Sleeping Beauty

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The bailiff rapped his gavel to start the fourth day of Joshua Maxfield’s trial. Delilah Wallace smiled in anticipation of the day’s events. She was delighted with the jury that had been empaneled during the first two days. They were a group of tough, no-nonsense people. She was certain that they would see through any defense tricks and have no qualms about finding death to be the appropriate sentence after they convicted the defendant of aggravated murder.

Delilah was also pleased with the way opening statements had gone. Hers had been detailed and impassioned. She had laid out the evidence the jury would hear in chronologic order and had named the witnesses who would establish each piece of evidence. By the time she was through with her presentation she noticed more than one juror nodding unconsciously when she made a point. They also smiled when she brought a little levity to the proceedings. It was easy for Delilah to make friends, and she felt that she had twelve new ones by the time she sat down.

In Delilah’s opinion, Eric Swoboda’s opening statement had been boring and uninformative. He had talked about the concept of reasonable doubt but he had not mentioned a single reason why the jury was going to have one when the trial was over. He had been vague about how the defense would counter the state’s arguments. He had talked theory but had presented no facts. Delilah knew why. The defense had no arguments to counter hers. It had no evidence that would create any kind of doubt, much less a reasonable doubt. Joshua Maxfield was guilty, guilty, guilty, and Delilah was satisfied that she had the means to bring him to justice.

The Honorable Andrew Shimazu had been assigned to hear Joshua Maxfield’s case. Shimazu was a short, chubby, congenial Japanese-American with a full head of straight, black hair. After graduating from the University of Hawaii with an engineering degree, Shimazu had attended the Northwestern School of Law of Lewis and Clark College in Portland and stayed on. After he spent several years with a large firm and two terms in the state legislature, the governor had appointed him to the Multnomah County Circuit Court. This was his sixth year on the bench. His intelligence and judicial temperament had made him one of the most popular judges in the courthouse.

“Call your first witness, Miss Wallace,” Judge Shimazu ordered.

Delilah had decided to begin her case with her most appealing and deadliest witness. The prosecutor wanted the jury to be convinced of Maxfield’s guilt from the get-go. Once they had formed their opinion, it would be very difficult for Eric Swoboda to change it.

“The State calls Ashley Spencer,” Delilah said.

As Ashley walked down the aisle to the witness box she remembered how terrified she had been when she testified at Joshua Maxfield’s preliminary hearing. Today, she was focused and angry. When she passed the defense table, Ashley glared at Maxfield. She noticed with great satisfaction that he could not meet her steady gaze. Ashley looked away and walked to the front of the witness box where she stood with her head held high as the bailiff administered the oath.

Ashley took her seat and waited for Delilah Wallace to begin her direct examination. Jerry was seated behind the prosecutor in the first row of the spectator section. He flashed her a smile of encouragement when their eyes met. Ashley knew better than to smile back. Delilah had instructed her to be serious from the moment she took the stand to the moment she finished testifying.

Seated next to Jerry was Miles Van Meter. Delilah had not included him on her witness list. He was in court to lend moral support to his sister when she testified and because he was writing an updated edition of his book.

Delilah started her direct examination gently, by walking her witness through her relationship with her parents and her high school soccer career. In her opening statement, Delilah had outlined the testimony that she expected Ashley to give, and the jurors listened sympathetically to what Ashley had to say.

After laying her groundwork, Delilah led Ashley to the night that Tanya Jones and her father were murdered. Ashley told the jury how she and Tanya had been attacked and bound, and how she had watched helplessly as the man who invaded her home dragged Tanya into the guest room. Ashley’s poise broke momentarily when she recounted Tanya’s rape and murder, and she had to pause and drink some water before she could go on.

“Do you want to continue, Miss Spencer?” Judge Shimazu asked. “We can take a recess.”

Ashley took a deep breath and looked across at Joshua Maxfield. Once again, Maxfield refused to meet her eyes. That gave her strength.

“I’d like to go on, Your Honor. I’m okay.”

“Very well. Miss Wallace.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. Now, Ashley, you said that you heard Tanya Jones’s muffled screams. What was the first sound you heard from the man who attacked Tanya after he took her into the guest room?”

“I…I heard a gasp.”

“What did you believe that signified?”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Eric Swoboda said. “Speculation.”

“Your Honor, there will be testimony that Miss Jones was a virgin and that there was evidence of rape. Miss Spencer’s observation will be amply corroborated by this other evidence.”

“Mr. Swoboda, I’m going to let Miss Spencer testify.”

“Ashley?” Delilah said.

“It sounded like he was…like it was sex.” Ashley reddened. “That he’d had an orgasm.”

“What did you hear after that?”

“Tanya was whimpering. Then I heard a… It was like an animal. It didn’t sound human. Then there were these grunts and Tanya stopped screaming.”

“Did the grunts stop when Tanya stopped screaming?”

“No. They went on and on. Then the door to the guest room slammed open.”

“What did you think was going to happen next?”

“I…I thought he was going to rape me and kill me, like Tanya. The same thing.”

“What happened instead?”

“He stopped in the doorway and looked at me. That seemed to go on forever. But he didn’t come in. He went downstairs.”

“Did you hear anything downstairs?”

“I heard the refrigerator door open.”

“We’ll get back to what happened in the kitchen in a bit, but I want you to tell the jury how you escaped.”

Ashley sat up straight and turned to the jurors. In that moment, she felt as she had in the second grade when she’d played soccer with her father’s spirit inside her. Norman was there once again and he made her strong. He filled her with power and lifted her up.

“My father saved my life,” she told the jurors. “My father sacrificed his life for mine. I would not be alive today if it was not for my father, Norman Spencer.”

Delilah had Ashley detail her escape from her home and her subsequent decision to attend the Oregon Academy. Ashley told the jury about her contacts with Joshua Maxfield and her mother’s involvement with his writing seminar. Then Ashley testified about the incident at the boathouse.

“Ashley,” Delilah asked, “you were real serious about your soccer, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“In addition to your team workouts, did you have your own conditioning program?”

“Well, I did extra workouts.”

“Did you like to run in the woods on the Academy grounds in the evening to build up your wind and your legs?”

“Yes.”

“Did you take a run on the evening that Terri Spencer was murdered?”

Ashley paled. She looked down and said, “Yes,” so softly that the court reporter had to ask her to repeat her answer.

“During your run, did you see anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Who did you see?”

Ashley looked across the room and pointed at Joshua Maxfield.

“I saw him, the defendant.”

“What was he doing?”

“He was walking by the river.”

“Was there anything unusual about the way he was walking?”

“No. I really didn’t think anything of it because he lived near the boathouse.”

“Was he walking toward or away from the boathouse?”

“Toward it.”

“Did anything unusual happen shortly after you saw the defendant?”

“Yes, I heard a woman scream. Then I heard another scream.”

“How close together were the screams?”

“Pretty close. I can’t say exactly.”

“Where did the screams come from?”

“The direction of the boathouse.”

“What did you do after you heard the screams?”

“I was scared. I froze after the first one. Then I thought someone might be hurt so I cut through the woods and ended up on the side of the boathouse.”

“Did you see anyone else on your way to the boathouse?”

“No.”

“What happened next?”

“I heard a woman say something.”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t know. I just heard the sound. It was muffled by the walls.”

“How do you know it was a woman?”

“It was high-pitched.”

“What did you do after you heard the sound?”

“I looked in the window of the boathouse.”

“What did you see?”

Ashley pointed at Maxfield. “I saw him and there were two women lying on the floor. And he was holding a knife. There was blood on it.” Ashley was finding it hard to breathe, but she forced herself to finish her testimony. “He saw me and he tried to kill me. He killed my mother and he ran after me and tried to kill me.”

“Who killed your mother, Ashley?” Delilah asked. “Who tried to kill you?”

“Him. Joshua Maxfield. He tried to kill me. He killed my mother.”

Ashley began to sob.

After a recess, Delilah had Ashley recount her recovery on the Academy grounds and the attack in the dormitory that followed Maxfield’s escape. Eric Swoboda’s cross-examination was mercifully short, and her testimony ended just before five o’clock. Judge Shimazu adjourned court for the day. Delilah, Jerry Philips, Larry Birch, and Tony Marx formed a protective circle around Ashley and helped her get through the crowd outside the courtroom. Delilah stopped in front of the elevators and faced the cameras and microphones. Her body shielded Ashley from the glare of the lights and the questions shouted at her by the reporters.

“Miss Spencer will not answer any questions. She is exhausted. These past five years have been a terrible ordeal for her and I ask you to respect her privacy. She has been very brave today. Let her have some peace.”

Several reporters shouted questions at Delilah. She answered them while Jerry and the detectives hustled Ashley into the elevator.

“You were fantastic,” Jerry said when the elevator doors closed.

“I don’t feel fantastic,” Ashley said.

“Well it’s over now and Swoboda didn’t lay a glove on you.”

“I didn’t see it as a boxing match, Jerry.”

“No, no. I meant that your testimony was basically unchallenged. It was everything Delilah could have hoped for. You’re going to be a major reason that Maxfield will be convicted. He couldn’t even look you in the eye. The jury saw that.”

Ashley felt no elation, only exhaustion, although there was also a feeling of peace because her part in the trial was over.

The elevator stopped and Jerry and the detectives brought Ashley to Delilah’s office. A few minutes later, Delilah joined them. There was a huge smile on her face.

“Come here, girlfriend,” she said as she wrapped Ashley in a warm embrace. After a moment, she stood back and held her witness at arm’s length.

“You can be mighty proud of yourself, young lady. You have single-handedly brought a terrible murderer to justice. I know we have a way to go but I was watching the faces of those twelve jurors and they are converted. It would take the intervention of the Almighty to work an acquittal for Joshua Maxfield, and he only has Eric Swoboda and Satan on his side.”

Ashley blushed at Delilah’s effusive praise.

“How you feelin’?” Delilah asked. “You feelin’ relieved?”

Ashley nodded.

“You’ll sleep good tonight, child, because you done good. You avenged your parents. You did them proud.”

“I’m so glad I don’t have to come to court anymore.”

Delilah’s smile disappeared. “I know you want to stay away and put this behind you, but I need you in court every day until the trial ends.”

Ashley looked stricken. Delilah looked right at her. When she spoke her tone was firm.

“Your parents need you in court to face down their killer. You represent Norman and Terri Spencer and Tanya Jones. It’s important that the jury see you every day. They have to know that you’re watching them and holding them to account.”

“All right.”

Delilah gave Ashley’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Your day of rest will come soon, but you have to play your part to make sure that Joshua Maxfield never has another peaceful day.”

Chapter Thirty

Jerry couldn’t go to court with Ashley the next day because he had an appearance in Washington County in a divorce case. He offered to try to set over the case, but Ashley wouldn’t hear of it. When she walked into the courtroom, Miles Van Meter was already in his front-row seat.

“I didn’t get a chance to talk to you yesterday,” Miles said. “Your testimony was excellent. I was watching the jurors. They hung on every word. I hope Casey holds up as well as you did.”

“I’m sure she will. She’s a very strong woman.”

“I appreciate the time you’re spending with her. It’s helped her recovery tremendously.”

“She is my mother,” Ashley responded. Thinking of Casey as her mother was getting easier.

“The way she treated you, you don’t owe her anything. That’s what makes what you’re doing so great.”

“Getting to know Casey has helped me, too. It’s like I’m starting to build a family again.”

Miles was about to respond when the bailiff rapped the gavel and called the courtroom to order.

Delilah began the day by calling three members of Joshua Maxfield’s writing seminar. They told the jurors how upset Terri Spencer was during Maxfield’s reading of the excerpt from his serial-killer novel. Delilah’s next witness was Dean Van Meter’s secretary, who established that Terri had met with the dean on the day of her death. After the secretary, Delilah called a representative of the phone company to prove that the dean had phoned Ashley’s mother within an hour of the meeting at the Academy.

During the testimony, Ashley would glance at Joshua Maxfield when a witness made an important point. He never looked back. His shoulders were hunched and he stared at the tabletop. It appeared to Ashley that he had given up.

Delilah’s next witness was Dr. Sally Grace, the medical examiner. It took a good part of the morning for her to explain the cause of death for Tanya Jones and Ashley’s father and mother. Dr. Grace’s explanation was accompanied by graphic photos, which were passed to the members of the jury. Fortunately for Ashley, the spectators could not see the autopsy and crime-scene photographs. The testimony about her parents’ and her friend’s injuries was gruesome enough. Even though Delilah had warned her about what she would hear, it took all of Ashley’s self-control to stay in the courtroom.

After the lunch break, Delilah used Tony Marx to introduce evidence that had been gathered at the boathouse and Joshua Maxfield’s cabin. Then she called Detective Birch, who introduced the evidence that had been discovered at the Spencer home crime scene. After an hour of this, Delilah asked a question about another subject.

“At some point in your investigation did you develop a theory that the man who committed these murders had committed murders in other states?”

“Yes,” Birch answered.

“What steps did you take to find out if you were right?”

“We sent information about the case to the FBI.”

“Why did you do that?”

“There is a division of the bureau that tracks serial killings from around the country.”

Delilah addressed Judge Shimazu. “I have no further questions of Detective Birch at this time. But I plan to recall him, Your Honor.”

“You may cross-examine, Mr. Swoboda.”

“May I reserve my cross until Detective Birch has completed all of his testimony?”

“Any objection to that, Miss Wallace?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Call your next witness, Miss Wallace.”

“The State calls Bridget Booth, Your Honor.”

A moment later, a woman with short gray hair and a pale complexion walked down the aisle. Her bearing was military and she wore a gray business suit, white blouse, and practical shoes.

“What is your occupation, Mrs. Booth?” Delilah asked as soon as her witness had been sworn.

“I’m a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

“Where are you headquartered?”

“ Quantico, Virginia.”

“Would you please tell the jury your educational background?”

“I received a bachelor’s degree in psychology and a master’s degree in behavioral science from the University of Missouri.”

“Where did you work after obtaining your degrees?”

“I was a policewoman and a homicide detective in St. Louis, Missouri, for seven years. Actually, I obtained my master’s while I was on the force. During my seventh year in St. Louis, I applied to the FBI and was accepted. I completed basic training at Quantico, Virginia, and served four years as a special agent assigned to the Seattle office. Then I applied for VICAP and I’ve been there for thirteen years.”

“What is VICAP?”

“It’s an acronym for the FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. The program originated from an idea developed in the 1950s by the late Pierce Brooks, a detective with the Los Angeles Police Department. Detective Brooks was investigating the murders of two Los Angeles women who were found bound by rope in the desert. They had both answered an ad for photographic models. Detective Brooks was convinced that this was the work of a killer who had murdered before and would strike again, so he used his off-duty hours to read out-of-town newspapers in hopes of finding an account of another similar murder. He did find such a case and it led to an arrest and conviction.

“Detective Brooks became convinced that putting information about open homicide cases on a computer would enable law enforcement officers from around the country to solve cases with similar modus operandi. In 1983, the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime was created and placed under the direction and control of the FBI training center at Quantico. VICAP is a part of the center. Its goal is to collect, collate, and analyze all aspects of the investigation of similar-pattern multiple murders on a nationwide basis.”

“Approximately five years ago, did you receive a call from Detective Larry Birch of the Portland Police Bureau concerning some homicides that had occurred in Oregon?” Delilah asked.

“Yes.”

“Why did Detective Birch contact you?”

“The crimes were unusual, and he wondered if we were aware of other crimes with similar modus operandi. He was also in possession of an unpublished novel…”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Swoboda said. “We object to any evidence about that book. It’s irrelevant. It’s made-up fiction.”

“I’ve ruled on this pretrial, Mr. Swoboda,” Judge Shimazu said. “I have decided that evidence concerning the book can be introduced for certain limited purposes. So I will overrule your objection and you can have a continuing objection. You may proceed, Miss Wallace.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

Delilah turned back to the witness. “Agent Booth, let’s leave the novel aside for the time being. Did you find other murders that were similar to the murders Detective Birch was investigating?”

Booth turned toward the jurors. “We have identified murders in Iowa, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Ohio, Michigan, Arizona, Montana, and Idaho that have been committed over a period of several years that may be the work of the same serial killer.”

“What led you to that conclusion?”

“In each instance, the killer broke into a home in the early-morning hours. In each household there were parents and a teenage daughter. The killer bound the victims with duct tape and tortured the parents by cutting them to death slowly.” Several members of the jury blanched. “He then raped the daughter before stabbing her to death.”

“Did these murders have other things in common?”

“Yes. In more than one, there was evidence that the killer ate a snack at the home. For instance, the murderer ate a piece of pie at the home in Connecticut. A candy bar was consumed in the Montana case. During the Spencer and Jones murders-this case-the killer ate a piece of cake and drank some milk.

“Another thing they had in common was that the duct tape used in every case was manufactured by the same company. Furthermore, the tape used in the Michigan and Arizona cases came from the same roll.”

“Has the FBI constructed a profile of the person who is responsible for theses crimes?” Delilah asked.

“Objection,” Swoboda said. “This would be sheer speculation.”

“I’m inclined to agree, Miss Wallace,” Judge Shimazu said. “The police can use certain tools in an investigation, like a lie detector, that are not sufficiently reliable to use as evidence in court. Unless you can lay a foundation for the scientific reliability of profiling, I’m going to sustain Mr. Swoboda’s objection.”

“Very well, Your Honor. Agent Booth, have you had an opportunity to read two drafts of a novel that the defendant was writing at the time of his arrest?”

“Yes I have.”

“Was this novel about a fictional serial killer?”

“Yes.”

“Were there any similarities between the details of the crimes committed in the novel by the fictitious serial killer and evidence found at the real-life crime scenes created by the real serial killer you were profiling?”

“Yes.”

“Did the similarities between the novel and real life involve evidence in the real cases that the police had not revealed to the public?”

“Yes.”

“Will you outline the similarities for the jury?”

“In the novel, the killer breaks into a home in the early-morning hours and murders the parents of a teenage girl. He plans to rape and murder the girl, but before following through he eats a dessert in the kitchen of the crime scene. As I’ve testified previously, all of the real murders occurred in the early-morning hours and involved families with two parents and a teenage daughter. Furthermore, the murderer in Montana and Connecticut ate a snack at the crime scene, and the person who murdered Tanya Jones and Norman Spencer ate a piece of cake and drank some milk in the kitchen of the Spencer home.”

“Did the police organizations in Montana, Connecticut, and Oregon release information about these snacks to the public?”

“No.”

“Why did they keep these details secret?”

“Investigators keep unusual details of crimes secret to guard against false confessions. They want to be sure that they have arrested the right person for the crime. A person who knew a detail of a crime that was not made public is probably the perpetrator.”

“Your Honor, I move to introduce Exhibit 75, pages from the defendant’s novel, which contain the scene with the snack that Agent Booth just discussed.”

“Objection,” Swoboda said.

“Is this objection on new grounds, Mr. Swoboda?” the judge asked.

“No, Your Honor.”

“Overruled. You’re deemed to have a continuing objection to all similar exhibits. You don’t have to object every time the novel is mentioned. Go on, Miss Wallace.”

When Agent Booth was finished testifying about other scenes in Joshua Maxfield’s book that were similar to the real crimes, Delilah turned her over to Eric Swoboda.

“Agent Booth, you testified that the police organizations that investigated the crimes in places like Montana, Oregon, and Connecticut kept certain information secret.”

“Yes.”

“These are big organizations, are they not?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever heard of information that was supposed to be secret leaking from big police organizations?”

“Yes.”

“There would be many people at a crime scene who would learn about a killer eating a snack during the commission of his crime, would there not?”

“There could be.”

“Any one of these people could make this secret information public?”

“Yes.”

“Agent Booth, are the crimes about which you’ve just testified the only ones of which you are aware in which the perpetrator used duct tape to bind a victim?”

“No.”

“Isn’t the use of duct tape common in crimes where a victim is tied up?”

“Duct tape is used by criminals.”

“As part of your duties with VICAP or out of a personal preference, do you read fictional books about make-believe serial killers?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever read a novel that had a plot that mirrored aspects of a real case?”

“Yes.”

“And there are many true-crime books about real serial killers, aren’t there?”

“Yes.”

“And these true-crime books describe in great detail how serial killers operate?”

“Yes.”

“Novelists use their imagination to make a living, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“And they do research? They read about real serial killers to make their characters come alive?”

“I suppose so.”

“And novelists who write about serial killers would naturally develop ideas about how to kill someone or how a killer might act that might be very close to the way a real murderer might act?”

“I suppose so.”

“Are you aware of novels involving serial killers where the killer uses duct tape to bind his fictional victims?”

“Yes.”

“Agent Booth, you admitted that novelists frequently research real cases to make their fictional stories more believable, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Has any author ever contacted VICAP to get background for a made-up story about a serial killer?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know if Mr. Maxfield ever spoke with someone at VICAP or an FBI agent in another division or a police officer or a detective about serial killers for background?”

“He never spoke to me.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I have no knowledge one way or the other about the defendant talking to someone at the FBI or other law enforcement officers about his book.”

“Now, I believe that you testified that the duct tape in all of the cases came from the same manufacturer.”

“Yes.”

“How many rolls of this duct tape does the manufacturer make every year?”

“I don’t have the exact figures with me.”

“Is it safe to say that the company manufactures a lot of duct tape every year?”

“Yes.”

“Thousands of rolls?”

“Probably.”

“And these rolls are distributed nationally?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s quite possible that a murderer in Michigan and another totally unconnected murderer in Arizona could have purchased rolls from the same company?”

Agent Booth glanced toward Delilah before answering, and received a brief smile. Booth looked back at Swoboda.

“That is correct.”

“When you began your testimony you stated that the FBI had identified murders in several states that-and I quote-‘may be the work of the same serial killer’-unquote. That’s correct, isn’t it?”

“I believe so.”

“Why did you say ‘may be the work’? Why weren’t you more positive?”

“The evidence points to the same person committing the murders, but we can’t say that this is a fact with one hundred percent certainty until the person confesses.”

“Are there dissimilarities between some of the murders?”

Agent Booth glanced at Delilah, who kept her face blank.

“Did you understand my question, Agent Booth?”

“There were indications in the Connecticut and Montana cases that more than one person may have been in the home when the murders occurred.”

“There were two killers?” Swoboda asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide his surprise.

“The perpetrator of these two crimes may have had an accomplice, but we could never be certain. In all other respects, the modus operandi in all of the crimes I mentioned was consistent with a single murderer having committed all of the murders.”

“But if there were two killers involved in two of the crimes and only one killer in the other crimes, we might be dealing with unrelated homicides, right?”

“That is one possibility.”

“If that’s true then we’d have a situation where one person independently committed a crime that was almost identical to a crime committed by two other people, right?”

“Yes.”

“And that would make it less amazing if a third person-a writer, say-also thought up a make-believe plot with a similar crime, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Agent Booth answered reluctantly.

“Thank you, Agent Booth,” Swoboda said with a triumphant smile. “I have no further questions.”

“Any redirect, Miss Wallace?” the judge asked.

“Yes, Your Honor. Agent Booth, Mr. Swoboda brought up the possibility that a killer in Arizona and a different killer in Michigan purchased separate rolls of duct tape made by the same manufacturer before committing their crimes, creating the false appearance that the crimes were related.”

“Yes.”

“Did the FBI ever establish a link between the duct tape used in Arizona and the duct tape used in Michigan that eliminated the possibility of coincidence?”

“Yes. The same exact roll of duct tape was used by the killer in Arizona and the killer in Michigan.”

“How do you know that?”

“Our lab examined the ends of the duct tape used in every case and they found that one piece that was used to bind the hands of one of the Arizona victims fit a piece from the Michigan case like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It was a one hundred percent physical match.”

Chapter Thirty-One

The next morning, Ashley and Jerry Philips watched Randy Coleman swagger down the aisle, looking right and left, like a boxer entering the ring in an important fight. Coleman was wearing a new suit and he’d shaved and gotten a haircut. Ashley guessed that Coleman had not had many high points in his life and he was making the best of his fifteen minutes of fame.

“Mr. Coleman, are you the husband of Casey Van Meter, one of the victims in this case?” Delilah asked her witness.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“When did you get married?”

“Six years ago.”

“After two months of marriage, did Ms. Van Meter file for divorce?”

“Yes, but we were working that out when Maxfield tried to kill her.”

“Objection. Not responsive to the question,” Swoboda said. “Move to strike.”

“Sustained. Jurors, you will disregard all of the witness’s answer, except his affirmation that he and his wife were in the midst of a divorce.”

“Mr. Coleman,” Delilah said, “can you tell the jury about an encounter you had with the defendant at the Oregon Academy pool?”

Delilah had gone over the questions that she was going to ask on direct with Coleman. She had told him that there was nothing wrong with admitting that he and Casey Van Meter had been arguing, but Coleman had been very defensive and she prayed that he wouldn’t mess up her case.

“Yeah, sure. I came to the school to talk to Casey. I knew she really didn’t want to split up with me and I was sure we could work things out if we talked about our problems. She liked to swim in the pool and I found her doing laps. We’d just started talking when Maxfield attacked me from behind. I didn’t have a chance. If he hadn’t sneak-attacked me, I…”

“Mr. Coleman,” Delilah cut in, “during this altercation did the defendant make any threats to you?”

“Yeah. He threatened to kill me. He said he’d rig explosives to my car or my apartment.”

“Moving to another subject, were you present at the Sunny Rest nursing home when the defendant was rearrested?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Coleman’s chest puffed up and he smiled at the jurors. “I captured him and saved Ashley Spencer’s life.”

“Please tell the jury what happened.”

“Casey had been in this coma for years. At first, I was really bummed out. I tried to convince myself that she’d wake up someday soon. I didn’t think visiting her would do any good. Her doctor told me she couldn’t hear me or say anything, and I was afraid I’d be too upset if I saw her like a vegetable. Plus her father was real hostile to me. I think he was the one who talked Casey into filing for divorce. He was very domineering.”

“Objection,” Swoboda said. “The witness isn’t answering the question.”

“Yes, Mr. Coleman,” the judge said, “you are getting pretty far afield.”

“Sorry, Judge.”

“Why don’t you tell the jury what happened during your visit to the Sunny Rest nursing home on the day of the defendant’s arrest?” Delilah said, praying that Coleman would stay on track.

“Okay. I was in town for the guardianship hearing and I decided to visit Casey. It was raining real heavy. I parked my car but I didn’t get out. At first I really wanted to visit Casey, but then I worried about what she’d look like. I mean she’d been knocked out for five years. So I was sitting in my car, wondering what to do, when I saw Ashley Spencer leaving the nursing home. I figured that she’d just come from visiting Casey and I’d ask her what it was like.”

Ashley looked over at Maxfield. He was sitting up and his eyes were drilling into Coleman. It was the first time in a while that he’d shown any signs of life.

“Lucky for her I decided I wanted to talk,” Coleman went on. “By the time I got out of my car, she was running toward hers. I ducked my head because of the rain and followed her. When I looked up, a guy was coming at her with a knife.”

“Could you see the assailant’s face?” Delilah asked.

“No. He was wearing a hood.”

“What happened next?”

“Ashley kicked him and ran. He went after her. I knew the guy had a knife, but I wasn’t gonna let that stop me. So I tackled him and wrestled him to the ground. Then, the cops arrived.”

“Did you finally get to see the face of the man who tried to murder Ashley Spencer?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And who was it?”

Coleman paused for effect before pointing at Joshua Maxfield. Maxfield glared at Coleman.

“The man who tried to stab Ashley Spencer to death is Joshua Maxfield, the defendant,” Coleman said, raising his voice dramatically.

“No further questions.”

Eric Swoboda crossed the room and stood a few inches from the witness.

“Mr. Coleman, I noticed that the prosecutor didn’t ask you what you do for a living. Is that because she doesn’t want the jury to know that you work for the Las Vegas mob?”

“That’s a lie. I’m a businessman. Just because I work in Las Vegas doesn’t make me a gangster.”

“What is the name of your company?”

“American Investments.”

“Hasn’t American Investments been the target of a federal grand jury looking into money laundering?”

“That was a mistake. Nothing came of that.”

“Is that because Myron Lemke, the government’s star witness, was murdered before he could testify?”

“Objection,” Delilah said. “Hearsay, irrelevant, and it violates the evidentiary rules on prior bad acts admissibility.”

“I’m going to sustain the objection. Move on, Mr. Swoboda.”

“Have you ever been convicted of a crime?”

“Yeah, years ago.”

“What was the crime?”

“Assault.”

“Were you ever convicted of theft?”

“That was a mistake. I thought I had money in my checking account and…”

“The jury didn’t agree with your defense, did it?” Swoboda asked.

“No,” Coleman answered reluctantly.

“Mr. Coleman, you testified that Mr. Maxfield attacked you at the Oregon Academy swimming pool?”

“Yeah, from behind.”

“At the time that he confronted you, were you holding Casey Van Meter’s wrist and calling her a bitch?”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You don’t remember attacking Ms. Van Meter?”

“No. We were talking.”

Delilah sighed inwardly but showed the jury none of what she was feeling. She’d needed Coleman to prove that Maxfield tried to knife Ashley at Sunny Rest and that point had been made. Fortunately, the jurors didn’t have to like Coleman to believe him.

“You’re saying that Mr. Maxfield attacked you from behind for no reason in front of scores of witnesses?”

“The guy’s a psycho. He didn’t need a reason.”

“Mr. Coleman, your wife is going to testify later in this case. Do you still contend that you were not assaulting her when Mr. Maxfield came to her rescue?”

“She’s had a serious head injury. I don’t think her memory is too good.”

“We are prepared to call several former students who were in the pool that day. Do you still want to maintain this fiction?”

“Call anyone you want. I don’t know what they’ll say. We may have been arguing. Casey could get upset over nothing.”

“What were you arguing about?”

“The divorce. I was trying to make her see reason.”

“That’s because Ms. Van Meter was rich and you couldn’t get your hands on her money if she divorced you?”

“No. I didn’t care about the money. I love her.”

“That’s why you didn’t go see her at any time while she was wasting away at the nursing home?”

“I already told you about that. It was too much for me to see her like that.”

“Yes, we can all see how sensitive you are,” Swoboda said.

“Objection,” Delilah said.

“Sustained,” Judge Shimazu answered.

Swoboda turned his back on Coleman and took a few steps down the jury box.

“So it was love, not Ms. Van Meter’s money, that caused you to seek an appointment as the guardian of her forty million dollars?”

Several jurors reacted when they heard the sum. Coleman didn’t answer. Swoboda turned back toward him.

“How long did you know Ms. Van Meter before you married?”

“Three days,” Coleman mumbled.

“I didn’t hear that, Mr. Coleman,” Swoboda said.

“Three days.”

“Gee, it must have been love at first sight.”

“Yeah.”

“And where did you meet?”

“The casino at the Mirage.”

“And in what church were you married?”

“It wasn’t a church.”

“Oh. Then where did you get hitched?”

“The, uh, Chapel of True Love.”

“I see. What time of day or night were the nuptials?”

“Four in the morning, I think.”

“Mr. Coleman, if Casey Van Meter died before coming out of her coma, you would have inherited millions of dollars, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know the exact amount.”

“In fact, since no one knew that Ashley Spencer was Ms. Van Meter’s daughter until recently, you would have inherited everything that Ms. Van Meter had, because she had no will and you were her husband.”

“What’s your question?” Coleman asked.

“My question? Okay, I’ll ask one. You had a good reason to want Casey Van Meter dead, didn’t you?”

“No. I love her.”

“More than forty million dollars?”

“Asked and answered,” Delilah cut in.

“Overruled,” the judge said. “Do you understand the question, Mr. Coleman?”

“No.”

“Miles Van Meter was trying to be appointed as Ms. Van Meter’s guardian, wasn’t he?” Swoboda asked.

“Yes.”

“He had made it clear that he wanted to end his sister’s suffering, had he not?”

“I heard something about that.”

“That would have let you inherit her money, right?”

“I guess.”

“You knew that Ashley Spencer was trying to be appointed Ms. Van Meter’s guardian, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“She wanted to keep her mother alive, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Which would mean that you wouldn’t get any money.”

“So?”

“With Ashley dead, either you or Miles Van Meter would have been appointed as guardian, right?”

“Yes.”

“Either way, Ms. Van Meter would have been taken off life support and you would have inherited Ms. Van Meter’s millions. Only Ashley stood in your way. That gave you a pretty good motive to stab her to death in the nursing-home parking lot, didn’t it?”

“I told you, he tried to kill her,” Coleman said, pointing at Maxfield.

“Your Honor, I’d like to put a diagram of the Sunny Rest nursing home on the easel.”

“Go ahead, Mr. Swoboda.”

Maxfield’s attorney placed a large piece of poster board on an easel that sat next to the witness box. The off-white rectangle had been filled in with a diagram of the Sunny Rest parking lot. The main building was at the top. Below it were two parallel lines that designated the road that separated the building from the parking lot. Each parking space was designated by a blue square. At the bottom were two more parallel lines that represented another road. Swoboda held a red Magic Marker over a square in the second row from the building that was two in from the left side of the lot.

“This is where you were parked, isn’t it?” the lawyer asked.

“Looks right,” Coleman answered.

Swoboda wrote COLEMAN in the parking space. Then he moved the marker down two rows and over to the second square from the right to a box that was three rows from the bottom of the diagram.

“And this is where Miss Spencer parked?”

“Yeah.”

Swoboda wrote SPENCER in the box.

“You testified that you saw Miss Spencer come out of Sunny Rest and walk to her car?”

“It was more like running.”

“Okay. Where was she when you got out of your car?”

“About a row from hers.”

“What route did you take to get to Miss Spencer?”

“Uh, I went straight up to her row and across.”

“So you were moving from left to right when you reached her row?”

“Yeah.”

“Were there cars on either side of Miss Spencer’s car?”

“I’m not certain.”

Swoboda went back to counsel table and picked up a photograph. He handed it to Coleman.

“This was taken by the police shortly after Miss Spencer was attacked. It shows her car?”

“Yeah.”

“And there is a van closest to you on one side and another car on the other side of Miss Spencer’s car?”

“Yes.”

“I move to admit Defense Exhibit 79, Your Honor,” Swoboda said.

“No objection,” Delilah said.

“Mr. Coleman, you testified that your head was down as you ran because of the heavy rain. Then you looked up and saw a man attacking Miss Spencer.”

“Right.”

“You were in the row between the cars with Miss Spencer’s car to your right?”

“Yeah.”

“How far were you from Miss Spencer’s car?”

“A few down.”

“So the assailant is in front of you and Miss Spencer is between the cars in front of her assailant?”

“Yeah.”

Swoboda drew X’s for Coleman, the attacker, and Ashley. Then he stood back so the jury could see the diagram clearly.

“How was it possible for you to see Miss Spencer kick her attacker, Mr. Coleman? A kick is delivered from the waist down. From three cars away, your view would be blocked by the van that was next to Miss Spencer’s car and the attacker’s back.”

“I…I saw it,” Coleman insisted.

“Yes you did, because you’re the one she kicked when you attacked Ashley Spencer in the parking lot. It was my client who rescued her.”

“Bullshit!”

Judge Shimazu rapped his gavel. “This is a courtroom, Mr. Coleman. Watch your language.”

“Sorry, Judge,” Coleman said. “But this guy is lying.”

“No more swearing, Mr. Coleman,” Judge Shimazu admonished the witness. “You’ll restrict yourself to answering Mr. Swoboda’s questions and you will not swear.”

“Okay.”

“Mr. Swoboda,” the judge said, “you may continue.”

“You had a forty-million-dollar reason to want Casey Van Meter dead, didn’t you?”

“That’s…not true.”

“Isn’t it? Did you learn that Casey Van Meter was a rich woman before you married her?”

“Yeah. So what?”

“Then she sobered up, wised up, and decided to dump you?”

“I told you, we had problems with our relationship. We just needed some counseling.”

“When you thought about all that money flying away it made you angry, didn’t it?”

“No,” Coleman answered, his voice rising.

“So you weren’t angry when you grabbed Casey Van Meter’s wrist at the pool and called her a bitch?”

“I might have been a little angry,” Coleman conceded grudgingly. “But I never tried to kill her.”

“And I suppose that you’re also going to deny murdering Terri Spencer in the boathouse at the Oregon Academy.”

“What!” Coleman said, half standing.

“Isn’t it a fact that you followed Casey Van Meter to the boathouse on the night she was attacked?”

“No.”

“Isn’t it true that you found her with a witness, Terri Spencer, and murdered Mrs. Spencer because she could identify you?”

“No!”

“Then you attacked Ms. Van Meter, but had to flee when you heard Joshua Maxfield approaching?”

Delilah wanted to object but she didn’t, because an objection would just give more credence to Swoboda’s outrageous accusations.

“You had forty million reasons to want Casey Van Meter dead before your divorce went through, and you had a motive to kill Ashley Spencer before Ms. Van Meter came out of her coma.”

“Do I have to sit here and take this?” Coleman asked the judge.

“No further questions,” Swoboda said, as he left Coleman half standing and twisted in the witness box.

“That was something,” Jerry said to Miles Van Meter as soon as court recessed and Randy Coleman had stormed out of the room.

“Very bizarre,” Miles answered. “I hope it was also ineffective.”

Ashley was worried. Delilah was standing in front of her, gathering up the documents she’d used during Coleman’s examination. Ashley leaned across the railing and tapped the deputy DA on the arm. Delilah turned.

“You don’t think any of the jurors bought that, do you?” Ashley asked, trying to conceal her nervousness. She did not know what she’d do if Joshua Maxfield was acquitted.

“Don’t worry yourself about Mr. Swoboda’s Perry Mason act,” Delilah assured her. “He’s probably got the jurors thinking, but Casey will set them straight on who attacked her in the boathouse.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

As soon as court reconvened, Delilah Wallace had Dr. Ralph Karpinski educate the jury about comas. He also gave the opinion that Casey’s coma occurred when the back of her head collided with one of the timbered supports in the boathouse after she was struck in the face. Next, Dr. Stanley Linscott testified about Casey Van Meter’s current physical and mental state.

When Dr. Linscott was excused, the prosecutor called Casey Van Meter to the stand. Every eye in the courtroom followed “Sleeping Beauty” as she limped down the aisle, leaning on her cane. Casey looked wraith-like because she had not put back all of her lost weight, but her pale beauty was electrifying. Her dress was black, and a strand of pearls graced her neck. She reminded Ashley of Lauren Bacall in an old movie she’d watched with Terri.

“Ms. Van Meter, what was your position at the Oregon Academy when the tragedy at the boathouse occurred?” Delilah asked after a series of introductory questions.

“I was the dean of the school.”

“In your capacity as the dean, were you involved in hiring the defendant?”

“Yes.”

“Tell the jury about the hiring decision.”

“It was a hard decision for the school. On the one hand, we had the opportunity to expose the students to a world-renowned author. But Mr. Maxfield had been forced out of his last college-teaching position because he’d made inappropriate advances to a student. We were also aware that Mr. Maxfield had a drinking problem while at the college. In the end, we were persuaded to take a risk by Mr. Maxfield’s most recent employer-a high school in Idaho -and by his forthright attitude during his interviews.”

“How did the defendant perform his teaching duties?”

“He was an excellent teacher.”

“At some point after the defendant was hired did you become lovers?”

Casey colored and looked down at her lap. “Yes.”

Ashley was stunned. She had not been allowed in the courtroom until she testified, so she had missed Delilah’s opening statement in which this fact had been revealed. Ashley looked at Maxfield for confirmation but he was focused on the dean and she could not see his face.

“When did this happen?”

“A few months before he attacked me.”

“Objection,” Swoboda shouted. “That’s not responsive to the question. Ask that the answer be stricken.”

Delilah started to speak, but the judge silenced her by holding up his hand, palm toward her. “Overruled.”

“What were the circumstances that prompted the relationship?”

“I had married a few months before it started.”

“This was to Randy Coleman?”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“Very shortly after my marriage I learned that my husband was a criminal. He was also physically and verbally abusive. I filed for divorce and also hired an attorney to see if I could have the marriage annulled. It was a very trying time for me. The marriage was a huge mistake and I was under tremendous stress because of my situation. Mr. Maxfield was very understanding.” She shrugged. “One thing led to another.”

“Let’s move to the day of Terri Spencer’s murder and the assault on you. When was the first time you saw Terri Spencer on that day?”

“She visited my office late in the afternoon.”

“What was the purpose of her visit?”

“She told me that she was investigating the possibility that Joshua Maxfield had murdered her husband. She asked me to check his personnel file to see if there was any information that would help her prove it.”

“Did you find anything in the file that bore on her concerns?”

“Yes.”

“What did you find?”

“Terri told me that the person who murdered her husband might be a serial killer who had committed murders in other states. There was information in Joshua’s personnel file about a New England state where he taught college. One of the murders occurred there. And he taught high school in Idaho, another state she’d mentioned.”

“What did you do after you made this discovery?”

“I called Terri and I asked her to meet me at the boathouse.”

“Tell us what happened in the boathouse,” Delilah said.

Casey took a deep breath. “I was talking to Terri when he came in. He had a knife. He…he stabbed her.” Casey closed her eyes but kept talking. “She screamed. He kept stabbing her.” She put her hands over her face. “I don’t remember anything after that.”

“Who was the man who stabbed Terri Spencer?”

“Joshua Maxfield.”

Delilah waited for a few seconds to let the jurors digest Casey’s testimony before asking her next question.

“Did you see your husband, Randy Coleman, at the boathouse that evening?”

Casey looked puzzled. “No.”

“You’re certain that Randy Coleman did not stab Terri Spencer to death?”

“Yes.” She pointed at Joshua Maxfield. “He did it.”

“The State rests,” Delilah said when Eric Swoboda finished a short and ineffective cross-examination of Casey Van Meter.

“Very well,” Judge Shimazu said. “We’ll be in recess until one o’clock. If you have any motions, Mr. Swoboda, you can make them then.”

The bailiff banged the gavel. Casey left the witness stand and Ashley intercepted her when she pushed through the gate in the low fence that separated the spectators from the area where the court conducted business.

“Are you okay?” Ashley asked.

The question seemed to puzzle Casey. Then she smiled. The emotion Casey had shown on the stand was nowhere to be seen.

“Of course I’m okay,” Casey answered. “Why wouldn’t I be? My testimony should be enough to destroy any hope Joshua has for an acquittal. We’ve both done our part to avenge Terri.”

Ashley felt odd when she should have been happy. Casey was right. The two of them had sealed Maxfield’s fate, but she didn’t feel triumphant.

“He’ll probably die,” Ashley said.

Casey’s eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened. “That bastard deserves to die. He put me in a coma. I lost years of my life. I’m just sorry he’ll be getting a lethal injection instead of a more painful death.”

Ashley was shocked. “I know Maxfield is a terrible person.” She remembered her terror as he lay on top of her and her despair when Norman and Terri died. “It’s just…I don’t know. He deserves what he gets, but I don’t feel good.”

Ashley paused. She wanted to tell someone about the emotions that were twisting her up inside, and Casey would have the best chance of understanding the way she felt.

“Do you have some time? I’d like to talk to you about the trial. Do you want to go for lunch?”

“Sorry, dear,” Casey said. “I’d love to but I have a Portland Symphony meeting. But call me. We’ll get together soon.”

Casey hurried off and Ashley looked after her, shocked by the way she’d been treated. Terri would never have put Ashley off under these circumstances. Terri had always put her daughter first.

Ashley wanted to cry but she wouldn’t let it happen. She had tried to form some kind of bond to her mother, but it wasn’t working. The dean still treated her like a potential student she was trying to woo to the Academy. Try as she might, she had been unable to establish an emotional link with the woman who had given birth to her.

Chapter Thirty-Three

As soon as Eric Swoboda finished his cross-examination of Casey Van Meter, Joshua Maxfield demanded that they talk. Fifteen minutes after court recessed, Swoboda was seated in the narrow interview space in the courthouse jail and his client was on the other side of the iron mesh partition.

“I want to testify,” Joshua said.

“We’ve been over this before. If you take the stand, you’re fair game for Delilah.”

Maxfield smirked.

“Don’t underestimate her,” Swoboda said. “I know you’re smart but she cross-examines people for a living, and she’s very good at it. And we made a lot of headway when I crossed Coleman. I can argue…”

“Casey said she didn’t see Coleman in the boathouse. She said she saw me. So did Ashley. I have to explain what happened.”

“What can you say?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just call me as a witness.”

“You don’t understand what you’re letting yourself in for. Delilah will crucify you.”

“How?”

Swoboda thought for a moment. “The novel, Joshua. Delilah will ask you about the novel. She’ll ask you how you were able to give such an accurate account of murders you claim you know nothing about.”

Joshua squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingertips to his temples. He looked like he was trying to keep his head from exploding.

“That fucking book,” he muttered. He opened his eyes and glared at Swoboda. “I’ll say I didn’t write it, that it was someone else’s book. I’ll say I copied someone else’s ideas.”

Swoboda shook his head slowly as he tried to figure out how to be tactful with a client who was going over the edge.

“No one will believe you. You printed your name on the top of each page. Don’t you see, you’ll be committing suicide if you testify.”

“No,” Joshua said as he swung his head from side to side, “it’s my only chance. They’ll see I’m telling the truth. They have to believe me.”

“I still think…”

Maxfield looked directly at his lawyer. There was steel in his voice when he spoke.

“I don’t care what you think,” Maxfield said. “You’re my lawyer and you’ll do as I tell you.”

“The defense calls Joshua Maxfield,” Eric Swoboda said as soon as court reconvened. Delilah could barely conceal her surprise and delight. She salivated like a guest at Thanksgiving dinner when the big, juicy turkey is carried out of the kitchen.

Joshua straightened his suit jacket and strode confidently to the front of the courtroom to take the oath.

“Mr. Maxfield,” Swoboda began when his client was seated in the witness box, “what is your occupation?”

“I am a novelist,” Maxfield declared proudly.

“Have you had a successful career?”

“I would say so.”

“Tell the jury about some of your accomplishments.”

“Certainly. My first novel, A Tourist in Babylon, was published to international acclaim soon after my graduation from university. It won or was nominated for several literary prizes not only in the United States, but also in Europe. The critics loved it, and the reading public made it an international bestseller.”

“Did you publish another novel?”

“Yes, The Wishing Well.”

“Was The Wishing Well another bestseller?”

“Yes.”

“In addition to writing fiction, have you taught fiction-writing?”

“Yes, at Eton College in Massachusetts and in high school. My last job was at the Oregon Academy.”

“Would you please tell the jurors how you develop the idea for a novel?”

Maxfield smiled at the jurors. He was charming and, despite the charges they were considering, several of the jurors smiled back.

“Ideas come from everywhere, and they come when you least expect them. The idea for the novel I was working on at the Academy was born when I was teaching in Massachusetts and read about a home invasion that resulted in the death of a young girl and her parents. I wondered what sort of person could commit a crime like that.

“Quite by chance, a year later, I learned of another, similar murder. I became fascinated with the concepts of good and evil, much as Robert Louis Stevenson was when he wrote Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I decided that I would write a book from the viewpoint of a truly twisted mind. I went to the library and read newspaper accounts of the two real cases. I read books about serial murderers and the psychology of sociopathic individuals to learn how these people think and act, so my book would have the ring of authenticity.”

“The prosecutor says that you must be guilty because you wrote about a murder that has certain similarities to the murders in the Spencer home.”

“That’s what’s most frustrating for me. I find it impossible to believe that I am being condemned for having a fruitful imagination.”

“What about the snack? How do you explain the fact that a real killer ate a dessert while committing murder in Montana, Connecticut, and the Spencer home, and your fictional murderer eats a dessert in between murders in your novel?”

“A writer tries to engage his reader and he also tries to create characters that feel alive. I wanted my readers to be appalled by my narrator. But a cardinal rule of good writing is that you show instead of tell. Rather than write, ‘My villain is a terrible person,’ I tried to think up an action that my villain would take that would illustrate his depravity. I toyed with several ideas, like having my character murder a pet or a baby, but I concluded that those acts were so repulsive that they would alienate my readers. I wanted to illustrate a point, not make my readers ill. So I wrote a scene in which my murderer eats a snack in between the commission of several ghastly murders. I wanted the reader to conclude that my narrator was heartless and totally devoid of feeling, and I thought that this would be a wonderful way to do that. It is understated, non-violent, and yet truly horrible.

“Now, am I surprised that my art imitated real life? No, I am not. Anyone who could commit those terrible murders in Montana, Connecticut, and here would be just like my fictional killer-cruel and uncaring. I’m not shocked that he did something so grotesque. And, think about it. Would I include that scene in my novel if I had committed the murders? Would I read Terri Spencer a scene that was identical to something that had happened in her house? It would be insane. The first thing I would expect her to do is go to the police. Why would I commit suicide?”

“Let’s move to the murder and assault in the Oregon Academy boathouse. Tell the jury what happened there,” Swoboda said.

“I lived on the Academy grounds in a cottage that the school provided as part of my terms of employment. The grounds of the Academy are beautiful, and I often took walks through the woods in the early-evening hours. That night I was strolling through the grounds, thinking about a problem I was having with my book, when I heard a scream coming from the direction of the boathouse. A second later, I heard another scream. As I ran toward the boathouse I saw a man running away.”

“Could you identify him?”

“No, other than to say that he seemed of average or athletic build. He wasn’t obese or short.”

“Could the man have been Randy Coleman?”

“It’s possible. I can’t swear to that, though.”

“What happened next?”

“I went into the boathouse to see if anyone was hurt. It was dark except for some light from a flashlight that was on the floor. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. That’s when I saw the two women and the knife. Casey Van Meter was on the floor, up against a timber that supported the roof. Terri Spencer was covered with blood. I panicked and picked up the knife for protection. Then I saw Ashley at the window. She ran off and I went after her to explain that I hadn’t done anything wrong, but she was too fast for me.”

“Why didn’t you follow her to the dormitory and wait for the police?”

Joshua’s head dropped. “I should have. But I’d never seen anything so terrible. There was blood everywhere, and poor Terri…”

Maxfield closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he spoke, he seemed shaken and he cast his eyes down.

“I’m ashamed of the way I acted, but I was terrified and I wasn’t thinking straight. So I ran.”

Maxfield raised his head and made eye contact with several of the jurors.

“I don’t blame Ashley Spencer one bit for what she said about me. She’s a very nice young lady who testified to what she saw. I did have the knife. I was there. But I did not hurt anyone.”

“After you were arrested, why did you escape?” Swoboda asked.

“My lawyer told me that the police were going to use my novel as a confession; Ashley was going to testify that I’d killed her mother and beat Casey unconscious. I didn’t see any way of avoiding conviction, so I decided to escape so I could find the evidence that would prove that I was innocent.”

“Have you succeeded?”

“I believe so. I suspected Randy Coleman from the beginning. The man who ran from the boathouse was too far away for me to identify, but he could have been Coleman. I knew he had a multimillion-dollar motive for murder and I learned later that he’d been convicted of assault. I knew from personal experience that he was capable of violence. I’d seen Mr. Coleman attack Casey Van Meter at the pool.”

“What did you conclude happened in the boathouse?”

“I believe that Casey was his target and Terri was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Did something happen that made you certain that Randy Coleman murdered Terri Spencer and assaulted his wife?”

“Yes. Henry Van Meter died and a new guardian had to be appointed for Casey. Miles Van Meter applied to be appointed. I learned that he wanted to take Casey off her life-support system for humanitarian reasons. Coleman also applied. I believe that he too would have asked to have Casey’s life support disconnected. In either case, Casey would die. Since she had no will, and Coleman was still her husband, Coleman would inherit all of Casey’s estate.

“Then Ashley Spencer returned to Portland and applied to be Casey’s guardian. If Ashley had been appointed Casey’s guardian, she would have kept Casey alive. That meant that Coleman would inherit nothing. It also became general knowledge that Ashley was Casey’s daughter. Under the probate laws, if Casey died Ashley would inherit half of her estate. Whether Casey lived or died, Randy Coleman would lose millions.

“I became convinced that Coleman would try to kill Ashley to keep her from being appointed guardian and to make sure that he would inherit everything. I started following Ashley to protect her and to try to catch Coleman attempting to commit murder.”

“What happened at the Sunny Rest Home on the day you were arrested?”

“I followed Ashley and noticed another car that was following her. I parked on a side street several blocks from the home. Then I concealed myself in the parking lot. It was raining so hard that I didn’t notice the police surveillance, but they didn’t see me either.

“The car that was following Ashley pulled into the lot shortly after she did. Randy Coleman was the driver. He waited for her to come out. Then he tried to kill her. Ashley got away. I tackled Coleman. When the police came, we were wrestling on the ground, neither one of us had possession of the knife. The police couldn’t tell which of us had tried to kill Ashley. Naturally, they suspected me.”

“Mr. Maxfield, did you murder Terri and Norman Spencer and Tanya Jones?”

“No.”

“Did you assault Casey Van Meter?”

“No. I saved her from Coleman at the pool.”

“Did you attack Ashley Spencer in her home, at her dormitory, or in the parking lot of the Sunny Rest nursing home?”

“No, never.”

“No further questions.”

Delilah smiled at her prey. She was feeling good.

“I read your first novel, Mr. Maxfield. I liked it.”

“Thank you.”

“It was a real big success.”

“Yes.”

“But that second book, The Wishing Well, that book didn’t do so well, did it?”

“It had decent sales,” Maxfield answered defensively.

“Nowhere near what Tourist sold.”

“No, but it was a New York Times bestseller.”

“Yes, you testified to that. But let me ask you, wasn’t A Tourist in Babylon on the list for twenty-two weeks?”

“Yes.”

“Your second book was only a bestseller for two weeks because people didn’t like it, right?”

“I don’t know what the people like,” Maxfield replied haughtily. “I don’t write to please the average reader.”

“Well, the critics didn’t like it either, did they?”

“I had some good reviews.”

“Really? I had my assistant get a complete collection off of the Internet. We can read them to the jury if you’d like. By my count, three reviewers thought your book was pretty good, and there were twenty-eight bad reviews, some of which were downright nasty. Seems those critics really went to town on you.”

Maxfield colored as Delilah spoke. “The critics were jealous of my success. They’re just failed writers who couldn’t stand the idea of someone in his early twenties accomplishing something they could only dream of.”

“So the reviews were the product of some conspiracy?”

“I didn’t say that,” Maxfield snapped.

“Do you think these reviewers are part of a plot to frame you for all these murders?”

“Objection,” Swoboda said.

“Sustained,” Judge Shimazu ruled.

“Mr. Maxfield,” Delilah said, “you haven’t written a book in ten years, have you?”

“No.”

“Were you teaching at Eton College because you couldn’t earn a living writing anymore?”

“No, that is not correct. You don’t just manufacture literature like you do toasters. I enjoy teaching creative writing, and the job gave me time to write.”

“Didn’t your publisher give you an advance for a new book and demand it back because you couldn’t deliver?”

“We had creative differences.”

“I see. Is that why your publisher was threatening you with a lawsuit?”

“Objection,” Swoboda said.

“Sustained.”

“After so much early success, being a failed writer must be hard on you.”

“I am not a failed writer.”

“Weren’t you having trouble thinking up a plot for a new book?”

“I had several ideas. I was looking for the right one.”

“Doing research?”

“Yes.”

“Wanting to have all the little details right to make your scenes real for your readers?”

“Yes.”

“Committing horrible murders so you could paint an authentic torture scene for your readers?”

“No. I did not kill anyone.”

“Let’s talk about the boathouse, Mr. Maxfield. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes.”

“I want to make sure I have this right. You were out for a stroll in the forest when you heard a scream?”

“Yes.”

“Then you heard another scream?”

“Yes.”

“So you decided to investigate?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s when you saw a man running away?”

“Yes.”

“That would be pretty important, wouldn’t it, this man running from the scene of the crime?”

“Yes.”

“I would imagine you’d want the police to know about that, especially when they were accusing you of murder and mayhem?”

Maxfield didn’t answer.

“Well, you did think it was important, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“The first time you came in contact with the police after you went on the lam was in Nebraska when you were arrested, right?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell the arresting officers about this man you saw running from the boathouse?”

“No. I was terrified. They had guns drawn, they were shouting at me.”

“What about when you calmed down?”

“They didn’t ask me any questions. They just put me in a cell.”

“You know Detectives Birch and Marx, right? They were the detectives who testified in court.”

Maxfield looked worried. “Yes.”

“Did Detectives Marx and Birch escort you back to Oregon from Nebraska after you waived extradition?”

“Yes.”

“But first they interviewed you in jail in Nebraska, didn’t they?”

“Yes.”

“You testified that you had a lot of time to think about what had happened after your arrest?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what you told the detectives about what happened at the boathouse?”

“Not word for word.”

A boom box was sitting on the floor next to counsel table. Delilah picked it up. She stood.

“Your Honor, may I have permission to play the short interview that the defendant gave Detectives Birch and Marx, to refresh Mr. Maxfield’s memory?”

“Objection, Your Honor. No foundation has been laid for this,” Swoboda said, anxious to keep the tape out of evidence. He knew what was on it and had tried to warn Maxfield, but his client wouldn’t listen to him.

“I agree with Mr. Swoboda, Your Honor,” Delilah said. “May I recall Detective Birch?”

The judge told Joshua Maxfield to retake his seat at the defense table and Larry Birch went into the witness box.

“Detective Birch, you’re already under oath,” the judge said. “Miss Wallace, you may proceed.”

“Detective Birch, after the defendant was arrested in Nebraska, did he waive extradition?”

“Yes.”

“How did he get back here?”

“My partner, Tony Marx, and I flew to Nebraska, and the authorities turned over the defendant to us. Detective Marx and I then flew back with the prisoner.”

“Prior to returning to Oregon, did you interview the defendant?”

“Yes.”

“Where did the interview take place?”

“In an interview room at the jail where the defendant was being held.”

“What was the defendant’s condition?”

“He looked rested. We asked if he wanted something to eat or drink. He asked for a sandwich and soft drink and we provided them to him.”

“Did you read the defendant his Miranda rights before questioning him?”

“Yes.”

“Was the interview recorded?”

“Yes.”

Delilah stood up. She was holding a plastic evidence bag. Inside it was a cassette.

“Detective Birch, have you reviewed the interview on this tape?”

“Yes.”

“Is it the interview of the defendant that you conducted in Nebraska?”

“Yes.”

“Your Honor,” Delilah said, “I move to introduce this cassette tape of Detective Birch’s interview into evidence.”

“Mr. Swoboda?” Judge Shimazu asked.

Maxfield’s lawyer could not think of a way to keep the tape from being played. When he did not object, Judge Shimazu gave Delilah permission to play the tape. She put the cassette in the boom box and pressed the PLAY button. The jurors heard Birch introduce himself and Tony Marx and read Maxfield the Miranda rights. There was some discussion about food and drink. Then Birch asked Maxfield if he minded if their conversation was recorded.

“What does it matter what I want? You’re going to do what you want. That’s what I learned in here. I’m the prisoner. I have no rights.”

“Hey, Josh…”

“Joshua.”

“I stand corrected. You have rights. This is America. Didn’t I just read you a card listing several constitutional rights?”

“That’s just to get me to talk.”

“Well, that’s true. But you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, and I won’t record this conversation unless you say it’s okay. I’m taping this for your benefit. This way, if I misrepresent what you say, you’ve got this tape to prove me wrong.”

“Okay. Keep taping.”

“You’ve had some wild days, Joshua.”

No reply.

“What made you choose Nebraska as a hideout?”

No reply.

“You’ve got to answer for the tape. We can’t hear a shrug on the tape.”

“I just drove.”

“Well, you led us on a merry chase. I’ll give you that. But I should have expected that from someone with your imagination. I’ve read your book.”

“You have?”

“Hey, not all cops are dumb. I read A Tourist in Babylon as soon as it came out. Everybody was reading that book. I thought it was great. My wife did, too. We were both disappointed that you’re in this mess.”

“I am not in a mess. I didn’t hurt those women.”

“We have a witness who says you did.”

“Ashley Spencer, right? Poor kid. She must be devastated. First, her father. Now, her mother.”

“She says that you killed her mother and assaulted Casey Van Meter.”

“I’m sure she believes what she’s told you, but it’s not true.”

“If you didn’t attack those women, who did?”

“I don’t know.”

“You see our problem? Ashley says she saw you holding a bloody knife.”

“Yes, but I didn’t kill anyone with it. I picked it up to protect myself. When I came into the boathouse the women had already been attacked. I thought that the killer might still be in the boathouse.

I saw the knife and picked it up in self-defense. What possible reason would I have to hurt Casey or Terri?”

“There are rumors that you and Ms. Van Meter were close. That you were sleeping with her.”

“She was going through a rough patch. Just married. Then she finds out her husband is a petty crook. He was beating her. She turned to me for comfort. It just happened. You know how that is.”

“We heard about your rescue at the pool. That was very brave, considering that you thought he was a mobster.”

“I guess I didn’t think about that. All I knew was that Casey was in trouble. That’s what makes this whole thing ridiculous. Why would I rescue Casey, then turn around and kill her?”

“Maybe you two had a falling out.”

“No. She stayed at my place the night before she died. We were still friends. It makes no sense that I’d kill her.”

“It does if you read your novel. I thought it was really well written, by the way.”

“What does A Tourist in Babylon have to do with what happened in the boathouse?”

“Not Tourist, your new novel.”

“My…?”

“The book you read to Terri and the rest of your writing seminar.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, Joshua, you’ve been pretty forthcoming so far. That’s going to go a long way with a judge. So…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve read the novel, Joshua. That scene you read in the writing seminar sounds a lot like what happened in the Spencer home on the night Ashley’s father and her teenage girlfriend were murdered. The scene was so real that we think Terri went to Dean Van Meter and told her that she suspected you of killing her husband. How did you find out she’d made the connection?”

“That was made up. I’m a writer. The scenes in my books are the product of my imagination.”

“You’re a pretty clever guy, Joshua. You have Tony and me stumped. We can’t figure out how you found out that Terri and Casey were investigating you. Did Casey let it slip?”

“I didn’t know. I…”

“Yes?”

“I want an attorney. This is crazy. My God, how did this happen? How could…? Oh, no.”

“What did you want to say, Joshua?”

“I want a lawyer. I’m not saying another word.”

Delilah turned off the boom box.

“Is that the end of the tape, Detective?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. I have no further questions for Detective Birch.”

“Mr. Swoboda?” Judge Shimazu asked.

“No.”

“Mr. Maxfield, please retake the stand,” the judge said.

“Mr. Maxfield,” Delilah said, “what happened to the man who ran away, the real killer? How come you didn’t tell Detectives Birch and Marx about him?”

“I don’t know. I was upset. I was in jail. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“I see. Well let me ask you something else. You came in the door of the boathouse, saw the women, both of them were unconscious or dead, you picked up the knife, then saw Ashley in the window?”

“Yes.”

“Just a few seconds inside the boathouse before you saw Ashley?”

“Yes.”

“And both of those women were just lying there?”

“I told you that already.”

Delilah made a note on her legal pad. She was smiling when she looked at the witness.

“Who cried out, Mr. Maxfield?”

“What?”

“You were in court when Ashley Spencer testified, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You heard her say that she heard two screams and went through the woods to the boathouse?”

“Yes.”

“Then you also heard her say that she heard a woman say something right before she looked in the window and saw you standing over Casey Van Meter with a bloody knife in your hand?”

Maxfield was frozen.

“If Terri Spencer was dead and Casey Van Meter was unconscious all the time you were in the boathouse, how did one of them say something?”

“I…”

“Or maybe it happened differently? Maybe the women were alive when you entered the boathouse.”

“No.”

“You stabbed Terri and she screamed twice. Then you attacked Casey Van Meter and she called out.”

“No,” Maxfield said, but the answer sounded false and his face told the jurors that he was lying.

Delilah had no more questions for Joshua Maxfield, and Eric Swoboda had no idea how to repair the damage her cross-examination had created. Swoboda called a few more witnesses before resting. Delilah did not feel that she needed to call any witnesses in rebuttal. As far as she was concerned, Joshua Maxfield’s conviction was a foregone conclusion.

Judge Shimazu told the parties to be ready to argue in the morning and recessed court. As soon as the jurors filed out and Joshua Maxfield had been led out of the room, Delilah swiveled her chair so she was facing Ashley.

“You got him. Your testimony buried Mr. Maxfield.”

“I didn’t…”

Delilah laughed. “Don’t be modest, girl. You heard a woman call out seconds before you saw Maxfield with that knife. One of the women had to be conscious when he walked into the boathouse. When he said that they were both out I knew he was lying, and you’re the one who proved it.”

Ashley didn’t look as happy as Delilah expected her to be.

“What’s the matter?” the DA asked. “You seem troubled.”

“It’s just…” She shook her head.

“No, what? Tell me.”

“I don’t feel like I won anything. Even if Maxfield is executed, Tanya and my parents are still dead.”

Delilah looked solemn. “I hear you,” she said. “I was wrong to be so happy. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in the fight I forget that a courtroom victory doesn’t end the suffering. But you have to think about this, Ashley. A conviction won’t bring back your folks and Tanya Jones, but your testimony saved lives. We don’t know who they are, but we can be certain that there are people alive today who would have been dead if Joshua Maxfield was on the loose.”

“What’s going to happen now?” Ashley asked.

“We argue in the morning. Then the judge will instruct the jury on the law. After that, the jury deliberates and brings in a verdict. My guess is that we’ll have a verdict by tomorrow night. If Maxfield is convicted of aggravated murder, the jury comes back and we have another trial to decide his sentence.”

Ashley reached out and touched the prosecutor. “Thank you for caring so much, Delilah. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Delilah’s face split into a mile-wide grin. “You just gave me the bonus that makes this all worthwhile.”