A curtain of thick tension descended over the courtroom. Defense Attorney Marshall Hatterfield sauntered to the witness stand. He smiled like a feral dog in the heat of manipulation and asked, "Detective Dutton, isn't it true you are well known throughout the hierarchy of the Marion County Police Department to be a, how shall I put this, a lone wolf?"

An uneasy stir arose among the spectators. Many shifted in their seats. Hushed murmurs were heard as the confrontation brewed.

Hatterfield wrung his hands together and continued, "Isn't it also true you like to bend the rules as the situation fits your needs?" Like a vulture circled overhead, with discredit an allegation away, he tightened the screws, "Most importantly, would you not agree minus your shoddy investigative tactics, this insane charge of capitol murder against my esteemed client would not have been brought forth?"

Detective John Dutton calmly responded, "As you know, Mr. Hatterfield, from our previous encounters, I am not a Johnny One-Time, nor is this my first rodeo." What Dutton ached to do was knock some manners into the barrister. Instead, he maintained his compunction, rose tall in the saddle, and said, "All the evidence the Marion County Police Department collected was gathered in the utmost legal way possible."

"Or so you claim, Detective. Care to enlighten us about what so-called evidence you have to offer this court?" Hatterfield pondered. He walked to his table and picked up a manila folder.

State Attorney, Debra Anderson bolted to her feet and complained, "Your Honor, Mr. Hatterfield is deliberately badgering our witness."

Judge Stancil glared down from the bench. He twirled the tips of his handlebar moustache and admonished the defense attorney, "Mr. Hatterfield, cease and desist. This court will not tolerate any such theatrics."

"Yes, Your Honor," Hatterfield replied. He raised his eyes, looked at Dutton, and rephrased the tone of his inquiry, "Detective, can you inform the court what evidence you collected during your investigation?"

Dutton spoke into the microphone, "A puddle of bleach, approximately two feet in diameter, stained the garage floor, and a variety of cleaning agents were boxed together on the formica-topped island in the kitchen."

"Did you locate anything else, Detective? Perhaps something of value." Hatterfield questioned.

"Yes we did," Dutton responded, "We found six towels in the washing machine with a reddish substance on them. Forensics determined this was blood that matched the deceased."

"Deceased, Detective? Really?" Hatterfield scoffed. "That is quite an interesting perspective. Considering there is no body, my question would be how can there possibly be a deceased? In addition, a blood match would hardly prove my client murdered Vanessa Deal or anyone else, for that matter."

"No it would not," Dutton agreed, "but, when Gretchen, our cadaver dog, discovered a positive indication on the driveway underneath the carport an arrest warrant was secured. That led us to bring Virgil Deal in for questioning."

"I see," Hatterfield stated. He flipped open the cover of his manila folder and ran his forefinger halfway down the top paper contained inside. He approached Dutton, showed him the document, and asked, "Detective, were you not quoted as saying "We still don't have the skank's missing body, but we've got Virgil Deal by the cajones. Now's the time to ratchet up the squeeze real tight and see if we can crack a coconut?" These comments sound like you were out to nail Virgil Deal to the wall regardless, Detective. I remind you that you are under oath."

Dutton admitted, "Yes, I said those words, and I stand by them. You see, Mr. Hatterfield, aggression is easily aroused in lovebirds, and the Deals were in the middle of toxic divorce proceedings. But, the odd text messages Vanessa Deal's friends received are what I wanted to know about. The beginning always sounded like a stimulating environment for me."

"Clueless," Hatterfield muttered under his breath. He asked Dutton, "Does testifying in a death penalty trial sound like a stimulating environment to you, Detective?"

"Your Honor!" Debra Anderson vehemently protested.

"I retract my question," Hatterfield smiled at the attentive jury.

Dutton explained, "Following the date Vanessa Deal was reported missing, signals from her cell phone bounced off the tower in Laramie, two-hundred-and-twenty-six miles north of Marion County." Then, he asked his own question, "Riddle me this, Mr. Hatterfield, how can a missing person text her dear, sweet, mama and tell her she is on a ventilator?"

"I'm not the one providing testimony, Detective," Hatterfield responded.

Dutton continued, "Once Maryanne Dungston received this text, we scoured all the local hospitals. Vanessa Deal did not surface. That gave us probable cause. Who else would retain access to Vanessa Deal's cell phone to send that text to her mother after she was reported missing except Virgil Deal?"

"As I recollect, the last time Vanessa Deal was seen alive was on February 14, 2019," Hatterfield began.

"Sweethearts Day," Dutton cut in. He elaborated, "Larry Courtney, her boss at Thurston Interiors, reported his favorite office clerk was in very good health at that time."

Hatterfield paced in front of the witness stand and asked, "Weren't Larry Courtney and Vanessa Deal having an affair?"

"I will remind the court, Larry Courtney's been cleared of any involvement in Vanessa Deal's death," Debra Anderson quickly responded.

Hatterfield stared at the news reporters clustered together in the far corner of the room and warned, "Detective Dutton, while these text messages you mentioned may arouse your curiosity, they certainly do not establish a murder has been committed. Unless you can produce any real substantiating evidence implicating my client in a crime, I am going to petition the court to drop all charges against Virgil Deal."

Poised, Dutton presented, "On February 21, 2019, Vanessa Deal's silver Hyundai Tucson was discovered in the north annex of the Marion County Parking Garage. Security video showed Virgil Deal drove the vehicle into a parking slip on the fourth level and exited out the driver's door. Why, Mr. Hatterfield, would your client do such a thing?" Dutton paused, looked accusingly at Deal, and stated, "Unless it was a desperate act intended to cover something up."

He focused his attention on Hatterfield and continued, "Three days prior to Vanessa Deal's car being found, her next door neighbor, Marjorie Stoneman, provided a deposition stating she heard the victim plead "No! No! No! You're hurting me!" Why would Vanessa Deal make that comment if she wasn't under duress?""

Silence filled the courtroom.

"And, Mr. Hatterfield, why would Vanessa Deal's neighbor from across the street, Riley Johannson, provide a sworn statement in which he recalled a black truck at her residence with a license plate number that matched the F150 owned by Virgil Deal on the day she was reported missing?" Dutton wanted to know.

The mousey Maurice Weatherspoon slipped into the courtroom seemingly unnoticed. He slid into an empty chair next to Debra Anderson and spoke softly in her ear.

"If I may approach the bench, Your Honor, my associate has informed me workers just excavated Vanessa Deal's half-naked remains from a ravine in Rock Smasher Canyon," Debra Anderson informed Judge Stancil.

In anguish, Virgil Deal, a bookworm with wire-rimmed spectacles, cried out, "Stop it! I didn't mean to kill Vanessa. That was the last thing I wanted to do. I went to her house to discuss the settlement of our finances. At first, she was warm. You know, the way we used to be before all our disagreements started." The notion brought a fond smile to Deal's face. He returned back to the gravity of the situation at hand and said, "Then, Vanessa told me she wanted eighty percent of all my assets. Eighty percent! I'm no fool. I couldn't do that. I tried to convince her she would ruin me and everything I've spent my life building. She didn't care."

A collective gasp emitted from the gallery as the brash Hatterfield grumbled to his client, "Shut up, Virgil. You've already confessed too much, you pathetic weakling. I could have gotten you off."

Deal fiddled with the top button of his blazer and finished his story, "Do you know what she did? She laughed in my face. I lost control and slapped her a good one up beside her head. She clawed my eyes. It hurt, real bad. I-I picked up a knife from off the tool counter and I," as if the memory was too strong to overcome, Deal hesitated. "I stabbed her again, and again, and again!" Each time the word became more venomous. Deal concluded, "There was blood all over the floor of the garage. I tried to clean it up." Collapsing into his chair, Deal moaned, "I couldn't allow Vanessa to destroy me. Don't you see? I couldn't."

Judge Stancil instructed, "Bailiff, remand the defendant. This trial stands adjourned until one o'clock." Steel bracelets flashed, then clicked.

Outside the courtroom, Dutton told his young partner, "I may not be as good as I once was, but make no mistakes about this simple fact, Mark, I'm still as good once as I ever was." He paused, collected his thoughts, and stated, "I see the electric chair in Virgil Deal's future. His sand castle in the sky is gonna crash down on top of his head, and I have no sympathy for him. The greedy bastard! Oh well, duty calls."

"Your timing is impeccable," Mark Ballister complimented Dutton. They bounded down the courthouse stairs. Ballister stopped, turned to Dutton, and asked, "But, how did you know about Vanessa Deal's corpse being in Rock Smasher Canyon?"

Dutton flashed a toothy grin and replied, "All in a day's work, kiddo. Weatherspoon timed that dagger just right to force Deal's confession. Helps to have snitches in low places. Let's roll."