Chapter 25 Chapter Twenty-Five

He parked the Malibu on the side of the road facing the restaurant. The Bullpen is open and half the tables are full.Apparently people here wake up and eat early. Puller took a seat against the wall at a corner table.He never sat in front of the bar unless there was a large mirror opposite, allowing him to look behind and to the sides.There was no such mirror hanging behind the bar at the Bullpen, so he couldn't have had any other choice.And from this angle, he could see his car clearly. He ordered the same food as last night for breakfast.Once people find something good, they don't give up easily.

He glanced around at the customers around him.Mostly men. Wearing to go to work on the construction site, maybe some people just came back from get off work in this suit.Those who didn't wear suits this morning were all worker bees like him. He looked up at the clock on the wall—zero five thirty. He took a sip of his coffee.Eat the food that will be served later in twenty minutes.Forty minutes drive to the site.Zero six thirty.Just like he said to Cole. He took another sip of his coffee.The taste is good, a little hot, and the cup is very large.He covered the cup with his hand, feeling the heat seeping into his skin.

The temperature outside was already twenty-seven degrees Celsius, and it was stuffy and humid.When he ran to get the first aid kit in the trunk of the car just now, he was sweating a lot.However, when it's hot outside, you should drink something warm to help your body temperature slowly cool down.If it's cold, you drink something cold.Simple science.But let's be honest, Puller loves coffee in his hand, no matter what the temperature.It was indeed the taste of barracks coffee, and Puller knew it all too well.Sipping coffee in a barracks is one of those rare, human moments left in a world of abnormal conditions ready to kill.

"You are John Pooler?" Puller followed the sound to the left and saw a man standing at his desk who was sixty years away.He is about 1.75 meters tall, round and tanned, with gray hair peeking out from under his hat, and he is wearing a police uniform.Pooler looked at the name tag on his chest. Lindemann.The magistrate of this admirable small county is said to be a good man. "I'm Puller, Judge Lindemann. Please take a seat." Lindemann squeezed into the seat opposite Puller, took off his wide-brimmed hat and put it on the table, running his hands through his thinning, deformed hair.He smelled of Old Spice men's perfume, coffee and nicotine.Puller couldn't help thinking that maybe everyone in Drake's place smoked.

"I won't take any more of your time. I guess you're busy," Lindemann said. "I believe you too, sir." "Don't call me Sir, I'm Pat. What should I call you?" "Just call me Pooler." "Cole told me you were good at it. I took her word for it. They said she was a girl and not fit for a uniform and guns and all. But I think she's better than any man here in the police station." "I think so too, from what I've seen. Would you like some coffee?" "I would like to have some, but I have to say no, at least my two kidneys have to say no, because I have had three drinks. And my prostate, the doctor said it is as big as a grapefruit. Sitting Patrolling in a police car, it's not easy to find so many places to pee."

"I think so." "It's not an easy job." "That's right, that's true." “People are not used to the fact that the police are coming and going here investigating. The last homicide here was 10 years ago.” "What happened that time?" "Husband found out wife was having sex with his brother." "He killed his wife?" "No, she made a move and shot her husband. The younger brother rushed towards her when he saw that she had killed his brother, but she also shot him to death. The situation at that time was quite complicated, it is not an exaggeration to say."

He stopped and looked around, and his eyes returned to Puller. "Under normal circumstances, we do not cooperate with outsiders in the business of the police department." "I totally understand that." "You have to cooperate well with Cole." "I will." "Don't hide anything from me. The media always wants to get involved," he said of the media in a rather disgusted tone. "The military can help you with this. I would like to refer you to contacts in this regard." "I'm very grateful." Puller took a business card from his pocket, wrote the contact's name and phone number on the back, and pushed it across the table to him.The county sheriff didn't look at it, but picked it up and put it in his shirt pocket.

"I should go," said Lindemann. "Go ahead and enjoy your breakfast." "I will." Lindemann put on his hat and shuffled out of the Bullpen. Puller followed him.Suddenly, a person sitting two tables away caught his attention for one reason. The man was wearing a United States Postal Service hat.