Cold Snow: A Legal Thriller by John Nicholas Read Free Book Online

stockpiled food. You stole money. You took a gun , all right from under your parents' noses. And now you're just trying to walk out on us. Both of us."
     
    Jake glanced at her, a little surprised.
     
    "You," she said, raising her voice, "are my only hope of getting out of here. And what about Jake? Your best friend made a huge sacrifice for you. Because he believed in you."
     
    Alex sat down on the floor and caught his breath. "You're right."
     
    Alex didn't know what had gotten into him. At first glance, the plan seemed preposterous; three eleven-year-old children walking hundreds of miles on meager food supplies. But with a closer look at the details, it seemed just crazy enough to work. He'd just forgotten to look at the details.
     
    His resolve hardened, Alex Orson rose to his feet. "We're ready. It's time to leave."
     
    At the interstate, all three paused to look back at the tiny upstate New York hamlet that had given them asylum in an insane world for more than ten years. When you really look at it, Alex thought, Woodsbrook is a great town, despite its flaws. A great town, tarnished and ruined by a load of cruddy people, and threatened by a money-hungry corporation.
     
    "Alex!" Jake called. "You ready to go? We're on a tight schedule here!"
     
    See you later, Woodsbrook, he thought turning away for the last time.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER 4
    Roland's Visitor
     
    Ordoñez waited.
     
    His convertible idling in the parking lot of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, Ordoñez ran his hand over his map again. This was the place—but there didn't seem to be anyone here. Perhaps he was early?
     
    It didn't matter. As long as the man he was looking for was the owner of one out of this meager selection of cars, he had not come in vain.
     
    He exited, slamming his door, the sound echoing off the newly fallen snow. As he crossed the concrete, he heard the sound of another car pulling into the lot. It still didn't matter—he'd dealt with people like this before; he could do it again.
     
     
     
    Henry Machry was worried.
     
    Turning his white sedan into the familiar parking area, he noticed a man in the parking lot that he had never seen before, and that usually meant trouble.
     
    The man was Hispanic and very tall. Machry was sure they had nobody fitting that description working at the Woodsbrook branch. It was very rare that you saw anybody Hispanic in this town at all. Maybe he was a visitor from another branch; possibly New York City.
     
    Even so, Machry was vaguely apprehensive. It's nothing, he thought. Working in this job with sickos and child abusers for so long has probably made me jumpy.
     
    Still, though, he couldn't shake off the feeling that this man was bad news. Time would tell, he thought, turning into his reserved space. Time would tell.
     
     
     
    "Excuse me."
     
    The secretary looked up. "Name?"
     
    "Ordoñez, from the New York branch. I need to speak to Mr. Machry. It's an urgent matter."
     
    "I can't help you there, Mr. Ordoñez," the receptionist said. Checking her computer, she added, "You can go to his office and wait for him if you want. He usually gets here about a half-hour from now, but he might be out with everybody else."
     
    "Doing what?"
     
    "Looking for the missing kids."
     
    "What missing kids?"
     
    The receptionist produced three photographs paper-clipped to newspaper cutouts. The first photograph was a yearbook photo of a smiling young boy, accompanied by the headline Woodsbrook Child, 11, Mysteriously Leaves Home.
     
    The second showed a girl about the same age as the first boy. The headline read Girl, 11, Flees From Orphanage .
     
    The final clipping was the most interesting, as this was why he had come. It had been taken from the local paper for the blind, with raised letters. Son of Woodsbrook Instruments VP Runs Away From Home.
     
    The receptionist, cheerfully reciting a greeting, interrupted Ordoñez