“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?”