CARLY'S ANGEL

A soft breeze playfully blew through Kathy Brentwood’s long black hair as she walked down Rock Street in the city of Fall River, Massachusetts. She was a joy to watch by all. Tall, thin, beautiful, and a natural bounce to her step that anyone would love to copy. Except by one observer that had a different reason to be there.

Her dark brown eyes sparkled as she walked into the Abbey Grill to meet two of her friends from work.

Entering the restaurant, she heard someone call to her.

“Kathy, were over here.”

Quickly turning to her right she saw two of her colleagues sitting near an adjacent wall. Moments later she joined the seated couple and ordered a small brunch from the menu brought by the handsome waiter standing near their table.

For a few minutes, they sat and talked about how cute he was, then seconds later, without any warning, a fiery explosion catapulted her body through one of the broken windows and onto the debris covered street. The impact against the cement pavement instantly fractured most of the bones in her body.

As blood slowly leaked out of her semi-lifeless body, all she could feel was darkness looming over her. Then her eyes closed, and it was over.

With no remorse, the omniscient observer who caused the explosion slowly walked up Rock Street to Franklin Street, got in his car and drove back to his small home in the north end of the city.

After spending a week searching for clues, the police found nothing. It was the perfect crime.

Then it happened again…

Saturday nights were always busy around the Post Office in Fall River, and this one was no different. Bill Nolan had just started his new job as shift supervisor, when one of the guys working for him said that there was a suspicious looking package up against the rear service entrance door. Not giving it much thought, he walked over to it and was about to pick it up when the phone rang.

“Hello,” he said. “Main Post Office, how can I help you?”

“Your package has been delivered,” said the voice. Then the line went dead.

Bill immediately remembered the box that was sitting near the door. Was that the package the man on the phone was talking about? He slowly walked towards it, and realized that there were no discernable markings on it. No address, no dates, nothing that would indicate that it should be mailed. All he could see was a square box that was wrapped in brown paper. Reluctant to approach it, he immediately called 911.

“How long has it been there, and can you describe it to me?” asked Todd Morgan, the bomb squad policeman who answered the call.

“I don’t know I was just told about it, but it’s probably been there a while, because I haven’t been near the door in at least twenty minutes,” answered Bill. “As far as what it looks like, I’d say the package is about two feet square, and it’s wrapped in brown paper with no markings.”

“Did you touch or move it at all?” asked Todd.

“Are you nuts? The only thing that I moved was my butt, and it was as far away from that box as I could get.”

“Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Block off the entrance with anything you can find, postal carts, boxes anything. Just make sure you keep people away from the door. Then get as far away as you can,” instructed Todd.

“No problem with that,” answered Bill. “How about if we close the door?”

“No! Don’t move it. You said that the box is leaning up against the door. It could go off.

Before I hang up, do you have any idea how it got there?”

“I’m not sure, but I just got a suspicious call from someone that said ‘Your package has been delivered.’ Maybe the two aren’t connected, but I didn’t want to take the chance. We’ve had a rapid turnover of help lately, but I can’t recall anyone acting unusual.”

“Okay,” said Todd. “We’re on our way. Just make sure you clear the area.”

Ten minutes later a large black van, filled with bomb gear, and four bomb experts approached the building.

Todd Morgan was the first to approach the package.

“What’s the situation Todd?” asked Trevor.

“Still hard to tell boss. We’ll have to look inside.”

Todd had been working with Trevor Marsh for ten years. He was a good supervisor and had taught him all he knew. He liked and respected him. Plus he was a good friend.

Trevor immediately had the area cordoned off and instructed that the building be closed until the real or fake package was checked out. He also put in a call for paramedic backup.

“Get Todd an x-ray camera now,” commanded Trevor, to one of the bomb techs. “If it’s a bomb, we’ll move it somewhere else to explode it. If it’s not, we can all go for coffee and donuts.”

Todd started walking up to the box holding the camera, when Trevor yelled to him. “Not without a Kevlar cover you don’t. Get into an outfit…now.”

“You worry too m