Cold Snow: A Legal Thriller (14 page)

Alex, consequently, was thinking about Jake, and Ordoñez. He had no idea what this man wanted with his friend, or with him, for that matter. It was possible he worked for the police, but they wouldn't allow that kind of force unless it was necessary. Perhaps he worked for Roland…and that brought him to thinking about his own parents, as he did every time he found himself doubting the necessity of their mission. In particular, he thought back on the oddest part of his life in Woodsbrook—Roland's insistence on convincing the rest of the world that he had three sisters. As a matter of fact, he had one; Lauren, who was one year old and didn't make much of a difference in anybody's affairs. Clarissa and Emma had been the false ones. Naturally, Roland forced Alex to play along with this lie, and he had, to some difficulty. He had been punished severely for forgetting Clarissa's age, 15, and telling a friend that she was 14. It made no difference in Alex's eyes, but the image was important to Roland for some reason.

Alex spoke, startling Sarah.

"We have to get Jake back."

"Well now. Alex Orson cares about another human."

"Shut up! I've screwed up so many times since we left, and I don't want to do it when anybody's life is in danger."

This made Sarah uneasy—she had never thought of it that way. "So…what about this Ordoñez guy?"

"I don't know. If he worked for the police, I'd think he'd have gone for me first—after all, Jake's just the accessory."

"He could be after any one of us. He might have taken Jake because he's trying to thin out our numbers."

"That's another thing. Why just haul him off? Why not kill him? It seems like that's what police would do…"

"I don't know…"

Alex shifted in his seat, deciding to bring up his uncomfortable thought. "What if he works for my father?"

Sarah dismissed the idea immediately. "That's crazy. Your father barely cared about you enough to feed you. Why would he hire a guy to get you back?"

"That's the way my father operates. He likes to delegate his dirty work. I really don't know why he's so desperate to get me, but I do know that he'd spring for a guy smart enough to know that he has to kidnap Jake and lure me to him."

"It doesn't matter what this jerk is planning. We have to get Jake back. Where would Ordoñez go?"

"Well, Roland caught me a few months ago with a stack of books on Canada that I'd checked out from the library in secret. I'd marked some of the places we'd be going. So he has some idea of our itinerary."

Both of them had the same idea. "Ridge City," Sarah exclaimed.

"Exactly," Alex replied. "He'd want to go where we were going anyway, just to make sure he wouldn't miss us. Also, in a town, he could much more easily ambush us."

"So…we're not going to Ridge City."

"Of course we're going to Ridge City! I have enough supplies lined up there to keep us going all the way to Alaska. If some hitman wants to drag me back to Woodsbrook when we get there, so be it. It's important enough to be worth evading him."

Sarah shook her head, then stayed still for a while as if in deep thought. Alex was uneasy—he hated long silences, in any circumstance. Finally, she spoke.

"Alex, there's something important I have to tell you."

Ordinarily, Alex would have made some kind of sarcastic crack at this statement, but Jake's disappearance had startled him out of his usual wit. "Shoot," he said.

"Well…It's about Edbrough."

"Who's Edbrough?"

"The adoption agent in Woodsbrook. When Henry Machry learned about you, he must have told them, so you became a case. I went there every week to try in vain to find somebody to get me out of that hellhole of an orphanage."

"What's your point, Sarah?"

"Basically, I found some document related to you in the shredder. And most of it was blacked out."

"Oh, it's wonderful how much they care about me."

"Shut up. Anyway, I recognized two names. One's just a first name. Charles Johnson and William X."

"Well, that does me no good at all. I've never heard of Charles Johnson, and there's got to be a hundred Williams in Woodsbrook. I knew three."

"Well that wasn't all I saw. Roland Orson—"

"Duh!"

"Also, there were references to Woodsbrook Instruments, Xenontech, a very large sum of money, in the millions, and something called the Moose Killers."

Alex laughed out loud. "Who came up with that name?"

"I don't know. But there were two other names…" Sarah trailed off and remained silent.

"What?" Alex pushed her, but she still remained silent, as if she couldn't bring herself to say the name.

"Sarah,
I need to know this!
"

Finally, she spoke. "…Robert and Mary Jones. My…my parents. They died when I was two."

Alex bowed his head slightly. "I'm sorry," he said. "However, this just makes everything even more ridiculously complicated." Suddenly, he sat up. "I've got it!"

"No you don't," Sarah replied. "There is practically nothing that ties all this together. You couldn't possibly find it so soon."

"No! I mean I know who can help us!"

"Who?"

"Henry Machry!"

Sarah smiled. "I believe that's the best idea you've had this whole time."

At this point, Anthony sat up. "Would you two shut your mouths? Some of us are trying to sleep!"

So they slept. The next day, they found Ridge City.

CHAPTER 10

Ridge City

February had given way to March, but the snow remained, piled in heaps by the side of the road or lying sedately along lawns and sidewalks. They drove in just after daylight and surveyed the town from the car windows.

By all accounts it was a small town, little more than a main street and several side streets branching through. Alex tensed when they arrived: the place had been hanging over them so long that it seemed strange to actually be there. Two of the most important components of his plan were in this town: Jake, and supplies for a long journey.

The city's defining ridge was situated east of the town, overlooking a long river and a forest. West of Ridge City was mountainous, inhospitable terrain. Alex caught himself thinking about this in terms of how easy each route would be to follow under heavy pursuit.

They pulled the old Ford along the sidewalk and parked, the engine sputtering and going quiet as if a great load had been taken off its shoulders. Keeping a low profile as he emerged, Alex pulled his coat around himself tightly and shivered. It was definitely no longer warm, and he hoped he could procure another coat while they were in town.

"So…" Anthony asked. "Where do we go?"

"Don't worry about anything until tomorrow," Alex replied, looking around the street. It being early, nobody was walking around. "Today, we're going to look around. We need to scope out a few things: where Jake might be, which is also probably where Ordoñez is; where we meet our man, which was vaguely described in the e-mail he wrote me; and," he was looking very grave as he said this, "possible escape routes."

"Can we find somewhere to stay first?" Sarah asked. "I don't look forward to another night of sleeping in the car. And food, too. We haven't eaten for a day."

"And how do you propose we get it?" Alex asked, his temper flaring, glaring at her. Sarah started to reply but decided to remain silent. Alex had a way of making you feel anything you said was stupid.

Main street was lit by the early morning sunlight, the kind the sun always gives off just before it finishes rising. Several buildings presented themselves to Alex's first survey: a hotel, restaurants, several office buildings, and three that seemed to be administrative: a city hall, a police station, and a courthouse. Alex turned his eyes away from these quickly. He got a bad feeling, looking at them.

His eyes were directed instead to the hotel, although he knew they couldn't afford to stay there. As he though about what they could do, and where Jake was—likely the government buildings—someone called his name.

Alex whirled around. "Shut up, Anthony. I'm trying to think here. You're not helping."

Anthony looked taken aback. "I didn't say anything."

"Orson!"

It was coming from a side street. Alex told Sarah and Anthony to finish looking around for him, and began walking toward the voice. His name was called several more times, and he at last found it: an alleyway between two offices, little wider than a door.

A figure was standing inside the alley: a short man, dressed in a hooded coat, wearing sunglasses and a scarf so Alex couldn't see his face.

"You're the…um…supply program?" Alex asked.

"I may have something to do with it," the man replied, in a deep, slow voice that sounded somewhat unnatural. "But I'm not who you're looking for. I'm here to offer you a decision."

"I don't like the way you're talking," Alex said, apprehensively. This man could be with the police…or Ordoñez.

"You know Jake Harwell?"

The man was short enough to be on eye level with Alex, and due to his small statue, Alex thought he could defeat him. He threw himself at the man, grabbed his neck, and slammed him against the building's wall. "You're with Ordoñez, you asshole! Tell me where Jake is! Tell me why I'm getting blamed for murders!"

The man reacted instantly, throwing a fist into Alex's gut. Alex made an involuntary sound and staggered backwards. He felt the man's forearm collide with his face, and he flew backwards into the alley wall, sliding to the floor.

"You can't fight me," the man said, "so you might as well listen to me. I can't tell you anything, but about that decision…"

Alex could only look—there was nothing he could do, whether this man worked for his enemy or not.

"The supply program is here, and they will gladly give you what you want. However, if you go to them at all, your little friend goes to trial, and will obviously be found guilty and sent back to America to be fried."

"You…bastard! You—"

"Shut up. Harwell is at the police station, next to the courthouse. If you go to find him the supply program vanishes. You will have no way to go on."

"God damn you!"

"Your choice, Mr. Orson, is between your friend and your journey. Go ahead, think about it for a while. You have all day, but at precisely noon tomorrow, both options will vanish. Farewell."

Sarah and Anthony arrived at the alley five minutes later to find Alex still recovering from the blows he'd received.

"You can't hide anything from me, Alex. What's up?" Sarah asked. Alex gave them a brief account of what the man had said.

Sarah tilted her head, as she always did when thinking deeply. "I don't think there's anything we can do."

Anthony interrupted her. "Never think that way! If delinquency has taught me anything, it's that there is always a third option. You just have to find it."

Alex, finally managing to stand up, folded his arms and hung his head. "I appreciate your optimism, Anthony, but—"

"Just think for a moment. Jake is going to be tried for three murders. They don't know who did it, so the charge for direct murder will be placed on his head. No matter what, though, he'll be guilty. Ordoñez, or someone higher than him, will see to that."

"Keep talking." Alex said.

"I'm trying! Anyway, all we have to do is find some way to incriminate Ordoñez in the murders. Jake will be home free, and we can get our supplies."

Alex sighed. "Anthony, this is not a courtroom movie."

"I'll bet your friend Machry studied the murders. He'd know how it would have been impossible for you and possible for him."

"Well…I was going to talk to Machry anyway. I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

"Alright. Let's find a pay phone."

Frank Jeffries was glad to get out of the coat and getup; even in the cold temperatures it was beginning to make him sweat. He took his badge from his pocket, where he'd been hiding it, and wiped it absent-mindedly as he walked back into the station. Ordoñez was sitting by Jeffries's desk as he entered, perusing some paperwork about the death of Marcia Philbrook. Jeffries grunted in greeting as he passed. He couldn't deny that the police in almost all of Southeastern Canada were grateful that Ordoñez had shown up with miracle information about the Alex Orson killing spree, not to mention a suspect handcuffed and gagged in the back of his car. However, the man annoyed him, and even though they had given him limited access to papers, the way he talked like he owned the case irked Jeffries often.

Jake Harwell, sitting in the back cell, had been remarkably well behaved since his morning arrival. He had asked for a deal: they would promise not to hurt him, and he would cooperate. However, they were beginning to question if Harwell was holding up his end of the bargain, as he denied any involvement with any of the three murders. Jeffries allowed himself a chuckle when he thought again about how Ordoñez had thought to mess with Orson's mind.
We will hurt him,
Jeffries thought,
and we'll hurt you, Harwell, you lying little jerk. No leniency for killers.