Cold Snow: A Legal Thriller (16 page)

Alex was just about two yards from the backpack when Anthony, who could apparently not stand being called a traveling Quebec murder, sprang off the bed and hurled himself at Jeffries. The two crashed into the desk behind with a violent noise, and landed on the floor. Anthony was wildly throwing punches at Jeffries's face, and a good number of them were making contact. Blood flowed out of the cop's nose, and Anthony thought he was winning before Jeffries kicked him in the stomach. Anthony rolled over once, clutching his solar plexus and groaning.

Jeffries stood up and took a clump of tissues from the box on the desk, holding it to his bleeding nose. "No more interruptions," he said, and there was a tinge of almost homicidal anger to his voice. "Remember, Alex, it was me who met you in the alleyway and presented you with that little dilemma. I can win fights with any of you."

"You…cheated!" Anthony moaned. Jeffries kicked him.

Sarah looked even more horrified at the officer's treatment of Anthony than she had initially, when the supply program had revealed themselves. Alex silently thanked Anthony—the tussle had given him the diversion he needed to reach the backpack.

"Sarah," he mouthed. "Distract them."

Sarah nodded to show that she had heard, and turned to Ordoñez. "I think you need to think about this, Mr. Ordoñez."

"What do you mean?"

"You know you're the murderer. And these cops would know it too, if they looked hard enough."

"Shut up!"

"Think about it. Why would you have to fake your own death? To travel in hiding. If you were on the law's side, why would you need to do that?"

The policemen were looking at Ordoñez, surprised.

"We have no motive for three murders. You're a hired assassin. What does that tell you?"

"
Shut up!
" Ordoñez roared. "Not another word!"

Sarah smiled. "What would you do if I decided to keep talking? Would you shoot me?"

"Exactly. In a heartbeat, I'd kill all of you. I've done it so many times before!" Ordoñez shouted.

Alex spoke from across the room. "Go ahead, Ordoñez. Shoot us. Just three more heads in your trophy room. So kill us. Finish the job."

"Damn you, you know I can't! Your father told me to bring you back alive!"

"I know. You were going to steal us out of the jail cell, weren't you? But you'd have to get us in there first, and…"

"And what?" Ordoñez said.

Alex grinned as he only did when he'd won an argument. "We fight back."

With a quick motion he thrust his hand into the backpack, brought out the gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet broke through the window, and the entire room was startled by the report. In that moment of weakness, Anthony got up, Sarah ran, and both of them bolted for the door.

Alex fired again, this time hitting Jeffries in the leg. The policeman howled in pain and hopped up and down, clutching it. It didn't appear to have broken anything, just grazed flesh, but Alex didn't stick around to find out. He fled after his allies.

Out in the hallway, several of the other rooms had opened their doors now, and guests were peering out, scared by hearing what they swore were two gunshots. Alex and Anthony ran left when they escaped, Sarah ran right. It was an unspoken rule that they should split up—it would mean less of them would be captured. Alex looked around, and saw an elevator ahead.

He looked at Anthony. "Not safe," Anthony said. "We should take the stairs. More freedom to move, in case they see us."

The cops had wasted no time in taking flight, and Jeffries was even now limping as fast as he could down the hall after them. Alex forced himself to move faster—the stairs were steps away. As he looked around again, he realized Ordoñez wasn't in sight. He didn't waste any time thinking about this.

As they reached the door, Anthony stopped Alex. After looking around to see that Jeffries was a safe distance away, he spoke. "What about Sarah?"

"She'll be fine. We have to go!"

"No! She went right—it's a dead end!"

"We can't worry about her. If that other cop got her, she's probably been arrested already."

"Don't you get it, you asshole!?" Anthony shouted. "Sarah isn't just a piece in your stupid game anymore!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your plan's ruined!" Anthony gestured toward Jeffries, still limping at a laughable pace. "This is your plan in its glory! Everything you've worked for to get us here is screwed. It's touch and go from now on, and that means Sarah is now a human being!"

"You two are going to kill me someday," Alex said. With that, he raced down the hall and barreled into Jeffries's wounded leg. Jeffries cried out in pain and fell to the floor. Alex stomped on his face, causing an even louder cry. Then, he ran.

"Do you still have the gun?" Anthony panted, running alongside him.

"Why would I not?" Alex replied, as they turned a corner. The unnamed cop was talking to Sarah, presumably reading her rights. Alex rolled his eyes, sick of hearing these. Other guests were out of their rooms now, and running toward the elevator. Alex and Anthony pushed them out of the way.

The cop turned. "Dammit," he said. "I hate this job." He leveled his gun. "Not another step."

Alex, at this point, raised his own weapon. "Sucks to be you right now. I know something you don't."

The cop looked confused, so Alex continued. "You haven't fired your weapon yet today. I have twice."

"So?" The cop looked almost afraid. Sarah attempted to inch out from behind him, but he forced her back with his arm.

"So your safety's on."

As his adversary looked at his gun, Alex shot into the floor. The policeman was so shocked he let his fingers slip and dropped the weapon, at which point Alex struck him in the head with his own. The cop dropped to the floor. Anthony picked up the gun and pocketed it.

"Was it on?" Sarah asked.

"Maybe, maybe not," Alex said. "Let's go."

They tore down the hall as fast they could, stepping over Jeffries on the floor, who feebly tried to crawl after them. As they stepped into the stairwell, Alex locked the door.

Even with the advantage of having knocked out both the cops, they still didn't have much time to move. Sarah did talk, though. "You actually came back to save me?"

"It was Anthony's idea."

"Well…" Sarah started, but seemed to be thinking over what she was going to say. "Jesus, I never though I'd be saying this to you…but…thanks."

"We're not out yet," Alex said. "Watch for danger when we get out of the stairwell."

The lobby was clear when they walked across it, but danger lurked outside. Ordoñez held his gun toward them the moment they stepped out through the doors.

"I don't think any speeches are necessary," he said, and struck each of them in turn with the butt of his firearm. Alex strained towards him before he fell into darkness.

When Alex awoke with a splitting headache, he wasn't sure where he was. He knew he was outside, because the air was cold, and it seemed to be night. He was wearing his jacket—Ordoñez must have put it on.
It's ironic that a hired gun is trying so hard to keep me alive.

He looked around, and saw that Anthony was lying several yards away. Sarah didn't seem to be anywhere—Ordoñez had taken her. They were atop a large hill, on a path of rock. On the other side of this path was a face of stone that looked like the side of a mountain. Alex walked to the end of the path and looked over a short cliff to see the lights of the town below, a fair distance down the hill in front of them. It came together; they were just outside Ridge City, on the long hill that led up to the mountains.

Anthony awoke, rubbing his head. "Are we—"

Alex turned to face him. "Yeah. In the mountains."

"So what do we do now?"

"We're going to wait for the trial."

"What? That's, like, the worst possible time to do what we have to do."

"What do we have to do?"

"Find Jake and Sarah, get the food, and get the hell out."

Alex turned around again, looking across the town. "Remember, Machry gave us some firepower. And the cops are suspicious. We run into the trial, give our evidence, get Jake and Sarah off, throw the suspicion on Ordoñez and run."

"Weren't you the one who told me this isn't a courtroom movie?" Anthony asked.

Alex took a deep breath of the cold air. "Yeah. I changed my mind. This is really important."

"Exactly." Anthony said. "Are we staying here?"

"Yep."

"Christ, it's cold as hell!"

"Deal with it," Alex said harshly. "We need to stay somewhere secret. Nobody'll find us here."

"Damn," Anthony shook his head. "I used to think being a criminal was fun."

"Funny how minds change," Alex said.

The town square of Ridge City was small, just about large enough to hold a mob of a thousand people. Ordoñez and the chief of police stood at one end on a temporary platform.

The chief spoke first. "Citizens of Ridge City, I'd like to introduce you to Alberto Ordoñez. He's got something important to say to you. Alberto?"

"Thank you, chief. Ridge City, I'm sorry to inform you that four murderers are in our midst as we speak."

There was a rush of conversation, and hands shot up all over the crowd. Ordoñez called for calm.

"Please save your questions. Everything will be explained in due time. Thank you. Now, I believe many of you are aware of the three murders that recently took place in Quebec."

The crowd murmured in the affirmative, and Ordoñez went on. "They were blamed, surprisingly enough, on four children: Alexander Orson, Jacob Harwell, Sarah Jones, and Anthony Anderson. The good news: two of them, Harwell and Jones, have been apprehended."

The crowd cheered and applauded.

"The others, Orson and Anderson, are still at large somewhere in this town. The captivity of their comrades will make sure that they'll stick around to try and spring them."

The chief stepped forward. "We need each of you to be completely vigilant, and—"

"Please, chief, I can handle this," Ordoñez interrupted. "Ridge City! Are we going to stand for this?"

"NO!" The crowd roared as one.

"Are we going to let murderers run amok in our fair town?"

"NO!"

"Are we going to watch day and night, and make sure to halt them, arrest them, and alert police if they are seen at all?"

"YES!"

Ordoñez liked how this was turning out.
There's something to this oratory work,
he thought.

"One more thing…" he said. "If they become violent, even slightly, when you see them…"

He paused for dramatic effect.

"Kill them."

CHAPTER 12

Standing Trial

The day before Sarah and Jake were to be tried, they had been sitting in jail for six days. Not much had happened then: police would occasionally come and go (Ordoñez and Jeffries were absent), and sometimes a clerk would sit at his desk and grumble about his paperwork. Sarah and Jake were in separate cells and not permitted to talk to each other, so the most they could do was try to mentally reassure the other. It was worst for Sarah, though, as the four backpacks that they had fought so hard for were sitting on a desk at the opposite end of the station. It was maddening.

They had only two comforting thoughts: that the other was alive and well, for the moment; and that Alex and Anthony were still at large, with their secret weapon for court still on hand. Sarah, though, was losing confidence in this secret weapon. Ordoñez was a slippery opponent; perhaps he had anticipated it.

During the days in captivity, with nothing much else to do, Sarah found herself mulling over the mysterious papers again. She fought to link the two names together, but didn't know enough. She then decided to switch gears and focus on the Moose Killers. Besides being mysterious and somewhat comical, the term seemed very, very familiar.

She went over what she knew.
Moose are stereotypical Canadian wildlife, so it's likely that these people are from Canada. If they're people at all…or just monsters…

Sarah sat bolt upright, suddenly realizing the connection. That same thought! She'd had the same thought before!

Sarah fought hard to remember a different thing now: a little girl, standing in an apartment in New York City, with a social worker in the doorway, telling her that her parents had died. "They were traveling abroad," the man had explained. "They caught a rare disease, and it killed them quickly, in hours. There wasn't any pain. I'm sorry to have to tell you."

Yeah, you're sorry,
she thought.
What the hell do you think I am? If that was a tropical disease, I'm Ordoñez.

She had been nine years old then, on that day three years ago. At that moment she almost envied her younger self, not sitting in a jail cell, not about to be judged by a courtroom full of misled sheep. She had lived in the home of the social worker for two days, after which it had been announced that an orphanage in Woodsbrook would take her. A newspaper that day had run an article on the deaths of "a prominent New York financial lawyer and his wife". It had described them as being in contact with Roland Orson, head of a technical company in Woodsbrook, and that a week previously they had received warnings from a group of people called the Moose Killers.