Chapter 222: Mutual Help

“What happened?” Lynch felt Vera trembling and steadied her slightly.

Vera took a deep breath. Seeing Lynch arrive and trusting him blindly—since he had always miraculously solved many problems before—she began explaining. Gap had received a call and left in a hurry, and now the police were here.

Lynch comforted her and they headed toward her house, intending to find out what was going on by asking the police.

When they returned, another police car had arrived. Unlike ordinary patrol cars, this one looked more expensive—it belonged to the FBI.

Two agents in trench coats and sunglasses stood by the car talking to a policeman. When they saw Lynch and Vera arrive, the officer ended his conversation and left.

One agent opened his coat to reveal a badge clipped inside. “FBI Senior Agent…”

His gaze skimmed past Vera and fixed on Lynch. Lynch stepped forward to stand protectively in front of Vera.

Though young, Lynch’s posture appeared like a towering mountain to Vera, calming her anxious heart.

“May I know the purpose of your visit?” Lynch asked, staring the agent down. The other agent whispered something in his ear, likely about Lynch’s identity. The agent’s expression shifted from scrutiny and impatience to understanding and calm.

He knew Lynch well—partner to Mark, friend of the mayor, and connected with influential capitalists. No one wanted to cross people like Lynch, not even the FBI.

Local protections left the FBI powerless against Lynch. They avoided provoking wealthy people unnecessarily. Unlike the tax bureau, which could harass indefinitely, the FBI only investigated serious cases.

The agent nodded and said, “This lady’s husband is suspected…”

He looked past Lynch at Vera. “Sorry, ma’am. Mr. Gap is suspected of forcibly engaging with a mentally incapacitated woman along with others, including charges of molestation and assault.”

The situation was more complex, but such details were difficult to state, especially with the wife present.

Lynch felt Vera’s arm grow heavier in his grip. He had to hold her with both hands, almost cradling her.

“Can we know more?” Lynch pressed. The agent shook his head.

After scanning the area, he said, “Mr. Lynch, Ms. Vera, no further details will be shared until the case progresses. Even what I’ve said…” He smiled but left the rest unspoken.

Lynch glanced at him. “I’ve recently dealt with some trouble involving criminals and their actions. Maybe you could give me some advice?”

The agent hesitated, then handed Lynch his card. “Call me after hours.”

Lynch accepted the card and, supporting Vera, returned inside.

The police noticed Lynch’s arrival. A slick officer spoke quietly with the search leader, who nodded knowingly. Their search became more careful and gentle.

The two sat on the living room sofa, Lynch holding Vera’s hand. He felt her helplessness—her palms cold and clammy.

About twenty minutes later, the lead officer came in. He looked at Lynch and the slick officer beside him spoke quickly: “We found a safe in the study. Ms. Vera, please provide the code, and Mr. Lynch, we’d like you to witness the opening.”

The slick officer showed legal papers. “A judge approved our search of private financial items, including the safe and locked boxes. We ask for your cooperation, and we promise nothing will leak.”

Lynch sensed the polite, non-forceful tone—difficult to refuse.

He looked at Vera, who nodded. They followed the officers upstairs.

Vera opened the safe without hesitation.

She knew resistance was useless and that Gap had handled the contents carefully—nothing incriminating would be left here but in her own safe.

After several attempts, the safe clicked open, revealing files, cash, and gold bars.

Investing in precious metals was part of Gap’s plan—more mid-to-long term than stocks or bonds.

In front of Lynch, Vera, and the two FBI agents, the police removed everything and laid it on Gap’s desk for photographs and records.

Some documents went into evidence bags after Vera signed. The money and gold were returned intact.

The search lasted until evening. Before leaving, the agent who gave Lynch his card asked, “Ms. Vera, I noticed some items are missing, like few books in the shelves. Have you moved or taken anything recently?”

Vera explained briefly. The agent took notes then left quickly to contact the neighboring state’s FBI to intercept and check the items.

The search was a failure—they found nothing valuable. Most items related to the family, little connected to Liston.

But that was secondary. The evidence was meant to pressure Gap to cooperate with the Liston investigation, not just to make him confess.

After the police and FBI left, the house felt empty.

Seeing the disarray, Vera squeezed Lynch’s hand. She never imagined facing this, feeling ashamed because of her husband.

She couldn’t meet Lynch’s eyes, unsure how to explain her position.

A wife of a violent offender?

Lynch comforted her and helped her make a call. Soon, Vera’s mother arrived.

In her fifties, well-dressed and well-groomed, it was clear she lived comfortably.

She was startled on seeing Lynch but quickly focused on her daughter.

At that moment, Lynch excused himself. It wasn’t right for him to stay—some things seemed simple but weren’t.

Around nine that night, Lynch called the agent using the card.

A young woman answered—likely the agent’s wife. After Lynch explained, the agent’s voice came on the line.

“I’m Lynch. Sorry to bother you at this hour. There’s something from earlier today that’s been troubling me. I don’t know who else to ask, and maybe you can help.”

The agent hesitated, then nodded in agreement. They arranged to meet at a bar.

Around 9:40, in a quiet bar in downtown Sabin City, they met.

After ordering drinks, they found a dim, secluded booth and sat without speaking. After about thirty seconds, Lynch spoke.

“Sometimes when we face trouble, we don’t know how to handle it. We have to find people who can help.”

“They offer me advice and, within their limits—without crossing their principles or breaking the law—sometimes lend me a hand.”

“Help is mutual. They help me solve problems; I assist them with financial matters.”

“Agent, would you accept this informal, contract-free arrangement to become my advisor?”