WHEN THE POUNDING STARTED, Ryan Sorensen glanced from the television to the front door and then back again, settling deeper into the faded recliner. Rain beat against the roof of the cottage situated a few blocks from the beach near the town of Magnolia, North Carolina. The Carolina Hurricanes were up by one goal against Detroit with five minutes left in the second period. He was warm, dry and as comfortable as his injured leg would allow. Nothing good would come of answering an insistent knock on a stormy night. His jaw tightened as he imagined what his father would think of him ignoring a person potentially in need of help. Ryan had been taught from a young age that he owed the world something, no matter what the world handed him in return. The lesson had led, in a roundabout sort of way, to a bullet in his leg a month earlier and a colleague and friend dying in his arms. It had been one hell of a difficult pill to swallow. He figured whoever was outside his door would give up eventually. Minutes later the door rattled on its hinges as the pounding increased in intensity. “Hello?” a…