Chapter 258: A Family of 5 Poisoning Case

Chapter 258: Chapter 258: A Family of 5 Poisoning Case

Zoe Sawyer, who had been sitting next to Sean Hughes and listening to him recount the process, felt her heart suddenly pound. An inexplicable sense of panic washed over her.

Her entire body went rigid in her seat.

Sean Hughes noticed something was wrong. He waved a hand in front of Zoe’s face, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. "Zoe, what’s wrong with you?"

Hearing Sean’s voice, the others around them turned to see what was happening.

"What’s the matter?" Heath Hale looked at Zoe with a worried expression. He started to reach out to touch her but stopped, afraid he might startle her. His hand froze in midair, unsure of what to do.

Sean Hughes shook his head. "I don’t know. One minute she was listening to me talk about the trafficking case, and the next, she just froze up."

Hearing Sean’s description, the concern on everyone’s faces deepened.

Fortunately, Zoe returned to normal in less than a minute.

"What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" Heath Hale grabbed Zoe’s arms with both hands, looking her over from left to right, terrified that she might have gotten hurt on his watch.

Zoe waved her hand dismissively. As she stood up and walked toward the door, she explained to Heath and the others, "I’m fine. It was a premonition from the door."

Since her ability had last evolved, this feeling had occurred twice, and both times it had allowed Zoe to successfully prevent a tragedy.

But this time, the premonition from the door was the strongest yet, and the warning it carried was the most dangerous.

This made Zoe’s heart race. ’Is something terrible about to happen?’

At that thought, Zoe didn’t dare to waste any time. She strode to the door, grabbed the handle, and impatiently pushed it open.

Evan Keller and the others also looked on anxiously, standing behind Zoe as they awaited the result.

Zoe pushed open the door, and a greasy metal prep counter came into view.

Inside, a chef was sweating profusely as he stir-fried food with gusto.

Next to the prep counter was a huge stockpot, filled with a broth in which bits of meat and bone were submerged.

A thin young man stood before the pot, stirring it listlessly. Every now and then, he would ladle some soup out and set it aside for a server to take away.

The young man stared at the pot in front of him and gave it another perfunctory stir.

"You worthless bastard, slacking off again? Get to work, or I’ll dock your entire month’s pay!" The stir-frying chef noticed the young man’s movements. He slammed his metal ladle against the wok with a CLANG, his tone exceptionally displeased. "Let’s see if your damn sister will just die of sickness in her rental apartment without this job!

You’re so protective of her, you two don’t have some kind of indecent relationship, do you?"

The chef’s last sentence was dripping with malicious insinuation and drew the attention of others in the kitchen.

Every gaze that fell upon the young man was filled with that same malicious speculation.

An old woman sneered, "Son, just find any excuse to dock his pay. A good-for-nothing like him will just starve to death on the street if he leaves this little restaurant."

The young man’s grip on the ladle handle tightened fiercely. His eyes were fixed on the chef not far away, and his voice was hoarse. "You dare!"

The chef snorted. "Just try me."

Another young man on the side also laughed out loud, his tone full of derision.

Just as the two were facing off, a little girl ran into the back kitchen. Seeing the chef, she ran to his side, looked up, and called out sweetly, "Dad."

At the same time, a beautiful young woman stood at the kitchen entrance, leaning against the doorframe. She said in a delicate voice, "The customers outside are almost done eating. You and Mom should take a break."

The chef chuckled and quickly dished out the food from the wok.

He called over to his old mother and younger brother, then left the back kitchen with a plate in each hand, his daughter in tow.

Before leaving, the chef didn’t forget to turn back and add a warning, "Ladle out five bowls of soup for us. If you dare to spit in it, I’ll make sure that dying sister of yours gets her medicine cut off."

The chef tossed out that final threat and followed his family out of the kitchen area.

The young man just stood there. Just as Zoe thought he was about to ladle the soup, she saw him turn his body to block the security camera, then empty a white powder from his sleeve into the stockpot.

Then he stirred it, ladled out five bowls of soup, and carried them out.

Zoe’s head snapped toward the wall clock. Five minutes had passed since she opened the door.

’This isn’t a premonition, it’s a regression!’

Realizing this, Zoe sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes scanned the entire back kitchen, finally landing on a stack of takeout boxes in the corner where she saw the name of the small restaurant.

Once she was sure there was nothing more to see, Zoe slammed the door shut, looked at Heath Hale beside her, and repeated the restaurant’s name.

Then she asked, "That little restaurant, it’s nearby, isn’t it?"

"Yes! It’s right near here. The chef is a middle-aged, bald man, and his old mom and younger brother help out in the shop, right?" Before Heath could answer, a team member behind them who heard the name suddenly raised his voice to ask.

Hearing the description, Zoe nodded frantically.

"Yes, yes, yes, that’s the one! What I just saw was a regression. The perpetrator put white powder into the restaurant’s stockpot!" Zoe’s voice was edged with anxiety.

The color drained from the others’ faces. This was no small matter!

It was the lunch rush. If that pot of soup was served to other customers, the consequences would be catastrophic!

No one dared to delay. They immediately had the team member who knew the location lead the way.

The group ran over as fast as they could.

Because it wasn’t far, Zoe’s group arrived at the restaurant’s entrance in less than two minutes.

The small restaurant’s rolling steel door was pulled down. A few people were gathered around, craning their necks and looking puzzled.

"Why isn’t the owner open for business today?"

"That’s weird, it was open ten minutes ago! Why’d it suddenly close?"

"Maybe they’re not feeling well. When I passed by earlier, I thought they looked pretty pale."

"Hey, why are a bunch of police officers here? Are they here to eat? Or did something happen?"

Hearing that last comment about them "looking pale," the team’s hearts sank.

"We can’t wait! Get this door open and save them!" Heath pointed to a few people, ordering them to get the door open immediately.

But when they actually tried, they discovered the door had only been pulled down, not locked. A gentle lift was all it took to open it completely.

When Heath led the team rushing inside, the scene that greeted them made them realize they were too late.

Around a small dining table inside, four adults lay sprawled on the floor, foaming at the mouth.

The only child was curled up in her mother’s arms.

And behind the cash register stood a young man, wiping a photograph in his hands.

"I surrender."