Somebody’s Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

  She glanced at Gentry; his expression toward Lyle took her by surprise. He seethed, glaring at Lyle with pure hatred. Until now, she’d only seen that much vehemence exhibited by him toward Damián and her. Apparently, he wasn’t looking forward to Lyle’s testimony any more than she was, which gave her hope that Lyle might damage his innocent façade. What did Lyle have on Gentry that made him so angry? Or was he simply upset that the man he’d trusted with his secrets and who was all up in his business had dared to squeal on him?

  After taking the oath to tell the truth, Lyle sat down. Would he be truthful? Could he be? She didn’t consider him the most moral or ethical person she’d ever known, by any stretch of the imagination. He’d associated with Gentry, after all. Lie down with dogs and wake up with fleas.

  Savannah already had to pee in the worst way, but nothing would pry her out of this seat to miss a single second of her former handler’s testimony. The two men stared each other down until, suddenly, Lyle’s head turned and his gaze bore into her.

  The air was sucked from the room, and everything faded but the intense, silent exchange between the two of them. She stared back into the face of evil. While Gentry authorized everything that had been done to her, Lyle had taken sadistic pleasure in carrying out those orders and making sure she was humiliated and tortured to the limits of her tolerance—no, far beyond that point, time and time again.

  His face was blank—expressionless—almost as if there was no recognition. His eyes were sunken, lifeless. Prison life wasn’t agreeing with him. Good. He deserved to feel like the caged animal he’d tried to make her into. An ounce of justice had been served. Now to get the pound.

  She’d never been able to read Lyle, other than to assume he’d deliver the worst punishment Gentry had allowed him to dish out. Neither Lyle nor Gentry confided in her, not that she’d wanted to know ahead of time what sick acts they had planned. They simply told her what to do, and she did it for fear of the horrendous consequences.

  Had he admitted to any of that in his plea deal? Probably nothing more than the kidnapping charges for taking her across state lines. She wouldn’t be given the opportunity of receiving justice for what they’d done to her all those years ago up until she’d run away at nineteen. The DA wanted to focus on the charges easier to prove with existing evidence. But if Lyle could help put the mastermind behind bars for life, she’d be satisfied with that.

  “Breathe, savita.”

  Damián’s whisper broke through her tunnel vision and reminded her to take care of herself and the baby.

  The district attorney stood at the podium, looking down at her notes. Savannah’s chest grew tight again, prompting her to take another breath.

  After some preliminary questions, Sullivan dove in. “Mr. Gibson, please tell the court what your relationship was with the defendant, George Gentry.”

  “He started out as my business mentor right after I earned my MBA, twenty-three years ago. Then, two years later, we became partners.”

  Twenty-three years ago. She hadn’t realized he had worked for the man that long.

  “To what do you attribute your rapid success in Gentry’s organization?”

  Lyle stared at Gentry a moment and then said, “I helped him hide the bodies.”

  Was he speaking literally or figuratively? Her mother had been killed twenty-one years ago. Her heart began to pound loudly, making it difficult for her to hear the DA’s next question. Could he know anything about her mother’s death?

  Savannah began hyperventilating and cupped her hands over her mouth and nose to breathe into them. Damián stroked her back, whispering soothing words in her ear as he helped her recenter herself.

  “Please tell the court what you mean by hiding the bodies, Mr. Gibson,” the DA asked.

  “On the night he murdered his wife—”

  “Objection!” Abbott shouted. “Lacks foundation.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Mr. Gibson, please tell the court what you mean by hiding the bodies.”

  Lyle puffed himself up. “On the night his wife died, I got a call from George at about ten o’clock telling me to come to the residence because he needed help disposing of something. When I showed up, I found him with Mrs. Gentry, who appeared to be strangled to death on the bed.” He glanced at the defense attorney as if to dare him to object again.

  Savannah’s cheeks grew wet with unchecked tears. To hear Maman talked about like so much trash to be taken out and disposed of hurt her heart. No one should be treated that way, much less her mother. Her dead mother.

  “After discussing the situation with him, I went to the garden shed, took out a spade, and dug a hole six-foot long by five-foot deep under the rose bushes.”

  A sob ripped from her throat as she pictured the scene, and Damián tightened his arm around her back. “You can do this, Savannah,” he whispered.

  By sheer will, Savannah kept herself from making another audible outburst. She wanted the jurors’ attention to stay on the man describing the nightmarish events as if it were just another business meeting with Gentry.

  “I knew what he wanted the hole dug for, so—”

  “Objection. Speculation.”

  “Sustained,” said the judge.

  “What did you think this hole would be used for?” the DA rephrased.

  Lyle smirked at Gentry. “I dug it with the assumption it would be used as a grave—and it was.”

  “Objection.”

  “Your Honor,” Sullivan said patiently, “the People have established the facts that two bodies were found buried in the location Mr. Gibson is speaking of.”

  “Overruled.”

  Lyle’s voice was devoid of emotional reaction, as if describing a typical day at the office. How could anyone follow such despicable orders without a shred of moral decency?

  “Soon after I’d finished digging the hole, the defendant carried down her body wrapped in a sheet, and we placed it in the grave.”

  “What made you think there was a body inside the sheet?”

  “He carried the bundle over his shoulder, and I saw two bare feet dangling out the bottom of the sheet.”

  “Did Mr. Gentry tell you whose body was wrapped in the sheet?”

  “No, ma’am. But I assumed it was hers, since I’d just seen her lying on the bed, lifeless.”

  “What happened next?”

  “We put the wrapped body in the hole. I’d only dropped a couple shovels full of dirt on top of it when a car drove into the circular drive. A man was behind the wheel of the Volvo. I remember wondering at the time how this other man,” he emphasized the words while staring at Gentry, “got through the locked gate, because I had definitely secured it behind me. Someone must have given him the access code.”

  “Objection. Speculation.”

  “Overruled.”

  “Did you recognize the man?”

  “Never saw him before in my life.”

  He took a deep breath before adding with little or no emotion. “Immediately after he got out of his sedan, he demanded to know where Elise and Savannah were. One look at what I was doing, and I guess he figured out where one or both of them were.”

  “Objection! Speculation.”

  “Sustained.”

  “What did he do next?”

  “The man called George a murderer—loud and clear—and before I knew what was happening, George pulled out a handgun and pointed it dead center at the man’s chest.” He glanced at the DA with an out-of-place grin. “Pardon the pun.” Then his expression grew matter-of-fact again and moved back in Gentry’s direction. “I dropped the spade and backed out of the line of fire. This wasn’t included in my ‘other duties as assigned.’ I had no intention of getting shot.”

  Yes, Lyle would only think about himself. That’s all he’d ever done.

  “George ordered the man to interlace his fingers behind his head and to kneel at the foot of the grave I’d just dug. The man refused, and George shot him in the knee then ord
ered me to drag him over to the grave and to toss him in. I did so quickly, because I was afraid he’d fire off the next round at me. The man writhed in pain, but when he looked inside the hole, he screamed Elise’s name and half-fell, half-jumped inside. He’d started pulling the sheet away when George shot him a second time in the back of the head.”

  More tears flowed for John, the gentle man she’d met only once, but who had been so kind to her and her mother. He’d been their only hope of escaping to a new life, and they’d both lost their lives in the bargain. Savannah’s shoulders shook as she cried silently as Damián gently rubbed her back and whispered, “I’m so sorry, querida. Are you sure you’re okay to stay?”

  Afraid he might make her leave, she dashed the tears off her cheeks to face him and hissed, “Yes!” Nothing could tear her from this room, not even her Dom. She’d better pull herself together. Now.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lyle was the only known witness to Grainger’s murder and to the burial of her mother’s remains. Savannah needed to know what had happened, to have the blanks filled in for her. Surely his testimony coupled with hers later on, as well as all the experts who’d already testified, would result in justice for her mother and John, at long last.

  Thank God Lyle had corroborated that he and Gentry had buried a body without calling for medical help, a coroner, or law enforcement, which in and of itself showed guilt. And the DNA evidence had proven that the bodies were those of Maman and John.

  The judge called for a fifteen-minute recess. Perhaps he’d noticed her emotional state. She wasted no time escaping. “I need to use the restroom,” she whispered to Damián. He helped her to her feet and held onto her elbow as they left the courtroom together. He stayed at her side to the ladies’ room door. “I’ll just be a minute.” She forced a smile for him, hoping he wouldn’t worry about her. Fat chance.

  After relieving herself, she stood next to an older woman washing her hands at the sink.

  “Honey, I hope you don’t mind.” When Savannah made eye contact in the mirror, the stranger said, “My husband and I bought your…family’s house this past summer after…” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced away when Savannah reached for a paper towel. “I’ll admit I was curious about what he’d been accused of doing and just had to come up here for the trial.” The woman shrugged unapologetically.

  Another nosy person here for all the salacious details, no doubt. How anyone would want to purchase a house where two brutal murders had taken place and then attend the trial to get the disgusting details was beyond Savannah’s comprehension. She’d wanted to be rid of her mother’s family home as quickly as possible. The multi-million-dollar property had sold at a fraction of what it was worth, apparently to this woman, but all Savannah could think was good riddance.

  “It breaks my heart to watch you having to listen to these awful things, especially in your condition,” the fifty-something woman said. Savannah hadn’t been aware she was being ogled by other people in the gallery.

  “Thank you,” Savannah said dismissively, drying her numb hands with a paper towel.

  “He’s a sick bastard, from what I’ve heard so far.”

  Oh, honey, you don’t know a tenth of what he’s done. Wait until she heard what had happened to Savannah growing up, if they were able to reveal that during the rebuttal portion.

  Not wanting to talk about it with a stranger, Savannah nodded, anxious to get back to Damián. Addressing the stylishly dressed woman with a smile, she said, “I appreciate your concern,” before starting toward the door.

  She’d almost made her escape when the woman halted her by saying, “I also wanted to bring you this.”

  Savannah turned to face the woman who held out an object wrapped in white tissue. For the briefest of moments, her mind flashed to what her mother’s body must have looked like in its makeshift shroud. As if the woman realized belatedly what the bundle looked like, she quickly unwrapped it. “I’m so sorry! This…this is what I wanted to bring to you. I’m sure it must have been yours.”

  In her hand was Savannah’s Christmas Barbie—the last one Maman had given her. Its blonde hair was no longer shiny and smooth. Smudges marked its face. And the dress had tears in it.

  Savannah’s heart grew full to almost bursting with the sudden connection she felt with Maman. Despite having been through a lot, too, the doll was the most beautiful one Savannah had ever seen. “Where on earth did you find her?” she asked, reverently reaching out to accept the precious gift.

  “In a bedroom closet. There was a secret compartment against the back wall.”

  When Savannah heard her father’s footsteps in the hallway, she pried open the tiny door and shoved her Barbie inside. He had long ago threatened to burn the doll if she didn’t stop “playing” with it when he was in the room with her. The doll had been her lifeline from the turmoil her life had devolved into. She’d received it when she was seven—her last Christmas with Maman. For several months, Savannah had kept the Barbie doll away from her father, who seemed unaware of her hiding place. She only pulled the doll out when she was missing Maman especially hard.

  Like today. Her father had promised…more like threatened…Savannah that he would be doing something special with her tonight during their alone time. She didn’t want him to come into her room again or anywhere near her, but all too soon, the bedroom door creaked open.

  “Savannah. Daddy’s here. I have a special surprise for you.”

  “Honey, are you okay?” The woman’s cool hand covered and gently squeezed Savannah’s forearm.

  Savannah blinked and found herself hugging the doll to her chest as tears streamed from her eyes. That had been the first time he’d put his penis inside her. She’d needed Maman to comfort her that night. Needed the Barbie, the last physical connection she had with Maman. But she’d had neither.

  She hadn’t thought about the doll again for the next half-dozen years or more. By then, she’d assumed Gentry had found and destroyed it. Until today. It was as if her Barbie had come back from the dead.

  She shivered at the analogy. If only Maman could do the same.

  “I’m so sorry. I thought it would bring back some happy memories for you. Given the wear and tear, she most definitely was loved by someone. I washed her dress and cleaned her up as much as I could before bringing her to you.”

  Savannah forced a smile. “Yes, she’s very special to me. This was the last Christmas present my mother gave me. I always wondered what had happened to her. I haven’t seen her since I was…eight.” She nearly said raped the first time. Savannah knew she was rambling but couldn’t help it. “I’d completely forgotten about that secret storage place when I cleaned out the few things I wanted to keep before we sold the house.”

  Not only had this been a gift from Maman, but the doll also resembled her mother. Same hair. Same eyes. Savannah held the doll in front of her and stared into the Christmas Barbie’s sparkling blue eyes then wrinkled her brow.

  “That’s not right,” Savannah said.

  “I’m sorry? It’s not your doll?”

  Afraid the woman would take the doll back, Savannah took a step back and pulled the Barbie closer, continuing to stare into its eyes. “She’s supposed to have brown eyes.” Maman’s eyes were brown. “In my mind, at least, she always had Maman’s eyes, not blue ones.”

  The woman leaned over to take a closer look at the doll’s face. “It looks like the original color to me. Perhaps you just remembered it wrong.”

  She couldn’t imagine how such a vivid memory would be so far off. Had she needed that connection with Maman so strongly during those dark days that she’d seen Maman’s face in the doll she treasured over all else? Had that memory glitch helped her feel protected by Maman when Gentry had molested and raped her? Most likely.

  “Funny how the mind can play tricks on you,” Savannah said then smiled up at the perfectly coiffed woman. “Thank you for bringing her back to me. I’ll share her with my daughte
r when I get back to Colorado.”

  “Speaking of getting back, I’m sure the recess is almost over, so we’d better return to our seats.”

  Savannah squared her shoulders, and the other woman held the door open for her. A worried Damián waited there. He quirked his brow when he saw her clutching the Barbie doll close to her chest.

  She smiled. “I’ll explain later.”

  “Everything’s okay?”

  She nodded. “Let’s go back in.”

  They made their way back down the hallway to the courtroom. Savannah found peace and comfort holding onto her doll, as if it were a talisman or once again the personification of her mother. But how had she been so wrong about her memory of the doll’s eye color? And did that mean any of the testimony she would give during the trial would be erroneous as well?

  Still, sitting through the rest of Lyle’s testimony, her thoughts were a jumbled mess, and she found herself wishing it would be over for the day so she could simply cuddle with Damián.

  Lyle’s testimony and cross-examination took the rest of the day. She’d managed to hold up under the pressure of being in the same room with Lyle again.

  Because it was so close to five o’clock, the judge adjourned until the following morning. Savannah said goodbye to the woman seated behind her who had given back her doll, just as the DA came up to the three of them.

  “Savannah, excuse me,” the DA said, “but could we meet briefly in the back?”

  “Absolutely!” Dread seeped into her body as she wondered what was up.

  In a conference room, Sullivan said she merely wanted to prepare her again for the defense to cross-examine Savannah after the DA finished with her line of questioning. She anticipated this would most likely happen tomorrow.

  Her body felt hot and cold at the same time, and Damián wrapped an arm around her.

  “Remember the things I told you before,” she said. “Take your time to answer each question. If you don’t understand the question, ask Mr. Abbott to repeat it. Don’t answer anything you don’t know the answer to. It’s okay to simply answer that you don’t know or can’t recall.” The barrage of reminders became overwhelming but continued to come. “But only answer the question asked, preferably with nothing more than a yes or no. You want to give as little detail as required to answer each of his questions. Don’t provide explanations or unnecessary details. If the questioning becomes too distressing,” the DA continued, “you can ask the judge if you can take a short break to regroup.”