Authors: Phillip Margolin
Sleeping Beauty (3 page)
“I heard the refrigerator door open. Later I heard a dish clatter on the table.”
“Okay, Ashley. This could really be important. You know what DNA is, right?”
Ashley nodded. She watched detective shows and read crime novels. And they'd covered genetics in biology class.
“We can get a person's DNA from bodily fluids like saliva. If he ate some food in your kitchen he may have left something on a fork or a glass. Now let me ask you, was anyone at your house last night other than you, your friend, and your father?”
“No.”
“And you ate dinner at home?”
“No. There was a pizza party to celebrate our win. My dad came to the game, ate with us, then took Tanya and me home.”
“Did you, Tanya, or your father eat anything at home?”
“I don't think Dad did. He's on a diet. Mom would have been pissed that he ate three slices ofâ¦.”
Ashley stopped. It was too much. Mom was always getting upset when Dad sneaked a cookie or a bowl of ice cream. Now her father was dead and there would never be any more playful bickering about his diet.
“I know this is going to be tough for you, Ashley,” Birch said after an appropriate silence, “but I'd like you to come back to your houseâ¦.”
Ashley looked up, alarmed.
“You won't have to go anyplace upstairs. Just the kitchen. I have to know if you can identify something this man ate, or a glass he drank from, a utensil he used. If you can, we may be able to get him. Do you feel up to it?”
Ashley nodded. It was a chance to do something. The policewoman was Ashley's size. Detective Birch asked her to give Ashley her heavy coat and to pull a car into the McCluskeys' driveway. He wanted to protect Ashley from the elements and the press.
When the car was as near as it could get, Birch led Ashley out a side door. A few reporters noticed the exit but Ashley was in the car before they could bother her. The policewoman turned on the bubble lights and used the horn and siren during the short drive to the Spencer home.
It was still raining, and Birch opened an umbrella over Ashley.
“I won't see the bodies, will I?”
“We're just going in the kitchen,” he assured her.
Birch had been in the house earlier and he knew the way to the kitchen, which was adjacent to the stairs that led to the second floor. A photographer was snapping shots of the area. Birch shooed him out of the room.
“Take your time, Ashley,” the detective said. “Look around all you want.”
Ashley stood in the center of the room and turned slowly before focusing on the kitchen table. There were two folded paper napkins and a small spot of milk. She walked over to the sink. Then she opened the dishwasher.
“This is wrong,” Ashley said.
“What's wrong?”
“When we got home Dad emptied the dishwasher. Mom was gone and he wanted the place to be clean when she got back, so he ran a wash before he came to the game. Then he put the dishes and glasses in the pantry.”
“Okay.”
“Tanya and I had some chocolate cake and milk when we watched this movie we rented. Mom made the cake. Our dirty dishes and stuff are in the dishwasher. We put them in after Dad went to bed. But there's nothing in the sink and no other dishes or glasses or forks in the washer, and I know he ate something.”
“Maybe he didn't use a plate or fork,” Birch said. “Maybe he ate with his hands.”
“No,” Ashley said adamantly. “I heard a plate hit the table. It's why Iâ¦I left my dad. I knew he was done downstairs and was going to come for me. So, where is the plate?”
Birch scanned the room. He noticed that the door to a cabinet under the sink was ajar. The detective was wearing latex gloves but he used a pencil to open the door. A box of garbage bags was lying on its side, and the tip of a new bag was visible. Birch squatted in front of the cabinet, thinking. After a moment, he stood up.
“You're certain that you heard the refrigerator door open?”
Ashley nodded. Birch opened the refrigerator. “Check it,” he said. “See if you can figure out what he ate.”
Ashley looked inside. A transparent plastic milk container was up front. She studied the level of the milk. Then she looked back and forth among the shelves, searching for something.
“The cake is gone. He took it all and the plate it was on. And I'm certain he poured some milk from this container. It was three-quarters full when we were done. And look. There's some milk on the table. I wiped the table after we ate.”
“Good girl. This is terrific detective work.” Ashley smiled for the first time since her ordeal started. “I'm betting our man put the plate, the cake, everything that could give us a DNA trace, into one of these trash bags and took it with him.”
Ashley stopped smiling. “Does that mean you won't be able to find him?”
“No, Ashley. It just makes our job a little harder.”
M
arch had been unseasonably cold. April made up for the rainy gray days with a profusion of multicolored flowers and vibrant greens that were so bright in the sharp sun they seemed unnatural. Ashley saw very little of the change of seasons. She had loved her father, and the fact that he had died to save her was devastating. The horrible way that Tanya Jones had died compounded Ashley's grief.
Right after the murders, Ashley's coaches, some of her teammates, and several of her friends had stopped by or called. The conversations had been awkward and painful for Ashley. Everyone meant well but they did not know what to say after “I'm so sorry,” “We love you,” and “Are you okay?” After the first few visits and calls, Ashley stopped seeing or talking to anyone. A few friends persisted for a while before giving up.
The reaction of Todd Franklin, Ashley's boyfriend, had been especially difficult for her. Todd was the captain of the boys' soccer team, which did not do nearly as well as the girls' team. Sometimes Ashley thought that Todd resented the recognition she received. They had started seeing each other early in the year, but Ashley wasn't sure she wanted to keep dating Todd.
They went out mostly with other friends, but they had been alone at parties and a few times at her house after her parents had gone to sleep. She liked making out with Todd. He was gentle and he made her laugh,
but he also got mad when she didn't let him go all the way. Ashley just wasn't ready to make love to anyone yet. She thought she would do it with the right guy. Todd just wasn't that boy.
Todd had come over to see her a few days after the attack. The meeting had been awkward from the start. Everyone knew from the stories in the media that Tanya had been raped before she'd been killed, but the same reports had been silent about what had happened to Ashley.
Terri had left Ashley and Todd alone in the den. They'd sat on the couch where the two of them had made out on several occasions. Usually, Todd was all over her as soon as the door closed. This time, he had kept a space between them and made no move to touch her. He hadn't looked at her directly for more than a second or so, and his conversation was monosyllabic. He made her feel like a leper, and she thought that he'd come to see her out of a sense of obligation, but would rather be anywhere else. Not that she wanted to be touched. Any thought of sex evoked memories of the killer's probing finger and his sour odor. Still, it would have been nice if Todd had shown some sign of affection instead of sitting next to her as rigid as a rabbit poised for flight. After that meeting, Todd had not visited or called again.
Since the tragedy, Ashley had refused to return to school. She stayed in her room or sat in the recliner in the family room watching mindless television shows. Terri Spencer told her daughter that no one was accusing her of being responsible for Tanya's death, but Ashley was certain that her classmates would demand to know why she had lived and Tanya had died.
On the second Friday in April, at four in the afternoon, Terri returned from a meeting with the principal of Eisenhower High School. Ashley's mother was five-foot-three, with large brown eyes, a dark complexion, and straight black hair she wore in a short, practical cut. She had competed in cross-country in college and still had the slender, wiry build of a long-distance runner. When Terri walked into the family room there was a talk show on the tube. She watched her daughter from the doorway for several seconds. Terri was certain that Ashley was using the show as a narcotic and would not be able to tell her a thing about it if she quizzed her.
Ashley's self-imposed exile was frustrating and painful for Terri, who had raised a self-sufficient, confident young woman and now lived with an insecure young girl who had nightmares that kept her up at night and left her so exhausted that she slept away a good part of the day. She had suggested therapy, but Ashley refused to discuss the murders with anyone. Terri was having a hard time dealing with her own grief, but she did not have the luxury of withdrawing from the world. She had to take care of Ashley and earn a living.
Ashley was dressed in sweats, and her hair was uncombed. It took all of Terri's self-control to keep from throwing her into a cold shower. She prayed that her news would break Ashley out of her funk. She attracted her daughter's attention by switching off the set.
“I've got two pieces of good news,” Terri said. Ashley eyed her warily.
“I just finished talking to Mr. Paggett. He's going to let you finish your junior year without going back to school. You won't even have to take any exams. He'll give you the grades you've gotten to date. They're pretty high so that's okay.”
A look of relief spread across Ashley's face, but Terri showed no reaction. Ashley had always confronted her fears; she was strong, a born leader. That she wanted to hide in her house saddened Terri.
“There's something else. Last week, I received a letter from the Oregon Academy. I didn't want to discuss it with you until I'd talked to Mr. Paggett and the people at the Academy. I met with both of them today.”
Ashley sat up. The Oregon Academy was a perennial powerhouse in girls' high school soccer. The private school had repeated as state champion this year and was ranked nationally. Eisenhower had lost to them in the state quarterfinals, but Ashley had scored two goals.
“The Academy wants you to go to their school for your senior year,” Terri said, keeping her tone neutral so that Ashley would not see how desperate she was for Ashley to take this opportunity. “They're offering a full scholarship. Weâ¦we don't have much money. I told them I couldn't afford to send you if I had to pay. But they really want you. You impressed them at States. And playing for the Academy would increase your chances of getting into a top college. The school is A-one academically,
and there would be a lot more athletic scholarship offers if you played for a nationally ranked team.”
For the first time since the tragedy, Ashley looked interested in something. Terri pressed on.
“And it would be a new start, a change of scenery. You could even board at the school, if you want to. You'd be out of the house, on your own. It would be a little like college.”
Terri stopped and held her breath. She knew that she would be terribly lonely if Ashley roomed at the Academy, but she was willing to make any sacrifice to help Ashley heal.
“Whenâ¦when would I start?” Ashley asked.
“The school year begins in September but they have a soccer camp there in the summer. Some of the girls help out. The person I talked to said that you might be able to do that. I think some members of the Olympic team are going to be there.”
Ashley shifted in her seat. Terri could see that she was thinking hard.
“You don't have to make up your mind right away. We could visit. You could see if you like the place, maybe meet some of the girls on the team. It's only thirty minutes away,” Terri said, desperate to keep the conversation going. “What do you say? We could take a drive out there tomorrow. The weather is going to stay nice. The school is in the country. It would be fun.”
“Okay,” Ashley said in a voice so small that Terri wasn't certain she heard her correctly.
“Good. I'll call right now and see when they want us.”
“That's fine.”
Terri nodded, when she really wanted to cry from relief. Ashley was going to shower, dress, and leave the house. After everything that had happened, this was more than she'd hoped for.
T
he Van Meters had built Glen Oaks, their country estate, in the late 1800s by clearing several acres of oak, maple, and Douglas fir that ran up to the banks of the Willamette River. A stone wall guarded the perimeter of the estate. On the other side of the wall the road ran through a further buffer of forest that soon gave way to well-tended lawns and flower gardens bordered by pruned hedges. Then the road forked. To the left was an elegant stone mansion. A wide lawn separated the house from the road.
“That's Henry Van Meter's home,” Terri said as she took the right tine of the fork. “He founded the Academy. We're meeting with his daughter, Casey. She runs the school.”
A boy and a girl on bicycles rode by, and Ashley saw a group of girls sitting on the grass, laughing. The Academy was pastoral and idyllic, the way she imagined one of those English universities like Oxford or Cambridge might be.
They passed some boys and girls playing tennis. Beyond the courts was a large outdoor pool, and beyond the pool was a modern steel-and glass gymnasium. Behind that was the soccer field. The team was practicing. Ashley stared with longing at the running, shouting girls.
On either side of a grassy quadrangle that was shaded by well-spaced elm trees were three-story brick buildings with white columns and peaked
roofs that housed the classrooms of the Academy. Students were talking on the quadrangle and walking back and forth between the buildings. Everybody seemed happy and engaged.
The administrative offices were in another brick building at the far end of the quadrangle. Terri parked next to it in a small lot. The admissions office was on the first floor, and the dean's office was above it. Upstairs, Terri gave the receptionist her name while Ashley looked at pictures of the school that hung on the waiting-room wall. One of them was a black-and-white photograph of a straight-backed, stern-looking man in a business suit standing in the middle of a construction site.
“That's my father, Henry Van Meter.”
Ashley turned. A tall, thin woman with clear blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a wide forehead was standing in the doorway of the dean's office. She was dressed in a white silk shirt, a blue pinstripe jacket, and matching skirt. Her straight blond hair fell to her shoulders, and a pearl necklace graced her slender neck.
“He started the Oregon Academy in this building.” She pointed at the picture Ashley had been looking at. “That's what everything looked like during the first week of construction.”
The woman held out her hand. “I'm Casey Van Meter. You must be Ashley Spencer.”
Ashley hesitated, then shook Casey's hand.
Casey smiled. “Actually, I didn't have to guess who you were. I saw you score those goals against us in the quarterfinals of the state championships. I go to all the girls' games. You're very goodâbut you know that.”
Ashley flushed and looked down, embarrassed. Casey laughed. “And modest, too. That's a trait I admire. We don't encourage prima donnas at the Academy.”
Casey turned her attention to Ashley's mother. “Hi again, Terri. I'm glad you two decided to look over the campus.”
“It was Ashley's decision.”
Casey nodded. Then she fixed Ashley with a sharp gaze that was impossible to avoid.
“What do you see yourself doing five years from now, after you've graduated from college?” the dean asked.
“I like science. I was thinking of medical school, but I'm not sure.”
Terri was thrilled to hear her daughter talk about the future and she admired the way Casey Van Meter had shifted Ashley's attention there so easily.
“Well, we've got a top-flight science facility. It's the first building you passed when you drove down the quad. We designed it to look like the older buildings but, inside, the labs are state-of-the-art. Would you like to take a look at it?”
“Okay.”
“Good. I'm tired of sitting inside on a day like this. We can look around the grounds and end up at the gym. If you'd like, I can introduce you to some of the girls on the soccer team.”
“That would be okay,” Ashley answered nonchalantly, though her body language revealed her excitement at the possibility of meeting the girls on the Academy team.
Casey held open the door. “Shall we stroll?”
The dean walked beside Ashley as they descended the stairs and left the building. Terri followed, listening to Casey's exposition on the history of the Academy and the school's goals. The dean cut across the quadrangle, stopping her monologue occasionally to say hello to some of the students they passed. They were almost to the street that separated the quad from the academic buildings when a man in a tweed sports jacket and gray slacks hailed the dean.
Joshua Maxfield wore his reddish-brown hair stylishly long and had emerald-green eyes. He was lanky, a little less than six feet tall, and looked trim and fit. Ashley would not have been surprised if someone told her that Maxfield had played tennis in college or ran for exercise.
“Joshua!” Casey said with an enthusiastic smile. “I want you to meet Terri and Ashley Spencer. Ashley is a junior at Eisenhower High School and a top soccer player. We're hoping that she'll attend the Academy for her senior year.
“Terri, Ashley, this is Joshua Maxfield. He's our writer-in-residence and he teaches creative writing. He'll be your instructor if you take the course.”
“Joshua Maxfield,” Terri said, half to herself. Then she asked, “Did you write
A Tourist in Babylon
?”
Maxfield beamed. “Guilty as charged.”
“I thought it was terrific. I'm a big fan.”
“Well, thank you.”
“I remember
Babylon
so well. When Marion died from the overdose I cried. That scene was so powerful. I just couldn't help myself.”
“That's music to my ears, Mrs. Spencer. A writer tries to create real emotions in his readers but we rarely know if we succeed.”
“Well, I did cry and I'm not ashamed to admit it. That was a very moving book. Are you working on another?”
Ashley thought that Maxfield looked uncomfortable, but it was only for a fraction of a second. Then he was smiling modestly.
“Actually, I am.”
“What's it about?”
“I'd rather not say at this point. I've just started it. I will tell you that it's a departure from my previous books.”
“I won't press you. I'm working on my own novel and I don't like talking about it, either.”
Ashley hid her surprise while she watched this exchange. Her mother was usually so businesslike. Now she was gushing the way some of Ashley's friends did when they talked about a hunky TV teen idol.
“How far along are you?” Maxfield asked.
“About halfway. I'm a reporter for the
The Oregonian.
They keep me pretty busy. I grab a few hours here and there to work on it. Weekends mostly. It must be great to write full-time.”
“I'm very fortunate. You know, when you feel that you're well enough along, I do critique manuscripts for a small fee.” Then he paused and pointed a finger at Terri. “Better yet, this summer I'm running a writing group on campus. It's for serious writers who haven't published yet but are working on something.” Maxfield fished out his wallet and handed Terri his card. “That's my number, if you're interested. I'm trying to keep the group small. Two people have signed up already so don't wait too long to decide. I'd hate to have to turn you away.”
“Thanks,” Terri said, as she put the card in her purse.
“Joshua, what did you want to ask me?” Casey asked. Ashley thought she sounded a little sharp.
Maxfield smiled at the dean. “Nothing that won't keep. I'll catch you later.” The author turned to Terri. “It was nice meeting you.” Then he focused on Ashley. “I hope you're thinking seriously about the Academy. It's an excellent place to go to school.” He paused and his smile widened. “Maybe I'll get you in my class.”
Maxfield walked off and Casey led Terri and Ashley across the street to the science building.
“Joshua Maxfield,” Terri said, smiling. “Have you read his books?” she asked Casey Van Meter.
“Of course.”
“
A Tourist in Babylon
was so great.” She paused. “How long has it been since it came out?”
“About ten years,” Casey answered.
“That's what I thought. And
The Wishing Well
was published the next year. I wonder why he's taken so long to write his third?”
“You can ask him if you decide to join his group. That sounds like a great opportunity for someone working on a novel, to get advice from a published writer.”
Casey turned to Ashley. “That's why we asked Joshua to join our faculty. We want our students to have opportunities they don't get in public school. He lives on campus. If you develop an interest in writing, like your mother, you'd be able to consult with him whenever you wanted to. Joshua is very approachable. He loves working with our students.”
