CHAPTER 19
AS THE YOUNG Secret Service agent carried the mail up from the box, his attention flickered to the package. There was no return address and the writing on the shipping label was done in block script. He relayed this information to his superiors and within thirty minutes a bomb squad truck lumbered down the street.
The explosives experts worked their magic and fortunately the neighborhood did not disappear in a nuclear fireball. Still, the contents were rather unusual.
A small bowl with the remains of hardened cereal and milk at the bottom.
A spoon with the same crusty residue.
And a sealed envelope containing a typed letter.
After the techs concluded there were no fingerprints or other useful traces on the box, envelope, or letter, the agents turned their attention to the contents of the letter.
Check the fingerprints on the bowl and spoon. You will find they belong to Willa Dutton. We have her. She is safe. We will contact you soon.
The box had been mailed to Pam Dutton’s sister’s house in Bethesda where John and Colleen Dutton were staying under Secret Service protection.
When the prints were run and compared with a set taken from Willa’s bedroom there was a clear match.
They immediately contacted the Postal Service in an attempt to track from where the package had come. The matter was given the highest priority. However, the closest they could narrow the target to was Dalton, a town in northern Georgia. At least that’s where the package had been processed.
Later that afternoon Sean and Michelle were contacted and told to come to the Treasury Department, which was located on the east side of the White House and had a statue of Alexander Hamilton out front. They were escorted down into the underground belly of the massive building where they entered a long tunnel that ran due west and connected with the White House next door. Sean had been down here before while pulling White House protection duty; however, it was a first for Michelle. As they passed by closed doorways along the long corridor, he whispered to her, “The stories I could tell about what went on in some of these rooms.”
“I see London, I see France,” Michelle murmured back.
The First Lady received them in her office in the East Wing. She had on black slacks, a pale blue sweater, and her black pumps lay underneath her desk. She looked far more tired than the last time they’d seen her.
Sean was surprised to see Aaron Betack hovering in the background. No, cowering was more like it, Sean assessed. The man didn’t look like he wanted to be there. Yet what the First Lady wanted, she usually got.
“These are the times I regret giving up smoking,” Jane said as she motioned them into chairs across from her.
“Weren’t you just on the campaign trail in Connecticut?” Sean asked.
She nodded absently. “I flew back early after they told me about the box. I asked Agent Betack to be here so he could answer any questions you might have on behalf of the Service.”
Sean and Michelle both looked at Betack, who didn’t appear remotely interested in telling them even what time it was. Yet he nodded and attempted a smile that came out as though he had really bad gas.
Jane said, “I have heard that the FBI has been somewhat less than cooperative with you. I trust that has been taken care of and that you have met with no resistance from any other agency?”
There was only one other agency really involved and it was represented by the big man standing behind her, his face reddening slightly with her words.
Sean said quickly, “Everyone’s been very cooperative. Particularly the Secret Service. It’s been a stressful time for everyone, but they’ve been there for us the whole way.”
“Excellent,” said Jane.
Betack stared at Sean for a long moment and then gave a slight nod, silently thanking Sean for the cover he’d just provided.
Jane Cox sat down behind her desk and took a few minutes to explain what had happened. Betack filled in the more technical parts on the box’s delivery and contents.
Michelle said, “So someone does have her. They say she’s safe and will contact us later.”
Jane said sharply, “We have no idea if she is really safe. She could be dead.”
“It’s troubling that they knew where to send the letter,” Sean said.
Betack nodded. “We’re theorizing that they might have researched the family and knew the aunt was local. Even if the kids weren’t staying there the box would have eventually reached us.”
“Or it could show the kidnappers have some inside info,” said Sean. He glanced sharply at Betack. “I’m not suggesting that’s coming from the Service, but there could be other leaks.”