109: Chapter 109 Farewell

Vermont is an inland state in the New England region of the Northeastern United States, its name derived from the French for "Green Mountain"

, and its nickname is the "Green Mountain State."

It is most famous for its maple syrup and stunning autumn foliage.

The capital, Montpelier, is the smallest state capital in the US, while its largest city is Burlington.

As for the distance, Vermont is located in the northeast corner of the United States, while New Orleans is in Louisiana in the south; the two places are very far apart.

A straight-line distance of about 2,000 kilometers.

For Sean, it could almost be said that he was going to another country.

News of Sean's departure spread quickly through the Second Precinct.

No one knew who mentioned it first—maybe Sheriff Brown, or maybe someone from HR.

Regardless, by the time he returned to the precinct the next day to pack his things, the entire station knew.

Gray was the first to rush over, slapping him on the shoulder with a grin that revealed his somewhat crooked teeth.

.

"Not bad, Sean—the FBI! You're really moving up in the world, kid!"

Sean stumbled slightly from the slap. "I'm not 'moving up' yet, I'm just being transferred."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Gray threw an arm around his shoulders and turned to shout down the hallway, "Boys, Sean's moving up! Drinks tonight—it's on him!"

A few whistles and laughs echoed from the hallway.

Sean gave a wry smile. "When did I say I was buying?"

"Just now!" Gray laughed heartily.

As Sean packed his belongings, people came by one after another.

Sheriff Brown stepped out of his office and stood at the door, watching Sean put his few items into a cardboard box.

An old coffee mug, a computer monitor covered in sticky notes, and a few photos taken with Otis.

He didn't say a word, just stood there watching. Sean looked up and saw him.

"Sheriff."

Brown nodded, walked in, and sat on the chair next to Sean.

He picked up the photo, looked at it, and then set it back down. "Once you're at the FBI, don't go embarrassing the Second Precinct."

Sean nodded. "I won't."

Brown looked at him, something unidentifiable in those old eyes.

It wasn't reluctance to see him go, but rather a sense of reflection. "When you first arrived, I knew you weren't ordinary."

He paused, then said with a smile, "But I didn't expect you to go this far."

Sean remained silent.

Brown stood up and patted him on the shoulder. "Work hard. The FBI is a good place; don't waste the opportunity."

He turned and walked to the door, stopping there to say without looking back, "Drinks tonight—I'm coming too."

Sean was stunned for a moment, then smiled.

Well!

There was no escaping the evening's gathering now.

Otis was the last to arrive. He leaned against the doorframe, coffee in hand, looking just the same as always—his belly seemingly a size larger than the last time they met, shirt buttons straining, and that look on his face. He watched Sean in silence, taking a sip of his coffee.

"You're here?" Sean said.

"I'm here." Otis walked in and sat beside him, looking at the photo in the cardboard box.

In the photo, the two of them were leaning against a patrol car. Sean was in his police uniform, and Otis was wearing a hat. The sun was bright, and both were squinting.

Otis looked at it for a long time before picking up the photo and turning it over.

On the back was a date—the third day after Sean had been transferred to New Orleans.

"Back then, you didn't even know the roads," Otis said. "You had to use GPS just to respond to a call."

Sean laughed. "New Orleans' roads are too winding."

"It's not the roads that are winding; it's your head." Otis put the photo back, leaned against the back of the chair, and looked at the ceiling. "The FBI... it's good. Better than here. Higher salary, better benefits, and you get allowances for missions."

Sean looked at him. "You don't want me to go?"

Otis was silent for a while. "Whether I want it or not, you have to go."

He turned his head to look at Sean. "A person like you can't be held back. I knew that from the first day you arrived."

Without waiting for Sean to speak, Otis stood up and patted his shoulder. "Drinks tonight. Have a few extra; you won't get the chance later."

Gray had picked the bar for the evening—an unremarkable little place in the French Quarter. A dim yellow light hung by the door, and inside were several wooden tables. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and fried food.

When Sean pushed the door open and entered, he immediately spotted a familiar figure at the bar.

Dark hair, sharp features, wearing a black apron and wiping a glass.

Max.

Beside her stood Caroline, her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, pouring drinks for customers.

The two were chatting and laughing, just as they had been in the bakery.

Max looked up and saw Sean; her hand wiping the glass paused.

Her eyebrows twitched, and the corners of her mouth curled up slightly. "Yo, Officer. Long time no see."

Sean walked over and sat at the bar. "You're working here?"

Max set the glass down, leaned her hands on the bar, and looked at him.

"Business at the bakery isn't great, so I'm out making extra cash at night." She looked him up and down. "What brings you here? What are you celebrating?"

Sean nodded. "I'm being transferred. A send-off party my colleagues are throwing."

Max's eyebrows twitched again. "Transferred where?"

"The FBI."

Max was taken aback for a moment, then smiled. "Not bad, Officer. You're doing well for yourself."

She turned, took a bottle of whiskey from the liquor cabinet, poured a glass, and pushed it toward him. "This one's on me—consider it a send-off."

Sean took the glass. "Thanks."

Caroline leaned over from the side, and her eyes lit up when she saw Sean.

"Officer Sean! We meet again!"

"You helped us last time, and I never got a chance to thank you. Today's drink is on me... no, on both of us."

As she spoke, she glanced at Max.

Max rolled her eyes. "You've already given away my drink too."

Caroline's smile grew even brighter. "It's a gift either way."

She looked at Sean. "Are you really going to the FBI? That's amazing. I wanted to be an FBI agent when I was a kid, but then I found out I couldn't pass the physical fitness test."

Max added from the side, "You don't even know how to turn on a treadmill."

Caroline glared at her. "I do too. I'm just not very practiced at it."

Sean chuckled and took a sip from his glass. The liquor was strong and burned his throat.

He watched Max and Caroline as they bustled behind the bar, bickering and teasing each other, yet working in perfect sync.

Gray walked up from behind, draped an arm over Sean's shoulder, and looked at Max and Caroline. "Sean, you know them?"

Sean nodded. "I do."

Gray lowered his voice. "Does the dark-haired one have a boyfriend?"

Sean glanced at him. "Why are you asking?"

Gray gave a sheepish smile. "Just curious."

He glanced at Max, who happened to look over at that moment. Her gaze was cold, like a knife.

Gray shrank back, a bit intimidated. "Never mind. Forget I asked."

He scurried off.

Max watched his retreating back and snorted. "Your colleague?"

Sean nodded. "A colleague."

"He's not much," Max said, then looked at Sean. "When are you leaving?"

"In a little while."

Max was silent for a moment.

She pulled a business card from her apron pocket, placed it on the bar, and pushed it toward him.

Printed on the card were the words "Maxs Bakery," along with a phone number and address.

She then said, "When you get there, if you find yourself craving cupcakes, I'll mail you some."

Sean picked up the card, looked at it, and tucked it into his pocket. "Okay."

Max nodded and lowered her head to continue wiping glasses.

Caroline watched from the side, a smile on her lips, saying nothing.