Angie had never felt more numb in her life. The moment Gabe had delivered the crushing blow, it was like her world spiraled into a black void, the light drained from everything.
There was only one thing she could focus on. Getting home. That small, administrative step she had to take before her world would come crashing down. Because she knew there was danger. She'd known from the moment she'd taken Phillip's offer to escape the nastier side of the Agency.
Ever since, even if she believed it was totally worth it, she'd lived in the fear of discovery. What would happen if the Agency found out she was working for someone else as well? What would happen if Snitch Gravel would track down Phillip and make him pay for his betrayal, taking everyone who worked for him along?
All the what ifs spun inside her head as she made her way home. By the time she got there, she couldn't even tell what day it was anymore, how late she was. It didn't matter. She'd never had hope.
From the moment Gabe had said he'd called the authorities, but no one came, she knew. Knew that she would be flying back to witness the horror. To bury her family. And she also knew it was all because of her choices in life.
Her house was in ruins, yellow police tape surrounding the reminder of the walls to keep people away. She was almost certain that no police had set foot there and the yellow band of death was there just for her, to make sure she came back to the full effects of what had happened. Let her gather up her mess, not someone else.
She stepped under it, the low light of morning or dusk keeping her company. She couldn't be bothered to check her watch, check the time... Check anything. There would be time for that after. After she gauged the damage, after she grieved.
The damage was total. Everything was charred, the upper floor fallen in the middle of the living room. The roof had caved in from the fire and everything was black. The skeleton of the staircase still half-hung on the wall and dusty frames littered the steps. Pictures of her family, of her.
Angie didn't want to do it, she could hardly see through the tears anyway, but she started scanning the floor. Her stomach was blissfully empty so it was much harder for vomit to break out. Her heart thumped so loudly, it made her head pound, her vision blur. She wished she'd just explode, join her family on the floor.
It was hard to tell what anything used to be, but it took her only a few minutes to identify what was left of her family. They'd apparently huddled together, unable to escape the house for some reason.
Died together just like they'd always lived. Except for her. Always the outsider, always the one who got away. She didn't want to get away, didn't want to be the one facing this, hovering above everyone else. But that was how it has always been, how she had been raised. She was better. And whatever happened, she could handle it because life went on. Her mother had always told her that she could face the misery. Because what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
Angie didn't want to be stronger. She wanted to be dead. Her knees hit the ashes as sobs choked her. In a desperate attempt to keep her sane, her mind shut down, leaving her in blissful nothingness.
When she came to her senses again, she was lying on her front on the floor, her fingers digging into the ashes, her face feeling tight because of the salt covering it. She'd run out of tears, out of any chance at escape. Her body was starting to react, feeling hunger, thirst and weariness.
As much as she wanted to, she couldn't lie there forever. Couldn't join her family in a place of eternal sunshine and no worries. She was left behind to clean up the mess, as usual. And even if it hurt like hell, she had to make sure everyone was accounted for, that she wouldn't be abandoning anyone on the streets of Tucson.
It was light outside, though she couldn't be bothered to figure out what time of day it was, how many hours had passed since she'd left Christine behind and rushed here. A million years ago, when other issues seemed important.
Pull yourself together. Someone has to do this, and you're the only one left.
Always the only one, always alone. She'd left home so young and was so excited to rush headfirst into life, her family had always been nothing but an afterthought. A safety net only there if she fell. She'd always thought there would be time. That once she got settled, they'd be together again.
It was always just one more step away. After she settled in Chicago, after she got used to her activities in the Agency, after she finished college, after she finished law school...
Now it was never. She'd always patted herself on the back that it was okay, that she was doing everything for them anyway. She'd bought them the house after all. But money didn't matter, and she only learned that now, when it was too late.
Surprisingly, she still had tears left to cry. She let them pour down her dirty cheeks as she counted the remains of the bodies. Six of them. Everyone. Her parents, her two brothers and two sisters. Just kids, forced to suffer a terrible fate because...
Why? A cry of rage escaped her lips. "Why?" she shouted into the sky. "Why, why, why?"
She bent over and retched, the acid making its way up her throat. Because she knew the reason. It was her. Always her.
And like a given, as she struggled for air and raised her head, it fell on a pristine white rectangle stuck between two planks of what used to be the door.
Her knees shook, but her vision cleared a little as she made her way towards the door and picked up the business card. She recognized it because she'd seen it before, when Herrison had revealed who he really was.
This card had no name on it, just the soaring eagle symbol and the words Counter Intelligence International in fancy script. The eyes of the eagle were crossed out in a childish representation of death. Under the image, there was a handwritten message. Be careful who you choose to betray.
Angie stared at it, her brain making desperate attempts to process the warning. It was obviously put there by the people who had burned down her house, killed her family. But who were they. The Agency wouldn't fake-kill its own symbol.
The thought plagued her mind as she wondered around for something to use to put her family to rest.
She didn't have an urn, she didn't have a crematorium. All she could maybe do was call the authorities. Out if reflex, she searched her pockets. Her phone wasn't there. She started searching her backpack and was halfway through turning it upside down when something hit her exhausted mind.
The phone was gone. She hadn't been able to find it since Springfield, but it hadn't mattered then for some reason she couldn't remember. She tried to think back, figure out where she'd left it, but that would mean breaking through the barrier the shock had built inside her mind. She wasn't sure she could handle that, not yet, so she gave up on the phone.
Her decision plunged a weight in her stomach even if she couldn't fully understand the cause. It didn't matter, she'd figure it out later. Right now, she had to call the authorities. She'd go to Gabe's and use his phone.
She turned towards the door and her heart jumped into her throat. A lone figure stood right outside her charred house. Phillip.
"Angie," he said with a nod.
His tone was so cold. Why was he there? How did he know? Unless... The business card felt like it was burning a hole in her pocket.
Her eyes narrowed. "You."
She patted her belt, but her gun wasn't there. Of course it wasn't, she hadn't left the house armed to see Christine, stupidly enough. She hadn't gone through airport security carrying weapons. But she could make one.
A quick scan of the room had her wrapping her arm around a fallen segment of banister. With a cry of rage, she launched at Phillip, the makeshift weapon held high over her head. He only raised his forearm to block a direct swipe to his face. The charred wood crumbled against his arm. Angie tried to find another weapon, but everything was just as perishable.
"Stop it," Philip said. "We didn't do this."
She took out the card and threw it at him. "Then who did?"
Phillip picked it off the floor and frowned at it, as if the drawing was difficult to decipher. "Whoever did was smart."
"Why should I trust it wasn't you?" Angie demanded, her fists clenched. Half of her wanted to charge at the man and beat him into a pulp just to find an outlet for her rage.
"Because we're the ones you'd be betraying these guys for." He tossed the card back to her.
She let it fall, uninterested by its fate. "It could be a trick."
"So could killing the eagle."
"It could be Snitch Gravel."
Phillip winced. "Yes, it could."
"Give me your phone."
He squinted at her. "Why?"
"Because I want to call the police and I don't have mine."
"That's a terrible idea." Phillip's shoulders relaxed and he heaved a sigh. "I know you're grieving, but in your line of work, you can't afford to get stupid. No one was here before. If they came and found you with no plausible explanation as to why no one has announced this, what do you think they'll assume?"
"Why would I call them if I burned the place down?"
"In lack of known enemies, family are the first suspects."
Angie bit her lip, her head throbbing again. Phillip had a point. But everything was so unfair. She didn't want this line of work, and yet, here she was, working not for one secret agency, but for two, and it felt much too late to get out. Her life had taken such a crappy turn.
"What am I going to do?" she whispered.
"Lay your family to rest and move on."
The words sent a knot into her throat and her eyes filled with tears again. She hated crying in front of this guy, but it wasn't like she could help it. Everything was suddenly so irrelevant. And as cold as it sounded, Phillip was right. She had to do her mourning and move on.
"Why would anyone do this to them? They were good people," she said. Even in her grief, she caught Phillip's hesitation. "What?"
"I..." He gave another loud sigh. "I guess I should tell you this. I trust you enough to keep it to yourself and you should know. Your father..."
"What about my father?"
"He was in the Agency. His accident was on an assignment and he hasn't been able to work since."
Air was scarce. Angie just gawked and her knees decided to give in. Her butt hit the floor with a thud, but she couldn't even feel the pain. Her father had been a secret agent, just like her. In the same Agency. And everything had gone well until he'd messed up once. Then they'd lost the house, the--
Her thoughts screeched to a halt. Their house, the one next to Kay's, identical to it. Her father in the Agency, William in the Agency...
"Our houses," she said, even if she wasn't sure why it matter. "Mine and Kay's. They were provided by the Agency."
"Yes, most likely," Phillip said with a shrug. "They look after their own, at least while they're still active. They pay you decently enough."
Her mind buzzed even faster as a pattern started to form, but she couldn't put her finger on it, not when she was exhausted and numb. She filed it back for later and decided to get things over with. She needed a shovel.
"Are you gonna help me dig?" she asked, her voice as dead as her family.
"If you want." He didn't sound like he wanted to, and to be honest, she didn't want him there.
So she shook her head and he took the hint and wondered off. She knew he'd be close by, ready to take her out of there when she was done.
There was no way around it. She found a shovel and started digging, her mind running over every memory she had with her parents, with her siblings. She couldn't remember every fighting with them, ever feeling resent. All she'd wanted was to overcome the financial struggles, make sure they wouldn't starve. Everything else could wait.
Except it hadn't.
Her mind blissfully went into break down mode again and allowed her muscles to work, to touch, to drag, to cover up everything and leave her standing inside a burned house, alone. Not that she hadn't been alone before, but this time, it felt final. For a while, she lay down next to the makeshift grave, her fingers digging into the dirt and mourned. She wished she could give them a better send off, a prettier final resting place, but there was no point.
She was never coming back there, never setting foot in Arizona again. She'd carry them in her heart forever, but the place... She would burn it down if she could.
Time seemed meaningless once again, so by the time she finally pulled herself together and sat up, it was dark. Her stomach ached with hunger and her eyes stung from crying and weariness. It was finally time she made sure she wouldn't get herself stupidly killed.
As expected, Phillip was waiting for her in a black SUV parked down the street, halfway between her former house and Gabe's. She knew she should go to him, thank him for the information, but she couldn't make herself face someone she had to be nice and polite, too. Phillip was an entirely different story.
He didn't say anything as she climbed in, didn't comment on all the dirt and ash getting on his fancy seats. He just started the car and drove away from her misery. Angie leaned her head against the window, her mind swimming, unable to focus on anything for more than a few fleeting seconds. She didn't care where Philip was taking her. He could take her behind a shed and shoot her as far as she was concerned.
"We need to get you some food and water," he mumbled as if he wanted to ruin her illusion of a quick and painless death.
She didn't answer. She was well aware the numbness wouldn't last forever, that she'd probably accumulated enough nightmare feeder to last her a lifetime, but she wanted it to go on a little longer.
"Not yet," she whispered. She didn't want to face reality yet.
"I'm forcing food down your throat if I have to," Phillip muttered. "We still need you."
"No, you don't," she answered, her voice so weak it was barely audible.
"Yes, we do. And so do other people. You understandably need time to pull yourself together..."
Other people. God, there were other people in this world, people she'd met after leaving home who didn't directly connect with her childhood. The uncomfortable weight plunged into her stomach again.
"Will something like this happen to Kay and Jessie, too?" she asked, her voice shaking with panic.
"Let's hope not. I've sent people to survey their families."
At least that. But the relief didn't silence the unease. Because something else came to mind, something that scared her beyond belief. Tom.
"Fuck!" she patted her pockets again, even if she knew her phone wasn't there. Who knew how long she'd been missing and she had no idea where she was. "Give me your phone!" But she immediately realized she didn't know his number by heart. She didn't know anyone's number because she never bothered. "Do you have Tom's number?"
Phillip gave her a pitying sideways glance. "Why would I have your boyfriend's number?"
Damn it, damn it to hell. She opened her mouth, but before she could utter a single word, he cut her off.
"I'm not giving you my phone, Angie."
"But no one knows where I am!"
He looked at her in disbelief, as if he couldn't believe her stupidity. He had a point. How could she just throw everything out of her mind like that? She'd been worried and panicky, sure, but from that to completely forgetting Tom existed... He was probably out of his mind with worry. And her stupid watch didn't work.
"I'll let Jessie and Kay know you're fine. But you can explain this when you get home. My line isn't exactly secure and there are things I want to investigate."
"Thanks," she mumbled. "Take me to the airport then."
"Not before I take you somewhere you can wash up and change your clothes. There's no way you're getting through airport security dressed like that."
He had a point. He was a sane, functioning person, so of course he did.
Angie closed her eyes again and let her mind drift off to sleep. There was nothing she could do know, so she would take the time to come to peace with what had happened. She could face home once she got there.
♠️♠️♠️
I decided to have a go at this even if it's not as well edited as I would have liked, but I'm too tired to do it.
You found out what Angie was up to. She's still mostly in shock, but I do give her this. She has an impressive coping and repressing mechanism.
What do you think? Who is really responsible? And was anyone else targeted? If not, why her? What the hell is going on?
More fun to come in the following chapter which I'm still deciding which it will be. Having a hard time picking a timeline 😅