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

from the last article. "Good morning, Mr. Machry! This man needs to speak to you."
     
    Machry froze in his tracks. "Who are you?"
     
    "That's not important." Ordoñez had rehearsed this. "I must speak with you outside."
     
    "Outside? Why not in my office?"
     
    "It's a matter of life and death, Machry. It must be outside."
     
    Without explaining any more, Ordoñez forced Machry out through the automatic door, and when they were out of sight from the waiting room, grabbed him by his collar. "Where is Roland Orson?"
     
    "I can't…tell you."
     
    Ordoñez slammed him against the wall. "Why not?"
     
    "You…don't work here. You aren't authorized…to work on the Orson case…and you are not trustworthy."
     
    Ordoñez threw Machry across the parking lot so that he skidded on the icy concrete. "Where is Roland Orson!?"
     
    "I…can't…"
     
    Ordoñez kicked him. " Where is Roland Orson!? "
     
    "Alright…22596…Quentin Cove…north town."
     
    Ordoñez smiled. He loved it when they cracked. "Thank you. You've been a big help, Mr. Machry." He turned to walk away. "Oh, and if you call the police, you'll find I'm capable of much more than what you have just seen."
     
     
     
    Ordoñez hummed to himself as he drove his convertible along the main road, his roof down even though it was 31 degrees outside. He loved his job.
     
    Woodsbrook Instruments supplied a technological company in New York City, bearing the name Xenontech, Inc. When rumor got out at Xenontech that their supplier's vice president of research and development was involved in a child abuse scandal, and later that the child had run away from home, Ordoñez just had to do some strategic interrogation and he had his new case. Orson would be happy, and since this would be such a fun job, he would offer a discount.
     
    "Madam!" He stopped a woman by the sidewalk. "Am I near Quentin Circle?"
     
    "Three streets over that way," she told him, pointing in the direction the car was already facing and wondering why this guy had his convertible roof down.
     
    Jasmine View Way…Pine Circle…Quentin Cove. This was his street, a short, treeless road ending in a cul-de-sac. At the end of the circle was 22596. Ordoñez parked by the sidewalk and left his car, walking up the icy path, careful to keep his footing. It would not look professional if he broke his leg on a potential client's front walk.
     
    He knocked on the door and waited, listening to the muffled sounds coming from inside.
     
    "Catherine, get the door!"
     
    "I'm busy, Roland! Get it yourself for once!"
     
    "Damn it!"
     
    Soon, Roland opened the door, cursing. "You know, we do have a doorbell—who are you?" he asked, his expression quickly changing from irritation to mild curiosity.
     
    "Good morning, Mr. Orson. I've come to—"
     
    "We already have insurance."
     
    "I'm not selling anything. I've come to offer my services."
     
    "We don't need a stockbroker."
     
    "I'll put this bluntly, Mr. Orson. My name is Ordoñez. I'm here about your son."
     
    "You can't claim we're abusing him. He's already gone, the little wretch. You don't work with that Machry guy, do you?"
     
    "Machry was…quite helpful. He helped me find you."
     
    "How did he help you?"
     
    "I…questioned him."
     
    "Did you hurt him?"
     
    "One would imagine."
     
    "I like you already," Roland said, opening the door. "Come in, Ordoñez. Want some coffee?"
     
    "Please."
     
     
     
    Warming his hands around the coffee mug, Ordoñez prepared to explain his job to Roland. "I understand," he began, "that your son Alexander recently ran away from home."
     
    "How could anybody not understand? The entire Woodsbrook ASPCA branch is scrounging the Interstate for him!"
     
    "I noticed on my way in. I came from New York City."
     
    "New York City. The only reason this worthless state exists at all. Without it, Massachusetts and Pennsylvania could divide up the land…but then we'd probably have to bring in Puerto Rico or something so there