The real life of an American police officer: Winning over others with virtue

Chapter 217 Bill
A Breeze Mercedes-Benz long-wheelbase luxury Class B motorhome traveled eastward along Interstate 90 into the Massachusetts toll road.

Finally, in front of a physical toll booth, we slowly slowed down.

"Finally here." Eric, sitting in the driver's seat, looked at the tollbooth that appeared ahead and muttered to himself.

He glanced at the empty passenger seat and sighed inwardly.

With the most important person absent, the so-called road trip was, for him, a journey rather than a trip.

The images from the journey were still etched in his retina, but Eric's mind was filled with memories of yesterday.

After the award ceremony, Tifa stayed with the task force to continue dealing with the cult, and he was supposed to go back with Daves and the others to continue receiving his reward.

A Police Valor Cross with a gold ribbon and blue star, along with bonuses such as a Valor Award and a Los Angeles Police Department Special Award, promotions in rank, and more.

But then I thought about it again, and I hadn't returned the RV yet, and I hadn't even reached my destination, Boston. Thinking about it, I felt a little regretful.

So Eric decided to go to Boston alone, accept an invitation along the way, and then return to Los Angeles.

And then it turned out like this: he had arrived in Boston.

Because in front of it is Newton Toll Plaza, located in the western suburbs of Boston, about 6-9 miles from downtown Boston.

"I think I might have a bit of OCD too." Eric chuckled to himself as he looked at the road sign ahead, then steered the RV into the next lane and merged into the traffic.

In my eyes, the outline of the toll station became clear in front of me, with rows of steel frames supporting the roof, like miniature gates, stretching across the artery leading to the heart of the city.

After paying the toll and passing through Newton Toll Plaza, you officially enter the core commuter zone of the Boston metropolitan area, where traffic becomes noticeably denser.

The air was no longer the fresh scent of grass and leaves found in the suburbs, but rather the metallic smell of a sprawling metropolis.

"The journey is over."

Eric casually slipped the receipt into the sun visor compartment, glanced at the map on the control panel, and headed straight for Logan International Airport.

Boston's streets are known for being narrow, winding, and full of one-way streets, and most rental companies in the Boston area have their main service points located in the airport area or slightly further out in the suburbs.

The first thing he needs to do now is return the car.

------------------

At a large car rental center near Logan International Airport, a staff member wearing a fluorescent vest and holding a ruggedized tablet hands the tablet to a young man next to him.

"Sir, please sign the electronic report here."

The young man nodded and quickly signed his name at the bottom of the screen: "Eric Stevens".

Then return it to the other party.

The other party tore off the receipt and handed it over, revealing a formulaic smile, saying, "The formalities are complete. You can return the car to us, sir. Welcome to rent it again next time."

"Okay, thank you." Eric took the receipt, took one last look at the mobile fortress that had been with him for the past few days, picked up his backpack from the ground, and turned to leave.

A black Toyota Corolla was already waiting outside, with the man who still looked melancholy standing next to it.

"it's over?"

Seeing Eric walking over with a backpack, the man asked.

“Yes,” Eric nodded.

Bill, the man who had once rescued a plane full of passengers alongside Eric and shared a deep camaraderie with him, chuckled.

"Welcome to Boston, Eric."

Eric smiled and said, "Thank you for picking me up, Bill."

“Don’t mention it. I invited you, so it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re taken care of,” Bill said, shrugging and gesturing for Eric to get in the car.

"Get in the car, the city is a bit congested right now."

As Bill, the middle-aged man, opened the door and got into the driver's seat, Eric followed suit, opening the door and getting into the passenger seat, immediately fastening his seatbelt.

"Stay at my place for one night?" Bill asked Eric tentatively as he slowly drove away from where he stood.

"You can stay in a hotel if you prefer."

"Do you have any spare rooms in your house?" Eric asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course, knowing you were coming, I already prepared a room for you,” Bill said.

"And I'd also like to introduce you to my friends. They're all people I used to work with. Would you be interested in getting to know them?"

Eric was a little surprised. He now had a better idea of ​​Bill's identity: either a CIA field agent or a top-notch special forces member.

So, people like him, the colleagues he's worked with? They must be a group of experts with special skills. He's naturally very interested in knowing these people.

These will be valuable connections in the future, in case I need help sometime.

“Okay.” Eric smiled and did not refuse.

Upon hearing this, Bill smiled and said, "They are all very nice people, and I believe you will definitely get along well."

Eric narrowed his eyes and said, "I hope so."

-

Eric sat in Bill's composed Toyota Corolla, and as time passed, the car gradually left the hustle and bustle of the airport expressway, eventually turning into a quiet suburban community near Boston.

The streets are lined with tall oak trees, behind which stand detached houses of various styles, all well-maintained.

There are no mansions or extravagant walls; it is a typical middle-class family settlement.

Eric habitually observed his surroundings: "Unlike Los Angeles, there's a very different atmosphere, more historical than the West Coast?"

"Because this is the old town?" Bill said, parking his Toyota Corolla in front of a two-story colonial revival house.

"Here we are."

Eric glanced at the house instinctively; to his personal opinion, the house seemed quite 'solid'.
The house occupies a relatively advantageous location; although it's not a strict street corner, it's close to the end of the street, and the side space is slightly larger than that of a typical house.

A two-lane concrete driveway leads to a separate, gated single garage.

The driveway was clean, without any oil stains or debris.

The lawn in the front yard was meticulously trimmed, with edges as sharp as if it had been cut with a knife.

Eric glanced at Bill getting off the bus, picked up his backpack and followed him off. Then, at Bill's signal, he continued to follow him and they walked together toward the front door.

As the distance closes, some details become more noticeable.

Upon closer inspection, Eric knew this wasn't an illusion; Bill's house was indeed remarkably sturdy.

The open blinds revealed a very thick window frame structure, clearly not an ordinary wooden frame. The glass reflected the sunlight, showing that it was high-quality double or triple glazing, and its thickness was quite considerable.

The high-intensity sensor lights under the eaves and on the sides of the house are not conspicuous during the day, but their placement is cleverly designed.

One light fixture covers the entire front yard and street direction, while the other faces the side yard and backyard entrance, ensuring there are no blind spots. This lighting layout itself is also part of the early warning system.

The front door is made of dark solid hardwood with a very good finish, but its weight and solidity are undeniable.

The door's locking system is not the common single-handle lock, but a multi-point locking system, with a heavy deadbolt hole below the main lock.

In this situation, the door handle itself also appears exceptionally sturdy.

"Goodness, he's even less secure than me," Eric muttered to himself, glancing at Bill who was about to open the door.

You should know that even his own family didn't go to this extent.

Eric instinctively looked up and saw a tiny, concealed wide-angle camera above the door frame, disguised as a porch light.

Looking back, Bill was smoothly operating the lock with the key, clearly performing two or three unlocking steps before the door opened.

Is this the caution of a secret agent? Eric has witnessed it firsthand, as if a whole new world has been opened up for him.

Compared to these people, his unorthodox methods were indeed much cruder.

“Come in.” Bill opened the door and stepped aside. “Welcome to my home, though it might be a little simple.”

Eric nodded and stepped into the entryway. His first impression of the interior was that it was exceptionally clean, without any clutter, and seemed empty: "Bill, your house is spotless. To be honest, it's ten times cleaner than mine."

But this excessive cleanliness and emptiness also allowed Eric to clearly sense Bill's mental state: self-discipline and a deep-seated loneliness.

Bill chuckled, closed the door behind him, and expertly confirmed that the lock was in place with a soft click: "It's just a habit. It's easy to tidy up when you live alone."

As he spoke, he pointed upstairs: "The rooms are upstairs. Let's see your room first, and then you can rest a bit?"

Eric nodded, his gaze sweeping over the spacious but airy living room and dining room: "Okay, whatever you say."

The two then headed towards the stairs and went upstairs.

Led by Bill, Eric entered the room where he would be staying that night.

The room was simple and bright, the bed was made perfectly flat without a single wrinkle, and the reinforced windows were open for ventilation.

“The room may not be big, but it should be enough.” Bill stood by the door, quickly assessing the room’s condition.

Upon hearing this, Eric casually put down his backpack and smiled, "I think it's great. This room feels very comfortable. Thank you, Bill."

Bill breathed a sigh of relief: "No trouble at all. There are drinks downstairs, water, coffee, and beer. My friends will be coming over tonight, and they'll bring some food."

Eric asked, "Is there anything I need to prepare in advance?"

Bill shook his head slightly: "No need, you rest first, they'll take care of things when they arrive, just do as you please."

Upon hearing this, what could Eric say but shrug and say, "OK"?

Bill nodded and smiled, then closed the door and left under Eric's watchful gaze.

"Phew~" Eric let out a slow breath, walked to the window and looked at the open backyard, enjoying a moment of tranquility.

It has to be said that Bill's house is in a really good location, but I'm not sure about the safety situation. However, I observed the area on my way here and didn't see many black people.

This alone is enough to show that the public security here is acceptable.

Looking away, Eric raised his wrist and glanced at the time. [17:34] It was almost dusk.

"I should take this opportunity to deal with the attribute points I just acquired." Eric turned around and lay down on the bed, letting his mind wander.

A virtual window suddenly appeared before my eyes.

[Personal attributes]
Spirit: 15.5 (average for humans is 10)

Strength: 14 (average for humans is 10)

Agility: 14 (average for humans: 10)

Constitution: 14 (average for humans is 10)
[Skills]: Rapid Fire lv5 (Master), Firearms Mastery lv4 (Expert), Precision Shooting lv5 (Master), Melee Combat lv4 (Expert), Driving Mastery lv4 (Expert), Acting lv4 (Expert), Language lv4 (Expert), [Architecture Analysis] lv1 (Beginner), Hacking lv3 (Proficient), Intelligence Gathering lv3 (Proficient)
Attribute points: +0.5
Completed cases:
"Which attribute class should we add this time?" Eric glanced around, his gaze eventually lingering on Agility, bypassing the Spirit attribute class.

At that moment, the battle at Anri Cafe flashed through his mind.

Now, after repeated reviews, he feels that if he uses a pistol to charge down, he can indeed kill one person with one shot, but unfortunately he is a bit timid and can only hold his ground and maintain his advantage.

Eric knew the problem: he wasn't good enough, good enough to overcome his insecure and conservative mindset.

"So the shooting action needs to be faster, and the nerve reaction needs to be more sensitive." With that thought, Eric no longer hesitated and directly added the 0.5 to the agility attribute.

According to his judgment, the agility attribute includes a series of things that require speed, such as shooting speed, running speed, and neural reaction speed, so adding it is definitely the right thing to do if you want to shoot faster.

Moreover, it was precisely because he added points to the Agility attribute that his Rapid Fire broke through to level 5 (Specialization).

A mechanical voice, a system feedback tone, rang in my ears.

[Add points successfully]
[Agility: 14 increased to 14.5].

As the prompts echoed in my mind, the corresponding feeling of adding points followed. But this time, unlike adding points to the spirit attribute, adding points to agility only made me feel that my body became lighter, as if I was floating in the air, as if I was about to fly.

Feeling this wonderful lightness, Eric slowly closed his eyes.

-

First floor.

Bill listened carefully to the noise, a slight smile playing on his lips. He picked up two boxes from the hallway, stacked them on the coffee table as he sat down on the sofa, and then slowly wrapped them with the gift paper he had prepared beforehand.

The wrapping paper was covered with stars.

He was meticulous in his movements, leaving no corner untouched, making it perfectly smooth.

"I wonder if Kimmy will like it." Bill looked at the packaged gift with some trepidation.

Knowing that his daughter loved to sing and wanted to become a singer, he prepared a professional-grade portable recording sound card and a high-quality entry-level condenser microphone kit.

With that thought, Bill subconsciously pulled out a photo album from under the coffee table and began to reminisce about the moments he shared with his daughter.

This is what he's been enjoying doing most lately.

But before he could recall for long, the doorbell rang, interrupting his thoughts.

Ding Dong!

Bill paused for a moment, then glanced out the window. It had gotten dark without him noticing. He remembered something, quickly hid the gift for tomorrow, and hurried to the door, opening it.

There were three people standing outside the door: one bald, one wearing a hat, and one with long hair, all carrying large amounts of food and beer.

"Hi! Have your new friends arrived?" They held up what they were holding, all with smiles on their faces.

Looking at his heartwarming group of comrades, Bill smiled and stepped aside: "Yes, come in."

(End of this chapter)