“What’s great about a prelim is that we get a chance to cross-exam the state’s witnesses under oath before trial. We could put on witnesses if we wanted to, but that wouldn’t make sense because it would give the DA a chance to do the same thing.”
“So we’ll probably lose,” Maxfield said, “and I’ll have to sit in jail for months waiting for the trial?”
“Yes.”
Weller expected Maxfield to ask about bail, but he didn’t. Instead, his client asked about Weller’s progress with the book deal.
“Howard Martin called me yesterday,” Weller answered excitedly, naming the man who had edited Maxfield’s two novels. “He’s not with your old publishing house anymore. He’s editor in chief at Scribe.”
“I thought I read something about that in Publishers Weekly.”
“He really wants the book. We’ve only had a preliminary discussion but he’s talking seven figures already.”
Maxfield smiled. “I guess this is how the outlaws in the Old West felt when they read a Wanted poster and saw that there was a big reward for them.”
Weller laughed. “Big isn’t the half of it. I’ve gotten calls from movie producers, and several television news shows are clamoring for interviews.”
“Good job, Barry. I knew you’d come through for me.”
Weller was about to go on when the guard told them that it was time for Maxfield to go to court. Weller waited in the jail near the elevator while the guards brought out his client. Weller, Maxfield, and two guards rode down to the third floor in silence. As soon as the elevator door opened, they were bathed in the glare of the TV lights. Weller shielded his eyes and rushed to keep up as the guards hustled Maxfield through a barrage of questions and flashbulb explosions. The noise didn’t stop until the courtroom doors closed behind them. Weller followed Maxfield and his guards through the packed courtroom to his counsel table. Henry and Miles Van Meter were sitting in the front row of the spectator section. Weller couldn’t tell what Henry was thinking, but Miles Van Meter’s hatred of his client was obvious.
Delilah Wallace was already going over her notes at the prosecution’s table. Delilah took no notice of the commotion caused by the entrance of Weller or his infamous client.
“Morning, Delilah,” Weller said.
Delilah looked up with a welcoming smile. “Barry Weller! As I live and breathe. What are you doing here?”
Barry laughed. He got a kick out of Delilah. “I was going to have my client cop a plea but you looked so busy I’ve decided to wait.”
Delilah burst out with a belly laugh that made her huge body rock.
“I always enjoy locking horns with you, Barry. You were one of the few public defenders with a sense of humor.”
Weller took his seat next to Joshua. The bailiff rapped for order, and the Honorable Nancy Stillman limped into the courtroom with the aid of a cane. Stillman was a plump, gray-haired, motherly-looking woman who had been appointed to the bench two years before, after spending twenty years as a litigator with an insurance defense firm.
“This is the time set for the preliminary hearing in State of Oregon versus Joshua Maxfield,” the bailiff intoned.
“Is counsel ready?” Judge Stillman asked.
Delilah struggled to her feet like a mountain forming. “As always, Your Honor, the people of Oregon are ready to proceed.”
Stillman couldn’t help smiling. “Mr. Weller?” the judge asked.
Weller stood. “Ready for Mr. Maxfield.”
“Call your first witness, Ms. Wallace.”
“Before I do that, Your Honor, I want to inform the court that for purposes of this hearing only, Mr. Weller and I have agreed to stipulate that the medical examiner’s report can be submitted in lieu of her testimony with regards to the cause of Terri Spencer’s death.”
“Is Ms. Wallace correct, Mr. Weller?” Judge Stillman asked.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“We’re also stipulating, again for purposes of this hearing only, that Mrs. Spencer was stabbed to death by a hunting knife with a blade similar to Exhibit 3, which was discovered on the grounds of the Oregon Academy and that, if called to testify, a forensic expert would tell the court that blood on the blade of Exhibit 3 is identical to Terri Spencer’s blood.”
“You’re agreeable to that as well, Mr. Weller?” the judge asked.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Finally, Judge,” Delilah continued, “and also for purposes of this hearing only, the parties have agreed to stipulate that, if called to testify, Dr. Ralph Karpinski would tell the court that Casey Van Meter is in a coma due to a brain injury that occurred when the back of her head struck a roof support in the boathouse on the Oregon Academy grounds, and that bruises on the victim’s face are consistent with a blow to the face.”
Weller agreed to the stipulation, and the judge made several notes on a yellow pad. When she was done, Judge Stillman nodded at Delilah and told her to call her first witness.
“The State calls Lawrence Birch.”
An hour later, Delilah’s secretary entered her boss’s office and told Ashley that it was time to testify. Ashley turned pale. Jerry Philips squeezed her hand.
“Hey, you’ve had more pressure on you than this. You’re a big-time athlete,” he said, trying to loosen Ashley up with a smile, but she was paralyzed by the thought of being in the same room with Joshua Maxfield. She remembered the heat of his body and the way he smelled when he’d pressed down on her and rubbed his sex against her buttocks. She thought she might throw up.
Jerry put a hand under her arm and helped her stand. Her legs trembled. Her breath caught in her chest. She felt dizzy.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Ashley whispered, on the edge of tears.
Philips turned her toward him. He gripped her shoulders and made her stare into his eyes.
“You must do this, Ashley. This is for your mom and dad. Maxfield is a terrible person.”
Now Ashley was crying. Philips held her. The secretary looked on, almost in tears herself.
“Can you get Miss Spencer a glass of water?” Jerry asked. The secretary walked away. When she returned, Ashley was still shaky but calmer. Jerry stood back and held out a handkerchief. He waited while Ashley wiped her eyes and drank some water. She knew Jerry Philips was right. She had to do this for Terri and Norman. She was the only one who could stop Joshua Maxfield, and she was going to stop him.
“Let’s get this over with,” Ashley said.
Philips squeezed her shoulder and they started down to Judge Stillman’s courtroom.
The walk from the courtroom door to the witness box seemed to take a lifetime. Ashley looked straight ahead and did not see Jerry Philips slip into a seat in the last row. She kept herself rigid and turned her head away from the defense table so she could see Delilah Wallace but not Joshua Maxfield. There was a low wooden barrier that separated the spectator section from the front of the courtroom. Delilah smiled warmly and pointed toward the gate that opened into the bar of the court. Just before Ashley pushed through the gate she saw Henry Van Meter. He smiled at her and the smile helped to steel her for her ordeal.
Ashley’s legs felt heavy as she walked past Barry Weller. She kept her back to the defense table when she took the oath, but there was no way that she could stop herself from casting a quick glance at Joshua Maxfield once she was in the witness box. The most difficult thing for Ashley to accept was that Maxfield had not changed into a monster. He still looked like the friendly instructor of creative writing who had chatted on the Academy quadrangle with the young girl he had tried to rape and murder and the woman he would soon stab to death. At the moment their eyes met, Maxfield smiled. His smile was as warm as Delilah’s. How could evil be so undetectable?
“Miss Spencer,” Delilah said, “for purposes of this hearing I am going to confine most of my questions to the events that took place on the evening of June 24 of this year. But I will ask you a few other questions, so Judge Stillman can put those events in context.”