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.”
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.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Two 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.
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 right… 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.