A Father's Instinct

PROLOGUE

After a glimpse in his rear-view mirror Leo Boulder smiled and raised his hand to wave at his neighbor. He only spoke to Lucinda Blount a couple times each month as her home was several miles down the road from his farm, but the few times he had spoken with her resulted in warm and friendly conversations.

Her husband had died not long ago but she was very self-sufficient and politely declined Leo’s offers for help after his passing. It was Leo’s second nature to help others and after she made it clear that she would not accept his help, he concocted a plan to wait until she went to visit relatives and then he would head over to her house to chop firewood, make repairs to her house, and often would leave bags of canned food on her back porch.

Lucinda was fully aware that it was Leo doing these kind things for her and it brought a smile to her lips every time she returned home from her visits. Today, Lucinda wanted to get Leo’s attention so she could invite him and his wife Beverly over for a meal to repay his kindness.

She stuck her arm out to signal Leo but as he looked in his mirror at her waving arm, he heard a loud rumble coming from his left. A calm drive warped into a nightmarish situation as a full-size truck bore down upon him with a fury that made him wince as it struck him flush in the driver-side door.

The impact was colossal and his truck slid sideways across the dry pavement with a groaning screech of his tires. His skull was ringing and he felt light-headed as he opened his eyes to survey the damage. He struggled to encompass the enormity of the situation until to his immense horror he saw the twisted metal of the door penetrating his left side. A bright red stain was expanding around the impaled metal like a spreading fire.

The lack of pain sent a shock of fear through Leo, knowing full well that his injuries were severe. He thought he felt rain dripping into his eyes and he instinctively wiped them with the back of his right hand. When he looked at the back of his hand he saw they were covered in blood from a head wound across his lacerated scalp. He palmed his forehead and felt the divide of his skin across the massive wound. His numbness was frightening and he realized his greatest fear wasn’t dying, but leaving his wife alone.

His wife, Beverly, had been diagnosed at the end of spring with dementia. She was progressively getting worse by the day and knowing that he was the only one to take care of her was a daunting fear. Surely his wife’s sister Jillian would try to take care of her to the best of her ability, but Jillian had a busy family to look after and she couldn’t take care of Beverly with the care and attention required. His only son had just recently gone off to college and that is where Leo wanted him to stay. He had a great future ahead of him.

Lucinda had appeared near his side. He felt Lucinda’s hand warmly grasping his and he felt his lips moving but wasn’t quite sure what he was instinctively saying to her. With his fear rising and control slipping, Leo watched as the driver of the truck that had struck him exited his smashed truck and made his way towards Leo’s window. Leo thought, I must be delirious. This guy can’t seriously be laughing at me.

The man was indeed laughing. He appeared intoxicated and Leo heard Lucinda yelling at the man. Leo could hear the yelling but things were starting to fade and he couldn’t quite make out the words. Then an urge to cough slightly raised his consciousness and he managed a couple feeble coughs that resulted in blood oozing from his mouth. His stomach lurched precariously as his fear began to swallow him.

Gradually fear morphed into euphoric peace. As he felt himself slipping away, he silently prayed that Beverly would be looked after properly.

A father knows he loves his daughter every day from the moment she comes into the world. He just doesn’t realize the depth of his love for her until she is in harm’s way. At first realization the fear is as intense as a dying man’s belief in God. Instead of the fear subsiding, it grows exponentially in its intensity until the strain is almost too much to bear. Then a father’s true grit is revealed.

Cort Cameron would eventually be able to remember the specific moment his true grit was revealed: Wednesday, October 6th, just slightly after 6:30 PM—three days after his nightmare began.

CHAPTER 1

Sunday, October 3rd — 2:17 PM

Cort Cameron thought the fear of his daughter becoming impregnated by Skip Benton, the senior quarterback who always sported a ridiculous pony-tail and an over inflated ego, was his worst fear. Cort despised Skip with an intensity that made Kenzie, his daughter, rebel like any fifteen-year-old girl might, given the situation.

She had always been her daddy’s sweet little girl up until the evening she brought Skip over for dinner. Cort was always a bit tense and judgmental of boys that wanted to hang out around his daughter, but this had been the first time she actually brought a boy home to meet the parents, so he was on edge before Skip arrived. Tracey, Cort’s wife, greeted Skip with a smile and extended her hand, but Skip ignored her hand. He was cocky and rude throughout dinner.

Tracey had taken off work early to prepare a very fancy meal of stuffed manicotti, filet mignon, twice baked potatoes, and banana cream pie. Skip mentioned more than once that he didn’t care for any of the food she had prepared. During the entire meal Skip talked about himself and his football prowess. Cort was a football star himself and he knew after watching Skip play that he was a mediocre quarterback at best, on a team that had yet to win a game.

The final straw for Cort was just before the plates were cleared for dessert. Skip commented about Kenzie’s breasts and her posterior. Cort stood up infuriated and asked Skip to leave and not return until he had found his manners. Kenzie’s attitude changed at that moment, and four months later, Cort and Tracey were desperately trying to coax Kenzie back into their lives.

Cort was hauling the big green garbage can in his right hand and the big purple recycling can in his left, across the bumpy gravel path to the street for the next day garbage pick-up, when his cell phone vibrated against his hip. He continued across the bumpy terrain and quickened his pace, partly to avoid smelling the sour cat poop odor that seeped from the green can, but he also didn’t like to miss phone calls, even on the weekends. Sometimes he would get phone calls from his larger clients on the weekends, and he did not wish to ignore their calls.

As he hurried across the sidewalk to lower his cans to the street, he caught the wheel of the green can on a sprinkler head that hadn’t receded after the morning watering, and the sprinkler head snapped off as the can flipped to its side, spilling its contents all over the grassy area between the sidewalk and the street curb.

Cursing, Cort pulled his cell phone from the holster on his hip and answered, Specialized Adhesives,--the name he had given to the three man business he had started four years ago, that now ran with over sixty employees in three separate locations.

Daddy, I am so scared, came Kenzie’s strained voice over the line.

Cort’s stomach turned from the horrified pitch of her voice. He knew instantly that she was in serious trouble. He had instinctively bent over to pick up the spilled garbage, but now found himself standing straight up and shouting Honey, what’s wrong!?

A squeal erupted from the phone after a sickening thud and then a man’s muffled voice growled, Shut her up and take her back to her room.

Cort tried to find the right words but found himself speechless with visceral horror. He could hear his sweet little girl screaming in the background. He knew the man was talking into the phone, but Cort couldn’t focus on what he was saying. His mind swam and he began to feel his equilibrium diminish as a fit of dizziness crawled through his skull.

Get your act together right now. Kenzie needs you to focus.

The realization that she had been kidnapped was clear in his mind and he knew that he needed to give the respect to the kidnappers that they expected, or they might hurt Kenzie.

Snapping back in focus, he caught the end of the kidnapper’s sentence. …..our demands.

He knew he was taking a risk, but he interrupted, Please sir, I am sorry to interrupt, but this has taken me by surprise and I had a hard time focusing on what you were saying. Could you please start from the beginning?

Silence. He sensed the kidnapper was upset and Cort simply said, Please.

Whether it was the sincerity in Cort’s voice, or simply realizing that he needed Cort to understand everything, the kidnapper decided to repeat his instructions.

Ok, I am going to say this one more time. You miss it this time, and you will not see your daughter alive ever again. Understand? His tone was even and didn’t sound overly irritated at Cort’s request.

Cort realized at that moment he was dealing with a cool, level headed kidnapper. Professional? Maybe. What does that even mean? Professional kidnapper? Is there such a thing? Dammit, focus!

Cort yearned for measured calm like a priest listening to a killer’s confession, but his nerves refused to cooperate.

Yes sir. I understand, he managed through gritted teeth.

As he talked, Cort walked around the side of his house and burst out of the hot, bright sun into the cool darkness of his garage, then on through to the kitchen. Tracey was hopping down the stairs, pausing to look through the window on the landing and started, Why did you leave that garbage all over the…?

Cort dismissed her with a wave of his hand and she noticed the look of panic on his face.

She looked like a scared, confused twelve-year-old girl as she put her hand to her lips and mouthed, Sorry.

The kidnapper began, Ok, your daughter will remain alive if you do exactly as I tell you. Any deviation from what I say, and we will execute her. You will be given three days to come up with five million in cash. Unmarked bills. Are you with me Cort?

The kidnapper’s use of his first name caught Cort off guard, but he replied, Yes. I understand what you are telling me. I don’t have five-million dollars, though. I don’t even have that much if I could sell all of the shares of stock I own in the company. Our share price fell 75% in 2008 and another 10% in 2009 so far. This economy has left our company a shell of what it was a couple years ago. I can probably come up with two million.

A steady, confident voice came through the receiver. I don’t care how your company is doing. I don’t care what you have to do to get the money. You are a powerful guy, you know people. Get the money or your daughter dies. It is that simple.

Desperation swept over Cort and his silence encouraged the kidnapper to continue. I will contact you at eight every night to see how you are progressing. You do not answer, Kenzie will die. We will treat her fairly and feed her if you follow our orders. We catch wind that you have called the authorities, and she will die, and not quickly. She will suffer unthinkable things. Now, Cort, answer me this. Do you love her?

Yes.

More than anything?

Yes, more than anything.

More than your money?

I love her more than my money, my life, anything.

Sweat had formed in tiny beads across Cort’s forehead, but he felt chilled and his body instinctively shivered in response.

If you love her more than anything, you will find a way to get the money.

Cort was silent. He did not know what to say to such a man. This man was precise in his words and almost void of emotion as he spoke them. This type of man was foreign to Cort and the fear of saying the wrong thing began to overwhelm him. Tracey had moved in close to Cort as she was now acutely aware of the fact that something was dead wrong. Cort kept sliding away from her unconsciously, and Tracey was beginning to get irritated with Cort. She elbowed him in the ribs and he let out a grunt.

The kidnapper took the grunt as a sign that Cort understood. He said, Just to show you that this is serious, we will be giving you a little demonstration of our power in a few minutes.

The phone clicked before Cort could say anything. As he pulled the phone from his ear, his face was white and his body began to shake.

Tracey shrieked at him, What the hell is going on, Cort!?

His silence infuriated her and she shook him violently as a glimmer of tears formed in her eyes. Unable to let everything soak in before explaining, he repeated his conversation with the kidnapper in detail. As he told her everything, he avoided her big beautiful brown eyes that were beginning to release a strong flow of tears. As he finished, the tears were streaming down her red cheeks and pooling around the corners of her lips.

Cort left her sobbing uncontrollably on the black leather couch and began pacing back and forth across the dark mahogany stained wood floor between the kitchen and the front door.

How much can I come up with? About a million and a half in cash, another four hundred thousand in CDs that will be less after paying early withdrawal penalties. No chance in tapping into the equity in the house in under a week. Not that selling is an option in this shitty economy. An equity loan would take too long and would probably only get another two-hundred-thousand anyway. The stock in the company would be hard to sell to anybody right away. Maybe I could get around three million two years ago, but probably one point nine now. That still leaves me about one point two or three million short.

Cort walked towards Tracey and said, How much money do you think your parents have?

She wiped tears from both eyes with the backs of her hands and between sobs managed to say, Probably two or three hundred thousand.

My parents might have four or five. Best case scenario, we are still five short. C’mon, think! Where else can I get money? Who can I borrow from?

As Cort continued to think and try to come up with a solution, Tracey managed to pull herself together and stood up on wobbly legs. She turned and put her hand on Cort’s shoulder gently. Realizing for the first time that Tracey was in as much pain as he, Cort moved toward her and pulled her into him. Sharing tears and swaying back and forth, they comforted each other without speaking.

Although they had a rough go of things a couple years back, they had found their love for each other once again, and over the past year, they had grown so much closer. The mutual disdain they held for Skip might have been one of the main reasons. The fear they both held for Kenzie in her relationship with Skip was a common ground for them and fueled conversation for them nightly. Conversations were almost non-existent a year ago as they slowly and quietly tried to let go of their past anger toward each other.

Tracey pulled back from Cort slowly and attempted a reassuring smile. Her lips drew up in a half smile that neither fooled Cort, nor reassured him. He felt the same terror that Tracey felt. He kissed her softly on the cheek and turned to walk to the kitchen.

Cort heard a short popping sound behind him and to his left. He thought it sounded like a rock hitting the sliding glass door. He turned to look at the sliding glass door and another round of intense fear shot through him as he saw the bullet hole. His eyes immediately darted left to see Tracey lying motionless on the wood floor in front of the big screen television.

CHAPTER 2

Steve Boulder was sleeping soundly in his bed in the barracks at West Point when he was awakened by the deep baritone voice of a Bill Winters, a fellow cadet. Wake up Boulder. You have a phone call, Winters said quietly.

Rubbing his eyes with both hands, Steve asked, What time is it?

A little after three in the morning. Pretty damn late if you ask me.

Steve felt a shiver as he stepped onto the cold concrete floor. He glanced at Winters, noticed he was in a white t-shirt and a pair of black boxers, and whispered, Hey sorry if my call woke you.

Winters shrugged his shoulders and murmured, Well, having a room by the phone is definitely not that cool. This is the second time this month that a call has come in after lights out.

The walk to the phone took three minutes and Steve began to worry that something may have happened to his mother. His mother had been suffering from dementia. He had noticed her memory fading over the last two years, but they had only just had it diagnosed by a doctor in May. Steve was very hesitant the previous summer to leave his father alone with the burden of looking after his mother while trying to keep everything running smoothly on the farm.

Steve had been preparing to go to West Point since the eighth grade. He had done everything possible to make sure his acceptance to West Point was a foregone conclusion. He kept his grades at a 4.0 all throughout his high school career and he participated in football, basketball, and baseball. He had joined the ROTC program and was involved with community service. He had worked extremely hard to make it to West Point so he could fulfill his dream of becoming a Ranger and if he was lucky, Delta Force.

The Rangers represented everything that Steve wanted for himself. Furthermore, the dream of becoming a member of Delta Force was something he had decided could only be a mixture of hard work and a little luck. He wanted to serve his country that he loved so dearly in the best way possible. After his mother’s mental capacity began to slide during the past year, the guilt of leaving for West Point to pursue his dream weighed heavily.

Knowing that Steve was possibly going to abandon his dream, his father pulled him aside one day. With a very serious look on his face he said, Son, you need to stop worrying about leaving me here. Yes, your mom needs a little looking after, but I will be able to take care of the farm without you. Remember, I was able to take care of the farm by myself long before you were born.

But Dad, you only had to take care of half of what we have now, Steve responded with great concern.

His father shook his head, That may well be true, Steve, but remember, I didn’t have the equipment back then that we have now. Hell, I worked harder back then and, with the equipment we have now, most of my work is done sittin’ on my butt. Besides, you and I both know that your cousin Darren is going to be helping me two weekends out of the month.

Steve nodded, Well, I suppose that is true. You could leave a lot of the heavy manual labor stuff to him. Promise me you won’t try to do too much of that yourself. Your back cannot handle too much of that physical labor. And for God’s sake please don’t try to buck the hay by yourself. Remember how long you had to be in bed a couple years back? That was awful. I didn’t know if you were ever going to get back to normal.

His father nodded in agreement. "Don’t worry, Son. I will be just fine. I want you to go after your dream. Hell, with your physical attributes, we would be doing our country a disservice by not making