Kermit Lopez
Neil Dressler believed the world was against him. Soon after losing his job, his wife left him. All he had left in the world were his son and the dream of a new revolutionary invention that he believed was the answer to his problems. But Neil lacked the funds to complete a working prototype of the invention, which if successfully patented and marketed, would generate billions of dollars in royalties.
Next, Neil is found murdered in his home and his work destroyed. Suspicions turn immediately to Neil's son, fifteen-year-old Patrick Dressler. Determined to clear his name, the boy flees from the authorities. He is pursued relentlessly by a shady patent attorney, a determined FBI agent convinced of the boy's guilt, and a billionaire industrialist who knows that Patrick is more than simply the troubled adolescent son of a would-be-inventor. These men soon learn that Patrick, a former child prodigy, is the only living person who possesses the knowledge necessary to reproduce his father's invention, and they will do whatever it takes to find him.
Kermit Lopez is a patent attorney in Dallas, Texas. He was raised in New Mexico, and holds a Bachelor of Science in Electrical Engineering and a law degree from the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. The Prodigy is his first novel.
As dawn approached, the rising sun cast a pink haze above the rim of the Sandia mountains, saturating the sky with a first hint of daylight. Gil Valdez stood in the frigid morning air beside an unmarked police car and watched the sun rise. He slowly sipped a hot cup of black coffee. He was tired, not having slept the previous night. His eyelids felt heavy. He hoped that the coffee would revive him. He promised himself that when this was all over, he would join a gym, and get rid of the coffee and sweets and spend more time with the family. Always the best laid plans of mice and men.
Walsh pointed at a third floor window. "That window was his point of exit."
"Along with a dead security guard."
"I don't see how he could have done it."
"Why not?"
"That guard was twice his size. He couldn't have overpowered him that easily. It would have taken a giant to overcome that guard."
"Maybe so. But somehow the boy managed to do it."
"Unless." Walsh was tentative.
"Unless what?"
"Unless he had some help."
"No. Not possible."
"Why not?"
"You're assuming a conspiracy."
"What about the old man's testimony? The black sedan. The two men."
"Maybe so," Walsh said. "But I can't see how the boy could have overpowered that security guard. It's a pretty unbelievable story if you ask me."
"I know. None of it makes any sense."
"So, where do we go from here?"
"You're guess is as good as mine."
"You're in charge now, Gil. It's your show. You call the shots Gil. Sheldon wants you to coordinate the manhunt."
Gil was faced with a responsibility he did not want. A sinking feeling ran through his chest. He sipped the coffee again and closed his eyes, trying to formulate some sort of a short term plan in his mind. He saw the logistics and difficulties involved in coordinating a diverse group of competing law enforcement agencies. "That boy is causing me a lot of grief," he said.
"Your personal life?"
"Yeah."
"You wife?"
"She's not happy with the long hours. I don't blame her. But what choice do I have? I've got to make a living. This job is all that I have."
"She'll just have to see you through like she's done before."
"A woman can only take so much from a husband who isn't around."
"She wouldn't do that to you. I know her. She's got a good heart. You picked the right woman for your wife. She'll stand beside you."
Gil nodded. "Yeah. You're right. Guess I'm worried about nothing."
Walsh followed Gil into the car, and said, "Ten minutes until the press conference."
"Where are we holding it?"
"Inside the courthouse."
