Somebody’s Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

  “Querida, that’s good advice. Anytime you need to go outside for a breather, do it. I’ll be here in the courtroom with you. Make eye contact with me if it helps to ground you.”

  “Actually, it’s probably best that she not do that, Mr. Orlando. We don’t want the jurors to think that you’re coaching her responses.”

  Damián growled low in his throat. Savannah reached out to hold his hand. “It’s okay. If I need you, I’ll ask for a break, and we can get away from prying eyes. In the meantime, I will use the grounding techniques you and my therapist have taught me to get through this.”

  While she wished the worst was already behind her, knowing Damián would be here for her made all the difference. She could face anything that evil man spewed at her as long as Damián’s comforting arms were a short distance away.

  “Speak clearly,” the DA continued. “And, above all, don’t forget to keep breathing.”

  Savannah smiled at Damián. “Don’t worry. I have been taught by the best how to maintain focus and not get mired down in memories of the past.” To Damián, she said, “You prepared me to have the confidence to tell my story, remember?”

  “And you’ve been an excellent student,” he said with a grin.

  The DA asked if she had any questions. When Savannah shook her head, the attorney excused herself, saying she needed to prepare for the morning’s session.

  “You aren’t going to give that bastard any satisfaction,” Damián said.

  Adam added, “Stay focused. Say as little as possible. Gentry will blow his cool if Abbott can’t get the responses he wants out of you, and that will give the jury another nail for his coffin.”

  Savannah nodded, and after being bombarded with a few more pieces of advice, she zoned out.

  “Eyes, savita.”

  Numb and a bit overwhelmed, she turned her gaze to Damián, who cupped her cheeks.

  “You’ve got this, bebé. Remember to breathe. Find something to ground yourself that isn’t me.” He grinned. “And tell your story. Even if you don’t look at me, touch your wedding band or your collar and know that I’m there with you, cheering you on.”

  She nodded. At least she knew he wouldn’t be far away. “Thank you, Sir.” He lowered his face to hers for a sweet kiss. She licked her lips when he pulled away, savoring his taste.

  “Let’s get out of here so you can have a little break before tomorrow morning,” Adam said.

  And, with one strong Marine on either side of her, she left the courthouse, palms sweating and heart racing as she clutched the doll to her chest. She couldn’t believe how quickly her protectors whisked her away.

  On the drive to Oceanside, she explained about the doll and how much it had meant to her when she’d been a little girl. She almost mentioned her revelation about how her memory had failed her. However, she didn’t want them to question whether she’d be telling the truth and nothing but the truth. But she’d certainly tell her story the way she remembered it.

  The three of them enjoyed dinner on the pier, Adam recounting how much the town had changed since he was first stationed here as a young Marine in the nineties. She could barely imagine the debauchery that must have gone on here with so many Marines frequenting the establishments in town. Today, it was a beautiful tourist spot.

  She wished she could be one of those tourists. If only she didn’t have to return to the Vista courthouse in the morning.

  Don’t let Gentry see your fear.

  Easier said than done.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Before court began on Tuesday morning, the DA came up to Savannah in the gallery and told her she would be the next witness. Damián and Adam spent the next few minutes shoring up her nerves, but all too soon, she heard Sullivan speak the words she’d longed for and dreaded at the same time: “The People call Savannah Orlando to the stand.”

  Savannah’s throat closed up in a panic. How would she ever get the words out to tell her story if she couldn’t even swallow? Any courage she’d gathered flitted out the window.

  This would be her chance to put her mother’s murderer behind bars forever. Then a frisson of trepidation coursed through her. She couldn’t mess this up.

  “Savannah?” the DA’s assistant prompted in a whisper.

  “Breathe, savita. You’ve got this.” Damián squeezed her arm as he helped Savannah to her feet.

  Drawing strength from Damián, she took a deep breath, held her head high, and walked toward the bar. Gentry’s gaze stabbed at her belly. It wasn’t the first time he must have seen she was pregnant, but she gave in to the urge to place her hand across her abdomen to protect her baby from his vile stare. She could hear him calling her a dirty slut and a filthy whore, but this baby, like Marisol, had been conceived in love.

  He can’t hurt your baby or you.

  She’d been instructed to stop at the thigh-high swinging door to await instruction from the bailiff, seated near the defense table. She refused to glance at or acknowledge the existence of the monster seated next to him as the bailiff came toward her and guided her in front of the jury box and to the witness stand. The court clerk asked her to raise her right hand, and Savannah swore to tell the truth—at long last—and nothing but the truth. She then entered the witness stand. A bit of her courage returned as she took another deep breath and faced the DA.

  Maman, I need you now more than ever. Without a blatant sign, though, she wouldn’t be sure Maman had heard her plea. Her chest tight, she forced air into her lungs.

  I will tell my story.

  Good thing Gentry couldn’t see the fingers of her right hand. All four were covered with Band-Aids. Every now and then, she automatically tried to pick at one only to find she couldn’t reach the skin.

  After asking some preliminary questions to establish who she was and what she did for a living, the DA zeroed in on the reason they were here. “Mrs. Orlando, how do you know the defendant?” The DA pointed toward Gentry, but Savannah refused to look at him.

  “George Gentry, the defendant, is my biological father.” Bile rose in her throat. Even giving him that much of a connection to her made her sick to her stomach, but she had to be truthful in order to be considered a credible witness.

  “Please tell the court about that last day you spent with your mother.” Clearly, the DA wanted to give her more time to compose herself before getting into the details of the murders.

  Relief washed over her. Savannah took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “We went to the cave at Thousand Steps Beach for a picnic. It was a favorite spot for my mother and me.” She glanced at Damián—thinking about the two special times they’d spent there, too—before returning her attention to the prosecutor. “Only this time was different.”

  “How so?”

  “She met a man there that day.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Eight.” Her life as she knew it had ended that night. Tears welled and threatened to spill, but she was brought back to the present by the DA’s next question.

  “What do you remember about this man who joined you and your mother at the beach?”

  “His name was John.”

  “John who?”

  “Grainger. I only learned his last name earlier this year after his remains were found buried on my mother’s property.” She refused to say it was that bastard’s property. He might have controlled it during the years since her mother’s murder, but the courts had quickly awarded most of his assets to her once her mother’s will had been taken into consideration.

  “Tell us what you remember about John.”

  Savannah smiled as she pictured his movie-star handsome face, the ocean breeze lifting the hair off his forehead. At the time, she’d been reticent with him, but in retrospect, she could see he had been an honorable man.

  “He was kind to me the short time I spent with him—and he made Maman smile.” She hadn’t smiled like that in a very long time.

  “Who is Maman?” Sullivan asked.

/>   “My mother, Elise Pannier Gentry. She was of French descent and preferred that I call her Maman.” She had Mari call her Maman as well. Pulling herself back from her thoughts, she added, “I could tell by the way she smiled and looked at John that Maman trusted him, which put me a little more at ease.”

  “Objection. Speculation.”

  “Sustained.”

  Gentry made a sound, and she looked up to see him snarling at her before his attorney whispered something to him, and he schooled his emotions.

  His response to her memories about Maman’s potential new love gave Savannah the courage to continue. He hated the thought that Elise and Savannah would look to other men as their protectors and partners. Turning her focus to the DA again, she waited for the next question. Would she ask for Savannah’s opinion about what type of relationship Maman and John had?

  “What was your impression of Mr. Grainger?” she asked.

  “After only knowing him a few hours, I wanted to go away with them, even if it meant my mother and I would have to give up living in our big house, and I’d have to leave my toys behind. Maman said I could bring my cat. All I wanted was to be with Maman and Whiskers.” Her voice broke remembering her beloved pet, another casualty of Gentry’s evilness.

  “How did you feel about moving away from your father?”

  “Objection. Irrelevant.”

  “Sustained.”

  The DA nodded. “Describe your relationship with your father.”

  “We weren’t close.” Ever. “He had little time for me—in those days—so I just wanted to be wherever my mother was.” But all too soon, she’d learned there were worse things than having a father who ignored her. “I knew I wouldn’t be happy in that house without her.” The monster who had fathered her had overshadowed every aspect of her life in the mansion once Maman’s light had been extinguished.

  “What happened after you left the beach that day?”

  She realized she’d become sucked into the past again. “Maman and I returned from the beach early that evening. She told me to pack a bag with only the things I must have in our new home. She told me to go to bed early that night, in case Father came home early.” She must have been worried I wouldn’t have been able to keep her secret. “Maman said she’d come and get me when John arrived for us.”

  “And did she come to your room that night?”

  Savannah shook her head, her eyes stinging with sadness and regret.

  “Please respond verbally for the record, Mrs. Orlando,” the judge advised.

  “No, she didn’t.”

  “But something did wake you? What was that?”

  “The sounds of Maman screaming at Father.” She detested calling him that, as if he’d ever earned that title, but the DA had advised her to use the word for the benefit of the jurors.

  “Objection. Speculation as to who her mother was screaming at.”

  “Sustained. Strike ‘at Father’ from the record.”

  “Do you know who your mother was yelling at?” the DA asked.

  Savannah glanced at the defense attorney, expecting another objection, but when none came, she answered, “Yes. She called him by his name, George, repeatedly.”

  “What happened after you awoke to your mother’s screaming that night?”

  “Maman shouted, ‘You can’t stop me, George. I’ve put up with your abuse long enough.’” Savannah forced the words from her constricted throat as the memories came flooding back. Feel, but don’t get mired in the past.

  She touched her wedding ring, remembering where she was. “Maman yelled that she was leaving him and taking me with her. Then I heard a slap.”

  The DA asked, “What happened next?”

  “Right after the slapping sound, Maman screamed in pain. Then I heard him call her a filthy whore.” She drew a deep breath to keep herself from sinking into her past association with that phrase. “I didn’t know what that meant at the time but knew it wasn’t nice by the way he said it.”

  “What did you do?”

  Her throat closed at the memory. “I went to find her.” To make him stop being so ugly to her.

  “Please speak more loudly, Mrs. Orlando,” the judge admonished.

  Savannah cleared her throat and repeated her words with more force then added, “I thought I could help her, so I slipped out of bed and snuck down the hallway. Afraid that someone was attacking my mother, I opened the bedroom door and looked inside. A man was on top of Maman. It sounded as though she was having difficulty speaking. As if she was being choked.”

  “Objection. Opinion.”

  The DA paused and nodded when the objection was overruled then said, “You said it sounded like she was choking. What else do you remember?”

  Savannah swallowed hard, the scared little girl inside her reliving that frightening moment. “My father…had his hands around Maman’s throat.”

  “Where were they in the room?”

  “Both were on the bed, my mother on her back with my father straddling her waist.” Flashes of that horrific night threatened to overcome her ability to speak, but she forced the emotions back down in order to focus on telling what she had seen. This is all in the past. Feel the emotions, but don’t go back there.

  She reached up to touch the warm metal of her collar. There wasn’t anything she could do to change what happened that night other than to make Gentry pay for his crimes. He couldn’t harm Savannah—not physically, at least. “His hands were around her throat. He was strangling my mother.”

  Savannah drew a slow, deep breath, providing another chance to ground herself in the present.

  Think of it like a movie in your head, not something you actually witnessed.

  “Your father was strangling your mother,” the DA repeated. “What did you do?” The patient Sullivan was determined to keep her focused and to get these details into the record. Savannah appreciated her diligence—for Maman and for John—even if it was hell for her.

  With a shaking hand, Savannah picked up one of the small bottles of drinking water that had been provided for witnesses, opened it, and took a sip to ease her dry mouth and give her another moment to compose herself. Then she set it down and continued.

  “Father’s hands were around Maman’s neck. She was making gurgling noises. She couldn’t breathe.” As if she were the one being strangled, she swallowed hard to keep her throat from constricting. I can’t lose my shit now.

  With Damián’s instructions going through her head, she touched her collar again and searched for a focal point.

  The decorative pin the DA wore on her lapel caught her eye—an iridescent blue butterfly with black on the edges of its wings. It reminded her of the pair she’d seen at the beach cave the last time she’d been there with Damián. Was Maman sending her a sign that she was here with her? Even if only a coincidence, the pin gave Savannah the courage to continue.

  “Maman’s legs were kicking in the air over the edge of the mattress, but she couldn’t get him off of her. He was too heavy, too strong. Her face was turning red, and her eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.” The words came out in a rush now, along with the memories. “Maman sputtered and gasped for air.” Savannah’s heart beat faster as the panic her mother must have felt threatened to erupt inside her.

  “What did you do?” the DA repeated, bringing her back to the courtroom.

  “I ran across the room to the other side of the bed so I could face him, and I begged him to stop because Maman couldn’t breathe. But he wouldn’t let go of her. There was blood on his hands from where Maman had tried to claw his hands off her.” Savannah had just painted Maman’s fingernails a pretty shade of pink in the cave that morning.

  “And what did Mr. Gentry say?”

  “Nothing. He just kept squeezing her throat. He looked so angry. His face was red, too. Maman’s fingers kept trying to break his hold. She fought so hard.” Savannah blinked away the tears, not wanting to break down or show weakness. She needed to stay strong and fin
ish telling what happened that night.

  “Take your time, Mrs. Orlando. I know this has to be difficult for you.”

  But necessary. I can’t let Maman down again.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I climbed onto the bed and pushed against his side, but he didn’t seem to notice me at all. I pounded on his arm.” Her tiny hands were so inconsequential. “Finally, he released one hand long enough to swat me away.” Like a pesky fly. “I landed in a heap on the floor, hitting my head. When I regained my senses, I stood and turned toward the bed. Maman’s legs had stopped kicking. Stopped moving altogether. Her hands lay limp at her sides. Her body was very still.” Deathly still. Dead. But she would let the jury draw that conclusion on their own to avoid another objection from Gentry’s attorney for testifying about something she wasn’t an expert on.

  Her shaking hand went to her collar, the warm metal calming her instantly. Wetness cooled on her cheeks. She ignored the tears, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed by the jurors or DA, who would be upset with her for becoming emotional, but it was so hard to talk about her mother’s murder without doing so.

  “What was your father doing at this point?”

  “His hands maintained a chokehold on Maman’s neck. I don’t know how long he did so, but after what seemed like forever, he let go, got off the bed, and staggered a bit. I climbed back up on the bed and begged Maman to wake up. Her eyes were open, but I knew she wasn’t awake at all. She was lifeless.”

  Savannah heard a sniffle from one of the jurors but tried to keep herself focused. She couldn’t leave any important detail out. This was for Maman.