Saving Hope

XXVII. Victims

“What do you mean?” Hope asked in alarm.

The younger agent walked to the window and looked outside while the older one talked. “If Frye told you more than he should, your life is also on the line. Whoever is after him will think you know more.”

Hope shook her head. “But he didn’t tell me anything about the case. He told me about his history, but nothing specific. He was careful not to reveal so much because of the case.”

As the older agent continued to stare at her with doubt, the younger one’s phone started ringing. Hope and the old agent turned their heads to look at him as he answered and listened. The call lasted for more than a minute and when it was done, he replaced his phone in his coat pocket. “They got him,” he said to his partner and turned to Hope with a skeptical look. “They told us to keep watch over her.”

“Wait, what’s going on? Keep watch of me? They got who?” Alarm was building up inside her.

“We have Devin Frye and he’s safe.”

Her eyes watered with relief but there was so much doubt. What if these guys were just like Burton? What if they were playing with her?

“But they told us that you might be in danger,” the younger agent added.

Her head snapped at him with surprise. She was not sure if she could trust them anymore. “From whom? You?”

The older agent stepped toward her and she held out her hand which was still hooked to the IV. “Don’t come near me or I’ll scream.”

“Relax, Miss Madden, we are the good guys here. Burton called us.”

“But Burton is—”

“I will bet everything—including my life—that Burton doesn’t mean any harm. He was just doing his job.”

“I don’t understand—”

“We don’t expect you to understand. What we want you to tell us though,” said the younger one, “is why they think—Devin thinks—that someone else is still after you, someone we are not aware of.”

Hope frowned. “Can you explain what’s going on? Is Devin really alright?”

“He is. He is back under our protection and Burton made sure of that. But he thinks someone other than the mob is after you.” When she continued to look at him with confusion, he continued, “None of us—the mob or the FBI—was responsible of Carl Briggs’ death.”

It took her more than ten seconds to finally process what he was trying to say. And then her heart started beating. Denial crept in fast. “No. You guys killed him. The gunman who came after us killed Carl.”

The older agent shook his head. “We know the people working for us and the mob. The guy Devin killed was sent by the mob. But none of us sent for Briggs. We had other plans for him and one of them is putting him behind bars for life. We had no reasons to kill him.”

The younger agent turned to his partner. “Burton said someone else drove off with Briggs’ patrol car the night he died.”

“We thought he was the same guy who tried to kill us,” Hope spoke.

The older agent was frowning. “We thought he killed himself.” He turned to Hope and asked once more, “Do you know anyone who would want you other than the mob?”

Hope had thought of that when everything was in a blur that night they escaped. “The only thing I can come up with is that Carl had other friends who wanted revenge.” Her eyes turned to the agent. “If it was not the mob, then who was it?”