They reached the reception area and the homicide detectives escorted Delilah out of the building.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” Miles said to Monte Jefferson. “You coming?”
“I’ll be right with you. I’ve got to talk to Jerry Philips for a second.”
“Meet you at the car. So long, Ashley.”
Miles left, and Jefferson turned to Jerry Philips. “Now that Ms. Van Meter is out of her coma, do you still need the files on Miss Spencer’s adoption?”
“I’d better keep the motion alive. If she has a relapse, we’ll be back in court.”
Jefferson frowned.
“Is there a problem?” Jerry asked.
“Maybe. We keep our closed files at Elite Storage’s warehouse. They have a record of the file but they can’t find it. It may be misfiled.”
“I don’t want to drop the motion but you don’t have to keep looking. If Ms. Van Meter stays awake, I’ll dismiss the motion. The case will probably be dismissed anyway as soon as Dr. Linscott gives Ms. Van Meter a clean bill of health.”
While Monte Jefferson was talking to Jerry, Ashley noticed Randy Coleman talking to his attorney in a corner of the room. He looked angry. The lawyer shrugged and held up his hands. Coleman swore and started to leave. Ashley intercepted him before he reached the door.
“Mr. Coleman, please.”
Coleman whirled around and glared at her. “What do you want?”
“I didn’t get a chance to thank you yesterday for saving my life.”
Coleman relaxed and forced a smile. “Glad I was there for you.”
“Me, too. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you. You were very brave.”
Coleman shrugged. “I didn’t really think about it. I saw you were in trouble and I just acted.”
“I’m glad you did.”
Coleman stepped back and examined Ashley. She felt uncomfortable.
“I don’t see it,” he said with a shake of his head.
“See what?”
“The resemblance. And you sure ain’t alike personality-wise. You seem nice. Casey is a bitch on wheels.”
Ashley flushed. Even if she didn’t know her well, she didn’t like to hear someone run down her mother.
“She was always nice to me,” she said, feeling the need to defend Casey.
“Oh, she can be nice. She was real nice to me, at first. Then she got bored and she wasn’t so nice.”
“What do you mean?”
“You sure you want to know?”
“Yes,” she answered, but she wasn’t really certain that she wanted to know about her mother’s dark side. Miles had been frank about his sister. Would her husband make her sound even worse?
“I don’t know what being in that coma did do to her. Maybe you’ll be lucky and she’ll change. But the Casey I knew was a self-centered, vicious bitch.”
Coleman rolled up his sleeve. Ashley saw a series of faint, circular scars.
“Cigarette burns,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “Know how I got them? We had an argument one night. I can’t even remember what it was about. We’d been drinking and we probably both said some shit to each other. I passed out. When I came to I was naked and handcuffed to the bed.” He pointed at the scars. “These aren’t the only ones. I got them all over my body. They hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Your mom said she did it to teach me manners. Know what she did after she got tired of hearing me scream?”
Ashley shook her head.
Coleman flashed a humorless smile. “She left the house with me still cuffed to the bed. At first, I was sure she’d come back and we’d make up. We’d fought before and that’s the way it always ended up. But she left me to die.”
Ashley’s eyes widened. Coleman could see that she didn’t believe him.
“I was chained up on that bed for a day and a half. No food, no water, lying in my own piss. The only reason I’m here is because a friend of mine dropped by to tell me my boss was mad that I missed work. He heard me screaming and got in through a window. Otherwise I’d be dead.”
Ashley felt sick and scared. She hoped that Coleman was exaggerating. She couldn’t believe that Casey could be that cruel. Ashley was also tempted to confront him and ask why he had followed Casey to Portland if she was that awful. Of course, she knew the answer to that one. He wanted Casey’s money. And she didn’t confront Coleman because she owed him her life.
“That sounds awful,” was what she did say.
“It was the worst experience I ever had,” Coleman said. He had a faraway look in his eyes and an odd tone to his voice that made Ashley think that he was telling the truth.
“Well, kid, I wish you luck. You’re gonna need it with that bitch for a mother.”
“That’s one bitter man,” Ashley said when Coleman was out of earshot.
“You’d be bitter too, if your shot at millions of dollars just went down the toilet,” Jerry said.
“It has,” Ashley answered, “and I’m not bitter at all.”
Jerry threw his head back and laughed. “You are one amazing woman.”
During the walk across the parking lot to his car, Jerry seemed preoccupied. When they were ready to leave the lot he didn’t start the engine right away.
“What’s wrong?” Ashley asked.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just been thinking. You have to pay rent every month on that apartment, which is an okay apartment, but not that great. And I’ve got this house I’m living in that’s really too big for one person.”
Ashley stared at Jerry for a moment. Then she frowned. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”
“Yeah. That’s what I was getting around to.”
“For a lawyer, you can be pretty inarticulate at times.”
“So?”
Ashley leaned across the seat and kissed her attorney. “I’d love to shack up with you, Jerry.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Two guards led a heavily manacled Joshua Maxfield into the contact visiting room. The smaller of the two guards jammed his baton into the prisoner’s ribs to prod him forward, even though it wasn’t necessary. The other guard said nothing. Maxfield knew that it was no use protesting and maintained a stoic silence.
Eric Swoboda, Maxfield’s new attorney, unreeled from the plastic chair on which he was sitting. He was basketball-player tall, with a weightlifter’s neck and a defensive lineman’s girth. His head was huge and his jaw jutted out like a granite shelf. They had already met when Maxfield was arraigned on escape-and-assault charges stemming from his attack on Barry Weller. In light of what he’d done to his last attorney, Maxfield suspected that his new attorney’s physique had been the main reason that the presiding judge had appointed him. Joshua hoped that the behemoth’s brainpower was commensurate with his size.
The guards left the visiting room, but another guard stood in the corridor and watched the attorney-client meeting through the window. Swoboda started to offer his hand but stopped when he realized that Maxfield’s hands were chained in a way that made it impossible to extend them more than a few inches.
“Looks like they got you trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey,” the lawyer said.
“I would appreciate it if you could get the court to ease some of its restrictions,” Maxfield answered in a reasonable tone.
“I’ll try, but don’t get your hopes up. Everyone gets real uptight when your name is mentioned.”
Maxfield looked down, a shy smile on his face. “I guess I have no one to blame but myself.”
“Say, before I forget,” Swoboda said, “I read A Tourist in Babylon.” Maxfield looked up expectantly. “I don’t read much fiction, but I liked it.”
“Most people did,” Maxfield said, smiling with relief.
“I heard that the book won a lot of awards.”