Michael Read online

  Michael

  The Seven

  Book Seven

  The Organized Crime

  and

  Corruption Series

  C.T. BONNETT

  Preface

  Michael Proctor is not like other children, and he soon finds that the world is not ready for someone with his abilities. When his life-long protectors betray his trust, Micheal disappears. Set in the coastal town of Wilmington, North Carolina, what starts as a search for a wayward teen, turns into the discovery of a world-changing event by Foster and his team.

  Michael is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  We appreciate your consideration in choosing Michael for your reading entertainment and hope that you will look for future releases by C.T. Bonnett.

  Copyright © 2020 by Bonnett Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Books By C.T. Bonnett

  Contents

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Michael Arrives

  George stood in the hallway, gazing through the window as the nurses took turns feeding the newborns. He could only tell them apart by the nameplates at the end of the bassinets. Michael squirmed in his new blue and white uniform, identical to the rows of tiny soldiers.

  A nurse gathered the infant beside Michael for his feeding. Michael would be next. George watched as the nurse sat in a rocker and offered the bottle to him. The baby appeared to be uncomfortable, rejecting the offer, no matter how persistent the nurse’s attempts. Frustrated, she returned the infant and took Michael instead.

  George looked on with pride as Michael took the bottle without hesitation.

  That’s my boy — eating like a champ.

  The nurse returned Michael and tried again with the previous infant, this time without issue.

  George, satisfied Michael was in good hands, returned to the recovery room to check on Margo. “Sorry, this is all they had in the gift shop.”

  Margo lifted her head to see George placing flowers in a vase. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  George sat down by the bed and grasped Margo’s hand. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay — I guess. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”

  “I would assume — tired — sore. You just delivered an eight-pound baby after twenty hours of labor, and can that kid eat. You should see him.”

  “You saw him?”

  “In the maternity ward.”

  “I’m so glad it’s over.”

  “I’ll second that. The delivery nurse said he didn’t want to come out. She almost called for a C-section.”

  “I know — I was there,” Margo said. “She scared the hell out of me.”

  “You should get some rest.”

  “I’m starving.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I could use a cheeseburger, a big fat greasy one, the kind where the juice runs down your arm.”

  “I’ll see what the cafeteria has.”

  George passed by the maternity ward, noticing a frenzy of activity. His first thought was Michael and George pressed his attention through the glass.

  It’s not Michael. Thank God.

  A team of nurses and doctors rushed a gurney down the hall. He could see the patient was tiny, one of the infants. He looked back at Michael, who appeared to be smiling, oblivious to the chaos. It reminded George that life was fragile, and the next few weeks would be nerve-wracking at best.

  What if something goes wrong after we get home?

  George noticed the empty bassinet beside his son, the baby with feeding problems. Perhaps there were complications — a finicky appetite could be an early symptom. Michael seemed to be just fine, though, eating like a horse. George continued toward the cafeteria for Margo’s burger.

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter 2

  No Time for Play

  The first day of kindergarten arrived. Margo dressed Michael in his favorite team jersey, not her first choice, but he insisted.

  “Let him wear his Packer’s jersey,” George said. “It’s traumatic enough — his first day away from home. A little something familiar can’t hurt.”

  “Fine — you can explain the spaghetti sauce stains to his teacher.”

  George knelt in front of Michael to talk face-to-face. “I think it looks great. You wear that number twelve with pride.”

  “You do know we live in Chicago?” Margo huffed.

  “Oh — yeah. Go Bears. When’s the last time they won a playoff game? Who’s the new coach this year, the one that won’t be there at the end of the season?”

  “We’re going to be late,” Margo said as she left for the garage.

  George offered his hand. “Come on, little man. School’s waiting.”

  Michael pulled back. “I don’t want to go.”

  “You’re going to love it. You’ll meet new friends, play games, and I hear they serve cookies and milk for a snack.”

  Michael liked the sound of that and took his dad’s hand for the walk to the car.

  Margo sat in the back seat to keep Michael company. The crossing guard stopped traffic to let some older kids pass. The line of cars moved through the intersection soon enough, and George turned into the parking lot. He pulled into the only spot left, and Michael unbuckled his seatbelt in anticipation.

  George pointed, “That’s the play area. You have swings, a slide, and some walls to climb.”

  “I know. Mom and I come here when you’re at work.”

  “We use the playground after school lets out,” Margo said. “You would know that if you left work at a decent hour.”

  “Our biggest client’s fiscal year ends this month,” George said. “You knew the game when you married an accountant.”

  “That game seems to happen every month.”

  “No, it doesn’t. I have to pull my weight. Everyone else is staying late — our clients depend on us.”

  “You also have a family that depends on you.”

  “Please, you’re drawing stares. Where’s Michael?”

  Margo looked in the back seat. The sliding door on the minivan was open, and Michael was gone. George looked at the same time and quickly jumped out. “You go toward the road. I’ll check inside the school.”

  George ran up the steps and entered the building. Adults with children crowded the hallway. He frantically searched for a
small brown head wearing a green and yellow jersey. He checked the adjoining hall and the administrative office, no sign of Michael. He began to panic.

  George ran out to see Margo running toward him. “He’s not by the road.”

  George surveyed the playground as Margo ran up the steps. “I see him. He’s on the playground. I’ll get him.”

  Margo exhaled a deep sigh of relief and collapsed on the steps.

  George picked Michael off the climbing wall. “We need to check you in — then find your classroom. We can visit the playground later.”

  “But I want to play on the wall,” Michael insisted.

  “Later,” George insisted as he set him on the ground. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Michael tried to pull away, “No, I don’t want to go inside.”

  “Son, we have to do the school thing right now.”

  Michael broke away and ran back to the climbing wall, causing George to give chase. As he grabbed Michael by the waist, a sharp pain shot through his arm, freezing him in his tracks. Collapsing to one knee and unable to breathe, George’s first thought was a heart attack.

  Margo ran toward the playground. “What’s the matter?”

  George rolled onto his side grimacing in pain. “Call an ambulance.”

  Chapter 3

  Flying Trains

  Margo’s phone vibrated as she carried the two bags of groceries into the kitchen. The caller ID displayed: Somerset Elementary.

  She set her phone on the counter and pressed the speaker icon, “Margo Proctor.”

  “Misses Proctor. We had an incident today with Michael.”

  “Is he alright?” Margo asked.

  “Michael’s fine, but we need you and your husband to come to the school this afternoon for a conference.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  “Principal Keller has requested to speak with you privately. He is asking for both you and Mister Proctor.”

  “Okay, we’ll be there. What time?”

  “Two o’clock.”

  Margo ended the call and dialed George at the office. As usual, his phone went to voicemail, and she left him a message about the meeting. She finished unpacking the groceries and started the laundry.

  Michael has been acting strange lately. Last night he barely touched his dinner. If he were sick or hurt, they would have asked me to come in right away.

  She heard rumors of an incident of bullying the previous week. Maybe Michael was involved in some way. He certainly couldn’t be the bully.

  Her phone chirped with a text message from George: Meet you there.

  ◆◆◆

  George pulled into the visitor parking lot and parked in the space beside Margo’s minivan. Running a few minutes late, he skipped up the front steps and checked in at the administration desk.

  “George Proctor to see Principal Keller.”

  “Mister Proctor, please sign in. Your wife is waiting in Principal Keller’s office, the third door on your left.”

  George signed the log and waited for the inside security door to buzz. As he entered the principal’s office, Margo sat alone in front of the desk.

  “Sorry, I’m late. You know how it is.”

  “No problem. We’re used to it.”

  “Where’s the principal?”

  “He’s getting Michael.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “They wouldn’t tell me over the phone.”

  George pulled a chair from the corner and sat beside Margo. “I have to go back to the office right after — whatever this is.”

  “Good afternoon,” Principal Keller said as he entered the room with Michael.

  Michael ran to Margo and clung to her arm.

  “Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”

  George cut to the chase, “What’s this about?”

  “I don’t know exactly how to explain it, but the other kids are afraid of Michael. They think he can make someone’s nose bleed just by looking at them.”

  “That’s insane,” George said. “You called me from work to tell me that? Are there hidden cameras somewhere, because this must be some kind of joke.”

  “I know it sounds strange, and I would typically ignore it as kids making stuff up, but his teacher is backing it up. She made Michael stay in from recess because he was talking in class, and he gave her a nosebleed.”

  “Our six-year-old gave his teacher a nosebleed by looking at her?” Margo laughed. “I have a good mind to call the superintendent and demand you and the teacher go for a psych evaluation. I think you’re nuts.”

  “Michael, did you hurt your teacher?” Keller asked.

  Michael turned away, burying his face in Margo’s side.

  “Are you serious?” George yelled.

  “Please, Mister Proctor. Let’s keep our voices down. There’s no reason to get upset.”

  George leaned over the desk and pointed at Keller. “You’re completely insane. How can you even say that with a straight face?”

  Keller pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and placed it against his nose. He pulled it away to expose a quarter-sized red stain with more running down his face.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” George said. “You’re not trying to say that Michael just caused your nose to bleed. What is wrong with you people.”

  Keller stood from behind his desk and waved his hand to interrupt George. “Kindergarten is not mandatory. We can’t have Michael in school. My decision is final. Now, if you will please take Michael home, we would all appreciate it.”

  “Are you expelling him from school because some whack-job teacher believes he can cause nosebleeds?” Margo asked.

  “I’m asking you to leave. I will call the sheriff and have you removed if I have to.”

  “Come on. Let’s go,” George said.

  Margo took Michael’s hand and led him into the hallway.

  “This is ridiculous,” George yelled in the hallway.

  They stopped at the security door and waited for the door buzzer.

  Michael pointed to a woman standing at the back of the reception area, “That’s my teacher.”

  Margo looked in the direction Michael pointed. “The small blonde lady?”

  Michael nodded.

  “Can you make her nose bleed?” Margo asked sarcastically.

  Michael stared intensely for a few seconds. His teacher cupped her face and screamed as blood flowed down the front of her blouse.

  Margo looked back at Michael in shock. “Did you do that?”

  Michael didn’t answer and expressed no emotion.

  George picked Michael up as the security door buzzed and ran through with Margo close behind. Margo beat them to the van and opened the sliding door.

  George buckled Michael into his child seat. “I’ll meet you guys at home.”

  “You’re not going back to the office?” Margo asked.

  “Did you see that back there? I’ll see you at home. I’ll tell them Michael is sick, and I’m at the hospital — or something.”

  Margo stayed quiet as she drove, occasionally checking on Michael in the rearview mirror as he contentedly worked on his latest coloring book. Michael’s demeanor indicated nothing out-of-the-ordinary. Margo drove into the driveway to see George standing in front of the garage door.

  George opened the van door as soon as Margo stopped. He lifted Michael from his seat and set him on the driveway. “Can you tell me what’s been happening at school?”

  Michael ignored George’s question and ran to the house. As Margo unlocked the door, Michael tried to press past her, but she held the door to stop his escape. “You go to your room and play. Your dad and I have to talk about school.”

  “I’m not going to school anymore,” Michael said. “My teacher hates me.”

  Margo allowed the door to open and followed Michael into the house. “Go to your room and close your door.”

  George went to the kitchen. He pulled a beer from the fridge, ripped
the cap off, and leaned back against the counter. Margo waited for Michael's bedroom door to close. “Okay, what just happened back there?”

  “Apparently, our kid can make people’s noses bleed by staring at them, as the principal said.”

  “There has to be another explanation. Could people believe a thing like that and cause it to happen?” Margo asked. “You saw that teacher freak out at the sight of him.”

  “The hell if I know. I can’t explain it.”

  “He believes he can do it. You saw it. I said — make her nose bleed — and it looked like he intended it to happen.”

  “I know what I saw — but damn. I need to talk to Michael — father to son. We can’t have him believing he’s doing this.”

  “But what if he actually is?”

  George waved off Margo’s comment and walked down the hall, stopping at Michael’s door. He looked back at Margo as he reached for the knob. An electrical discharge shot from the doorknob just before he made contact. He tried again with the same result. Before George could try a third time, Michael spoke through the door. “You should ask if you want to come in.”

  George knocked and said, “Okay, buddy, can Dad come in?”

  “You can come in now.”

  George tentatively reached for the knob, this time without receiving a shock. He pushed the door open to see Michael playing with his toy train set. “Can we talk about what happened at school?”

  Michael ignored the question. Instead, he focused on connecting the train cars.

  “Are you afraid to talk about it? Do the other kids bully you?”

  “No. They don’t bother me,” Michael said.

  “Did they bother you before, and you did something to stop it? Did you do something to them?”

  Michael continued to play with his train, aligning the cars on the track. He leaned against his bed, and the train started to move, slow at first, then increasing its speed.

  “Where’s the controller?” George asked, not seeing it in Michael’s hand.

  Michael didn’t answer, entirely focused on the train as if in a trance.