Cold Snow: A Legal Thriller

by John Nicholas

  "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.

  That was when she'd thought it for the first time. Are they people, or just monsters…?

  Suddenly, her caretaker had snatched the newspaper from her hands. At that moment she was certain: Moose Killers killed her parents. The obvious question remained though. She had been too young then to muse on the philosophy of the word "why", but knew she had to answer it.

  Sarah had fled her New York suburb and gone north to Woodsbrook on a bicycle. When she arrived, she intended to hide and look for Roland Orson, but the orphanage found her first, and there she spent the next two years. During that time, she had come to believe that a tropical disease killed her parents, and the Moose Killers, along with Roland Orson, had slipped from her mind. Even when she saw him in a newspaper, she didn't think much of it. She'd all but forgotten the determination that led her to flee New York, until she met Alex.

  An asshole, she thought, but I'm glad I found him. He made me remember my past. And he'd better be trying to get us out of here.

  Alex and Anth
ony found a stash of one week's provisions in a nearby hollow the first night they were there, along with a piece of paper bearing a mysterious message

  12:30 SIX DAYS

  which Alex recognized as the scheduled time for the trial. It dawned quickly on Alex that Ordoñez was toying with them, but Anthony couldn't find anything wrong with them, and quickly dug into the first meal he'd had all that day. Neither of them slept a wink that night, aware of their predicament. They had agreed that one of them would take watch while the other slept, then they would switch placed, but quickly abandoned that plan, as both of them tried desperately to shut their eyes. They couldn't.

  When you're scared as hell, Alex thought, sleep's the first thing that goes.

  They waited there for six days, keeping themselves entertained by planning their assault on paper Alex had kept in his backpack. Alex had a risky proposition worked out, which Anthony agreed to immediately: he loved risks, and saw their conflict with Ordoñez as a game for his life.

  Rain found Ridge City on the second night, and continued until the middle of the fourth day. Alex loved rain; once he had stashed the paper in a hollow, he went exploring the trails that led back into the mountains and forest. Anthony thought his companion had lost his mind; he stayed in the cave for two days.

  The morning before the trial was to occur and their plan was to be carried out, Alex and Anthony were feeling the effects of staying awake. Neither of them had slept more than 5 hours a night; however, they were still pumped, if fatigued.

  The two of them began to walk down the hill, not slowly enough to be spotted easily but not quickly enough to draw attention to themselves. Alex had based his plan of attack on the fact that the trial, in this small town, would be somewhat of a spectator event. They crept into the town at around noon, half an hour before the beginning of the trial. The streets were mostly empty, but they kept their heads down and their hands on the weapons in their pockets.

  Nobody was standing on the first street they went along, but they were given somewhat of a scare when Alex saw a woman looking out of her window. They ducked behind a fence, and she turned around quickly enough.

  They continued down the side street, and turned onto another. Alex realized with a jolt that this was the same street on which he had first met Jeffries. Anthony was more afraid of something else: a man in jeans and a winter coat, walking toward them.

  Quickly, Anthony grabbed Alex's shoulder and pulled him behind a wall. They both held their breath: in this quiet street, a single sound would likely get them noticed. The man's path was by now almost parallel to the alley, and they decided to compound their hiding place by covering behind a pair of trash cans. The cans clattered slightly as Alex and Anthony crouched, making a noise that sounded to them like an elephant's trumpet but that the man barely heard. He turned his head, and Alex's stomach flipped over. He turned away soon after, though, and they waited several minutes before continuing on.

  They reached main street five minutes before twelve-thirty, and broke the silence some so they could run. It was important that they saw the entire trial so they knew when to make an entrance.

  They came up to the courthouse's large windows just at the right time, and found a spot masked from the road by bushes. The skies were bleak and gray, and rain was on the way: not the kind that makes you want to run out in it and dance, but the dark kind that makes you hate to be alive.

  Alex and Anthony crouched low as two police cars drove up to the doors of the court, and Sarah and Jake were led out in handcuffs. They entered the door moments later, and Alex watched them sit down, his hand tightly gripped around the pistol in his pocket. Their cuffs were undone, and they sat down in the defendant's chairs. The court-appointed lawyer was there already, and Jake consulted with him for a moment. Sarah was icily silent, and Alex couldn't help but feel that her quiet anger was directed at him. The window was cracked open slightly for ventilation, so they could hear everything that was going on.

  "Court attention!" the bailiff called, and everybody turned their eyes to the front. "Court is in session, the honorable Judge Maurice Grover presiding!"

  Maurice Grover rapped his gavel lightly. "The multiple homicide trial of Mr. Jacob Harwell and Ms. Sarah Jones will now begin. Mister prosecutor…"

  Alex looked down for a moment to clear his head. The opening statements were made, the court-appointed lawyer sounding decidedly incompetent. When Alex looked up again, it was time for the prosecutor to call his witness.

  The prosecutor cleared his throat; he was obviously a man who liked to make an effect. "The prosecution," he said, "would like to call Alberto Ordoñez to the stand."

  Ordoñez rose from the crowd and walked gracefully to the stand, taking his time. He arrived at the stand a sat down; as he did this, Alex could have sworn he threw a glance toward the window they were sitting under. He shook his head to purge the thought and continued watching.

  The clerk had produced a bible and Ordoñez placed his right hand on it, raising his left. "His hand should burn when it touches the bible," Anthony whispered before Alex shushed him.

  "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

  "I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God," Ordoñez swore a meaningless vow.

  "State your name and occupation," said the clerk.

  "Alberto Ordoñez, I'm a car dealer."

  "Mr. Ordoñez, do you claim to have witnessed all three of these murders at the scene?"

  "That I do," said Ordoñez.

  "Did you notice anybody but Alex Orson and his accomplices at any of the crimes?"

  "No."

  "Tell me," began the prosecutor, "which murder will you testify about first?"

  "That would be the horrible death of Harold Quinn."

  "How did you come by the scene of the murder?"

  "The death of Quinn was the final in the series of three murders. I had been following Alex Orson and his accomplices since I happened to witness the death of Marcia Philbrook."

  "Please tell the court what you saw that day."

  "Alex Orson, Jacob Harwell, Sarah Jones, and Anthony Anderson entered Quinn's building a little after 1:00 PM. They crossed the lobby, and I tailed them the whole time. They went up the elevator, and Alex went into Quinn's office. Ten minutes later, I heard three gunshots, and that was the end of it."

  The prosecutor paused in the middle of a confident stride. "Mr. Ordoñez, you are aware that the body of Quinn was found in a stairwell?"

  "That," smirked Ordoñez, "was the role played by the defendants. After the murder, they carried the body and deposited it up two flights of stairs, on the level platform in front of a door. Then they fled the scene."

  "No further questions, your honor."

  Judge Grover hit his gavel once. "You may stand down. Does the defense have a witness to call?"

  "I…um…" The court-appointed lawyer had lost his nerve, but it wasn't as if he'd lost—it was as if he was about to do something desperate.

  Finally he spoke again. "There is a warrant for Alex Orson's arrest. Is he in custody?"

  "Go," Anthony whispered. "This is the perfect time for a grand entrance. Just like the movies."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Go! I'll follow in a second."

  "He is not in custody," Grover said, "and has not even been sighted for six days."

  The defense attorney looked flustered. "I was planning to call him as a witness…"

  There was a murmur throughout the court at this sentence, and Grover banged the gavel for order. "Then you have nobody?"

  Anthony, watching from the window, was the first to see Alex burst through the door. "I'm here, your honor."

  Everybody was surprised. Several people gasped, someone fainted, and someone shouted. It was Sarah and Jake who were the most shocked, though: Jake was looking at his friend wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and Sarah looked the happiest Alex had ever seen her. Grov
er called for order and spoke.

  "Since Mr. Orson has decided to show up, and since he is not currently on trial, the defense may call his as a witness."

  Alex walked calmly to the stand and sat down, placing his hand on the bible.

  "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

  "I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God, although I'm an atheist."