The bailiff rapped his gavel to start the fourth day of Joshua Maxfield’s trial. Delilah Wallace smiled in anticipation of the day’s events. She was delighted with the jury that had been empaneled during the first two days. They were a group of tough, no-nonsense people. She was certain that they would see through any defense tricks and have no qualms about finding death to be the appropriate sentence after they convicted the defendant of aggravated murder.

Delilah was also pleased with the way opening statements had gone. Hers had been detailed and impassioned. She had laid out the evidence the jury would hear in chronologic order and had named the witnesses who would establish each piece of evidence. By the time she was through with her presentation she noticed more than one juror nodding unconsciously when she made a point. They also smiled when she brought a little levity to the proceedings. It was easy for Delilah to make friends, and she felt that she had twelve new ones by the time she sat down.

In Delilah’s opinion, Eric Swoboda’s opening statement had been boring and uninformative. He had talked about the concept of reasonable doubt but he had not mentioned a single reason why the jury was going to have one when the trial was over. He had been vague about how the defense would counter the state’s arguments. He had talked theory but had presented no facts. Delilah knew why. The defense had no arguments to counter hers. It had no evidence that would create any kind of doubt, much less a reasonable doubt. Joshua Maxfield was guilty, guilty, guilty, and Delilah was satisfied that she had the means to bring him to justice.

The Honorable Andrew Shimazu had been assigned to hear Joshua Maxfield’s case. Shimazu was a short, chubby, congenial Japanese-American with a full head of straight, black hair. After graduating from the University of Hawaii with an engineering degree, Shimazu had attended the Northwestern School of Law of Lewis and Clark College in Portland and stayed on. After he spent several years with a large firm and two terms in the state legislature, the governor had appointed him to the Multnomah County Circuit Court. This was his sixth year on the bench. His intelligence and judicial temperament had made him one of the most popular judges in the courthouse.

“Call your first witness, Miss Wallace,” Judge Shimazu ordered.

Delilah had decided to begin her case with her most appealing and deadliest witness. The prosecutor wanted the jury to be convinced of Maxfield’s guilt from the get-go. Once they had formed their opinion, it would be very difficult for Eric Swoboda to change it.

“The State calls Ashley Spencer,” Delilah said.

As Ashley walked down the aisle to the witness box she remembered how terrified she had been when she testified at Joshua Maxfield’s preliminary hearing. Today, she was focused and angry. When she passed the defense table, Ashley glared at Maxfield. She noticed with great satisfaction that he could not meet her steady gaze. Ashley looked away and walked to the front of the witness box where she stood with her head held high as the bailiff administered the oath.

Ashley took her seat and waited for Delilah Wallace to begin her direct examination. Jerry was seated behind the prosecutor in the first row of the spectator section. He flashed her a smile of encouragement when their eyes met. Ashley knew better than to smile back. Delilah had instructed her to be serious from the moment she took the stand to the moment she finished testifying.

Seated next to Jerry was Miles Van Meter. Delilah had not included him on her witness list. He was in court to lend moral support to his sister when she testified and because he was writing an updated edition of his book.

Delilah started her direct examination gently, by walking her witness through her relationship with her parents and her high school soccer career. In her opening statement, Delilah had outlined the testimony that she expected Ashley to give, and the jurors listened sympathetically to what Ashley had to say.

After laying her groundwork, Delilah led Ashley to the night that Tanya Jones and her father were murdered. Ashley told the jury how she and Tanya had been attacked and bound, and how she had watched helplessly as the man who invaded her home dragged Tanya into the guest room. Ashley’s poise broke momentarily when she recounted Tanya’s rape and murder, and she had to pause and drink some water before she could go on.

“Do you want to continue, Miss Spencer?” Judge Shimazu asked. “We can take a recess.”

Ashley took a deep breath and looked across at Joshua Maxfield. Once again, Maxfield refused to meet her eyes. That gave her strength.

“I’d like to go on, Your Honor. I’m okay.”

“Very well. Miss Wallace.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. Now, Ashley, you said that you heard Tanya Jones’s muffled screams. What was the first sound you heard from the man who attacked Tanya after he took her into the guest room?”

“I…I heard a gasp.”

“What did you believe that signified?”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Eric Swoboda said. “Speculation.”

“Your Honor, there will be testimony that Miss Jones was a virgin and that there was evidence of rape. Miss Spencer’s observation will be amply corroborated by this other evidence.”

“Mr. Swoboda, I’m going to let Miss Spencer testify.”

“Ashley?” Delilah said.

“It sounded like he was…like it was sex.” Ashley reddened. “That he’d had an orgasm.”

“What did you hear after that?”

“Tanya was whimpering. Then I heard a… It was like an animal. It didn’t sound human. Then there were these grunts and Tanya stopped screaming.”

“Did the grunts stop when Tanya stopped screaming?”

“No. They went on and on. Then the door to the guest room slammed open.”

“What did you think was going to happen next?”

“I…I thought he was going to rape me and kill me, like Tanya. The same thing.”

“What happened instead?”

“He stopped in the doorway and looked at me. That seemed to go on forever. But he didn’t come in. He went downstairs.”

“Did you hear anything downstairs?”

“I heard the refrigerator door open.”

“We’ll get back to what happened in the kitchen in a bit, but I want you to tell the jury how you escaped.”

Ashley sat up straight and turned to the jurors. In that moment, she felt as she had in the second grade when she’d played soccer with her father’s spirit inside her. Norman was there once again and he made her strong. He filled her with power and lifted her up.

“My father saved my life,” she told the jurors. “My father sacrificed his life for mine. I would not be alive today if it was not for my father, Norman Spencer.”

Delilah had Ashley detail her escape from her home and her subsequent decision to attend the Oregon Academy. Ashley told the jury about her contacts with Joshua Maxfield and her mother’s involvement with his writing seminar. Then Ashley testified about the incident at the boathouse.

“Ashley,” Delilah asked, “you were real serious about your soccer, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“In addition to your team workouts, did you have your own conditioning program?”

“Well, I did extra workouts.”

“Did you like to run in the woods on the Academy grounds in the evening to build up your wind and your legs?”

“Yes.”

“Did you take a run on the evening that Terri Spencer was murdered?”

Ashley paled. She looked down and said, “Yes,” so softly that the court reporter had to ask her to repeat her answer.

“During your run, did you see anyone?”