Authors: Phillip Margolin
Sleeping Beauty (27 page)
“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.”
M
iles Van Meter had been speaking for thirty-five minutes when the door of Murder for Fun opened and closed. Claire Rolvag, Miles's escort, looked toward the front of the store. Bookshelves blocked her view, but she was certain that she knew who had just entered. She turned her attention back to the author, who was answering a question about his writing habits.
“I was working full-time as a lawyer while I was writing
Sleeping Beauty,
so I had to sneak in the writing when I could. Sometimes I'd get an hour or two in during the week by setting my alarm for four-thirty. On the weekend, I'd try to get in at least four hours on Saturday and four on Sunday. That's eight hours, which amounts to a full eight-hour workday. You'd be surprised how much you can write each week if you're disciplined about it.”
A mousy-looking woman with thick glasses and a T-shirt from a mystery fans' convention raised her hand. Miles pointed at her. She sounded nervous when she spoke, and Miles smiled warmly to encourage her.
“Mr. Van Meter, I've read the old edition and the special edition of
Sleeping Beauty
and I think that your book is the best true-crime book I have ever read.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your kind words. Did you have a question?”
“Yes I did. Your book is so realistic, especially when you write from Ashley's point of view, but I've heard that you never interviewed her. Is that true? And, if it is, how did you make those chapters so real?”
“I knew Ashley, of course, and we spoke several times before I started the book. She was staying at the Academy for a while. However, I never discussed the case with her before she left for Europe. It would have been insensitive. While she was rooming at the Academy, my father and I were trying to take her mind off her tragedy.
“Obviously, I never had a chance to interview Ashley when I was writing the first edition of
Sleeping Beauty,
because she was hiding in Europe. I did have access to the transcript of the preliminary hearing and the police reports with the interviews of Ashley that Larry Birch conducted. I also interviewed her friends, her teachers, and people like her attorney, Jerry Philips. My father was a big help. He and Ashley spent a lot of time together when she was staying at the Academy.”
“What about after she returned to the States? Did you interview her for the new edition?”
“No. By the time I decided to write an updated edition of the book I had heard her testimony at Maxfield's trial and didn't feel it was necessary.”
“So chapter one, where you tell what happened in the Spencer house, and the chapter where you describe the attack at the Academy after Maxfield's escape, that all came from research and not from talking to Ashley?”
“Yes.”
“That's amazing, because it feels so real.”
Miles blushed. “Thank you for that. It's always music to a writer's ears to hear that he has been successful in making his subject live. Of course, re-creating Ashley's personality was easy, since I did get to know her. And you have a good chance of guessing how a person will react in a situation if you know what type of person they are. Ashley is a good woman with a lot of inner strength.”
An overweight man with a heavy beard raised his hand, and Miles pointed at him.
“Mr. Van Meter, have you ever thought of volunteering your time to
the FBI to help catch serial killers? With your imagination and insights, you'd be a natural.”
“No, for several reasons. First, the FBI has trained professionals to do that work. I couldn't begin to approach their qualifications. Second, and most important, as far as I'm concerned, one close encounter with a serial killer is one too many. You have no idea how emotionally draining it's been to have Joshua Maxfield in my life. I have no desire to place myself in a position where I would experience the suffering of other families. Quite frankly, I don't know how the police and the FBI handle the emotional strain of dealing with such horror, day in and day out.”
A young woman in a business suit raised her hand. “Will you be glad when Joshua Maxfield is executed?” she asked.
Miles looked thoughtful. He took a moment to frame his answer.
“Society will be better off with Maxfield gone. I firmly believe that he cannot be rehabilitated. I'm also certain that he would kill again if he were released. But gladâ¦I don't think you can ever rejoice at the death of a human being.”
“So you think he is human?” the woman asked.
“Well, there's certainly a good argument against that position, but I'll leave that question to theologians and philosophers. I'm just happy I have my sister back.”
Several people raised their hands. While Miles called on one of them, Claire Rolvag looked toward the front of the store again. Standing at the end of the bookshelf that held the novels featuring classic detectives like Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot was a woman flanked by two men. As Claire turned back toward the speaker, she put her hand under her jacket and touched the butt of her Glock 40-caliber pistol.
J
erry Philips pulled up at the
VALET PARKING
sign, and a college kid in a white shirt and black slacks swapped a claim check for his car. Jerry took Ashley's hand and they walked up the driveway to the mansion that Casey Van Meter had inherited from her father. Miles Van Meter's publisher had decided to kick off the book tour for the special edition of
Sleeping Beauty
exactly one year after Joshua Maxfield had been sentenced to death, and Casey had opened up Glen Oaks for the publication party.
All of the lights in the house were on, and the couple could hear music and laughter coming from the backyard where a band had been set up near the pool. People were chatting on the front lawn, waiters were offering hors d'oeuvres on silver trays, and Jerry had to shoulder his way through the boisterous crowd in the entry hall to get to the bar. Ashley was checking out the fashion statements and the jewelry while she waited for her drink when someone shouted her name. She turned and was swept up by Delilah Wallace, who embraced her exâstar witness, then held her at arm's length.
“You're looking a lot better than you looked when I saw you last,” said Delilah, who had not seen Ashley since Joshua Maxfield's sentencing.
“You're looking good, too, Delilah.”
“Nah. I'm as fat as ever, but I sure am happy, because I came here hoping to find you and here you are. So tell me what you've been up to.”
“I'm engaged,” Ashley said as she showed the prosecutor her ring.
Delilah grabbed Ashley's hand and inspected the stone. “That's lovely. Do I know the lucky man?”
“Merlot, madam,” Jerry Philips said as he handed Ashley a glass of red wine. “Hi, Delilah.”
“I was just congratulating Ashley. When's the wedding?”
“Probably not until Ashley graduates,” Jerry said. “We're both too busy for a honeymoon right now.”
“I'm going to Portland State,” Ashley explained. “I'm premed and that really keeps me hopping.”
“Did you have any trouble getting back in the swing of school after being away so long?” Delilah asked.
“It was tough at first. I was pretty nervous.”
“She's getting straight A's,” Jerry said proudly.
Ashley blushed. “What have you been up to?”
“The same old, same old. Murder and mayhem.”
Ashley was about to tell Delilah that she'd been reading about the DA's most recent trial when Casey Van Meter walked into the entry hall and spotted Ashley. The mistress of Glen Oaks looked radiant. Except for a barely noticeable limp, all evidence that she had been one of the living dead had been erased during the past year, as had the presence of Randy Coleman, whom she had finally divorced. Casey had not resumed her duties as dean, leaving in place the capable woman Henry had hired while she was in her coma. But she had become active in civic affairs and was much sought after to sit on boards and committees because of her wealth and intelligence.
Casey said hello to Delilah Wallace. Jerry saluted Casey with his glass. Ashley had seen less of her mother since she started college. Her heavy premed load left little time for socializing. When she did have free time, she spent it with Jerry. Jerry wasn't sorry that Ashley had cut down on her visits to her mother. Her relationship with Casey had helped her get through the Maxfield trial and had given her a new family, but Jerry thought that there was something cold and artificial about Casey Van Meter. Of course, he'd never said anything about his feelings to Ashley.
“Miles has been asking for you,” Casey said. “He's signing books in the living room. Come on. Let's visit.”
Ashley promised to talk to Delilah later. Jerry followed as Casey took Ashley's arm and led her through the crowd. Heads turned and people whispered when they saw the two women. Miles and the media had made them celebrities. Ashley had never welcomed her fame and she was glad when the attentions of the press waned after the trial. She had not been thrilled when the publicity blitz for the special edition of
Sleeping Beauty
had raised her public profile again.
Miles was sitting with his back to a massive stone fireplace at a table piled high with his books.
“I've brought you someone,” Casey said. Miles had his head down and was inscribing a book for a couple. He looked up and broke into a grin.
“Ashley,” he said as he rose. “I'm so glad you came. Hi Jerry.”
Miles turned to a short, gray-haired man who had been watching the signing.
“Jack, this is Ashley Spencer and her fiancé, Jerry Philips. This is Jack Dunlop, my editor.”
Dunlop smiled and held out his hand to Ashley. “I'm so glad to finally meet you. After editing
Sleeping Beauty
and spending another couple of months with the new edition I feel like I know you.”
Ashley forced a smile and prayed that Dunlop would not ask her what she thought of the book, which she had never read. Ashley wanted to place the horrors perpetrated by Joshua Maxfield behind her. Every time she saw a copy of Miles's book she felt old wounds opening.
“I have something for you,” Miles said, as he picked up a copy of
Sleeping Beauty
that was not part of the stacks of books that stood in front of him. He opened the cover and showed Ashley what he had written on the title page.
For Ashley Spencer, A special person whose courage has been an inspiration to me.
Miles Van Meter
“Thank you, Miles,” Ashley said.
“I'm sincere about that.” He turned to Jack Dunlop. “This is the bravest lady I've ever met.”
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The party was still going strong around midnight when Jerry and Ashley left. She'd enjoyed talking to Delilah, but the attention bestowed on her by the guests had made Ashley very uncomfortable, and the couple begged off as soon as they could do so politely. Jerry drove them back to the blue, two-story Victorian on the east side of the river that they'd been sharing since the end of the Maxfield trial. A high hedge enclosed a small backyard and a covered porch fronted the street. There was a television, CD and DVD players, and a state-of-the-art sound system in the living room, but most of the furnishings were antiques, in keeping with the age of the house.
When Jerry went into the kitchen for a glass of water, Ashley carried Miles's gift into the living room and put it on the bookshelf. Jerry came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you ever going to read that book?” he asked.
She reached back and covered his hand. “Maybe someday when I'm certain it won't hurt too much.”
Jerry leaned down and kissed her neck. “Let's get to bed.”
Ashley turned out the lights and they climbed the stairs.
T
wo weekends after Miles's party, Stan Getz was playing low on the stereo and Ashley was curled up on the couch in the living room finishing her organic chemistry homework. She completed the last problem and closed the textbook. Organic chemistry made her brain hurt, but she got it and she was proud that she did. She stretched and walked over to the front window. A heavy rain was pounding the front yard. The white noise and the smooth jazz were making her sleepy.
Ashley went into the kitchen to fix a cup of instant coffee. While the water boiled she thought about her new beginning. She'd been nervous about going back to the classroom after being away for so long but she'd also been excited about living life like a normal person. Her years on the run had worn her down.
The water boiled and Ashley spooned some instant coffee into a mug. She took a sip then carried the mug back to the living room. Jerry was at the office for a few hours grinding out a brief. Thinking about him made Ashley smile. She had been so happy since she'd moved in with Jerry. His love, and the closure that Maxfield's conviction had brought, had enabled her to deal with all of the death and despair that had made her so unhappy since her parents were murdered. Jerry had given her back her life and had provided her with a future.
Jerry wouldn't be home for a while and she'd done the household
chores during breaks from her homework. She didn't feel like watching TV. Ashley scanned the bookcase for something to read. One title jumped out at her. She hesitated before pulling the autographed copy of
Sleeping Beauty
off the shelf. Just touching the cover made her nervous. Ashley carried Miles Van Meter's book to the couch. She held it with both hands. The thought of opening the book frightened her. The murders of her mother and father were inside. So were Tanya Jones's muffled screams and her own brushes with death. She steeled herself and turned to the introduction.
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Ashley had read an account of a near-death experience in which a clinically dead patient told of floating above his own body in an operating room while he watched his doctor bring him back from the brink. Reading about her life from someone else's viewpoint was a little like that. Some of the scenes made her shiver or sweat, but the printed words put distance between Ashley and the horror of the years that had started with the murder of her parents and ended with Maxfield's trial.
There were many things that had gone on in her case that Ashley knew nothing about. The manhunt for Joshua Maxfield after his escape from the county courthouse fascinated her. Miles had interviewed FBI and Interpol agents and had detailed the steps that had been taken to find the fugitive. And the escape itself was amazing. Ashley could not help admiring the planning and imagination that had enabled Maxfield to conceive and execute his plan. Joshua Maxfield was brilliant, and she suddenly realized how lucky she was to be alive.
There were also several chapters about Casey and everything that had been done to help her while she was in her coma. Ashley was saddened by Miles's account of Henry's plight. Casey's father had put on a brave front during their meals together. He had never let Ashley see the depth of his sorrow. Ashley had no doubt that watching helplessly as his daughter wasted away had shortened Henry's life.
An hour after she started the book, Ashley reached the chapter detailing her escape from the Academy dormitory. Her eyes were tired from reading. Ashley closed the book. It was almost noon. She was hungry. She placed
Sleeping Beauty
on the end table and carried her mug
into the kitchen for a refill. As she fixed a sandwich, Ashley tried to evaluate
Sleeping Beauty.
Miles had done an outstanding job of telling what had happened to her and her family, but he had failed to re-create the terror she had experienced. Ashley could not fault Miles for not succeeding here. Only someone who had lived through a rape or an attack knew what it was like. No one could imagine the despair, the disorientation and the stark terror, or the way your heart pounded.
Ashley was starting to put mustard on a slice of rye when she froze. Something was not right. She frowned and put down the knife. A moment later, she was in the living room thumbing through the bestseller until she found what she'd been looking for. She read the paragraph and lost her appetite.
“No,” she said out loud. “This can't be right.”
So much time had passed. Her memory had to be faulty. There was a logical explanation. She just wasn't seeing it. She read the paragraph again. When she finished, Ashley felt sick and confused. If she was rightâ¦. But she couldn't be. It didn't make sense. She had seen Maxfield in the boathouse holding the knife that had killed Terri.
Ashley read the paragraph a final time. The words had not changed and neither had the import of those words. What should she do? She could talk to Jerry, but she didn't want to worry him. And she didn't have enough facts yet. To be certain, she'd have to review the police reports and the trial transcripts. How would she get them? Delilah, of course. And who better to talk to about what was troubling her.
Delilah picked up after three rings.
“Hi, this is Ashley.”
“What a nice surprise! You recovered from the Van Meter bash yet? I never saw so many VIPs in one place.”
“Casey knows how to throw a party,” Ashley agreed. Then she paused, unsure of how to proceed.
“What's up?” Delilah prodded.
“There's something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“So talk. I'm listening.”
“Do you have the Maxfield file?”
“It's at the office.”
“Does it have a transcript of the trial and the preliminary hearing and the police reports of my interviews?”
“Sure. Why?”
Ashley hesitated. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that she was wrong.
“You still there, hon?” Delilah asked.
“I've been reading
Sleeping Beauty.
I never read it before.”
“I thought you wanted to put all that bad stuff behind you.”
“I did, but the book was there and I wasn't reading anything andâ¦. Anyway, there were some things that Miles wrote about that I didn't know. It made me curious. I was wondering if I could look at the file today or tomorrow?”
“You want to make me come down to the office on my days of rest?”
“It's important.”
“Important how?”
Ashley didn't answer. She was afraid of sounding foolish.
“What are you up to, Ashley? What's really going on here?”
“Something might be wrong.”
“Wrong how?”
“I'd rather not say until I read the file. I'm probably way off base. I don't want to waste your time if that's the case.”
“I'm not following you. What type of thing is wrong?”
“What if we're all mistaken about Joshua Maxfield?”
Delilah laughed. “Joshua Maxfield is a bad man, Ashley. Make no mistake about that. He's on death row because he deserves to be on death row.”
“I know, butâ¦.”
“Look, the man is going to be executed and you had a lot to do with that. Any normal person is going to feel bad about having some responsibility for a man's death even if that man is a monster. That's why you're not a serial killer, because you have empathy for people. But don't let those feelings blind you.”
“Delilah, I've got to see the file. Please. I'm sure I've got this all wrong, but if I don'tâ¦.”
“Okay, sugar, spell it out for me. Let me hear what you've got to say.
Be an advocate for your position. If you convince me, I'll take you to the office in an hour.”
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There were a few deputy DAs working in their cubicles when Delilah let Ashley into the district attorney's office, but most of the office was dark and deserted. Delilah put Ashley into an empty room with a large table and returned fifteen minutes later pushing a dolly loaded down with banker boxes. Ashley helped stack the boxes on the table, and the two women unpacked them. One box contained Delilah's files, including an indexed set of the police reports. Two large boxes held copies of the transcripts of Maxfield's trial, which was under review in the Oregon Supreme Court. Several boxes contained exhibits that had been introduced at trial. Another box held evidence that Delilah had not entered as exhibits. While Ashley was unpacking the last box, Delilah disappeared. She reappeared moments later with a mug and a thermos of coffee.
“Figured you could use this. You're in for a long day. And don't worry, girl. This ain't the horrid office brew. It's Delilah's caffeine special, a secret blend I perfected during years of late nights and early mornings.”
Delilah left and Ashley got down to business. She grabbed the transcript first. Since she knew what she was looking for she didn't have to read all of it. She skimmed the opening statements and closing arguments of both attorneys, her testimony, and the testimony of Larry Birch and Tony Marx. When she was done with the transcript, Ashley read through the police reports, concentrating on the interviews that Larry Birch had conducted with her but also reading any report that summarized the case. Two hours later, she had not found what she was looking for, and that scared her to death.
Even if she was right about this one thing, there were other unanswered questions. She pulled the draft of Maxfield's unfinished novel out of the court exhibits, hoping it would hold the answer to one of them. Delilah had not offered the whole manuscript into evidence. Only those pages that had scenes that corresponded to the evidence that had been withheld from the public had been marked as exhibits.
Joshua Maxfield
was printed on the top left corner of each page. She skimmed the one
hundred and seventy-odd pages, but none of them contained an answer to her questions.
Ashley had read the police report that detailed the search of Maxfield's cabin. She knew that an earlier draft of the novel had been found on a table in the room where Maxfield did his writing. After a few minutes of searching she found it. The earlier draft did not have Maxfield's name on it and it was significantly different from the other draft. By the time Ashley was through reading it, she was certain she knew what had happened, but there was one more thing she had to do to be certain that she was right. She walked down the hall and knocked on the doorjamb of the prosecutor's office.
“Delilah,” she said when the deputy DA looked up, “I have to talk to Joshua Maxfield.”