EXCERPTS: Day of Retribution: Chapter 1
Week Two Begins-Monday, July 15, 1996
The sun dropped below the horizon as David hurried to make the most of the little daylight left. Driven by a sense of urgency, he plowed through the dense underbrush toward the big, moss-draped cypress. The only sound other than the ground crunching under his feet was the jangling of the empty fish stringer that hung from his belt. Only a little further to go…and he was there.
His sigh of relief ended in a gasp as he looked down into the black, tannic-stained water. Where was his boat? Grabbing the nylon rope that had secured it to the tree, he found the loose end that lay in the shadows. It had been severed.
His heart pounded. Adrenaline coursed through his body. How would he escape the snake-infested island now? Then he heard it. A low snarl from behind escalated into a piercing scream that shot through him like a bullet. Pressing himself hard against the cypress, he tried to melt into its dark form.
“Not so sure of yourself now, are you? You’re mine…and it’s payback time.”
David’s breath froze as he watched a man dressed in a black wet suit emerge from the twisted vines a few feet away. Even in the deepening shadows, he could see revenge glowing in his stalker’s eyes.
Like a deadly serpent poised to strike, the man never took his eyes off David’s face; but for a brief moment the glint in his hand snatched David’s attention. The last shards of twilight filtering through the trees caught the blade of the large knife he swung back and forth.
What now? David could try to wrest the weapon from the man’s hand and risk being butchered in the attempt. Or he could dive into the murky water below and risk being attacked by the ever-present alligators lying along the river’s edge.
Suddenly, as though he had read David’s mind, the man raised the knife and lunged toward him.
David Coleman bolted upright. His ragged breath came in pants that chased his racing heart. Sweat dripped off his tensed body. Several seconds passed before he realized that it had only been another nightmare. For the third time in a week, Alex Carter had violated his sleep.
“This has to stop!” he hissed into the darkness.
His wife, Leah, stirred at his side. He lay back down on the sheet now cold with perspiration and took slow, deep breaths to calm his throbbing heart. Staring into the darkness, he heard the old clock in the family room downstairs striking out the hour, five o’clock in the morning.
Grateful to escape the terror of his nightmare, he let his thoughts travel back in time to a night many years before. He had been twelve then, lying beside his dad under heavy quilts in the cold bedroom of his grandmother’s farmhouse in Mississippi. He could still see the shadows darting back and forth across the ceiling as the glowing coals in the small fireplace collapsed into ashes.
Remembering the hours-long struggle to get to sleep, he’d finally given in to the anticipation of his first hunting trip and waited impatiently for the morning’s first light. Every hour on the hour, the old Seth Thomas on the mantle had struck. In between the hour counts, the rhythmic sound of the pendulum swinging back and forth ticked off the passing minutes. Even though he had tried to catnap between those strikes, he’d come to the conclusion that the thought of killing his first deer was too exciting for sleep to come.
He’d been both expectant and fearful about what the day might bring. That morning, like this one, held the possibility of death.
Enough was enough. He decided to get up and face the dreaded day rather than deal with the possibility of another nightmare. Without disturbing Leah, he reached out to turn off the alarm, swung his feet over the side of the bed, and slowly stood upright. He listened for a moment to the peaceful sound of his wife’s breathing before groping in the darkness for the shorts he had tossed aside the previous evening. Then he tiptoed downstairs.
Stopping at the bottom of the steps, he faced the mirror on the wall. The glow from the night light in the hallway illuminated it just enough to reflect his shadow. Having once been a college linebacker, he prided himself on being able to hold his own with men half his age. Through the years, he had lifted weights and, on most days, found the time to jog a couple of miles. His two hundred twenty pounds were well proportioned over his tall frame, and it was apparent from the way he still carried himself that he had once been a force to be reckoned with. For that matter, he still was. Leah told him he was more handsome than ever, but he knew his youthful appearance was yielding to the years. That realization bothered him, but so did having to admit to himself that he was more vain than a man his age had any business being.
Turning away from his image, he disarmed the security system and flipped on the kitchen light. As soon as his eyes adjusted, he headed for the coffee maker that he’d prepared the night before. Like most engineers, David Coleman was a creature of habit. Pressing the start button, he waited for the familiar sound of the water bubbling up and into the strainer. Satisfied that the process was underway, he headed for the back porch. At the door he switched off the motion sensor floodlights.
The warm, muggy air of the July morning in Tampa invigorated him. Unlike many who moved into the area, he liked the humidity. Its warmth held a softness quite different from the arid heat they had grown accustomed to in the West. The buzz of insects reminded him again of how glad he was that the porch was screened.
The Hillsborough River flowed lazily past the rear of their property. Woods to either side constantly threatened to take back the ground he had cleared when the house was built and kept the gardener busy doing what David no longer had time to do.
An array of brilliant pastels in the eastern sky broke through the trees to announce his favorite time of day. He was a morning person, and the sounds of awakening life helped relax his still-tense body. The quacking of a duck followed the splash of a fish striking the water’s surface somewhere downstream. This was what he needed to keep him sane when the day fell apart, and somewhere along the line it would fall apart.
Leah had told him on numerous occasions that she could tell when he hadn’t taken this time to prepare himself for the day. He knew it to be true.
Reflecting on the high ethical standards that had brought him to the confrontation that would take place in a few short hours, he tried to remember that they had served him well during his college days, throughout his marriage, and should continue to do so in the years beyond. Unfortunately, not everyone appreciated those standards. In particular, Alex Carter didn’t appreciate them. He knew Alex was a troubled man. Right now, however, that didn’t seem of significant consequence, because he was also a man capable of great violence.
Trapped by the thought of what might happen later that morning, David pondered what action he should take…but no answers came. Only the words of his father as they had tramped through the woods during that first deer-hunting trip passed through his mind.
“Remember, son, that the world says ‘might makes right.’ But let me tell you a better way…right makes might.”
David was right about Alex and what had to be done, no doubt about that, but would being right give him the might to get through this morning unscathed? He shook his head and tried to redirect his thoughts to the present. It didn’t happen.
“Remember the golden rule, boy. You treat folks the way you want to be treated, and they’ll ’most always do right by you.”
“Alex Carter must be the exception to that rule,” David muttered aloud. If only he could talk to his father one more time. Some of the old man’s wisdom would sure come in handy right now. But his dad’s fatal accident years before had forced David to face the reality of death—and ultimately to question the purpose of life itself. After their emotions hit bottom, he and Leah had determined to work harder for the things that really counted. For a while they did, and they enjoyed more than their share of prosperity and happiness. Then, abruptly and for reasons beyond his control, David’s successful business failed and with it the dreams they had shared.
After that, everything had been a struggle, or so it seemed to him that morning as he thought of the dangers that awaited him. Even the memories of what life had been like during the years of prosperity had faded, crowded out by the battle to survive in the hostile corporate world.
Sitting on the porch and listening to the sounds of life around him, he knew he was no longer the man he had once been. Funny how a life-threatening situation inspires introspection, he thought with a cynical laugh. True, he had recouped some of his financial losses, but the man inside—the family man, the spiritual man—had paid a price. He’d reached that same conclusion many times since his business failure?and now as all those other times, he would push on and make the best of the situation at hand.
His father’s words on the last day they were together came back as clearly as though the old man were standing on the porch beside him.
“Keep one thing in mind, son. It doesn’t matter so much how you die…what really matters is how you live.”
How had he lived? Had he really lived at all? Or was his a dawn to dusk existence that ended in restless sleep, only to be repeated the next day? For sure, he’d missed out on a lot. Life had become hectic, complicated, and those important things he and Leah had vowed to put first had somehow fallen by the wayside. At least they had for him. Now he just wanted to get through this morning, to go on living.
The muscles at the back of his neck burned, a sure sign of stress. He needed a smoke, a vice he justified by indulging only on weekends. Today would be an exception to that weekend rule. Going to his study, he chose a pipe from the rack and carefully packed it with his wife’s favorite black cherry blend. After lighting it and allowing the savory aroma to waft into his nostrils, he went back to the kitchen and removed two cups from the cupboard. The one for Leah he set on the counter along with a spoon, sugar bowl, and jar of creamer, a gesture she had once told him made her feel loved. The other he filled for himself. Returning to the porch, he sank into his favorite chair. His pipe never tasted better than it did with that first cup of coffee.
Just as he was finishing his second cup, Leah appeared in the doorway. Once again her beauty captivated him, as it always had. Their special relationship had evolved over the years as each came to value the other over self. It seemed that into whatever chambers his mind wandered, she was always there.
“What time did you get up, Hon?” She yawned. “I didn’t think you’d ever quit tossing and turning. I thought you were going to wear a hole in the sheets.” Walking over to him, she kissed the top of his head and sat down in the chair beside his.
“Why didn’t you let me know you were awake?”
“Because I didn’t want you to try anything. Once a night is enough for a man your age,” she teased with an amused smile.
She had always been beautiful, and now, in her forties, she seemed lovelier than ever to him. She had inherited her olive complexion, high cheekbones, and black, arching eyebrows from her Italian mother, who was still a striking woman for her age. In the glow of the morning sun, David could see strands of gray beginning to appear, contrasting sharply with the dark brown hair spilling down across her shoulders. Even after bearing their three children, she had managed to retain a very seductive figure. In his eyes, she was still the southern belle he had married in their youth. Wherever they went, he watched the eyes of men follow after her in admiration and, most likely, he suspected, a bit of desire.
“Hon, when did you get up?” Leah asked for the second time.
He gave her a blank look, then realized he’d ignored her question. “Sorry. Guess I’m more preoccupied with this mess than I thought. A little after five but, as you already know, I didn’t sleep very well.”
She reached out and slid her hand into his.
“Honey…,” he said in a soft voice, gently tightening his grip on her fingers. “I don’t want you to overreact to this, but I’m going to carry my pistol this morning…just to be on the safe side.” He knew what her reaction would be; he also knew what he had to do.
“No, David. No! I don’t want you to. It scares me to think about that.” Tears welled up in her dark eyes. “I don’t even want you to go in today. Can’t you just stay home and let Landon handle this thing with Alex?”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t think I could do that. I’m partially responsible for this problem, and I wouldn’t feel right if I weren’t there.” He patted her hand. “I won’t respect myself if I dodge this. Neither will my staff.”
“But—”
“I’m going in. That’s all there is to it. And I’m taking the gun.”
