"Mom!"
The door to the ward was suddenly pushed open by a young man, and Mrs. Michael, who was lying in her hospital bed resting a little, straightened up at once, and the young man came up to her and hugged her, a trace of worry and afterthought appearing on his face.
He met the police early in the morning, who talked to him about the attack on his mother last night, and fortunately, their community security guards got there in time, and the criminals were scared away before they had a chance to victimize Mrs. Michael.
After a night's rest, Mrs. Michael had calmed down enough to describe the man's appearance, and after the police department had already decided that the case was the work of an acquaintance, they thought that there might be some clues with young Michael, such as the fact that he had seen the man.
With that in mind, and the need to notify the family, Michael Jr. left school early in the morning to make the trip.
At that moment, after the expression on his face disappeared, it was replaced with an angry one, with a hint of a scowl, "I'm going to find that guy, I swear!"
Mrs. Michael, obviously not wanting hers to be suspected yet, took little Michael's hand as she stroked his soft golden brown hair, which he inherited from Michael, and which looked tan where there was no light.
But where there is strong light, the tan color changes to a golden brown color, which is very nice.
"The police department is more professional than you are, we should trust them, look, I'm fine, and I don't want anything to happen to you!" , Mrs. Michael clutched Little Michael's hand, "I'm fine now, stay out of this!"
She still remembered the weapon in the man's hand, and his brutality, and she didn't want her child to be the next victim, but sometimes a parent's words may not be listened to by a child, especially a half-grown boy of sixteen or seventeen years old like little Michael.
They think they have the mind and experience of an adult because they have a body almost like an adult, and they tend to want more respect, but they always screw up everything.
In this cycle, they are also more desperate to prove that they are mature and grown up and don't need to be controlled by their parents anymore, then they do things that their parents don't want them to do to prove that their parents aren't always right.
Little Michael consoled his mother and promised that he would never track down the culprit, and he also promised Mrs. Michael that he would not tell Michael about the incident for a while.
After all, he was still traveling on business and supposedly in some danger, and Mrs. Michael would never be at ease if this incident affected him in some way that could not be undone, which was precisely what Michael Jr. was trying to say.
He was going to get this over with before Michael came back and then show them that he was grown up and there was no need to keep restraining himself.
After meeting his mother, Michael Jr. was invited by the police to sit down at the police station, and they took out the wanted notice that the police were printing and showed it to him.
"Have you seen this man?" , the sheriff in charge of this case was holding a cup of coffee in one hand while pointing to the wanted notice posted on the blackboard.
A case like this would not have been supervised by a police officer of the rank of sheriff, but Michael is a "licensed" person, a public official, and this type of family aggression would have been handled above and beyond the norms, and it would have been a way to send a message to the outside world and to the Federal Revenue Service that we care about this case, as a deterrent to potential crimes and to protect our own interests. -We care about this case, as a deterrent to potential criminal behavior, and at the same time to protect their own interests.
Michael Jr. frowned as he looked at the wanted poster on the board, he didn't recognize this guy at all, the connection between the newspaper head and Michael had been very covert, and there were a few other things going on outside of this incident itself, neither the newspaper head nor Michael would make too much of a big deal out of letting people know of their relationship, much less get Michael Jr. involved.
Although he did not recognize this person, but it does not prevent him from showing a look of contemplation, the sheriff did not disturb him, after waiting for almost four or five minutes, little Michael shook his head, "Looked a little familiar, but can not remember where to see again."
The sheriff nodded noncommittally, asked a few other questions, and was about to send Michael Jr. away when Michael Jr. asked out of the blue, "Can I take this with me, maybe I'll remember it sometime." , he pointed to the wanted notice on the board.
The Sabine City Police Department printed hundreds of copies of this stuff to be distributed to all police departments and federal level police agencies throughout the state, and one more or one less isn't going to matter at all.
The sheriff nodded a bit, he put down the coffee cup in his hand, personally tore off the wanted notice and put it in little Michael's hand, said in a serious tone, "If you remember anything, don't be reckless, call me at the first time!" , said he also took out his business card and stuffed it into little Michael's hand.
The latter nodded his head repeatedly, and after repeated assurances that he would call the sheriff at the first opportunity, the sheriff saw him off.
Watching Michael Jr. disappear into the traffic in that Bison 239, he couldn't help but flirt with the coworker beside him, "See, taxes are rich, even the kids can afford to drive a 239, while I'm still driving a classic car."
In the Baylor Federation, one can apply for a driver's license if he or she is over five feet (1.5 meters or more) tall and over fifteen years of age, both of which are required, the former to ensure that the driver can put his or her foot on the pedal, and the latter to take into account the applicant's ability to live and cope with life.
The sheriff's coworker laughed and didn't go on, it had been clear for a long time what those people at the Federal Revenue Service were like.
Every year so many fines can not be all handed over to the top, will always be retained for a variety of reasons together with the split, plus Michael is still the head of the investigation team, belonging to the management, which is very normal.
Little Michael didn't take these people's words to heart, he was now filled with a sense of purpose, he had to do something big to show his mother and also his father, and in the meantime, he had to show the asshole who almost hurt his mother what he was made of.
About twenty minutes after the car merged into the traffic, it stopped outside a nightclub called Kimberly's, which was considered a little famous in Sabine City, and there was a head office behind it, with a chain of almost close to eighty stores in the Baille Federation.
The formal content makes a lot of people who don't want to soil themselves happy to spend their money here, and with Kimberly's background backstage, it's not only safe to be here, but it also highlights the status of the guests.
Kimberly during the day wasn't as lively as it was at night, and when Michael Jr. entered the lobby the only people in the entire lobby were some janitors cleaning up and the bartender counting inventory and adjusting the various reserves.
The sound of footsteps caused the bartender to glance back, and just one glance before retracting his gaze; he knew little Michael, a little guy with only a little bit of ability in Sabine, and what little ability he had wasn't his own, it came from his father.
Michael Jr. strides over to the bar and pulls out the wanted notice and slaps it on the bar, he pokes his finger at the countertop and makes a bangbang sound, the bartender then turns back to look at him.
"I want to find this man ..."
The bartender glanced down at the wanted posters, his eyelids half-open, and said, "Then you'll have to go to the police, we don't have that service here."
Michael Jr. looked around and came closer and said, "I know you guys are better informed, I'm willing to spend the money, and this has nothing to do with anyone else."
The bartender pondered for a moment, "Five thousand dollars, I'll ask around about this guy for you, and if you want further information about him, we'll talk after I figure out who he is ..."
Where did Michael Jr. care about that at this point, he immediately agreed.
The bartender collected the wanted posters and turned to continue counting his inventory, "Seven o'clock at night, come in the back door!"