A rustle of applause greeted Jill’s appearance. She walked to the podium with Miles in tow. Claire moved around the edge of the crowd and settled near a musty shelf dedicated to mysteries set in exotic locales.

“Thank you for coming out on this dark and stormy night,” Jill said to scattered laughs. “I think you’ll find the trip well worth it. Tonight, we are fortunate to have with us Miles Van Meter, the author of Sleeping Beauty, one of the most compelling true-crime stories I’ve ever read.

“Mr. Van Meter was born in Portland, Oregon, and is the son of the late Henry Van Meter, a member of a prominent timber family. Henry took over the family business when his father died but he had many other interests, among them education. Henry founded the Oregon Academy, the elite private school where many of the terrible events recounted in Sleeping Beauty occurred. Miles and his twin sister, Casey Van Meter, were educated at the Academy. After high school, Miles went on to Stanford, his father’s alma mater, and Stanford Law School. He still practices business law in Portland.

“As many of you know, Sleeping Beauty was originally published several years ago. This new edition was just released with additional chapters that recount the startling events that occurred after the book’s initial publication. Tonight, Mr. Van Meter is going to read from Sleeping Beauty, then he’ll graciously answer your questions. So, please give a warm welcome to Miles Van Meter.”

The applause was immediate and heartfelt. Jill stepped aside and Miles took her place at the podium. He sipped some water and arranged his papers while he waited for the ovation to die down.

“Thank you. Receptions like this made it possible for me to go on during those dark years that followed Joshua Maxfield’s brutal attack on my beloved sister, Casey. As you might guess, talking about what happened to Casey is not easy. To be honest, writing this book was not easy. But I began this project because I felt that it was something I had to do to keep Casey’s memory alive. And I also wanted to keep these terrible events in the spotlight to force the authorities-the police, the FBI-to hunt down Maxfield and bring him to justice-not just for the horrible crimes he committed against my family and the family of Ashley Spencer, but for all the other people whose lives were fouled by his inhuman acts of murder and torture.

“So, I wrote Sleeping Beauty and I went around the country, and when I started, I can tell you that I was depressed, because the outlook for Casey was bleak and Joshua Maxfield was still at large. But everywhere I went people like you told me how real my book had made Casey seem, and you told me that you were praying for her. That raised me up in my darkest hours, and I want to thank you for that.”

The audience erupted again. Miles looked down at the podium to collect himself. After a moment, the applause stopped and Miles held up a copy of his book, on which was affixed a gold stamp emblazoned in raised letters with SPECIAL EDITION.

“I’m going to read the first chapter of Sleeping Beauty. After my reading I’ll stay to answer any questions you have and I’d be pleased to sign your books.”

Miles opened Sleeping Beauty, took a sip of water, and began to read.

“Why do we fear serial killers so much more than other murderers? I believe we fear them because we cannot understand why they kill and torture helpless people against whom they cannot possibly bear any rational form of malice. We know why angry husbands and wives slay each other. We can see a cause-and-effect relationship when a gang eliminates a rival gangster. We feel safe when we know that a murderer has no reason to harm us. But we feel at risk when someone like Joshua Maxfield is at large, because no rational person can fathom what motivated him to perform his horrible acts in the Spencer home one cold March night during Ashley Spencer’s seventeenth year on this earth.

“On that fateful evening, Ashley was a junior at Eisenhower High School in Portland, Oregon. She was a pretty, cheerful girl with bright blue eyes and straight blond hair she wore most often in a ponytail. Ashley looked solid and powerful because she had trained hard for years to be a top soccer player. The training had paid off. In the fall, she had been the star of her high school soccer team and first team All-State. After the high school season, Ashley played on an elite club team. Earlier that day, F. C. West Hills had won a close match against a tough rival and the coach had hosted a pizza party for the team.

“Where did Joshua Maxfield see Ashley for the first time? Was it in the pizzeria? Was he lurking in the crowd at the soccer game? The police have examined home movies of the soccer match and the pizza party, and there is no trace of Maxfield in the frames. Maybe theirs was simply a chance encounter on the street or in a mall. In the end, how they met is not as important as the horrific consequences of that meeting for the Spencer family and for my family.

“Sometime around two A.M. Maxfield entered the Spencer home through a sliding door at the rear of the house and crept up the stairs to the second floor. Norman Spencer was sleeping alone in the master bedroom, because Terri Spencer, Ashley’s mother and a reporter on Portland ’s daily newspaper, was on assignment in eastern Oregon. Norman was thirty-seven when he died. He had taught junior high school for several years and was well liked by all who knew him.

“Maxfield attacked Norman Spencer first, stabbing him repeatedly as he slept. Then he moved down the second-floor landing. Staying with Ashley was Tanya Jones, a slender, African-American honor student, who was All-State honorable mention. Tanya was Ashley’s teammate and best friend. They had both scored goals that day, and Tanya’s mother had given her permission to sleep over. Ashley’s door squeaked a little when it opened. We can guess that the noise awakened Tanya. When Ashley opened her eyes, she saw her friend sitting up in bed, and the silhouette of a man in her doorway. Then Tanya arched back and collapsed sideways onto the floor. Ashley had no idea what had happened to her friend until she leaped out of bed and was hit by Maxfield’s stun gun.

“Maxfield was on Ashley immediately. Before she knew it, she was bound hand and foot and Maxfield was carrying Tanya Jones next door to the guest bedroom. Ashley struggled against her bonds but was unable to break them. Moans of pain came from the guest room. The sudden sounds paralyzed Ashley.

“Tanya Jones’s autopsy report recounts in detail the horrors that she endured at Maxfield’s hands. To Ashley, Tanya’s ordeal seemed to go on for a long time, but she probably suffered only fifteen minutes or less. The medical examiner concluded that Tanya was beaten and partially strangled, then raped and stabbed violently and repeatedly. Many of her knife wounds were delivered in a fury after she was dead.

“Ashley lay on her bed waiting to die. Then the door to the guest bedroom closed and Maxfield, dressed in black and wearing a ski mask and gloves, was standing in Ashley’s doorway. She believed that he had come to rape and murder her. Instead, after watching her for a few seconds, he whispered, ‘See you later,’ and went downstairs. Moments later, Ashley heard the refrigerator door open.

“We must assume that Joshua Maxfield temporarily spared Ashley because he was exhausted and famished after raping and murdering Tanya Jones. That would explain why he took a break from his ghastly tasks to go to the Spencer kitchen, where he drank a glass of milk and ate a piece of chocolate cake. Eating the snack would land Maxfield on death row, and writing about it would cause another tragedy.”