“And you know that it’s functioning properly?” I asked.

“Yes. We had it checked just last month, and then I rechecked it yesterday after . . . well . . . just to make sure.”

“And Jon would have known the password?”

A slight pause. “Yes.”

“Senator, who do you think Jon was talking about when he said, ‘This is for you’?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he have a girlfriend?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Any grudges with anyone? Any enemies?”

“No, of course not. Do you think it was a message for the viewers? The people watching online?”

“Perhaps. Or maybe the person most likely to find the phone?”

“Me?”

“I’m just wondering.”

“No. That doesn’t make any sense. He would never have killed himself for me. He was a vibrant, optimistic young man. I’m no perfect father, but we had a strong, loving relationship.”

“Okay.”

“Pete told me that you suspect someone else was here when Jon died. What makes you think that?”

It was unusual for me to hear someone refer to Assistant Director DeYoung by his first name, but there was no reason to think it odd that his friend would do so.

“There was an image reflected back in the guest house’s window,” I said.

“I watched that video. I didn’t see anything.”

“It’s more visible when the resolution is enhanced. I’ll show you.”

Using my phone, I logged into my account on the Federal Digital Database and then pulled up the zoomed-in, digitally enhanced version of the video and showed it to him.

The senator watched the footage quietly.

When it was finished, I asked, “Do you have any idea who that might be?”

“No. No, I don’t.”

Since the person in question didn’t appear in any of the CCTV footage either before or after Jon’s death, he evidently knew the placement of the cameras. So, as I walked through the house and then directed the senator to take different pathways himself while I studied the feeds, I tried to discern the most likely path that the observer might have used to enter or exit the residence while avoiding detection.

After twenty minutes of trial and error, I came up with two possible routes.

One ended in the garage, the other at a window west of the front porch. Upon closer inspection, I found that the window was unlocked, something no one had noticed up until now, because no one was looking.

I called for the Bureau’s Evidence Response Team to send someone over to check for prints and DNA near the window, then I returned to the pool, placed my phone where Jon’s had been, and began recording.