Sleeping Beauty

Chapter Seventeen

Ashley chose San Giorgio for her meeting with Jerry Philips because tourists rarely visited the little Tuscan hill town. The narrow, dusty streets were anything but picturesque, and none of the local shops sold goods that would be of interest to vacationers from Wisconsin or Osaka. Its only possible tourist attraction, a thirteenth-century castle, was in disrepair because there wasn’t money to maintain it. Weeds had conquered battlements that had kept out human invaders for hundreds of years.

Chestnut trees shaded the piazza. There was a stone church with no famous frescos or relics at one end, and a restaurant at the other. In the center of the piazza stood an uninteresting fountain that was bone-dry at the moment. Ashley arrived an hour early and watched the square from the upper story of the church to make sure that her attorney had not been followed.

Jerry Philips had sent an email requesting an emergency meeting several weeks ago, but Ashley had not checked her messages until two days before, when she’d dropped into a cybercafé in Siena. Lawyer and client had exchanged several frantic messages. Ashley asked why Jerry needed to see her in person. Jerry swore that he should be with her when he explained a matter of the utmost importance. Time was of the essence, he had insisted, and he’d proved it by flying out of Portland the day Ashley agreed to the meeting.

Shortly after the churchbells rang in six o’clock, Philips appeared at the end of one of the cobblestone streets that emptied into the town square. He paused in the shade of a chestnut tree to catch his breath. The sun was still blazing in a clear blue Italian sky and the temperature was in the nineties. Jerry was sweating heavily. He’d had to park in a lot at the base of the hill, because the twisting streets were too narrow for ordinary traffic. The only vehicles he’d seen were small trucks delivering to the shops of the town. When one passed him on the way out of San Giorgio he’d been forced to press himself against a wall to avoid being hit.

Ashley watched Jerry drag himself across the piazza to the restaurant. She’d always liked her lawyer. She remembered how young she thought he was when they first met. Maybe that was it. He’d never seemed that much older than she was, even though he was an adult. She studied him as he scanned the piazza. He was dressing better than he had when they’d first met; he’d switched to contacts, and his hair was shorter. He looked handsome. Ashley smiled. Despite her reservations about meeting anyone who could lead Joshua Maxfield to her, it felt good to see a familiar face.

At the restaurant, two old men dressed in worn brown suits and open-necked white shirts were sipping espresso at a table on the piazza and debating the fortunes of a local football team. Another man, covered in dust-a laborer, a mason perhaps-was eating a sandwich and reading a newspaper. Jerry sat apart from them at a small table that was shaded by an umbrella. He angled his chair so he was completely in its shadow. Ashley saw him check his watch. After a minute he took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. Ashley left the church.

The trek from the lot had made Jerry thirsty but there was no waiter in sight. He craned his neck toward the door of the restaurant. When he turned back, a woman with short, jet-black hair was sitting down at his table. She was dressed in a powder-blue shirt and tan slacks. Sunglasses hid her eyes. Jerry’s face split into a grin.

“I didn’t recognize you for a moment,” he said. “You look great. The dark hair suits you.”

Ashley touched her hair self-consciously. “Blond stands out like neon here.”

As she spoke, Ashley checked for signs of danger.

“I’m pretty sure I wasn’t followed,” Jerry said to allay her fears. “When we hung up I phoned for tickets and I left for the airport two hours later. No one would even know that I was meeting you. I drove straight here as soon as I landed in Florence.”

A waiter appeared in the doorway of the café.

“How well do you know this place?” Jerry asked.

“Why?” Ashley asked, quickly looking over her shoulder.

Jerry laughed. “Will you relax? I asked because I’m famished. I’ve been traveling for twenty hours and all I’ve eaten is the crap food on the plane. What’s good here? This is Italy. They must serve pasta.”

The tension drained out of Ashley’s shoulders and she laughed, too.

“Sorry. It’s just…”

“You don’t have to explain. You just have to get me something to eat and drink.”

Ashley smiled. “This place is decent if you’ll settle for something simple.”

“I’ll settle for anything that’s food.”

Ashley waved over the waiter and chatted with him in Italian.

“You sound like a native,” Jerry said as soon as the waiter left.

Ashley shrugged. “If you know Spanish, Italian isn’t that tough to pick up.”

Jerry sat back and studied her. He could not get over how much Ashley had changed. It wasn’t just the new hair color. It was the new maturity he saw in her body and face. It suddenly dawned on him that the last time he’d seen Ashley she was a teenage girl. The Ashley sitting opposite him was a woman.

“I’ve really worried about you,” Jerry said. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay. I love Italy. I love the quiet.” She shrugged again. “I feel safe.”

Jerry sighed. He sat back. “You have to come home.”

Ashley looked frightened. “I can’t.”

“You have to. Something’s happened. Something that changes everything.”

“What?”

“Henry Van Meter is dead. He passed away a week ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Ashley said. She looked sad. “I liked him. He was very kind. But what does his death have to do with me?”

“He’s the one who hired me to come here and explain everything.”

“Explain what?”

Jerry paused, trying to find the right words.

“Casey is still in a coma.”

Ashley nodded. She wished that Jerry would stop dancing around the reason for his visit.

“While Henry was alive, he and Miles argued about what to do with Casey. Henry wanted to keep her alive and hope for a miracle. Miles wants to take her off life support. Henry was afraid that Miles would be appointed Casey’s guardian when he died, and he’s trying to do just that. Miles has filed papers with the court asking to be appointed Casey’s guardian. The hearing is set for next week.”

Ashley looked confused. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Everything.” Jerry paused. He looked very uncomfortable. “When you hear what I have to say you’ll understand why I felt you needed to be with someone when you learned why I’m here.”

“Jerry, please. What is going on?”

Philips reached across the table and took Ashley’s hands in his. He looked her in the eye.

“You have to come back to Portland and ask the court to make you Casey’s guardian.”

“Why would I want to do that? Why would the court even consider me?”

He tightened his grip on her hands. “Casey is your mother.”

Ashley’s mouth gaped open but she couldn’t speak. She pulled her hands away and stared at Jerry as if he was insane.

“I know that this is hard for you to take…”

“My mother?” Ashley laughed harshly. “My mother is dead, Jerry. Joshua Maxfield killed her.”

“No, your mother is not dead. Casey Van Meter is your biological mother. I’ve seen the proof.”

Ashley shook her head stubbornly. “Terri Spencer is my mother. I hardly knew Casey Van Meter.”

Jerry let out a puff of air. “I knew this wouldn’t be easy. Let me explain everything, okay? Then you can make up your mind. Remember I told you that my father died shortly before your father was killed?”

Ashley nodded.

“What I didn’t tell you is that he was murdered.”

“Oh, Jerry.”

“A burglar broke into his house in Boulder Creek and… He beat him to death. Now do you understand why I’ve tried so hard to help you? Both our fathers died horrible deaths within weeks of each other. I knew exactly what you were going through.”

Ashley didn’t know what to say.

“The burglar set a fire to cover up his crime. The fire destroyed all of the files that my father took to Boulder Creek with him. I thought that your father’s files burned up. That’s why I didn’t know what was in them when I started representing you.

“A few weeks ago, Henry Van Meter asked me to come to his house. He showed me documents relating to your birth and adoption that he kept in his safe. They prove that Norman Spencer adopted you when you were born.”

“Are you saying that Norman wasn’t my real father?”

“No, he’s your biological father.” Jerry paused. “Look, it’s complicated. It took Henry a while to explain everything to me.”

“How do you know that he didn’t lie to you?”

“I know that he was telling the truth because I found your father’s files. Dad must have brought them back to Portland when he met with your mother. They were in a filing cabinet but they’d been misfiled.”

“I still don’t believe this. It can’t be true.”

She sounded lost. Jerry reached out and touched her hand again.

“It is true, Ashley. You’ll believe me when I explain everything I know. Let me tell you what happened from the beginning.”

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Your father agreed to Henry Van Meter’s terms,” Jerry Philips explained to Ashley. “His parents helped him raise you. Norman worked during the day and went to Portland State at night to get a degree. That’s where he met Terri. They fell in love and Norman told her about you. Getting a ready-made family wasn’t something Terri had bargained for, but she loved Norman and she fell in love with you.”

“How do you know all this stuff about my parents’ private life?” Ashley asked.

“My father had notes of interviews with your father in his files, and Henry told me a lot. My dad’s point about you being his grandchild hit home. Henry was a bastard, but he was a bastard who wanted his line to continue. He assumed that Miles or Casey would have other children somewhere down the line, but you were his first grandchild, and he had an investigator from Brucher’s law firm keep track of you and Norman.”

“He spied on us?”

Jerry shrugged. “I don’t know if he thought of it that way. At some point he realized that neither of his children was going to give him another grandchild anytime soon, maybe ever. Then he became ill. Once he decided that you were the last of his line, he watched you more closely.”

Ashley sat back. Her life had been an illusion orchestrated by her father, Henry Van Meter, and men she’d never met. How could her father and Terri have lied to her all these years?

“Does Miles know about this?”

“Only Henry, Anton Brucher, my father, Norman, his parents, and Terri knew until Henry told me.”

“So Dean Van Meter never knew I was her daughter?”

“As far as I know, Casey never learned who adopted her child.”

“Then how did I get the scholarship to the Academy? After what you’ve told me, I don’t believe it was chance.”

“Henry arranged for the scholarship after your father was murdered. He also talked to someone at Brucher, Platt about putting you in his will shortly before your father was murdered, but he had his stroke and Casey was hurt and he never got around to it. He asked me about drafting a new will for him when he hired me to find you. Then he died.”

“Why would he care about me all of a sudden? He’d never done anything for me before.”

“He changed after the stroke almost killed him. He became very religious and he developed a social conscience. When he was younger, Henry had no sympathy for or interest in the poor. He believed in a class system run by men like his father who had started with nothing and became rich. The Academy started as an elite boys’ school and he didn’t let in girls until Casey was old enough to attend. In recent years, he started giving scholarships to deserving minority students and children of the poor.”

“That was big of him,” Ashley said bitterly. “And now he’s trying to manipulate me from the grave to get me to rescue a selfish bitch who thought nothing of giving me away so I wouldn’t interfere with her fucking and partying.”

“Like it or not, Casey Van Meter is your mother. If she comes out of her coma who knows what might happen between you.”

“Why should I care if anything happens? She never gave a damn about me.”

“Ashley, I know this has hit you hard. It’s overwhelming. Don’t make any decisions now. Give yourself some time to think it through. The hearing is next week. We’ve got some time.”

“If I go back, Joshua Maxfield will know where I am. Why should I risk that? What’s the chance that she’ll come out of her coma, anyway?”

“Henry invested a lot in a biotech company that’s working on a drug that offers some hope. It’s being administered to Casey as part of a trial.”

Ashley’s face was tight with anger.

“She gave me away, Jerry. I was nothing to her. Did she ever even try to find out what happened to me? Has she ever shown any interest in me at all?”

“I don’t know,” Jerry answered softly. “Look, you’re right. Casey was selfish…”

“Is selfish. Being unconscious doesn’t change her. She’s a self-centered bitch. I’m not going to risk my life to save her. I don’t care if she dies.”

Jerry could think of no argument to persuade her, so he said nothing.

“And my father, Terri… They lied to me my whole life. How could they do that?”

“They did it because they loved you. Don’t let your anger poison you. Your father was courageous. Think about it. He could have forgotten about you. It would have been easy. I bet you ninety-nine out of a hundred guys in his situation would have breathed a big sigh of relief when they found out that Henry Van Meter was tidying up their mistake and it wasn’t going to cost them a penny.

“He was poor, Ashley. To finish school he had to work all day and go nights. He gave up his scholarship, his normal life. He did it all for you. And Terri came through for you, too. How many young women would have run as soon as Norman told them that he had a kid? But she didn’t. She took you in, she made you her daughter.”

As Jerry talked about her family, Ashley’s anger faded. When he finished, she looked exhausted.

“It’s been so hard, Jerry, hiding all the time, living from moment to moment. Now this.”

“I know. I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through.”

The waiter walked out with their dinner, and they stopped talking. As soon as the waiter left, Jerry dove into his food. He was famished and he wanted to give Ashley time to think. Ashley picked at her dinner, as she tried to grasp what Jerry had just told her.

“This was good,” Jerry said when he was finished.

Ashley snapped out of her trance and looked at Jerry’s plate. There wasn’t a strand of pasta left.

“I guess you were hungry,” she said.

Jerry smiled sheepishly. “I told you I was starving.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and drank some more wine. “I need a place to stay. Is there a hotel you can recommend?”

“I have an apartment just north of Siena. It’s not far away. You could stay with me. There’s a guest room.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“I’d really like it if you stayed. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“That settles it then.”

“You’re very kind, do you know that?”

Jerry blushed. “I’m just doing this so I can up my billable hours. I’ve got to pay the rent, you know.”

Now it was Ashley’s turn to reach across the table and lay her hand on top of Jerry’s.

“Thank you,” she said.

It was dark by the time they arrived at Ashley’s apartment. It was above a butcher shop, and the butcher was her landlord. She gave Jerry a tour. There was a small front room, a smaller kitchen, a bathroom with a narrow shower, a bedroom, and another room with a pullout sofa and a small dresser.

The apartment was sparsely furnished. There were no pictures or posters on the walls, or knickknacks on the shelves. It had the feel of temporary occupancy, a place that could be vacated on the spur of the moment.

Ashley kept a few pictures on her nightstand. Jerry thought he might have seen them in Ashley’s dorm room at the Academy. In one photograph, Terri and Norman Spencer smiled at the camera from the front lawn of the house in which Norman was murdered. In another, Terri and Norman flanked Ashley, their arms over her shoulders, large smiles plastered on the face of each member of the family. The last photograph had been taken after the district soccer finals. It showed the Eisenhower team with Ashley front and center holding the championship trophy. The pictures made Jerry sad. He tried to imagine what life must have been like for Ashley since she fled to Europe. Lonely was the first word that came to mind. Ashley had not known Italian, she had no friends, and she could not confide in anyone or get too comfortable in one place. Yet she had survived. She was tough.

Ashley found a pillowcase and some sheets and led Jerry into the room with the pullout sofa.

“You’re in here,” she told him. “I’m going to wash up while you settle in.”

Jerry put his clothes in the dresser and set up his bed. When he was done, he joined Ashley at the kitchen table. She had changed into a T-shirt and shorts and was sipping some wine.

“Want some? It’s a good local chianti.”

“No thanks. I’m exhausted. One drink would put me out.”

“I’m strong. I’d get you into bed.”

Jerry laughed. “How long have you been living here?” he asked.

“Five months. It’s the longest I’ve stayed in one place.”

“Made any friends?”

“A few. There’s a women’s football club. I’ve been playing for them. They don’t know my real name or anything about me. They think I’m taking a year off from college.”

“That’s good, that you have friends.”

“It’s made me feel like I belong, but it’s hard living a lie. I have to be careful to keep my fictitious life straight. I’ve made my story simple but I always have to be on guard.”

“Where do you play?”

“There’s a men’s pro team in town. We use their stadium. There’s a league. We play games on the weekends. Our crowds are small, but they’re enthusiastic. It’s fun.”

“Do you still have your old stuff?”

“I’m rusty but I’m holding my own.”

During the next hour, Ashley filled him in on what she’d done since fleeing the States. At some point, Jerry started to yawn. A few times, his eyes closed.

“It’s time for you to go to sleep,” Ashley said.

“Good thinking. I’m so exhausted I’m afraid I’ll pass out.”

Jerry stood up.

“It’s good seeing a familiar face again,” Ashley said.

“It’s good seeing you again, too.”

They were standing close together. They both felt awkward. Jerry wanted to kiss her goodnight but was afraid she would misinterpret his action. Suddenly he remembered something that gave him an excuse to break the tension.

“I brought you something.”

“What?”

“Wait here.”

He went into the guest room and rummaged around in his suitcase. When he returned he was holding a folded sheet of paper.

“You know how I told you I found the file my father kept on your father’s case?”

Ashley nodded.

“I found this in it. My dad wrote it to your dad after he graduated from college. I thought you might want it.”

Ashley took the letter.

“Well, that’s it for me,” Jerry said. “See you tomorrow.”

Jerry left the kitchen, and Ashley put the wineglasses in the sink with some plates that were left from lunch. As she washed the dishes she thought about Jerry. The first time they’d met he was in his mid-twenties and she was a teenager. They seemed ages apart. Now he didn’t seem that much older.

She could hear Jerry moving around in his room, settling into bed. It was odd having someone else in her apartment, especially a man. She had not let herself get involved with anyone since running from Portland. Not that she would ever get involved with Jerry. He was her lawyer. Their emails had mostly been about business, although he always asked how she was doing and offered her encouragement. She didn’t know much about him, anyway. He didn’t wear a wedding ring but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a girlfriend. And he was educated. She didn’t even have a high school diploma.

Ashley shook off her thoughts and went to her room. She wanted to read the letter but waited until she was in bed. There were two holes in the top of the paper. They’d been made so it could fit on the metal prongs in a file. The copy had been made with carbon paper and the letter had been typed on a typewriter, not a word processor. Some of the words were smeared.

Dear Norman:

I wanted to drop you a note to thank you for inviting me to your graduation ceremony at Portland State. I was very moved when you carried Ashley on stage to accept your diploma. I know that this must have been a terrific moment for you, but it was also a terrific moment for me. Law is a tough profession. There are a lot more downs than ups. But seeing you, your daughter, and Terri, and you holding that diploma, made up for a lot of disappointments. As you know, I have a son, Jerry. Some parents want their son to grow up to be the president of the United States or the quarterback of a pro football team. I want my son to grow up like you. You have been an inspiration to me. Good luck with your teaching job next year.

Congratulations again,

Ken

Ashley’s throat constricted as she read the letter and she fought to keep from crying. There was a picture in one of her folks’ albums of Norman Spencer carrying her onto the stage at Portland State when he accepted his diploma. She had seen it a few times but never appreciated the sacrifice that her father and Terri had to make to bring about that moment. Then her father had made the ultimate sacrifice when he rescued her from Joshua Maxfield.

Ashley closed her eyes. She thought about the last moments she’d shared with her father, something she had tried to block out since the night he died. He had been in pain; he had been on the verge of death, yet he had smiled, because he knew that she would be safe. If she stayed here she would be safe, but her father had not sacrificed his life so she could grow old hiding in a small, dark apartment.

Ashley got out of bed and walked into the hall. The door to the guest room was closed. She knocked on it.

“Yeah?” Jerry said. He sounded half asleep.

“Can I come in for a second?”

“Sure.”

Ashley opened the door. Jerry was under the covers. She stood in the doorway.

“This isn’t a life, Jerry. I have to lie all the time, I’m always looking over my shoulder. I can’t have any real friends. Sometimes I wonder if Joshua Maxfield is interested in me anymore. What if he doesn’t care and I’m holed up here, scared to death of someone who doesn’t even think about me anymore?

“And there’s Casey. That’s very…confusing. I’ve gotten used to having no one, but now I find out I have a mother.” She looked down. “I want to go home.”

“Then I’ll take you. We can leave whenever you want to go.”

“I want to go as quickly as possible.”

“We will. I’ll take you home.”

Chapter Twenty

Look at this,” Jerry said as they walked toward their gate in the airport in Florence.

They were in front of an airport shop that sold magazines and books. One shelf had paperbacks in English. Jerry walked over to it and took down a copy of Sleeping Beauty. A black-and-white photograph of a smiling Casey Van Meter graced the cover.

“Have you read it?” Jerry asked.

“No.”

“Miles did a good job. It’s very accurate. Do you want me to get it for you for the trip home?”

“Thanks, Jerry, but I really don’t want to read it. I don’t want to bring back bad memories. I know what happened to my parents and Casey.”

Ashley paused. If Jerry was right, Casey was also her parent. It was strange thinking about the dean in that way. She still had trouble getting her head around the idea that the icy, elegant blonde she’d met on her first visit to the Oregon Academy had carried her inside her body for nine months and had given birth to her.

Last night, Ashley had looked in the mirror and tried to see something that reminded her of Casey Van Meter. They both had blond hair but Casey was tall and willowy while Ashley was stockier and more muscular. Their complexions were similar. After several years in Italy Ashley’s skin was as tan as she remembered Casey’s.

The dean had been strong and self-possessed. Ashley remembered the way she’d dealt with Randy Coleman when her husband had accosted her at the Academy pool. Was she like that? She was a leader on the soccer field. In high school, the girls always looked to her to show them the way. Even though she was a foreigner and new in town, the women on her team in the village saw her as their leader.

Jerry put back the book and they sat down at their gate. Ashley looked around at her fellow passengers. Some seemed excited. Many seemed tired or bored. Five years before, when she’d gone to the airport in Portland, Ashley had felt that she was on the brink of a great adventure, that she was flying to freedom. Today, Ashley was frightened. She hoped that Joshua Maxfield was not interested in her anymore, she hoped that Casey Van Meter would come out of her coma filled with love for her long-lost daughter, but she knew that both of these dreams could become nightmares.

A town car met Jerry and Ashley at the airport and drove to an apartment that he had rented under his name. Jerry told the driver to wait while he helped Ashley carry her bags up to the apartment. He had called ahead and had his secretary stock the refrigerator. She probably thought that he had a mistress. Jerry smiled at the thought. His love life had been pretty dull since he’d ended a two-year relationship with an ambitious stockbroker. She had dropped into a deep depression after being laid off when the market tanked, and had finally moved to New York when a new job opened up. In retrospect, Jerry believed it was for the best. He hadn’t been interested in any of his infrequent dates since she’d left.

“Is this okay?” Jerry asked after Ashley made a brief inspection.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“It’s only rented for the month, so you can move out if it doesn’t suit you.”

“No, I like it.”

“I paid for cable,” Jerry said, pointing to the TV. “You can catch up on all the bad television you missed while you were away.”

Ashley walked over and kissed her attorney on the cheek. “You’ve been so great, Jerry. I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

“Hey,” Jerry said, embarrassed by Ashley’s show of affection, “we’re a full-service law firm.”

They stood inches apart in awkward silence for a few seconds. Then Jerry took a step back.

“The hearing is at ten. I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“See you then.”

“Okay.”

“Sleep tight.”

Ashley walked to the front window and watched Jerry get in the car. She stayed at the window until the taillights disappeared. Jerry had been fantastic. He was so steady. He made her feel safe. But the feeling would not last. Tomorrow, everyone would know that she was back.

Chapter Twenty-One

The Multnomah County Courthouse, a massive concrete building that took up a city block, looked as grim and ominous as it had on the day five years ago when Ashley testified at Joshua Maxfield’s preliminary hearing. There was a short line at the metal detectors in the lobby when Ashley and Jerry Philips arrived. Her attorney was dressed in a gray suit, white shirt, and pale-yellow tie. She was wearing a black suit they had purchased in Florence before they left.

As soon as they cleared security, Jerry led Ashley up the stairs to the third floor, four marble hallways built around a central airshaft. The Honorable Paula Gish was hearing cases in a modern courtroom in the back corridor. Judge Gish was a heavyset woman in her early forties with short brown hair and thick glasses. When Ashley and Jerry walked in, Gish was thumbing through a set of pleadings while a white-haired attorney droned on about an order for attorney fees.

After Ashley and her lawyer took seats in the last row, she looked at the spectators. There weren’t many of them, so she had no trouble spotting Miles Van Meter. He was sitting in the front row next to a balding, overweight African-American who dressed as elegantly as Miles.

Ashley was surprised to see Randy Coleman seated a few rows down on the other side of the aisle. He was wearing a shabby suit very different from the stylish getup he had worn when he accosted Casey at the pool. Ashley guessed that the intervening years had not been kind to Coleman. Sitting next to Casey’s husband was a short, athletically built man with receding sleek, black hair. He was clutching an attaché case, and Ashley assumed he was Coleman’s lawyer.

An attractive young woman with a steno pad was seated in the back of the courtroom. Given the notoriety that Sleeping Beauty and the case that inspired it had achieved, Ashley was not surprised to discover a reporter covering the guardianship proceedings. She was surprised to see Larry Birch seated in the back of the room. The detective looked at Ashley for a second then looked away. She guessed that her black hair and dark glasses had fooled him.

Judge Gish ruled on the attorney fee request and the clerk called In the Matter of Casey Van Meter: Petition for Appointment of Successor Guardian and Conservator. Miles and the black man stood up and walked to counsel table.

“If it please the court, I am Monte Jefferson and I’m representing Miles Van Meter, Casey Van Meter’s brother and the son of Henry Van Meter, who was Casey’s guardian and conservator until his recent death.”

He was about to continue when Randy Coleman’s attorney led his client to the other counsel table.

“Anthony Botteri, Your Honor, appearing on behalf of my client, Randy Coleman, Casey Van Meter’s husband. Mr. Coleman is also seeking to be appointed as his wife’s guardian and conservator.”

“Your Honor should not consider Mr. Coleman’s petition,” Jefferson said calmly. “When Ms. Van Meter was attacked, she was divorcing Mr. Coleman because he beat her up and was cheating on her. The court ruled against a similar request by Mr. Coleman soon after Ms. Van Meter went into her coma. He’s a gambler and a small-time crook who’s only interested in Ms. Van Meter’s money.”

Coleman started to say something but Botteri laid a firm hand on his client’s forearm.

“It’s unfortunate that an attorney of Mr. Jefferson’s lofty stature has to stoop so low,” Botteri said. “My client is a Las Vegas businessman. Living in that city does not make him a gambler or a criminal.”

“Mr. Botteri has a point about your accusations, Mr. Jefferson,” the judge said. “Let’s try to keep this hearing civilized.”

“My apologies, Judge, but I believe the record of this case supports my assertions.”

Judge Gish addressed Coleman’s attorney. “Mr. Botteri, I am new to this case, but I did review the file and there is a ruling by the court choosing Henry Van Meter, Ms. Van Meter’s father, over your client. It does mention an assault on Ms. Van Meter and a police record.”

“From many years ago, Judge,” Botteri said. “And there are changed circumstances. Mr. Van Meter has left a very important piece of information out of his petition.”

“What is that, Mr. Botteri?”

“To put it as bluntly as I can, Your Honor, Miles Van Meter needs your ruling appointing him Casey Van Meter’s guardian so he has legal authority to kill his sister.”

“That’s outrageous,” Miles shouted.

“Are you telling the court that you don’t want to pull the plug on your sister’s life-support machines?” Botteri challenged Miles.

“Your client never loved my sister. He’s only after Casey’s money.”

“Gentlemen,” Judge Gish said as she rapped her gavel for order.

“I have support for our position,” Botteri said. He took several sheets of paper out of his attaché, handed one to Monte Jefferson, and walked to the dais.

“This is an affidavit from Dr. Stanley Linscott, Casey Van Meter’s treating physician. It recounts a conversation in which Mr. Van Meter asked about the steps he would have to go through if he wished to have my client’s wife taken off life support.”

“May I see a copy of that affidavit?” Jerry Philips asked. While Miles and Botteri were arguing, he and Ashley had passed through the bar of the court. Miles turned and saw Ashley. He stared at her for a moment. Then his jaw opened in surprise.

“Who are you?” Judge Gish asked.

“Jerry Philips, Your Honor. I represent Ashley Spencer, who also wishes to be appointed Ms. Van Meter’s guardian and conservator.”

“What is the basis of your client’s request, Mr. Philips?” the judge asked.

“Ashley Spencer is the daughter of Casey Van Meter, her only child.”

Miles gaped at Ashley, then engaged in a frantic whispered conversation with his lawyer. Shock also registered on Randy Coleman’s face.

Jerry Philips handed several documents to opposing counsel and the judge. “This is Miss Spencer’s petition asking to be appointed as her mother’s guardian. Attached to it is a signed affidavit from Henry Van Meter outlining the facts that support Ashley Spencer’s claim that she is Ms. Van Meter’s daughter. I have attached other documents supporting the claim.”

Coleman and his lawyer engaged in a heated conversation as they read through the documents Jerry had given to them. When they finished, Botteri addressed Judge Gish.

“My client tells me that his wife never had a child. This woman’s mother is Terri Spencer. She was murdered at the same time Casey Van Meter was beaten into her coma.”

“Terri Spencer did raise Ashley as her daughter,” Philips said, “but Casey Van Meter is Ashley’s biological mother.”

“Mr. Jefferson, what do you have to say?” the judge asked.

“This is the first time that my client has heard Ms. Spencer’s claim.”

“But it’s not the first time that someone in your firm has been aware of the fact that Miss Spencer is Casey Van Meter’s daughter.” Jerry handed copies of a motion for discovery to the judge, Jefferson, and Botteri. “You and Miles Van Meter are both in the Brucher firm, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Jefferson answered as he scanned the document. “The firm has always handled the Van Meters’ business and personal affairs.”

“Norman Spencer, Ashley’s father, had a summer love affair with Casey Van Meter when they were in college. Ms. Van Meter became pregnant but she kept this fact from Norman. Henry Van Meter arranged for Ashley to be adopted. Norman found out and hired my father, Ken Philips, to fight for Ashley. After negotiations with Henry and his attorney, Norman Spencer was permitted to adopt Ashley in secret. Anton Brucher and your firm handled the matter. I want the court to see the files. They should prove that Ashley Spencer is Casey’s daughter.”

“These files would be so old that they might not exist anymore,” Jefferson said. “And even if they do exist, I can’t agree to turn them over. They’re protected by attorney-client privilege.”

“Where would your firm keep them, if they do exist?” the judge asked.

“There is a company that specializes in storing business files. They own a warehouse. Our closed files are stored there.”

“I want you to look for the files and tell the court if they exist,” Judge Gish said. “If they do, and your client doesn’t want to turn them over, make your legal arguments and we’ll go from there.”

“Good enough, Judge.”

“Now, I want everyone to sit down while I read the papers Mr. Philips and Mr. Botteri have handed me, and I don’t want to be interrupted.”

The parties waited while Judge Gish read the documents. When she was done, she removed her glasses and massaged her closed eyelids.

“And I thought that I was going to have an uneventful day.”

The judge replaced her glasses and looked at the litigants.

“This is much too complicated to decide this morning.”

“I’ve been thinking, Judge,” Botteri said. “A DNA test would settle the question of Ms. Spencer’s relationship to Casey Van Meter.”

The judge turned to Ashley’s lawyer. “Mr. Philips, would your client be willing to have her DNA tested to clear up any questions of maternity?”

Jerry and Ashley conferred for a moment. Then Philips addressed the court.

“Miss Spencer has no problem with the test, Your Honor.”

“All right. I am going to adjourn to give Mr. Jefferson time to find the files and Miss Spencer a chance to take a DNA test. I want the parties to agree on the procedure and what lab will do the testing. When the parties are ready, notify me and we’ll set a new date for the hearing.”

As soon as court was adjourned, Randy Coleman and his attorney left the courtroom followed by Monte Jefferson, but Miles stayed behind.

“Jerry,” he said, nodding to Philips. Then he smiled warmly at Ashley.

“It’s so good to see you.”

“I heard about your father.” Ashley said. “I’m sorry he passed away. He was very kind to me.”

“He was very fond of you, Ashley. He really worried when you disappeared. We both did.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t want to worry anyone. I…I just had to go.”

“I understand. Where have you been?”

“Overseas,” Ashley answered evasively, still unwilling to trust anyone with any information about her hiding place in case she had to return to it.

Miles looked her over and smiled. “Well, the five years haven’t hurt. You look great. I like the hair.”

Ashley smiled. “Thanks.”

Miles glanced at his watch. “I have to go back to my office for a meeting.” He paused, as if he’d just gotten an idea. “Would you like to have dinner tonight? I’d like to catch up on what you’ve been doing.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jerry said.

“Why?” Ashley asked.

“You shouldn’t be socializing. You’re adversaries in this lawsuit.”

“We may also be relatives,” Miles said to Jerry. “This claim of yours has been a total shock to me, but I couldn’t be happier if it’s true.”

“I would like to talk to Miles,” Ashley told Philips. “It’s just dinner. I’ll be okay.”

Miles handed Ashley and Jerry business cards. “You two talk this over. I don’t want to do anything improper. If you want to have dinner with me tonight, give me a call.”

Miles headed up the aisle. Jerry watched him until he was out of earshot. They both cast nervous looks at the reporter and Larry Birch, who were walking in their direction.

“If you talk to Miles, remember that you’re on opposite sides in this case.”

“Don’t worry. Miles has always been nice to me. I don’t think he’d try to take advantage.”

“You have no idea what he’ll do now that you’re adversaries.”

“I’ll be on guard, okay?”

Jerry blushed. “Sorry, it’s the lawyer in me.”

“I’m glad you’re looking out for my interests.”

The reporter appeared at their shoulder and cleared her throat.

“Ashley, my name is Rebecca Tilman,” she said. “May I ask you a few questions?”

“Miss Spencer is not going to grant an interview now,” Jerry said. “If she decides to, we’ll contact you.”

“But this is an important story,” the reporter insisted.

“That may be true, but Miss Spencer will not agree to be interviewed now.”

The reporter started to say something, then decided to leave with her scoop. She turned and headed for the door.

“Hello, detective,” Ashley said.

“Long time no see,” Birch answered. It sounded like a joke but Birch looked dead serious.

“I’m sorry I left the way I did.”

“We were sorry, too. But you’re okay, and that’s what counts.”

“Have there been any new developments with Joshua Maxfield?”

“He’s still wanted, and there are at least two new homicides in other states that might be his work.”

“Where were they?”

“ Ohio and Iowa.”

“So he’s left Oregon?”

“Apparently, but that may change now that you’re back”

“We’re worried about that ourselves, detective,” Jerry said. “We were going to get in touch with you about protection for Ashley.”

“That may be a little hard to arrange after the stunt she pulled.”

“She was running for her life after your people failed to protect her,” Jerry said.

“Two good men died trying,” Birch answered angrily.

“I’m sorry,” Jerry apologized, “but you can see why Ashley ran.”

Birch took a deep breath and calmed down.

“I felt very badly about what happened at the Academy, but you still shouldn’t have run. I’ll talk to my captain and see what we can do to keep you safe.”

“Do you want me to drive you back to your apartment?” Jerry asked when Birch left.

“No. I’ll walk. I’m used to that from Italy. And I want to look around the city. I might even shop a little.”

“Okay. I’ll be at the office if you need me. And think twice before you accept Miles’s dinner invitation.”

“Jerry. You’ve been great. But you don’t have to baby-sit me. I’m twenty-two and I’ve been taking care of myself for a while.”

Jerry’s neck flushed. “Point taken. I just want what’s best for you.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Miles had chosen an upscale restaurant loaded with glass and chrome and he was waiting in a quiet corner booth when Ashley arrived. He wore a tan suit, an Oxford blue shirt, and a striped tie. Ashley wore the suit she’d worn to court, because it was the only nice outfit she owned.

Miles stood when the maitre d’ showed her to the booth.

“I’m so glad you agreed to have dinner,” he said as she sat down. “Do you want a cocktail or some wine? They have a very good cellar here.”

“Wine is okay.”

Miles told the waiter what he wanted while Ashley busied herself with the menu. As soon as the waiter left, Miles stared at her. The examination made Ashley uncomfortable. Miles noticed. He smiled.

“Sorry, but I can’t help myself. This idea that you might be my niece is very strange.”

“No stranger than the idea that Casey might be my mother.”

“I was so relieved to see you in court today and to know that you were safe. There were times on my book tour when I would be giving a reading and I’d look around the audience, hoping you’d be somewhere in the back. I really worried about you.”

Ashley felt guilty because she had thought very little about Miles over the years.

“Congratulations on your book.”

“Have you read it?” Miles asked expectantly.

“No.”

Miles’s smile sagged for a moment.

“It would have been too painful,” Ashley said, hoping that this explanation would ease his disappointment.

“I understand. It was very hard for me to write Sleeping Beauty, but I felt that it had to be done.”

The waiter came for their orders.

“Were you always interested in writing?” Ashley asked as soon as the waiter left.

“I dabbled a bit in college, but I never actually tried to write a book before I started Sleeping Beauty.”

“Then what made you do it?”

“After Maxfield escaped, my father and I were inundated with calls from movie producers, television shows, and literary agents who wanted to cash in on our tragedy. I got rid of most of them, but Andrea Winsenberg and I hit it off. She gave me the idea of writing a book that would preserve Casey’s memory. She wanted one of the writers she represents to ghostwrite it for me.” Miles smiled. “Andrea thought I was nuts to try it myself.”

“It’s certainly been a huge success.”

“I’d trade the money and the fame for Casey’s recovery.”

“Is there any possibility that will happen?”

“No.” Miles looked grim. “Look, I don’t want to talk about Casey’s situation. I’d much rather hear about your adventures. But we do have to get this out of the way. I don’t know if you’re really Casey’s daughter…”

“But you knew that Casey became pregnant the summer my father dated her,” Ashley interrupted.

“Yes,” Miles answered cautiously.

“I know you and two men beat my father because you were angry that he made Casey pregnant.”

Miles eyes dropped to the tablecloth. “We all do things that we’re not proud of. I was very young when I attacked Norman. I’ve always regretted what I did.” He looked up at Ashley. “But I did it for Casey. I love her, Ashley. If you really want to help her, you’ll let her go.”

“You mean, I’ll bow out and let you take her off life support?”

“Yes. I understand why you’d want to keep Casey alive. My God, you thought you’d lost your mother. Now you have this bomb dropped on you. But keeping Casey alive is wrong. You’d know that if you saw her.”

Miles paused. He took a deep breath. “Casey and I are very close. I love her very much, but I’ve come to accept the fact that she died in the boathouse along with Terri.” He shook his head. “What you’ll see if you visit the nursing home isn’t Casey. It’s a corpse, a shell that was once a vibrant woman. Her spirit has left her, Ashley. Everything that made her human is gone.”

“Your father didn’t give up hope.”

“My father never let anything go. He was never around when Casey and I were growing up but he tried to control every aspect of our lives.”

“You sound bitter.”

“I am bitter. You have no idea what it was like for us.”

“Didn’t your mother…?”

“Our mother was a drunk. If she showed the slightest gumption Henry beat it out of her. She was lucky to die young.”

Ashley could not hide her shock. Miles noticed.

“You only knew Henry after he found God, the benevolent version. The man Casey and I knew was like the wrathful God of the Old Testament. He was never wrong and he always believed he could get what he wanted through sheer willpower. Henry fooled himself into believing that Casey would wake up from her coma like Sleeping Beauty. But the children’s fable and his dream are both fairy tales.”

Miles paused again. “It kills me to see her wasting away, Ashley. I want her to die with some dignity. I want Casey to be able to rest in peace.”

“I can see how painful this is for you, Miles, but I thought I lost my family. Then, a few days ago, Jerry Philips showed up and told me that my real mother is still alive. I can’t just condemn her to death. What about the new drug? Isn’t Casey in a clinical trial?”

“That drug is never going to work. Even if it wakes her up, there’s no guarantee that she’ll be in possession of her mental faculties. She’d probably be a vegetable.”

Miles took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to bring this up, but I feel I must. You won’t want to hear this but it’s the truth. Casey doesn’t deserve your loyalty. She never wanted you. Do you know how I found out she was pregnant?”

“No.”

“She wanted an abortion and she knew that one of my fraternity brothers had arranged one for his girlfriend. Then Henry found out. I think a servant may have said something. We had a family meeting. Casey was evasive until Henry threatened to disinherit her. That’s when she told us that Norman was the father.”

Miles took a drink of his wine. Then he looked across the table at Ashley.

“She wanted Henry’s money but she never wanted you. That’s the truth. You don’t owe her a thing.”

Ashley found it hard to speak. “How…how did she feel about my father?”

“She was slumming. When she got tired of him she dumped him without a second thought. Look, Ashley, I love my sister-we’re blood-but Casey has never been a nice person. She was always self-centered and self-destructive. She would have made a terrible mother. You know about her marriage to Coleman?”

Ashley nodded.

“That’s typical of the way she’s lived her life. After Father made her the dean of the Academy she was more careful, until that fiasco. She was always promiscuous and emotionally unstable. She used drugs. She even tried suicide once.”

“No.”

“She was irresponsible, Ashley. She bounced from project to project. She’d get wrapped up in something, pour herself into it, then drop it as soon as she got bored. That’s what she did with your father.”

“She seemed to do a good job at the school,” Ashley said, wanting to defend Casey but suddenly realizing that she was totally devoid of any facts to muster on her behalf. Casey may have given birth to her, but she knew almost nothing about the dean.

“This is typical. Father gave her the position at the school in a last-ditch attempt to help her make something of herself, and I have to admit that she did a great job at first. She was always very bright and she was well educated, but I really doubted that she’d be able to stick with it. But she did. She liked the challenge and the responsibility. The Academy was very important to Henry and she knew that he was placing a lot of trust in her. He didn’t do that often.

“Then she went to a convention in Las Vegas and married that piece of trash on a whim.” Miles looked down and shook his head in wonder. “Do you have any idea the harm that can be suffered by a school like the Academy if there’s even a whiff of scandal? Her marriage to that cheap crook had the potential to be a disaster.”

It must have occurred to Miles that he was getting angrier as he spoke, because he checked himself and took a deep breath.

“There’s nothing to be gained by keeping Casey alive,” Miles said. “She didn’t care about you, she didn’t care about anyone except herself and me. She did love me. Now I’ve got to pay back that love by ending her living death.”

Ashley shook her head. “I can’t give up on the possibility that she might come back. I’m sorry.”

Miles features softened. “Look, Ashley, you shouldn’t be burdened with the added worries you’d have if you had to care for Casey. These past few years must have been tough. I imagine you haven’t been able to work much, and you don’t even have a high school diploma, do you?”

“No.”

“You should be trying to get your life back together. You should be in school. I could help you. Maybe find you a job with Van Meter Industries while you get your GED. Then I could help you with college tuition. We are family. We shouldn’t be adversaries. We should be helping each other.”

Ashley wasn’t certain what to make of Miles’s offer. She hoped that it wasn’t an attempt to buy her off.

“Would you help me even if I continued to oppose you?” Ashley asked.

Miles looked sad. “This isn’t a bribe, Ashley. I’m trying to get you to realize that Casey is not coming back. I want what’s best for both of you, and you should be making up for the time you’ve lost.”

“Thank you, Miles. Let me think about what you’ve said. I’ll visit Casey tomorrow. Maybe seeing her will help me decide what to do.”

Miles saw the waiter arriving with their meals. “Fair enough,” he said. “I promise not to mention the guardianship again.”

Over dinner, Miles told her a series of fascinating stories about his book tour. Ashley drank a little too much wine and found herself laughing hysterically when Miles recounted a bizarre negotiation with a pair of unscrupulous movie producers who claimed to have Tom Cruise and Jennifer Lopez lined up to play Joshua Maxfield and Casey.

Miles asked her about her years abroad. Ashley told him about her travels but was sober enough to keep any important details from him. By the end of the meal, she’d forgotten the serious way the evening started.

Miles waited outside with Ashley while the valet got their cars. When she was about to leave, he gave her a hug and a brotherly kiss on her cheek. A light rain was falling, with more and heavier rain forecast for the next day. Ashley switched on her wipers and concentrated on the road. Occasionally, she glanced in her rearview mirror. A pair of headlights shone in it. She paid no attention to them, because the things that Miles had said about Casey over dinner distracted her.

Was Casey Van Meter really as cold, calculating, and insensitive as Miles claimed? Had Norman meant so little to her? Had getting rid of her own child meant so little to her? If she was this uncaring, how would she react to Ashley if she did survive her coma?

Ashley knew that Terri had loved her unconditionally. There had never been a moment when she doubted that love. So who was really her mother? Did giving birth make you a mother in any but the technical sense? Was Terri, who raised her, loved her, and cared for her any less her mother simply because she had not borne Ashley?

Ashley turned onto a side street and noticed that the headlights in her mirror were still behind her. Alarm chased away her thoughts about Casey. She decided to make a few random turns to see if the car stayed with her. It did. She tried to convince herself that no one was following her, but it was too much of a coincidence that the other car was driving a random route that mirrored hers. She made a sudden U-turn. Her tires squealed on the wet pavement. As she drove past the other car, she stared at the driver’s window, but the rain streaks and the darkness obscured the driver’s face.

Ashley drove fast until she was certain that she’d lost her tail. Then she headed to her apartment as quickly as she could. Her heart was racing, and it didn’t slow down until she was inside, behind locked doors. She rushed to her window before turning on the lights and studied the street below for any sign that someone was watching her apartment. There was no one standing in the rain, and there were no suspicious cars.

As Ashley got ready for bed, she tried to remember everything she could about the ride home. By the time she fell asleep, she half-believed that the tail had been a figment of her imagination.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It was raining when Ashley woke up. She dressed in sweats, dark glasses, and a hooded windbreaker, and walked two blocks to a local coffee shop for breakfast. After breakfast, she planned to go to Sunny Rest and visit Casey Van Meter.

The coffee shop sold The Oregonian. She picked up a copy and slid into a booth. The waitress took her order, and she opened the paper. Her face stared back at her from the front page. It was an old photo, taken when she was in high school. She glanced around to see if anyone was staring at her, but no one in the restaurant seemed to have made the connection between the blond athlete in the newspaper and the dark-haired woman in the rear booth.

MISSING WITNESS RETURNS TO BATTLE FOR SLEEPING BEAUTY’S $40,000,000 FORTUNE, the headline screamed. Ashley blinked and reread the figure. The byline of the article belonged to the woman who had tried to interview her at the courthouse. According to the story, which summarized the hearing, rehashed the murder case, and recapped Miles’s rise to literary fame, the person who was appointed Casey’s guardian would control a fortune estimated at forty million dollars. Jerry Philips had never mentioned that little bit of trivia. Forty million! Ashley couldn’t imagine that much money. She’d been living in low-rent apartments and getting by on baguettes, cheese, and cheap wine. Forty million dollars was caviar, penthouses, and yachts.

Ashley gulped down her breakfast and went back to her apartment. As she showered and changed, she wondered what she would be allowed to do with Casey’s money if the court appointed her as the dean’s conservator and guardian. Jerry had told her that she could use Casey’s money to pay for her care at the nursing home, but he hadn’t told her anything else about a guardian’s powers. Would she have to decide how to invest Casey’s money? Would she be able to use the money for her own needs? Ashley decided that she needed to know the answers to these questions. And she needed to know one other answer. If she was Casey’s daughter, and Casey died, would she inherit some of Casey’s fortune? If she was an heir to millions, how could she put herself in a position to decide whether Casey lived or died?

Ashley drove through suburban Portland in the pouring rain to the Sunny Rest retirement community. The complex was surrounded by housing developments and shopping centers. It was large, and a road ran through it. On one side of the road were independent-living apartments for retirees who could still take care of themselves. The sprawling one-story complex across from the apartments was for assisted living.

Ashley found a spot in the last row of Sunny Rest’s large parking lot. She dashed through the rain and was drenched by the time she made it through the front door. Water ran off her windbreaker onto the tile floor, and her pants were spotted and stained by the rain. When she finally paid attention to her surroundings, she felt queasy. The hospital smell had something to do with it, but most of her discomfort was caused by the stares of the elderly people in the lobby. Some of them pushed walkers in front of them, others sat in wheelchairs. They were all frail; their veins were blue streaks under waxy, parchment-thin skin, their hair was white and sparse. Some of the residents stared at her with great intensity. Ashley had the eerie impression that their lives were so uneventful that her visit was seen as a major event. Several of the residents seemed lost in their own worlds, heads bobbing to a voice only they heard, or talking incoherently to someone only they could see.

Ashley was halfway to the reception desk when a woman wheeled over and smiled radiantly.

“Hello,” the woman said excitedly. “Are you Carmen? Have you come to visit me?”

A nurse hurried over and took hold of the wheelchair. She smiled apologetically at Ashley.

“Betty, this young lady isn’t Carmen. Carmen visits on Saturday.”

The nurse turned the wheelchair so Betty could not see Ashley. She kept up a steady patter as she wheeled her charge away. The receptionist gave Ashley directions to the wing where Casey was staying. To get there, Ashley had to walk by Betty again. The old woman looked up and smiled.

“Are you Carmen? Have you come to visit me?”

Ashley suppressed a shudder as she walked down a corridor lined with other chairs occupied by more elderly residents. The smell of disinfectant was strong, and the odd behavior of some of the residents unsettling. Ashley knew that she would be old someday, and she hoped that she would not end up in a place like this.

A young nurse was at a station at the end of the corridor. Ashley introduced herself and asked to speak to Stanley Linscott, Casey Van Meter’s treating physician.

“Dr. Linscott isn’t in today,” the nurse told her.

“Is there someone else I can talk to about Ms. Van Meter?”

The nurse suddenly looked wary. “You’ll need to talk to Ann Rostow. She’s the administrator. I’ll call her.”

Ashley took a seat at the nurse’s station. A few minutes later, a slender woman with short gray hair and glasses appeared at the end of the corridor. She was wearing a tan pants suit and a beige blouse. Her walk was energetic and she looked crisp and efficient.

Ashley stood up. The woman stopped in front of her.

“I’m Ann Rostow. I understand that you have some questions about Casey Van Meter.”

“Yes. I wanted to see her and I’d like an update about her condition.”

“Why?”

“I may be her daughter.”

“Is your name Ashley Spencer?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you might come here.”

Ashley’s brow furrowed.

“I read the story in the paper this morning,” Rostow explained. “It said that you were claiming to be Ms. Van Meter’s daughter. Can I see some identification?”

Ashley handed Rostow her driver’s license. The administrator examined it, then handed it back.

“We have to be careful with Ms. Van Meter,” Rostow said. “Reporters are always trying to get information about her. We had some calling this morning. When she first came here, a television crew from one of those tabloid shows tried to sneak in through the kitchen.”

“Ms. Rostow, can I see her? I’ll only stay a minute. If she is my mother… I only knew her for a while, five years ago. I just…”

“This must be very hard for you.”

“It is. It’s very confusing. There’s going to be a DNA test to settle the maternity issue but, from what I’ve learned, she probably is my mother. I just want to see her.”

“You just want to look in?”

“Yes. It would mean a lot to me.”

“All right. Follow me.”

Rostow led Ashley through a set of swinging metal doors and halfway down the next corridor. She stopped in front of one of the rooms and opened the door. Ashley hesitated on the threshold before stepping inside. The walls were painted a sterile tan and there were no pictures on them. A sink was affixed to one wall. Over it was a mirror. Facing the sink was a hospital bed with the side rails up. Ashley forced herself to look at the woman who was lying in it. An IV drip was taped to her forearm. At the far side of the bed a gastric tube disappeared under the blankets. The tube was connected to a pump, which was turned on when Casey was fed.

Ashley expected to see a wasted, shrunken, corpse-like creature that no longer resembled a human being. What she saw was less horrifying but much sadder. Casey had only lost ten pounds during her years of unconsciousness, because she was fed and hydrated regularly. If Ashley had walked into the room by mistake, she might have thought the dean was just sleeping. On closer inspection, Ashley saw why Miles had given up hope. She remembered the animated, dynamic woman who’d shown her and her mother around the Academy campus. That woman had been so energetic, so full of life. Casey Van Meter’s body was a shell devoid of life, a cruel façade. Her face was pale, and her skin looked unhealthy, her muscle tone was gone, and her arms were flabby. She had aged badly, and her lustrous, blond hair had gone gray. There was no light in her eyes.

Ashley fought the impulse to bolt from the room and forced herself to walk closer to the bed. She stared down, heartbroken. She had no urge to touch her mother. Casey Van Meter elicited no feelings of love. She just made Ashley feel uncomfortable.

When she thought she’d been in the room a decent amount of time, Ashley turned to Ann Rostow.

“Thank you. I think I’ll go now.”

“The first time you see someone in her condition, it can be very unsettling, especially if it’s someone you’re close to.”

“We weren’t close. She gave me away without a second thought when I was born. I knew her as the dean at the school I attended and nothing more.”

“But she may still be your mother,” Rostow said softly.

Ashley nodded.

“Then you can come back and visit anytime.”

“Thank you. I mentioned a DNA test. If we need a sample of Casey’s blood…”

“I’ll need a court order, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“One more thing, Ms. Rostow. Do the doctors think she’ll get better?”

“I’ve sat in on meetings when Mr. Van Meter asked that very question. Dr. Linscott always answered that the odds on a full recovery for Ms. Van Meter were very long.”

Ann Rostow walked Ashley back to the lobby. Outside, the rain was cascading down in heavy sheets and bouncing off the asphalt. Ashley pulled up the hood on her windbreaker, ducked her head, and ran across the street, keeping her eyes on the pavement, preoccupied by thoughts of her brief visit with the dean. Now she understood what Miles had been trying to tell her. Casey was not the strong, determined woman who had stood up to Randy Coleman at the Academy pool. She was one of the living dead. If some miracle of God or science did bring her back to this world, there was no assurance that she would not end up as pathetic and helpless as the ghost people who moved through the halls of Sunny Rest. Logic told Ashley that she should back off and let Casey rest in peace, but something inside her clung to the hope that Casey was still fighting, that she could save her mother.

Ashley spotted her rental car. She fished out her keys and made a dash for it. Rain was dancing on the roof and the windshield. She leaned down to unlock the door and saw the reflection of a man. Rain poured down from the roof across the driver’s window distorting his features, and a hood partially hid his face, but there was no mistaking the knife he was holding.

Ashley swiveled and lashed out with her foot as if she was powering a shot on goal. The man was turned sideways and she struck his thigh. He grunted, stumbled back a few steps and his knees buckled. Ashley ran. Feet pounded the pavement behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, Ashley saw a dark blur shoot out from between two cars. Then she heard the sound of bodies crashing to the asphalt. Before she could look back, a shape materialized in front of her. She threw a punch at a hooded, black rain slicker and connected. The apparition staggered. She swung again and strong arms grabbed her.

“I’m a cop, Miss Spencer,” a male voice shouted. “We’ve got him.”

Ashley froze and looked at the man who was holding her. She could see part of a uniform under the rain gear. Behind her, over the rain, she heard shouts of “Freeze, police.”

“Let’s go back,” the officer said. She hesitated. “It’s okay. You’re safe. He’s down. I can see a crowd a few rows back, and they’re our men.”

The officer led Ashley through the rows of cars toward several policemen in plain clothes. They were surrounding two men in dark clothes who were sprawled on the pavement face down, with their hands clasped behind their necks. A knife lay between them on the waterlogged ground. When Ashley arrived, a detective holding a see-through evidence bag was stooping for it.

Larry Birch walked over to Ashley. Rain was cascading down his face but he was smiling.

“It’s a good thing we had you under surveillance,” he said.

Ashley was shivering, and it wasn’t from the rain. “Who are they?” Ashley asked, her eyes riveted on the prisoners.

“We’ll soon find out.”

Birch signaled to one of the officers. “Cuff them then get them on their feet.”

Several officers kept guns trained on the captives while other officers snapped on handcuffs and helped the men to their feet. Ashley stared at the two prisoners. Their hoods had fallen back to reveal their faces.

“Ashley,” Randy Coleman shouted. “Tell these cops to get these cuffs off of me. I just saved your life.”

The other man said nothing. He just stared at Ashley. She stared back until it dawned on her that she knew him. Then she looked away quickly and took a step back.

Rain cascaded off his shaved head and ran down the length of his thick, jet-black beard. His eye color was different, too. Probably contacts. But there was no doubt that the police had captured Joshua Maxfield.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Larry Birch brought Ashley to Ann Rostow’s office where she was given a mug of hot tea and a towel to dry her hair.

“Tell me what happened in the lot,” Larry Birch said when she was ready to discuss the attack.

“I was bending down to unlock my door when I saw someone’s reflection in the window.”

“Maxfield?”

“I can’t tell you. The rainclouds blocked most of the sunlight. You know how heavy the rain is. And the window was streaked with water. It distorted everything. And he was wearing a hood.”

“So you can’t say if Maxfield or Coleman assaulted you?”

Ashley stared at the detective. She saw that his question was serious.

“It had to be Maxfield,” Ashley said. “You don’t think Coleman attacked me?”

“I have to keep an open mind.”

“What does he say?”

“Coleman is screaming bloody murder. He’s taking credit for saving your life and capturing Maxfield. He says that he came to visit his wife and just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“That makes sense.”

“Our problem is that his car pulled into the lot after you parked, but he never went inside the nursing home.”

“What does he say about that?”

“He says that he hasn’t seen Ms. Van Meter since she went into the coma and he felt that he should find out about her condition firsthand.”

“I bet his lawyer told him to go so he’d look good in court.”

Birch shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Why didn’t he go in?”

“He claims he had a change of heart after he parked, because he wasn’t sure he could handle seeing Ms. Van Meter so helpless. According to Coleman, he was working out his feelings when he saw you leave. He says that he was coming over to talk to you when Maxfield attacked and he came to the rescue.”

“Is that what your surveillance team saw?”

“Unfortunately, we didn’t have a clear view. You were between the cars and the attacker came from the middle of the lot. We didn’t even see that you were in trouble until you ran. Then someone rushed out from between two cars, but our view was obstructed by the other cars and our angle, and they were dressed similarly.”

“Is Maxfield saying he rescued me from Coleman?”

“Maxfield isn’t talking.”

“He’s tried to kill me before.”

“Yeah, he has. And I suspect that we’ll be charging him with another attempt.”

The door opened and an officer stuck his head in. “There’s a Jerry Philips out here. He says he’s Miss Spencer’s attorney and that you called him.”

“Let him in,” Birch said.

Jerry went to Ashley as soon as he walked in the door.

“Are you okay?”

Ashley nodded.

“What happened?” Philips asked Ashley and the detective.

“Joshua Maxfield tried to kill me,” Ashley answered.

“He’s in custody,” Birch added.

“Thank God,” Philips said.

“Randy Coleman saved me.”

“Coleman? What was he doing here?”

“He says that he was going to visit his wife when he saw Maxfield try to kill Miss Spencer,” Birch said. “She was running for help when Coleman tackled him.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“She didn’t panic,” Birch said. “She fought him off. She was very brave.”

Jerry turned to Ashley. “You must have been scared to death.”

“I was, but I’m better now.”

Jerry looked at Birch. “Are you finished? Can I take Ashley home?”

“Yeah. I’ll need a statement but we can do that tomorrow. Can you drive Miss Spencer? We have to go over her car for evidence and we can’t turn it back to her today.”

“That’s fine. It’s a rental. You can give it back to the agency when you’re through.”

“This is great,” Jerry said as soon as they were underway. “Maxfield is going to prison. You don’t have to be afraid of him anymore.”

“They arrested him before and he escaped,” Ashley said.

“That won’t happen this time. He’ll be watched like a hawk.”

Ashley didn’t reply. She shut her eyes and laid her head against the back of the seat. Jerry must have thought that she was asleep, because he didn’t speak for the rest of the trip.

“We’re here,” he said as soon as he parked in front of her building.

Ashley got out of the car without saying a word. Jerry followed her inside. There was a clock in the living room. The time shocked her. It was only a little after one in the afternoon. Ashley felt as if she’d been up for days.

“Are you hungry?” Jerry asked. “Do you want me to fix something for you?”

“Okay?”

“Let me rummage around in the fridge.”

Ashley slumped down at the kitchen table.

“Feel like telling me what’s bothering you?” Jerry asked while he made them ham-and-cheese sandwiches.

“Do you think it’s possible that it was Randy Coleman who attacked me?”

The question took Philips by surprise. “I thought he saved you.”

“He probably did. But the attack seemed-I don’t know-clumsy. I saw Maxfield in action once. It was at the pool at the Academy. Coleman was bothering the dean and he got violent. Maxfield was there. He handled Coleman very easily. It was like in the movies, almost choreographed it was so smooth, bang, bang, and it was over. Maxfield didn’t break a sweat.”

Ashley lost color for a moment. She looked down and swallowed.

“What is it?” Jerry asked, concerned.

“I was remembering when…when I was attacked. In my house. I was overpowered easily, too. Maxfield was so efficient. The man who attacked me in the lot…” She shook her head.

“You reacted quickly. You knocked him off balance. He probably wasn’t expecting that.”

“I guess.”

Jerry carried the sandwiches and two glasses of soda to the table and sat down.

“Do you have any reason to doubt that Joshua Maxfield murdered your parents and attacked you in the Academy dorm?”

Ashley thought before answering.

“I never saw his face in my house or in the dorm, but I definitely saw him in the boathouse. And he wrote that novel where the killer eats before he murders the teenage daughter. How could he possibly know that happened at my house?”

“So, there you are. If he tried to kill you several times before, why would he suddenly save your life today?”

Ashley was about to take a bite out of her sandwich when an idea occurred to her.

“Would Coleman benefit if I died?” she asked.

Jerry thought about that. “With you out of the picture there would be one less person trying to be appointed Casey’s guardian and conservator.”

“Miles would still be opposing him.”

“Yes, but he and Miles want the same thing, even if Randy claims otherwise.”

“What’s that?”

“They both want to take Casey off life support.”

“But Randy’s attorney said…”

“I know what he said but I don’t believe it. Casey doesn’t have a will and she has a large estate. If she dies intestate Coleman will get a lot of it because they’re still married. He may say he wants to keep her alive but I bet he’d change his tune in a minute if he’s appointed her guardian. You’re the only one who’s dedicated to keeping Casey alive.”

Ashley stared across the table at Jerry. She felt frightened.

“You just said that Coleman would get ‘a lot of’ Casey’s estate. Does that mean he doesn’t get it all, even though she doesn’t have a will?”

Jerry colored. “He wouldn’t be the only heir.”

“Would I get any of Casey’s money if she died?”

Ashley watched Jerry carefully as she asked the question. He hesitated. She thought he looked uncomfortable.

“Am I an heir, Jerry?”

“You’re her only surviving issue and Coleman isn’t your father. Under the statutes, you’d be entitled to one half of her estate.”

Ashley stared at Jerry. “That’s twenty million dollars.”

“Somewhere in there.”

“And Coleman gets it all if I’m dead?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my God.” Ashley stood up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” he answered nervously. “I guess the point was to keep Casey alive-that’s why Henry hired me-so I didn’t think about telling you what would happen if she died.”

“You shouldn’t have kept this from me. It changes everything. Everyone will think I’m after her money. That’s what the newspaper said, that I was battling for the forty million dollars.”

“You’re battling to keep your mother alive.”

“It’s too much responsibility. I can’t do this.”

Jerry walked around the table until they were standing inches apart. He put his hands on her shoulders.

“You have to, Ashley. Miles and Coleman will do everything in their power to take Casey off life support.”

Suddenly, Ashley was angry. “What makes you think I don’t want her dead, now that I know how much I’ll inherit? Is that why you didn’t tell me about the money?”

Jerry looked directly into Ashley’s eyes while he answered.

“I believe that you are a good, moral person. If I thought that you would let Casey Van Meter die so you could inherit her money I wouldn’t have agreed to find you.”

Ashley looked down. She was embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’ve always been so good to me.”

“You’ve been through hell. You deserve to be treated with respect.”

Ashley looked at Jerry and he held her gaze. He was so decent. He’d been a rock for her. Before Jerry could say anything, she kissed him. He tensed. Then he tried to say something.

“No,” she said and she kissed him again, holding him tight, like a survivor clinging to a life raft. Jerry took her in his arms and held her just as tight.

“This isn’t right,” he said, though everything he’d just done contradicted his words. “I’m your attorney. You’re vulnerable.”

“I’m twenty-two, Jerry. I’m a virgin.” The admission embarrassed Philips but Ashley’s voice was strong. “I’ve been so afraid all these years that I haven’t let myself get close to anyone. Now I want to start being human again.”

“I’m the wrong person, Ashley. You’ve come to depend on me. That’s not love.”

“Are you telling me that you don’t want me?”

He looked down and swallowed. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. I’m your attorney.”

“The way you feel matters to me. You tell me you don’t care about me and we’ll stop now.”

“I do care for you. You’re strong and smart, you’re a good person, and you’re beautiful. But that doesn’t matter. There are ethics rules that prohibit a lawyer from…from taking advantage of…”

“You’re not taking advantage of me, and if the ethics rules are worrying you, I have a simple solution. You’re fired.”

Jerry looked at her wide-eyed. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Jerry laughed and shook his head. “You’re something.”

“What’s it going to be?”

“I’ve been fired before, but never because my client wanted to sleep with me.”

“I don’t want you to sleep with me. I want you to make love to me.”

Jerry was gentle and tender, but it was still painful when he entered her the first time. The second time she was tense, because she expected more pain, and she was relieved when all she felt was pleasure. The third time was wonderful. After they climaxed, they held each other for a while. Then Jerry kissed her forehead and lay beside her, breathing deeply.

Ashley was slick with sweat and exhausted, but she felt completely at peace. Jerry laced his fingers with hers. She turned her head and watched his chest rise and fall in the pale light that filtered through the bedroom blinds. It was smooth-not fat but not muscular, either. Not at all like the male model bodies in the fashion magazines. She decided that having muscles wasn’t all that important when you were making love.

Cool air touched her skin, reminding her that she was nude, lying next to a naked man. She wasn’t uncomfortable or embarrassed. She felt free, unburdened. She smiled. So this was what sex felt like. She wondered if it would be different with someone she didn’t love.

The word stopped her dead. Love was a big word, a very serious word. Did she really love Jerry or was she just a vulnerable girl who’d latched on to a man who had been nice to her? No, that wasn’t right. Jerry had been more than nice to her. He cared for her. She could tell when they kissed the first time. The kisses of Todd Franklin, her high school boyfriend, had been greedy and hungry. He said he loved her because he hoped that she would sleep with him. Ashley knew in her heart that Jerry would have been satisfied just to hold her, and that the sex was not as important as being together.

She was so happy, and she hadn’t been happy in a long time. Maybe Jerry was right. Maybe her nightmare was over. Maybe Joshua Maxfield would never bother her again.

Thinking about Joshua Maxfield brought unwanted memories of the attack in the parking lot. Ashley stopped smiling. Jerry must have sensed something because he turned toward her.

“Are you okay?”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m great, Jerry. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. And I mean that.”

“Was I okay?” Ashley asked, nervous that the sex had not been as good for him as it had been for her.

“You are definitely a hot piece of ass.”

“And you are a pig,” Ashley answered, slapping him playfully.

“A pig who has to pee real bad.”

Jerry pecked her on the cheek and got out of bed. She watched him walk to the bathroom. The door closed. Against her will, she started thinking about the attack in the parking lot. The only logical conclusion a rational person could draw was that Joshua Maxfield had tried to kill her, and Randy Coleman had saved her life, but something was still nagging at her.

Coleman was supposed to be a small-time crook who had married Casey Van Meter for her money. Would someone like that risk his life to save her from an attacker? But he must have. No other explanation made sense. If Coleman attacked her, then Maxfield had rescued her. Coleman had a twenty-million-dollar motive to kill her, but what possible motive could Joshua Maxfield have to save her?

An absurd thought occurred to Ashley. What if Maxfield wasn’t the man who killed her parents and tried to murder her in the dorm? What if Coleman was the killer? No, that made no sense. The attacks on her and the murders of her mother and father had to be linked, which meant that the killer had a motive to murder everyone in her family. Coleman didn’t know that she was Casey’s daughter and heir until the hearing, five years after her parents were murdered.

And there was the boathouse. There was no guesswork there. She had heard the screams. She had seen the bodies. It wasn’t Coleman standing in the dark holding that knife, it was Joshua Maxfield.

Jerry stepped out of the bathroom and walked over to the bed.

“I’m going to my apartment to shower and change. Then I am taking you to the restaurant of your choice to celebrate Joshua Maxfield’s arrest and the loss of your virginity. How does that sound?”

Ashley rolled on her side and touched his thigh. “Are you sure you want to leave?”

Jerry laughed. “God, you’re a pervert. Is sex all you think about?”

Ashley was about to answer when the phone rang. She was going to ignore it until she remembered that very few people had her number. One of them was Larry Birch and she worried that he was calling to tell her that Maxfield had escaped. She rolled to the other side of the bed and picked up the receiver.

“Ashley?” a woman asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m so glad I got you. This is Ann Rostow from Sunny Rest.”

“Yes?”

“How are you feeling?”

Ashley thought about the last two hours and couldn’t help smiling. “Thanks for asking. I’m fully recovered.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Do you think you’d have a problem coming to Sunny Rest tomorrow morning?”

“No, why?”

“There’s been a development here.”

“What happened?”

“Casey has regained consciousness.”

“What?”

“She woke up.”

“Oh, my God!”

Ashley sat up and Jerry mouthed, “What’s going on?” Ashley held up a hand to silence him.

“Dr. Linscott wants to meet with the interested parties tomorrow morning at nine o’clock,” Rostow said. “Can you make it?”

“Of course. Can you tell me how she is? Can she talk, is she…?”

“I’d rather have the doctor explain her condition. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ashley hung up and stared into space.

“Who was that?” Jerry asked.

“The woman from Sunny Rest. Casey Van Meter has come out of her coma.”

Jerry sat on the edge of the bed. “That changes everything,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-Five

When Jerry and Ashley arrived at Sunny Rest in the morning, Miles Van Meter was waiting with Monte Jefferson, his attorney, in the reception area outside Ann Rostow’s office. Larry Birch, Tony Marx, and Deputy District Attorney Delilah Wallace also wanted to hear what Dr. Linscott had to say. Randy Coleman and his attorney, Anthony Botteri, were sitting as far as possible from everyone else. Coleman did not look happy. Now that his wife was awake, their divorce could proceed, and his chance of securing any part of the Van Meter fortune was disappearng.

As soon as Ashley walked in, Delilah Wallace levered herself off the couch. She had a big grin on her face.

“How you doin’, girl? You had me worried something fierce.”

“I’m sorry I…”

“No apologies. I’m just glad you’re safe.” She spread her arms. “Let me give you a hug.”

Delilah engulfed Ashley, crushed her to her bosom, then let her go.

“No more running, promise?”

“I’m staying put.”

“Just like Mr. Maxfield. The only place he’s going is death row. That’s a promise. He’s gonna be under guard twenty-four hours a day and chained up anytime he’s out of his cell. No more freedom for Mr. Maxfield, ever.”

Miles had watched the exchange without expression, but he smiled as soon as Ashley turned toward him.

“You must be very happy,” she said.

“I should have had more faith.”

“No one could have predicted this.”

The door to the right of the receptionist’s desk opened and Ann Rostow walked out, followed by a short, bespectacled man in a brown sports jacket and gray slacks. The man’s red complexion extended across a bald pate over which he had combed his few remaining strands of hair. He looked uncomfortable facing a group.

“I’m glad you could all make it,” Rostow said. “This is Dr. Stanley Linscott, who has been treating Ms. Van Meter. Let’s go into the conference room so he can bring you up to date on her condition and answer your questions. Then we can go to her room.”

A long table dominated the conference room. Everyone assembled around it except Larry Birch and Tony Marx. The detectives stood against the wall. Ann Rostow and Dr. Linscott sat at the end of the table near the door.

“Go ahead, Doctor,” Ann Rostow said.

“Yes, well, I can tell you that I was quite surprised yesterday when the duty nurse phoned me. She said that she was in Ms. Van Meter’s room dealing with her feeding tube when the patient’s eyelids fluttered and she muttered something, which the nurse could not discern. Then Ms. Van Meter opened her eyes and looked around her room. She was confused and did not know where she was, but she did know her name. The nurse did not want to startle Ms. Van Meter, so she told her that she’d had an accident and was in a hospital. Then she phoned me. I came to Sunny Rest immediately and examined her.”

“Doctor, how lucid is Ms. Van Meter?” Delilah Wallace asked.

“She is aware of her identity and she is able to carry on a short conversation. She tires easily.”

“Does she know how long she’s been unconscious?” Miles asked.

“Yes. I told her this morning. That has been very disconcerting for her, but I would have been surprised if she wasn’t upset.”

“How much does she remember about being attacked?” Delilah asked.

“I haven’t discussed the incident in the boathouse with her. It might be too traumatic at this stage of her recovery.”

“Has she said anything about it?” Miles asked.

“No.”

“How long will it be before we can talk to her about what happened in the boathouse?” Detective Birch asked.

“I can’t answer that today. It will depend on her rate of recovery.”

“Is there a chance that waking up is only temporary?” Randy Coleman asked.

“Could she suffer a relapse?” Miles asked anxiously.

“Those are questions I can’t answer. As you know, Ms. Van Meter was part of a trial of a new drug that was developed specifically for this purpose. It seems to have worked, but I have no idea of the side effects that might be tied to the drug or how permanent her recovery will be. We can only pray that she’ll stay with us.”

“If there’s any possibility of a relapse, she should be questioned as soon as possible,” Delilah said. “She’s the only living witness who knows everything that happened in the boathouse.”

“I understand your concerns,” Dr. Linscott said, “but my concern is for my patient. I’m not going to subject her to any situation, like reliving her assault, that might trigger a relapse.”

“Which brings us to the ground rules for this morning,” Ann Rostow interjected. “Dr. Linscott and I have decided that we will only allow Ms. Van Meter’s husband, brother, and daughter in the room with her. You may stay fifteen minutes and you may not ask her any questions about the murder of Terri Spencer or the assault on her.” She looked at Miles Van Meter, Ashley, and Randy Coleman. “Is that clear?”

“If you want to avoid trauma, you shouldn’t let Coleman in,” Miles said. “Casey was divorcing him because he beat her up.”

“Listen, Van Meter…,” Coleman started.

“Enough!” Rostow said. “If there is any problem I will cancel the visit.”

“But…,” Miles started.

“Mr. Van Meter, I can understand your concern, but Mr. Coleman is legally married to Ms. Van Meter. He has a stronger legal claim to visit her than you do.”

Miles clamped his jaw shut, but he was obviously unhappy.

“Mrs. Rostow,” Ashley said, “do you think it’s wise to let me in to see Dean Van Meter?” Ashley still could not bring herself to call Casey “mother.” “She doesn’t know that I’m her daughter. My presence might confuse her or make her remember my mother-Terri-and what happened to them in the boathouse.”

“That’s a good point,” Rostow responded. “Dr. Linscott, as I understand it, Ms. Van Meter put Ashley up for adoption as soon as she gave birth to her and never learned who adopted her. When she went into her coma she did not know that Ashley was her daughter. Ashley only learned a short time ago who her biological mother was.”

Linscott looked troubled. “Do you want to see your mother, Miss Spencer?”

“Yes, if it’s possible. If she does have a relapse, this may be my only chance to talk to her. But I don’t want to do anything to harm her.”

“Why don’t we do this,” Dr. Linscott said. “I’ll let you go in with the others, but don’t tell Ms. Van Meter that you’re her daughter.”

“What should I say if she asks who I am?”

“Tell her that you went to the Academy and that you’re a friend of her brother.”

“Why don’t we go down to Ms. Van Meter’s room,” Rostow said as she opened the door to the conference room. They filed out of the room and Delilah moved next to Ashley as they walked toward Casey’s room.

“This must be scary for you,” the deputy DA said.

“A little. I’m more confused than frightened,” Ashley answered.

“You think you and Ms. Van Meter are going to get along?”

“I don’t know, but it’s worth a try.”

“Sort of like a second chance.”

“Sort of.”

“That’s how I feel about getting Maxfield back. Unfinished business. I lost a lot of sleep after he flew the coop.”

Dr. Linscott and Ann Rostow stopped at the nurse’s station nearest Casey’s door.

“I would like everyone except Mr. Coleman, Mr. Van Meter, and Miss Spencer to wait here.”

The doctor opened the door to Casey’s room. She was sitting up in bed watching television. A nurse was sitting by the bed reading a magazine.

“Good morning, Ms. Van Meter,” Dr. Linscott said.

Casey looked reluctant to turn away from the set and only gave Dr. Linscott a quick look before going back to her program. She did not look at anyone else.

“I’ve brought some visitors with me. Do you recognize anyone?”

Casey did not respond.

“She’s been watching nonstop since it was connected,” the nurse told Dr. Linscott. Linscott flicked his fingers toward the nurse and she turned off the set with her remote. Casey looked upset.

“There will be plenty of time for TV,” the doctor said. “We won’t be staying long.”

Casey stared at the invaders. Her brow furrowed. Then she focused on her brother and her eyes widened slowly.

“Miles?”

Miles walked over to the bed. There were tears in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to hug his sister but he restrained himself.

“It’s me, Casey. It’s so good to have you back.”

Casey fell back against her pillow. She seemed stunned.

“You look so different,” she said.

“I’m five years older. You’ve been asleep a long time.”

“Honey,” Randy Coleman said, taking a step toward the bed.

Casey looked puzzled for a moment. Then she looked agitated. Dr. Linscott put a restraining hand on Coleman’s arm. Coleman tensed but he stopped.

“This is Randy Coleman, Casey. Your husband,” the doctor said.

Casey’s hands opened and closed on her blanket. She pulled back toward the headboard.

“Why don’t you step out, Mr. Coleman,” the doctor said.

Coleman started to protest.

“Please,” Linscott said firmly. Casey’s husband scowled but left.

“I’ll go, too,” Ashley said.

Casey turned toward her and stared. “Who are you?”

“A friend of Mr. Van Meter,” Ashley answered.

Casey put a hand to her forehead. “No, there’s something…”

She looked lost and sounded frightened. Her breathing became shallow. Dr. Linscott looked worried.

“Perhaps this is too much, too soon,” he said. “I think everyone should leave.”

“Good-bye, Casey,” Miles said. “I’ll come back as soon as the doctor says it’s okay.”

Ashley and Miles joined Randy Coleman in the hall outside the door to Casey’s room. A few minutes later, Dr. Linscott came out.

“What happened?” Delilah asked.

“I may have acted hastily in letting her have visitors,” Dr. Linscott replied.

“She’s okay, isn’t she?” the DA asked, concerned about losing her witness.

“Oh, yes. Just a little overwhelmed by her situation.”

“When do you think I’ll have another chance to talk to Casey?” Miles asked.

“It will depend on her rate of recovery and her mental state. It’s a good sign that she recognized you, though.”

They discussed Casey’s condition a little longer. When the doctor and Ann Rostow excused themselves, Delilah turned to Ashley.

“I’m going back to my office to start working on my case, but I’ll be in touch soon. You okay about going through this again?”

“I wish I didn’t have to, but I want Maxfield punished. I want him in prison.”

“Good,” Delilah said, flashing a big smile. “That makes two of us.”

“Is he talking?” Jerry asked Delilah. “Has he admitted killing Terri Spencer?”

“Mr. Maxfield asked for a lawyer as soon as he was arrested and hasn’t said a word since. He may be evil, but he’s not dumb.” Delilah took Ashley’s hand in hers and patted it. “Not that it matters. I have you as a witness. Ms. Van Meter will just be icing on the cake.”

They reached the reception area and the homicide detectives escorted Delilah out of the building.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Miles said to Monte Jefferson. “You coming?”

“I’ll be right with you. I’ve got to talk to Jerry Philips for a second.”

“Meet you at the car. So long, Ashley.”

Miles left, and Jefferson turned to Jerry Philips. “Now that Ms. Van Meter is out of her coma, do you still need the files on Miss Spencer’s adoption?”

“I’d better keep the motion alive. If she has a relapse, we’ll be back in court.”

Jefferson frowned.

“Is there a problem?” Jerry asked.

“Maybe. We keep our closed files at Elite Storage’s warehouse. They have a record of the file but they can’t find it. It may be misfiled.”

“I don’t want to drop the motion but you don’t have to keep looking. If Ms. Van Meter stays awake, I’ll dismiss the motion. The case will probably be dismissed anyway as soon as Dr. Linscott gives Ms. Van Meter a clean bill of health.”

While Monte Jefferson was talking to Jerry, Ashley noticed Randy Coleman talking to his attorney in a corner of the room. He looked angry. The lawyer shrugged and held up his hands. Coleman swore and started to leave. Ashley intercepted him before he reached the door.

“Mr. Coleman, please.”

Coleman whirled around and glared at her. “What do you want?”

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you yesterday for saving my life.”

Coleman relaxed and forced a smile. “Glad I was there for you.”

“Me, too. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you. You were very brave.”

Coleman shrugged. “I didn’t really think about it. I saw you were in trouble and I just acted.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Coleman stepped back and examined Ashley. She felt uncomfortable.

“I don’t see it,” he said with a shake of his head.

“See what?”

“The resemblance. And you sure ain’t alike personality-wise. You seem nice. Casey is a bitch on wheels.”

Ashley flushed. Even if she didn’t know her well, she didn’t like to hear someone run down her mother.

“She was always nice to me,” she said, feeling the need to defend Casey.

“Oh, she can be nice. She was real nice to me, at first. Then she got bored and she wasn’t so nice.”

“What do you mean?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“Yes,” she answered, but she wasn’t really certain that she wanted to know about her mother’s dark side. Miles had been frank about his sister. Would her husband make her sound even worse?

“I don’t know what being in that coma did do to her. Maybe you’ll be lucky and she’ll change. But the Casey I knew was a self-centered, vicious bitch.”

Coleman rolled up his sleeve. Ashley saw a series of faint, circular scars.

“Cigarette burns,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “Know how I got them? We had an argument one night. I can’t even remember what it was about. We’d been drinking and we probably both said some shit to each other. I passed out. When I came to I was naked and handcuffed to the bed.” He pointed at the scars. “These aren’t the only ones. I got them all over my body. They hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Your mom said she did it to teach me manners. Know what she did after she got tired of hearing me scream?”

Ashley shook her head.

Coleman flashed a humorless smile. “She left the house with me still cuffed to the bed. At first, I was sure she’d come back and we’d make up. We’d fought before and that’s the way it always ended up. But she left me to die.”

Ashley’s eyes widened. Coleman could see that she didn’t believe him.

“I was chained up on that bed for a day and a half. No food, no water, lying in my own piss. The only reason I’m here is because a friend of mine dropped by to tell me my boss was mad that I missed work. He heard me screaming and got in through a window. Otherwise I’d be dead.”

Ashley felt sick and scared. She hoped that Coleman was exaggerating. She couldn’t believe that Casey could be that cruel. Ashley was also tempted to confront him and ask why he had followed Casey to Portland if she was that awful. Of course, she knew the answer to that one. He wanted Casey’s money. And she didn’t confront Coleman because she owed him her life.

“That sounds awful,” was what she did say.

“It was the worst experience I ever had,” Coleman said. He had a faraway look in his eyes and an odd tone to his voice that made Ashley think that he was telling the truth.

“Well, kid, I wish you luck. You’re gonna need it with that bitch for a mother.”

“That’s one bitter man,” Ashley said when Coleman was out of earshot.

“You’d be bitter too, if your shot at millions of dollars just went down the toilet,” Jerry said.

“It has,” Ashley answered, “and I’m not bitter at all.”

Jerry threw his head back and laughed. “You are one amazing woman.”

During the walk across the parking lot to his car, Jerry seemed preoccupied. When they were ready to leave the lot he didn’t start the engine right away.

“What’s wrong?” Ashley asked.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just been thinking. You have to pay rent every month on that apartment, which is an okay apartment, but not that great. And I’ve got this house I’m living in that’s really too big for one person.”

Ashley stared at Jerry for a moment. Then she frowned. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Yeah. That’s what I was getting around to.”

“For a lawyer, you can be pretty inarticulate at times.”

“So?”

Ashley leaned across the seat and kissed her attorney. “I’d love to shack up with you, Jerry.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Two guards led a heavily manacled Joshua Maxfield into the contact visiting room. The smaller of the two guards jammed his baton into the prisoner’s ribs to prod him forward, even though it wasn’t necessary. The other guard said nothing. Maxfield knew that it was no use protesting and maintained a stoic silence.

Eric Swoboda, Maxfield’s new attorney, unreeled from the plastic chair on which he was sitting. He was basketball-player tall, with a weightlifter’s neck and a defensive lineman’s girth. His head was huge and his jaw jutted out like a granite shelf. They had already met when Maxfield was arraigned on escape-and-assault charges stemming from his attack on Barry Weller. In light of what he’d done to his last attorney, Maxfield suspected that his new attorney’s physique had been the main reason that the presiding judge had appointed him. Joshua hoped that the behemoth’s brainpower was commensurate with his size.

The guards left the visiting room, but another guard stood in the corridor and watched the attorney-client meeting through the window. Swoboda started to offer his hand but stopped when he realized that Maxfield’s hands were chained in a way that made it impossible to extend them more than a few inches.

“Looks like they got you trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey,” the lawyer said.

“I would appreciate it if you could get the court to ease some of its restrictions,” Maxfield answered in a reasonable tone.

“I’ll try, but don’t get your hopes up. Everyone gets real uptight when your name is mentioned.”

Maxfield looked down, a shy smile on his face. “I guess I have no one to blame but myself.”

“Say, before I forget,” Swoboda said, “I read A Tourist in Babylon.” Maxfield looked up expectantly. “I don’t read much fiction, but I liked it.”

“Most people did,” Maxfield said, smiling with relief.

“I heard that the book won a lot of awards.”

“Yes, several,” Maxfield said proudly. “It was a national bestseller, too.”

“You wrote another book, didn’t you?” Swoboda asked.

“The Wishing Well,” Maxfield answered, his smile ebbing.

“I hear it didn’t do as well as your first book.”

The smile disappeared. “The critics were too stupid to understand it, so they panned it,” Maxfield answered bitterly. “The pack always tries to bring down someone who has risen too high, too fast.”

“How come you waited so long to write a new book?”

Maxfield colored. “Writing can’t be rushed. I’m an author of serious fiction. I don’t churn out potboilers. I’m not a hack.”

“The DA included a copy of your new book with the discovery. I read a little of it. It doesn’t sound that high-minded.”

“You have to understand what I am trying to do. My book is an exploration of madness. How does the human mind really work? How can a man look normal, marry, have children, and appear to be just as sane as you or I, yet have a demon within him that compels him to commit unspeakable acts? That is what I am exploring, the depth of the human soul.”

“Yes, well, Delilah Wallace thinks you’re describing murders that you committed.”

Maxfield’s fists clenched. “I am an artist. Artists use their imagination to create on paper a world that is as real as that which exists around us. If she believes that what I’ve written is real, I have succeeded as an artist. But the crimes in my novel are the product of my imagination. If I actually killed those people it would be a betrayal of my art. My book would be no more creative than a reporter’s account of a traffic accident. Don’t you see, I could never do what she is suggesting? It would be a complete betrayal of my craft. I am innocent of these murders.”

“I talked to Barry Weller. He says you claimed you were innocent right up until the minute you coldcocked him and stole his clothes.”

Maxfield flushed. “How is Barry? Not still mad at me, I hope.”

“You hope in vain. Every time I mentioned your name I had to listen to a string of swear words I didn’t know you could hook together in one sentence.”

“I’m sorry I hurt him, but I was certain I’d be convicted if I went to trial. I needed time to find the evidence that would clear me.”

“And did you?”

“I know who murdered Terri Spencer and tried to kill Casey.”

“Let me hear it,” Swoboda said, trying hard to keep from sounding sarcastic.

“Randy Coleman. He’s Casey’s husband. If she dies before the divorce becomes final, Coleman inherits millions. That’s why he tried to kill Ashley Spencer. As Casey’s daughter, Ashley will inherit a substantial portion of Casey’s estate. With her dead, Coleman gets all of it.”

“Coleman says that he stopped you from killing Miss Spencer.”

“He’s lying. It’s the other way around.”

“Who do you think a jury will believe, Coleman or the man Ashley Spencer saw standing over Casey Van Meter holding a bloody knife?”

Maxfield started to answer the question, but he realized how lame any protest would sound. His shoulders slumped and he sagged on his chair.

“And why would you want Ashley alive?” Swoboda asked. “Her testimony can put you on death row.”

“As long as Casey is in that coma I need Ashley alive.”

“Why is that?”

“Miles wants to pull the plug on his sister and Coleman needs her dead so he can inherit her money. Ashley is the only person who wants to keep her alive.”

“Why is keeping Casey alive important to you?”

“She’s the only one who knows what really happened in the boathouse. She’s the only witness who can clear me. You’ll see if she ever comes out of her coma.”

Swoboda smiled. “She has. That’s why I’m here.”

Maxfield looked stunned.

“Casey Van Meter came out of her coma yesterday. Delilah Wallace called me with the news. She was at the nursing home this morning.”

“Did she tell them I didn’t do it?”

“Right now Ms. Van Meter isn’t saying anything. I guess she’s pretty groggy.”

“When are they going to question her about the boathouse?”

“I don’t know. I’ll be notified when they do.”

“That’s great. She’ll tell them I didn’t kill Terri.”

“I hope so for your sake. Because I don’t see any other way of winning your case.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Eric Swoboda was the only addition to the group that had met at Sunny Rest on the morning of Casey Van Meter’s resurrection.

“I’m going to set some ground rules, just as I did the last time I permitted Ms. Van Meter to have visitors,” Dr. Linscott told them. “Only a few people will be allowed to visit. I don’t want my patient to be overwhelmed, especially when she’s going to be asked about a very traumatic event. Miss Wallace represents the prosecution and Mr. Swoboda represents the defendant. Miss Wallace wants to have one of the investigating officers with her, so I’m going to let Detective Birch go in with her. That’s it.”

“Mr. Coleman is Ms. Van Meter’s husband,” Anthony Botteri said. “He should have a right to be with his wife in this stressful moment.”

“We don’t let relatives sit in when we question witnesses in homicide cases,” Delilah told Coleman’s lawyer.

“You’ve let Miles Van Meter visit and…”

Dr. Linscott held up his hand. “Mr. Botteri, my patient asked to have her brother visit. She had a very negative reaction to your client the last time and has specifically asked that Mr. Coleman not be permitted in her room.”

“She’s confused, doctor,” Randy Coleman said. “She just woke up from a five-year-long coma.”

“And she’s still not fully recovered from her ordeal. That’s why I’m excluding everyone but the people I’ve named.”

Dr. Linscott looked at the detective, the defense attorney, and the deputy DA. “At the slightest sign of a problem, I’ll terminate the interview. Is that understood?”

Delilah, Eric Swoboda, and Larry Birch nodded their assent, and Dr. Linscott led them out of the conference room.

The television was on and Casey was still in bed, but she turned her head as soon as Dr. Linscott opened the door. Her color was better and she seemed to be more alert.

“Good morning, Casey,” the doctor said.

“Good morning,” she replied.

“I’ve brought some people who want to talk to you. Do you feel up to having visitors?”

Casey turned off the set. “I’m glad you brought them. I’ve been getting tired of having nothing to do but watch TV.”

“This is Delilah Wallace, a deputy district attorney in Multnomah County,” Dr. Linscott said. “This is Larry Birch. He’s a detective who’s helping Miss Wallace with a case. And this is Eric Swoboda. He’s an attorney who’s representing someone involved in the case.”

“Is this about me, how I got here?” Casey asked.

Delilah was pleased at the speed with which Casey figured out the purpose of their visit. This woman was able to think fast and appeared to be in charge of her faculties. That was going to make it hard for Swoboda to argue that Casey’s memory had been affected by her coma.

“You’re right, Ms. Van Meter,” Delilah answered. “I’m here because of the attack that put you in your coma. Do you feel up to answering some questions about it?”

Suddenly Casey looked drained. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the pillow.

“Ms. Van Meter?” Delilah asked, concerned by the rapid change.

Casey’s eyes opened. “Let’s get it over with.” She sounded resigned to having to discuss the incident in the boathouse.

“You’re certain it’s okay?” Delilah asked. “We don’t want to do anything that might harm you.”

Casey stared at Delilah. Her gaze was firm. “Ask your questions,” she said, and the DA sensed an inner strength that boded well if Casey had to testify in court.

“I guess the best way to handle this is to just ask you what you remember about the night you were knocked out.”

Casey started to say something, but she stopped dead, turned pale, and brought her hands to her face.

“Casey?” Dr. Linscott asked.

She shook her head, as if she was shaking off a terrible dream, and then took a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” Casey assured the doctor.

“Is Terri Spencer dead?” Casey asked Delilah.

“Yes, ma’am,” Delilah answered as she suppressed her excitement. Van Meter was going to remember it all and they were going to nail Joshua Maxfield’s coffin shut.

Casey took a deep breath. “I was hoping… But I knew in my heart that she didn’t survive. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t asked her to meet me she wouldn’t be dead.”

Delilah’s heartbeat quickened. “Who killed Terri, Ms. Van Meter?”

Casey looked at her. She seemed puzzled. “Why Joshua Maxfield, of course. Didn’t you know that?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ashley experienced déjà vu as soon as she drove through the gates of the Oregon Academy. Little had changed in the intervening five years. Groups of garrulous students lounged on the grass and walked on the grounds, oblivious to the murder that had robbed Ashley of the woman she still thought of as her mother. Their innocence made her sad. She had been a child once, but Joshua Maxfield had forced her to grow up in the space of one horror-filled evening.

The mansion came into view. Ashley expected it to look different because it had been uninhabited since Henry Van Meter’s death, but Henry had established a healthy endowment for the school before he died, part of which had gone to keep up the Van Meter home. Henry held out hope for Casey’s recovery to the last and he wanted his daughter to have a familiar place to live when she arose from her deathlike sleep. Last week, Dr. Linscott had decided that Casey was well enough to move back to her childhood home.

Ashley parked in the circular driveway that curved in front of the entrance to the mansion but she did not get out of the car. She felt light-headed. Her stomach was upset from worrying about her meeting with her mother. Would Casey reject her? Would she show any affection for the child she’d abandoned? Jerry had volunteered to come with her, but Ashley told him that this was something she had to do alone.

Ashley gathered herself and got out of the car. She was dressed in a conservative suit she had purchased for this meeting. Her palms were damp and her heart raced when she rang the doorbell. A stocky Korean woman with short black hair let her in.

“You must be Ashley.”

“Yes.”

“I’m Nan Kim, Ms. Van Meter’s nurse.”

“Did Dr. Linscott talk to my…Ms. Van Meter about…?”

“They had a long talk about you. He explained everything, and she wants to see you. She’s waiting for you in her room. She wanted me to ask if you want any refreshment.”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” Ashley wouldn’t have been able to hold anything down anyway.

“Let’s go up then,” the nurse said.

Casey was waiting for Ashley in a large, airy room with high ceilings. Her bed had been moved next to the window so she could look out at the garden and the pool. She was propped up on pillows and had regained some of her lost weight and a lot of her color. Her hair had been dyed blond to look as it had before her accident. A wheelchair and a walker stood in one corner. A comfortable armchair had been placed next to the bed.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Ashley said as soon as she was seated and the nurse had left the room.

“I should be thanking you for visiting. I’m bored out of my mind. I stay in bed most of the day. The only time I get out is for physical therapy or when they help me downstairs for meals.”

“How are you feeling?”

The question sounded awkward, and they both knew that Ashley was stalling so she would not have to start asking the hard questions that had brought her here.

“Coming back from the dead takes some getting used to. There are my missing years and my physical problems.”

Casey paused. She studied her visitor. The close scrutiny made Ashley uncomfortable.

“There’s also you.” Casey smiled. “For instance, what shall we call each other? I don’t know if ‘mother’ is appropriate.”

Ashley looked down. “I don’t want to offend you, but it would be hard for me to think of anyone but Terri as my mom.”

“I can understand that, and it doesn’t offend me in the least. You used to call me Dean, but I’m not anymore, and that’s way too formal for our relationship. So why don’t you call me Casey and I’ll call you Ashley. How does that sound?”

“Okay.”

“How did you find out about your father and me?”

“Your father told Jerry Philips, my attorney, about the adoption. He told me.”

“And why did Henry reveal our relationship after so many years?”

Ashley decided not to tell Casey that Henry needed her to prevent Miles from taking his sister off life support, because she wasn’t certain how much Casey knew.

“I guess he wanted me to know that I still had a family.”

“Do you hate me for abandoning you?” Casey asked.

The directness of Casey’s question caught Ashley off guard. Then it dawned on Ashley that Casey Van Meter was once again the dean. Casey was back in charge.

Ashley decided that she would be direct, too. “I did at first.”

“How do you feel now?”

“Confused, but I don’t hate you anymore. I tried to look at it from your point of view, to imagine how I would have felt if I was pregnant by a man I…I didn’t love.”

Ashley looked down.

“You’re right, Ashley. I didn’t love your father. Marriage would have been wrong for both of us. It would never have lasted. And I was too young to be a mother. When I gave you up for adoption it had nothing to do with you. It wasn’t your fault. I never even saw you. They took you away the moment I delivered. I was sedated. I don’t even have a clear memory of the birth. But it turned out for the best, didn’t it? Norman was a good father?”

“The best.”

“And you loved Terri?”

“Very much.”

Ashley paused and gathered the courage to ask the next question. “Did you ever regret giving me up?”

“There have been moments when I wondered what became of you. I’m glad you had loving parents. I’m happy that you’re a strong, self-confident woman, even if I can’t take any credit for what you’ve become.”

“Did you ever try to find me?”

“No, never.”

“Why?”

“May I be brutally honest?”

“Please,” Ashley said, steeling herself.

“You were never real to me. You were like a dream. I never held you, I never saw you. How could I love you or want you? And what good would it have done if I showed up out of the blue and destroyed your peace of mind? Look at the turmoil you’ve been through since you learned I was your mother.”

Ashley swallowed, fighting the tightness in her throat and the fear that she would cry. She kept her next question overly formal to distance herself from the emotions that were raging inside her.

“What about now? Do you want to get to know me or would you prefer that we not contact each other?”

Casey cocked an eyebrow and flashed a wry smile. “What a silly question. Of course I want to get to know you. I liked you from the first day we met. Do you remember when I showed you the campus? I knew that you were a good person, immediately. I admired the way you dealt with the horror of your situation, your steel, your poise. Had we been the same age I would have wanted you as a friend. There’s still the age difference, but that means less and less as we get older. So I propose that we start off as friends. We can see each other from time to time and try not to force anything. Let’s see how it goes. Is that acceptable to you?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now, you know what I’ve been doing for the past five years. I think it’s only fair that you bring me up to date on how you spent your time while I’ve been asleep.”

Jerry had to work late, so Ashley agreed to meet him at Typhoon, a Thai restaurant on Broadway a few blocks from his office. The hostess showed Ashley to a table in the crowded restaurant where Jerry was waiting.

“How did the meeting with Casey go?” Jerry asked as soon as she was seated.

“Better than I thought it would.”

“You shouldn’t be surprised. You liked Casey when you were at the Academy, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I only saw her a few times. Except for when she took Mom and me around, I never did more than say hi when we passed on campus. It was real superficial. And when I was at the Academy I didn’t know that she abandoned me and I hadn’t heard all of these bad things about her.”

“Bad like what?”

“You told me how wild she was when she met Dad. Miles said pretty much the same thing. She’s been in rehab. She was promiscuous. If you can believe Randy Coleman, she could also be violent and sadistic.”

Ashley related what Coleman had said about Casey chaining him to their bed and burning him with cigarettes. Jerry was appalled.

“But being in the coma and coming out of it, maybe that changed her,” Ashley said. “This afternoon we really clicked. I want to get to know her better.”

Jerry reached out and took Ashley’s hands. “This is good, Ashley. This can really help you. With Maxfield in prison and finding out that you get along with Casey, you can have a new start. You can get your life back.”

“You left something out.”

“What?”

Ashley squeezed Jerry’s hands. “You, Jerry. If anyone has saved me, it’s you.”