Arthur removed his glasses, breathed on them once, and wiped them on his necktie.

“Your Honor, that little girl was lifted out of a casket in her parents’ living room the night before last.

No supervision plan on earth makes that hallway safe for a six-year-old.”

“Mr.

Pendelton.

Keep your argument for closing.

Call your witness.”

Paul Vance walked up the aisle in his dress uniform, the navy one with creases running down the sleeves, and the clerk had sworn him in before he’d planted both feet.