A Gift

“Do not open that package!” A woman’s clear voice rings out through the early morning silence. I jerk back instinctively from the small box on my doorstep, nearly tripping over the rug just inside my front door.

“What the hell?” I gasp as a fit blonde woman races toward me and climbs the two steps onto my porch.

“The intended target didn’t touch it. Bomb squad can come in now.” She speaks rapidly into what I assume is a small earpiece before meeting my eyes. “Anna Bradley?”

“Yes? Who are you?”

“I’m SSA Marlee Raymond with the FBI.” She gestures vaguely at the letters printed in bold on the tactical vest covering her torso.

“Okay and why are you on my front porch and why are there a ton of other people running toward us?” My heart is pounding as I watch several more people move quickly to my house.

“We need to get you to safety, okay?” She reaches toward me, and I let her lead me off of my porch, both of us giving the package a wide berth.

We rush toward a black SUV, and she ushers me inside before climbing into the driver’s seat. “Where are we going?” I ask as she pulls off of the curb.

“The station. We have a lot to discuss, Ms. Bradley.” The blonde woman doesn’t take her eyes off the road for even a second. My stomach churns nervously. Maybe I should’ve asked a few more questions before getting into a vehicle with someone I’ve never met, even if she is an FBI agent.

The rest of the ride passes in relative silence. When we finally pull up to the police station, Marlee opens my door and nods at me. I glance down at myself and blush. Of course I’m still in my pajamas and a bathrobe. “I wish I would’ve grabbed some clothes before we left my house.” I try to keep my tone light to help calm my nerves.

“I’m sure we’ve got something you can put on until you’re able to access your things.” I get a few stares as we walk through the main room and into a conference room, shutting the door behind us. “Alright, I’m not going to lie to you. You’ve been targeted along with several other women here in Bradbury.”

“Targeted by who?” I take a seat, wincing as the cold metal seeps through my clothes.

“We don’t know. That’s what we’re hoping you can help us figure out.” She slides into the seat across from me, leaning back slightly.

“Wait when you say I’ve been targeted…you don’t mean the guy that’s been planting bombs all over town, right?” I say, my eyes widening.

“That’s exactly what I mean. I need a list of anyone who you may have pissed off. Guys you’ve rejected, someone you fired, anything like that.” SSA Raymond slides a notebook and pen toward me, and I scoot forward a little to reach it.

I write down two of my exes first, but then I draw a blank. Who else would want to hurt me? I chew on the pen’s cap absentmindedly and write down a couple more names.

After three hours of combing through the details of my life over the past year, I’m ushered into another black SUV and taken to a local hotel. An officer stands outside my door and assures me that I don’t need to worry. I’m in protective custody. No one can get to me.

I walk into the small room, tossing my bag onto the chair. Thankfully, I was allowed to go back to my house and gather up a few things to last until this investigation is over or whatever.

I collapse onto the bed with a sigh and drift into a fitful sleep.

…

I’m awoken by a knock on my door an hour later, and I jump out of bed, heart pounding. I take a deep breath and peep through the small hole on the door. It’s just Officer Calen.

I open the door with a smile, and he hands me a package. “SSA Raymond brought this buy. Said she thought you’d like it.”

“Thank you,” I say as I take the package and close the door. It’s about the size and weight of a book. I smile to myself, remembering our conversation about our favorite authors earlier on the ride to the hotel.

I set the package on the small desk and walk into the bathroom. I can take a shower then a read a new book. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

The warm water soothes my anxiety little by little. I finally allow my mind to go back to this crazy bomb dude. Who else have I ticked off this year? I try to keep a low profile. At least I have for the past five years…

Memories flash through my mind like movie scenes, and I lean against the cool shower wall, trying to ground myself: a positive pregnancy test, the slamming of the screen door when my ex found out, the pages and pages of prospective adoptive parents, the smiling woman I met at a coffee shop, chairs crashing to the floor and muffled shouts when I chose someone else, the threatening emails, the attack in the parking garage, shoving my things into a moving van, unlocking the front door of my new house…

I open my eyes slowly and notice that I’m trembling. It’s been four years since I’d heard anything from her, and I had nearly forgotten she existed. Could she have something to do with this?

I turn off the water and grab my phone, instinctively googling her name again. It has to be her. She’s the reason I moved here in the first place. But why target those other women? Is she trying to cover her tracks? Am I the real target? I force myself to take a deep breath to slow my heart rate a little.

When I see the article about her fatal car crash, I feel myself relax a little and immediately feel like a terrible person for it. She died a month ago. Wow. I click on the link and skim through the words. She drove straight into a concrete barrier, and it was ruled a suicide.

I can’t tell whether or not I should be relieved that it has nothing to do with her. I shake my head and wrap my hair up into a towel. Steam coats the mirror, and I reach up to wipe it away. The face staring back at me looks exhausted; maybe I should think about getting a bit of sleep.

I’m startled when my phone buzzes on the counter. I answer it nervously, but relax when I hear SSA Raymond’s voice on the other end. “Have you opened the present I sent you yet?” She asks, excitement coating her voice.

“Not yet! I actually just took a shower, but I will go open it right now while we’re on the phone if you’d like.” I walk out of the bathroom, shivering as I step into the cold air of the hotel room.

“Yeah, that would be perfect, actually,” her voice sounds a little strained, but I’m sure she’s just tired. This case has probably taken its toll on her already.

“Okay, let’s open this bad boy,” I say, picking up the small package. The brown paper tears off easily, and I cock my head when I notice it’s not a book, but a box. “What is this?” I ask with a nervous chuckle.

“Open it and see.”

I hesitate for a minute, but finally shrug and open it up. My eyes widen as I see what’s inside. There’s a picture of SSA Raymond smiling next to another girl. My stomach drops when I recognize her. How? I reach forward and take the picture with shaking hands. “How?” My voice comes out in a whisper.

“She was my best friend, and now she’s dead because of you,” I hear the contempt in her voice, and my heart begins to race again.

“No, that wasn’t my fault一” my words catch in my throat when I see what was under the picture. No, this isn’t possible. The numbers flash by in slow motion. 3. 2. 1.