Cold Snow: A Legal Thriller (13 page)

He was very tall, and Alex, who was tall for his age, felt dwarfed beside him. He spoke in the same American accent with the slight Hispanic touch.

"I couldn't help overhearing," the man said, still smiling his false smile, "that the young man here is having a cash flow problem."

"Yes…" Alex said, uncertainly.

"My name is Juan. Juan Gutierrez. And I'm going to pay for your gas can."

"Um, thank you, sir…but I can't accept that," Alex said. "Excuse me." He turned to leave.

"I insist," Gutierrez said, stepping in front of him. He produced a ten-dollar bill. "This should cover a two-gallon can," he said, handing it to the manager. He walked inside the station and came out with a can of gas, which he placed in front of Alex.

This was a kind gesture, but Alex still didn't like the look of Juan Gutierrez. He took the can. It was heavy, but it felt good to have it—no matter who had given it to him. "Thank you, Mr. Gutierrez. I apologize if I don't stick around. My parents and I are in kind of a hurry."

"I understand completely. If you're ever in Maple Crossing, remember my name." With that, he walked off. Alex decided he should leave soon as well, in case the manager got mad at him.

Several yards down the street, Ordoñez turned back to look at Alex. He smiled, and silently laughed.

Sensing that there was enough space, he turned, in silent pursuit.

Sarah was keeping a lookout outside the car when he returned, lugging the gas can. Her face brightened when she saw it.

"You got it! How'd you steal it?"

"As a matter of fact, I got this one legitimately," Alex said, with a slight but noticeable air of superiority.

Sarah lost her smile at this in favor of an apprehensive look. "How? We're broke," she said, and then added, "Do I want to know this?"

"This guy just walked up and bought it for me. It was really weird, but at this point I'll take what I can get."

"Wait a minute. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to trust stuff you get from strangers?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. However, since they were the same people who told me that practically everything I do will kill me, and I'm not dead yet, I don't put much stock in what they say." He had, in fact, forgotten the odd feeling of foreboding he had felt around Juan Gutierrez.

The can got them to the next town, where they filled their tank by selecting to pay inside and quickly driving off. The cashier spat and threw them the finger, but it didn't mean much; certainly, it wasn't the first time this had happened. Anthony was getting irritable, as his cigarette supply was running low. That morning's snow was still falling, and would continue long into the night.

That night, the police found them.

The Canadian authorities had been quick to action when Niagara alerted them, and a section of the Provincial Police was mobilized. However, it took them a while to pinpoint the location of the old Ford, moving along the transit as fast as it was able, Anthony or Jake driving and cursing at the speed and handling characteristics.

The cruisers stealthily trailed the Ford, keeping their lights and sirens off. It was Anthony who saw the two cars first, as he watched the wing mirrors.

"Jesus! Get down!"

"Anthony? What's going on?" Sarah asked, rousing herself from sleep.

"Just
get down
!"

Jake looked behind and saw what Anthony had seen. "Police cars. We're doomed," he said, shaking his head. "We're screwed."

"Don't despair yet, Jake," Alex said. He was smiling, which was always a bad sign. "Anthony, give me the wheel. I think it's time I learned how to drive."

Anthony was naturally opposed to this idea. "You're insane. You've had some dumb ideas, Alex, but this one beats them all."

As he said this, Alex leapt. He was sitting behind Jake, which gave him a clear diagonal shot at the driver's seat. He threw himself at Anthony, knocking him aside and standing with one foot on the seat and one in the median. Before Anthony could rise, Alex grabbed the wheel. Jake shouted, Sarah screamed, and the Provincial Police decided to blow their cover. The sirens blared suddenly, shattering all that was left of the night's calm, and the lights whirled. The two cars drove at them, attempting to stop them from moving, possibly trying to intimidate them.

The stretch of the Quebec Transit that they had been traveling ran alongside a thin pine forest. Alex, with dominion over the wheel, swung the car to the right, sending them into the trees. There was a lot of space between the pines, more than enough for a path to be maneuverable, and Alex wanted to take no chances with the police. He drove the car further from the road, the wheels spitting snow and grinding as if in pain—conditions were not ideal.

Anthony rose then, and to their surprise, opened the door.

"Don't jump, Anthony!" Alex called, laughing wildly. "It's almost to the good part!"

As they watched, one of the police cars tried to follow them. It entered the trees to the right of where they had, and began moving onto their path. The second followed not long after the first, trailing them.

"As much as I like the idea of you learning to drive, I'm afraid the lesson is over!" Anthony shouted. Before anybody could act, he grabbed Alex and threw him out the door into the snow.

"Anthony!" Sarah yelled. "What the hell!?"

Anthony took the wheel again, seeing the first police cruiser bearing down on them, less than ten yards away. The driver faked left, right, trying to trick them, yelling something on a bullhorn.

Jake had obviously seen something that Sarah and Anthony hadn't, because he suddenly seemed more alert, as if working on something in his mind. "Anthony," he said, "be ready to act on my word. That car gave me an idea."

"I'll try anything," Anthony said, through gritted teeth. "God, that idiot Alex!" They were so far away from the road now that they could not even see it. This was bad—it was a shared feeling among all of them that if they could see the Transit, they would stay alive. Now they were disconnected. This was bad.

Jake watched through the back window. "Slow down," he called to Anthony.

"Sure," Anthony replied. "And while we're trying to get killed, let's also jump off a cliff."

"Just shut up and do it, god damn it!" Jake said, revealing his tempermental streak. "We want that car to get closer to us."

It was working. The distance was closing—seven yards, six yards, five…

Alex heaved himself up, spitting snow, and saw the second police cruiser in the distance, its headlights shining beacons in the darkness of the night. The cruiser turned suddenly, and he was caught in those very lights. Quickly, he dodged behind a tree and attempted to blend in with the shadows.

"We don't want to have to use force," a grainy voice from a megaphone informed him. "You are hereby under arrest, charged with the murders of Marcia Philbrook, Harold Quinn and Louis Mauter. Co-operate and nobody will be harmed."

Alex took this news hard. Murder?
It does explain why they've been following us in so much force,
he thought.
Those names, though.
He racked his brains, but couldn't come up with any reference to any of the three victims.

Suddenly, something caught the corner of his eye. The first car was right in front of him. The second, he could hear in the forest to his right. But…there was another light, to his left. It seemed to small to be a headlight beam; in fact, it looked rather more like a flashlight. The beam roved back and forth, and Alex pushed himself further into the shadows.

"Three yards between him and us!" Sarah called.

"Now, Anthony," Jake commanded. "Let go of the wheel!"

Without giving Anthony time to consider the option, Jake forced himself on Anthony much as Alex had done. He threw the wheel right, sending the car through a tight gap between two trees. As they watched, the police car ground against one tree, swerved, and crashed into another. An airbag exploded in the front, and the driver leapt from the car, shouting. Anthony was visibly impressed.

"Nice work, Jake," he said. "What did I have to slow down for, though? We could have pulled that off at a bigger distance."

"Yeah, I know," Jake said. "But I didn't want to kill him. That would just make things worse."

The car hit a snowbank and skidded to a halt soon after, as they were looking for the highway again. The three of them had to get out and push, and the work was difficult, not to mention cold. They would have to push the whole way, too—the car had been on a downward incline going out, and would not go uphill so easily.

"This would be a lot easier if you hadn't dumped Alex," Sarah muttered.

"What was I supposed to do?" Anthony said defensively. "He looked like he was going crazy!"

"Actually, I think he just had the same idea as me," Jake put in. "He just had a bad way of getting it across."

"Geez." Anthony wiped his brow. "This is going nowhere. Someone should go out and look for the highway.

"And Alex," he added as an afterthought.

They elected Jake, and he trudged off in search of the sound of engines. He heard one soon, but it was too close to be on the highway. Jake quickly looked around.

"Is anybody there!?" a crackling voice called.

Jake froze. There
had
been two police cruisers! The wrecked one, after giving up on finding them, had radioed his partner, who was now hunting with extra zeal. That was when he saw the same thing Alex had; a solitary light. Its owner, whoever it was, apparently had all the time in the world. He walked slowly, searching every shadow.

Alex, from his hiding place, breathed a sigh of relief. However, there was still the flashlight to worry about. It could be a foot searcher. Confident that he couldn't be heard, Alex dodged from the shadows and began running. He heard other footsteps soon after—the flashlight's owner?

To his great relief, it was only Jake, also fleeing the man.

"Jake, is everyone alright? Where are the cops?"

"Shut up," he whispered. "That guy will hear us."

He already had.

The flashlight's pace began to quicken, the man's footfalls echoing through the woods. Alex and Jake, sensing the danger, broke into a run. Alex checked to see if his friend was still beside him…and he wasn't.

Jake had fallen in a thicket several yards back. The flashlight clicked off and its owner approached. Jake looked up, frozen in fear. The man pulled him up by his arm and hit him across the head with a gun barrel, a blow just hard enough to knock him unconscious. Alex ran forward. His friend was out cold, and he was genuinely angry—he meant to kill this man.

Agape, he stopped short.

He saw the smiling face of Juan Gutierrez.

"I'm afraid I lied to you, Mr. Orson," he said coldly. "My name is Ordoñez." He clicked the hammer of his gun, just to frighten Alex. Knowing he couldn't do anything, Alex could only watch as his unconscious friend was dragged away.

When Alex, after running blindly through the woods, found the place where Sarah and Anthony were pushing the car, he was not enraged, as they had both expected, but white-faced and apparently terrified. Indeed, he was—the combined mysterious loss of Jake and accusations of murder had done that.

"Jake's gone!" he shouted when they came within earshot.

"What?" Sarah called back.

"This guy just knocked him out and dragged him off!"

"Was it one of the police?"

"No! It—it was the guy who bought me that can of gas."

"I told you to be careful of him!"

"What does he want with Jake?" Anthony asked. "Maybe it's some kind of civilian arrest thing. This guy could be out for cash."

"Like you?" Sarah retorted.

"Shut up!" Alex said. "This is not the time! We have to get back on the highway."

With Alex's added force, and the fact that they were already closer than they thought, it didn't take them long before they could see the Transit again. The news had frightened everybody. Every noise they heard was a police siren, every twig snapping, a gunshot. Once the car was close enough to the highway to drive back on, they did see the police siren again, flashing red and blue through the black forest. However, it was not going anywhere, although they could hear wheels turning. The car was stuck fast.

In a normal situation, the three of them would have laughed hysterically, but this was no normal situation, and they took the opportunity to run. They would have to travel several miles; the police, having given up for the night, probably would start again in the morning. During the drive, Alex filled them in on all that had happened, from when he was thrown off (Anthony didn't apologize) to his sighting of Ordoñez.

An hour later, they parked by the side of the road. Anthony, exhausted from all that had happened, fell asleep instantly. Alex and Sarah, however, remained awake—possibly out of anxiety, but more likely to do an unconscious service to each other. All of them knew that they didn't want to be the last awake. Sarah was toying with the idea of telling Alex about the documents in Edbrough's shredder. It was obvious that it had been something a lot bigger than apathy that had led him to attempt to dispose of the papers. Charles Johnson and William were fresh in her mind. Thinking about this, about Edbrough, about the orphanage, brought her back to thoughts of her parents. After almost ten years as an orphan she had lost all memories. They were vague, hovering figures to her now. Only the orphanage's vague story about their deaths was enough to keep them in her memory.
Why would they lie?