The FedEx was on a countertop near the side door leading out to Gwen’s patio,” I explain to everyone. “And yes, of course we’re testing it for DNA,” I add for the benefit of the FBI director.
I’m well aware he’s convinced their Quantico labs are better than mine, and am unpleasantly reminded of what nuclear biologist Clark Givens told me. DNA evidence hasn’t been tested in the Cammie Ramada case, and it’s not because of a backlog.
“The unopened FedEx package wasn’t far from where I’d noticed a shattered mug and a puddle of chicken noodle soup on the floor,” I tell the room. “Causing me to suspect she’d been startled, frightened, was trying to get away from someone.”
I make the point that if residents of Colonial Landing can intercept packages left on the porch of the management office, then so could anybody.
“Including a violent offender,” Benton offers, and I think of the covered cameras, the security gates opening and shutting, the creepy music playing.
Assuming Gwen’s killer showed up with the package in hand, depending on who it was, she might have let her guard down. She might have turned off the alarm and opened her door.
“Especially if the person was familiar,” Benton adds. “It could be nothing more than someone she’s spoken to in the past or seen around the area. That could have been enough. It only takes the blink of an eye to make the wrong decision.”
“Plus, she might have been distracted because this individual had something she possibly was looking for urgently,” the director of the Secret Service proposes. “Something she didn’t want getting into anybody else’s hands.”
“Our labs have the devices and the FedEx box they arrived in,” Benton tells everyone. “They’ll be processed for fingerprints, DNA, and what we know already is the mobile chargers are malware. You plug in your phone, and all of your data is downloaded.”
“THE DREAM CHASER IS eight minutes from docking.” General Gunner gives us the latest update, monitoring images on the Situation Room’s data walls.
Benton turns around in his chair, speaking to Tron sitting behind us. “Maybe now’s a good time to play the recording.”
“Absolutely,” she replies, getting up.
“The message left on Gwen’s cell phone early this morning,” Benton explains to everyone around the table as Tron finds the audio file.
“Horton probably heard all about her murder on the news last night, and ultimately couldn’t resist calling her or trying,” Tron explains to everyone. “But he was shrewd enough to do it when it didn’t matter anymore. One reason I find his voice mail so interesting is he’s speaking Russian.”
“You have to wonder why unless maybe he was sending Gwen some sort of coded message. Maybe cluing her in about where he was headed,” Benton guesses.
“Let’s listen.” Tron sets down her classified laptop computer in front of the president and plays the recording.
“Privet iz kosmosa. Kak dela?” is the extent of Horton’s message to Gwen, one she never knew about or heard, and now never will.
“He’s saying, ‘Hello from space. How are you?’” Tron translates. “That’s it. And I’m not surprised because he knew as he was leaving the message that it was going to be listened to soon enough. And picked apart, the very thing we’re doing.”
She informs us that Horton placed the call this morning at 2:02 Eastern Standard Time. At that moment, the top secret Thor orbiter was passing almost 300 miles （500 kilometers） over New York City, traveling at a blistering 17,500 miles per hour （approximately 28,000 kilometers per hour or Mach 22）。