Somebody’s Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

  “Yes, as long as he brings up incidents or makes false statements. But keep in mind that the defense can cross-examine you on anything you say. Prepare yourself for having Mr. Abbott question everything you choose to reveal.”

  Afraid to get her hopes up, Savannah nodded. The trial had been relatively easy for her up to this point. Not pleasant, but nothing she hadn’t been able to handle. Facing down the monster who’d raised her and recounting the horrific things he’d done to her would open her up to a lot more pain. But, just as in BDSM, sometimes pain was needed for catharsis.

  Hearing Gentry take an oath to tell the truth and then lie through his teeth wasn’t something she wanted to witness. But she’d go back in there anyway. Each day brought them closer to the end of this nightmare.

  Savannah’s head was spinning as she tried to make sense of all this, but Sullivan said, “Go get some lunch. Enjoy your break then be back here about fifteen minutes early with any questions you might have. Savannah, I’ll give you a notepad to jot down any lies you catch him in. I’m sure there will be numerous ones, and I don’t want you to forget any of them. I’ll get you back on the stand as soon as possible, but most likely, it won’t be until tomorrow. I’ll use your notes to help form my list of questions.” She squeezed Savannah’s forearm. “Relax, Savannah. We’ve got him on the run. This trial is almost over. Soon, justice will be yours.”

  Savannah nodded as the DA walked away at a brisk pace. Why couldn’t she lose the feeling that Gentry still had some nasty tricks up his sleeve?

  * * *

  Damián could tell by the way Savannah’s body became even more tense after Sullivan left the room that she was on edge. He pulled her into the crook of his arm. After initially resisting him, she settled in with a sigh. Damián hoped she’d take the opportunity to at least rest her eyes for a minute. She needed all the down time she could get.

  But all too soon, she sat up and asked them, “What do you think he’ll say?”

  “A pack of lies,” Damián said. “I’m glad his attorney can see through his bullshit.”

  “I have a sinking feeling that this isn’t going to go as well as Sullivan hopes it will.”

  Dad leaned forward over the table. “I don’t want to hear any stinkin’ thinkin’. You have one more small hurdle to get over, then you’re going to get to stare him down and let the world know what he did to you.”

  “This is the chance you’ve been waiting for to tell your story, querida.”

  “I know, but I’m scared.” Her voice sounded small.

  He wasn’t the least bit worried that, once she took the stand, she’d knock them over with the truth. She was just tired, and he couldn’t blame her. They’d been in the courtroom over a week now. The trial and her pregnancy were taking a lot out of her. With any luck, they’d get out of California before another week passed.

  “We’ll be there cheering you on from the gallery,” Dad said, squeezing her shoulder at the same time he leaned closer to whisper, “But one thing you don’t have to worry about is that shithead—pardon my language, but that’s what he is—getting anywhere near you or your family ever again. I’ll even put security details on each of you around the clock once my agency is set up.”

  After the kidnapping, they’d learned not to underestimate Gentry’s reach. But if he and Lyle were incarcerated, he hoped the threat would disappear, too.

  “Thanks, Adam.” Her voice cracked, and he squeezed her hand.

  “It’ll be over soon, bebé.” Damián wasn’t certain he wanted to listen to the horrific details of Savannah’s life, but he intended to remain strong for her. He wove his fingers between hers and squeezed. They would get through this—together.

  “I’ll do my best.” She didn’t convince him that she was certain, though.

  But all too soon, they were headed back to the courtroom where they took their seats again near the prosecutor’s table. With just a few minutes to go, Sullivan returned and asked if they had any further questions. The three assured her they didn’t. The DA equipped Savannah with pad and pen before settling in at her table to prepare for this circus.

  Gentry and his attorney returned soon after as well, hardly speaking to or looking at each other. When the judge reentered the courtroom, Abbott asked to approach the bench again, and both attorneys went forward. This time, their chat ended much more quickly. Sullivan returned to her table and motioned for Savannah to come forward. Damián helped her to her feet and remained close as the DA told them what she’d expected was about to happen.

  Great. Damián had mixed feelings about having Savannah go through this, but in the end, this could be the catharsis and empowerment she needed.

  When the attorneys returned to their tables and the jury was seated, the judge addressed the defense attorney. “Mr. Abbott, are you ready to proceed?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. The defense calls George Albert Gentry to the stand.”

  Gentry was guided forward by one of the armed deputies. After he lied to the clerk about promising to tell the truth, the cabrón took the stand. Immediately, his gaze zeroed in on Savannah, who gasped at the intensity of the hatred spewing from his eyes. Damián reached for her hand and squeezed it.

  “Mr. Gentry,” Abbott said, “you’ve heard the testimony in the court during these proceedings and have indicated that you’d like to tell your side of the story. Please go ahead.”

  “Thank you.”

  After Abbott took his seat at the defense table, all eyes turned expectantly to Gentry. He thanked the judge and his attorney for the opportunity to tell his story. Savannah’s entire body became rigid just hearing Gentry’s voice. Damián realized it was the first time she’d probably heard him speak since the kidnapping and rescue.

  Dios, would this nightmare ever end for his precious Savannah?

  Once again, Damián wished he’d killed the bastard when he’d had the chance. Then this nightmare would have been over for Savannah.

  Gentry launched immediately into a rambling spiel about what a loving husband and father he was, which took up the rest of the morning session. After a break for lunch, he resumed the stand to continue.

  “If it pleases the court, now I would like to tell what really happened on the evening of the twenty-first of July 1992.”

  * * *

  Savannah sat rigidly as she waited for Gentry to start spewing his venom. The baby attempted a somersault, which wasn’t possible at this stage of her pregnancy. Savannah shifted to a more comfortable position and drew several deep breaths, wishing she could stand up and walk around to calm the baby. She stroked her belly in an attempt to relax them both.

  Gentry launched immediately into a preposterous scenario, saying Lyle had been the one to shoot Grainger when the latter man had attempted to break into the Gentry home. Clearly, he grasped at straws. He would blame everyone else in an attempt to clear his name. Every now and then, he glanced toward the jury box as if to gauge how well they were eating up his lies.

  This went on for at least half an hour. Then Gentry’s gaze bore into her again, robbing her of several breaths before Damián tapped her collar and she regained her composure. Savannah held her head higher and waited for whatever would come out of his mouth next.

  If he thought he could reduce her to silence or tears the way he’d done so many times in the past, he’d be sorely disappointed. She would never be that frightened little girl again.

  After a long, tense moment, Gentry continued, this time going on and on about how his wife ran around with other men, the last of which was Grainger. How she didn’t take care of her husband or daughter the way a wife and mother should. How Savannah had been neglected.

  Some jurors might have drawn the conclusion that Maman was sleeping with Grainger, but Savannah would never know. She couldn’t blame her, though, if she had. Her life had been hell with Gentry. Savannah just hadn’t been aware of how bad it was, because Maman always shielded her from the ugliness in their household.

 
Was he casting enough doubt to sway any jury members? She tried to read their expressions, but they were playing it close to the vest. All eyes were riveted in Gentry’s direction, though.

  Savannah listened to him rant for the better part of an hour as he cited examples of what he was saying and continued to twist the truth just enough that it would be difficult to prove otherwise. She jotted a few notes, if he said something she could solidly refute.

  Then, suddenly, he started in on Savannah, and her pen began flying across the page.

  “My daughter has always been the most important person in my life.” Oh, you aren’t really going there, are you? “I tried to do my best to provide her with everything she could possibly want or need. Like on her sixth birthday.”

  She remembered the party around the pool with her friends from first grade. She wouldn’t give him credit for this event in any way. He’d barely shown up before it was over. Maman had asked her what theme she wanted, and she’d asked for a Disney Princess one.

  “When she told me she wanted to do a Disney Princess theme, I got on the phone to hire former cast members from Disneyland—at great expense, I might add—to come dressed as Aurora, Cinderella, and Ariel.”

  She smiled as she remembered the joy she’d felt that day as Maman rushed around making sure everyone had a good time, especially Savannah. Maman knew those were her favorite princesses.

  “I see by Savannah’s smile that she remembers what a good time we had together that day, too.”

  Rudely brought back from her pleasant memory, she cast a glance at the jurors who were staring at her, some of them smiling. She narrowed her gaze at Gentry then remembered the pad and paper and jotted down a note to tell Sullivan why she’d been smiling just now. He painted a picture of himself as father of the year when he was anything but. Maman had been her only parent present at that party. Gentry couldn’t be bothered.

  “If it were up to me, Savannah would have never been punished. She was such a pleasant, happy child. But her mother”—Gentry’s mouth drew into a thin, tight line as his eyes narrowed—“was a firm disciplinarian who often spanked and sometimes even beat the child.”

  Another lie! Damián stroked her nape to center her again as she scribbled on the notepad so as not to fall behind. Gentry was rarely home to notice or care that she was being raised to be a responsible, well-behaved child. His portraying Maman as abusive was as far from the truth as one could get. She scribbled another note. The DA had been right to arm her with paper and pen to keep track of all the lies.

  “It broke my heart when Savannah would run to me when I came home to tell me that her mother had spanked her hard enough to make her cry.”

  Savannah only remembered one such spanking, although she’d never sought comfort from Gentry. He’d always scared her. That day, she’d lied to Maman about borrowing an heirloom brooch of hers and losing it while playing. Ironically, the brooch had been excavated from near where the human remains had been found, and Savannah had since had it cleaned and placed in her jewelry box along with other treasures that once belonged to Maman.

  Realizing what he was trying to do, she made a note to explain to the jury that she had deserved to be punished any time Maman had deemed it necessary. Maman was never cruel in her discipline—and nothing she’d done out of love came close to being as awful as what Gentry had done to her later.

  “I’m sure Savannah could tell the court about other times when her mother abused her.”

  Abused? What on earth was he talking about? Maman never abused her. She flipped to a new page and made another note.

  “It’s understandable that she would block out those traumatic images of her beloved mother abusing her. She put Elise on a pedestal after she disappeared, pretending she was nothing short of Joan of Arc.”

  Even when he’d told her Maman had deserted her, deep down she hadn’t believed him.

  “I would venture to say that not only was Savannah being abused by her mother, but also by that…by my wife’s lover, John Grainger.” Gentry’s composure almost cracked before he caught himself.

  “Did Grainger ever lay a hand on you, Savannah?” Gentry asked her.

  “Objection, Your Honor,” the DA said. “The witness is merely to provide his narrative, not speak to others in the court.”

  “Sustained.”

  Savannah made a note to clear the blot Gentry had tried to place on John’s character when she took the stand again. John had been a perfect gentleman the one time he’d been with Savannah.

  John Grainger actually treated me in a fatherly way for the brief time he could. Unfortunately, beginning that very night, Gentry would notice her in ways far from fatherly.

  “We lived in one of the most prestigious homes in the exclusive Rancho Santa Fe area. I worked long hours building a lucrative business so that I could provide for Savannah and Elise. I hired some of the best tutors for Savannah’s private lessons beginning the year she entered third grade.”

  Because he wanted to control who I might file a complaint of child abuse with, since that was the year he began molesting me.

  “Even though Savannah was as ungrateful as that fil—her mother—I never neglected Savannah or shirked my parental responsibilities to her.”

  No doubt he’d almost let slip the words filthy whore, two of his favorite terms for both Maman and Savannah. She couldn’t wait for him to show them the vile human being he really was.

  Gentry turned to the jurors. “I’m sure some of you have children who can be less than appreciative of all you do for them, too.” Several of them nodded.

  Great. He was trying to play on their sympathies and commiserate about their children.

  “Objection,” Sullivan said. “Witness should not address the jurors directly.”

  “Sustained.”

  Red splotches rose in Gentry’s pasty cheeks. He wasn’t used to being thwarted. “I never quit trying to show Savannah my love,” he continued, as if he hadn’t been admonished. His gaze returned to hers. “Take the night Savannah turned eighteen, for instance. I could have turned her out in the world to make it on her own. Instead, I pulled out all the stops to give her a party at my hotel that she’d never forget.”

  Her eighteenth birthday party? She had no memory of any such thing. Flashes of white came before her eyes in a strobe-like effect. She’d seen that during the wax play scene and then had been triggered. She blinked a few times, trying to remember details from that night, but nothing came to her. What on earth had happened at that party that was so horrific she’d blocked it out?

  “She’d worn a white chiffon formal gown and Elise’s white opera gloves.”

  Maman’s? She hadn’t known they’d been hers.

  The room suddenly closed in around her, and she began breathing rapidly. How much more would she have to listen to?

  Damián and Adam both grounded her again with gentle touches and soothing whispers.

  Soon, she could hear Gentry’s sniveling voice again going on about some make-believe party. While she didn’t remember any party, her life changed drastically after that birthday. From then on, Gentry began to pimp out her body, up until she ran away.

  “I special ordered that ball gown for her. It was studded with thousands of tiny diamonds.” He continued to reminisce about this birthday, while she was lost in fractured memories she couldn’t quite conjure up.

  Savannah glanced at several of the women on the jury who wore smiles, no doubt with visions of her in a formal princess gown dancing through their heads.

  It didn’t really happen like that.

  Or did it? Was that evening buried in a self-protective fog because something happened that was so terrible her psyche couldn’t handle it? Were those flashes and her trigger related to the events at that party?

  Until that birthday, what Gentry had done to her had been her own private shame. She’d never let a soul know what her incestuous father was doing. As a child, she’d been locked away from anyone but her tutors
, and Father’s threats of what would happen to her if she told them what was going on scared her into silence. Then he’d become her pimp, making her existence known in a perverted way as his sex slave.

  Damián brought her back to the present with a sharp thump on her collar. Could he tell she’d been sucked into the past, or was he periodically reminding her to stay in the moment with random touches and taps?

  Focused again, she jotted down more notes for later, her hand trembling with each scribbled word.

  “And after you blew out the candles on your cake, I still remember placing a diamond tiara on your head and crowning you my princess.”

  Flashes of what might be the party he described crossed her mind’s eye, but were gone before she could process them. Was her mind filling in the images based on his words, or was she actually remembering something?

  His simpering tone made her cringe inside. When Damián placed his hands over hers, she realized she’d been picking at the skin around her fingernails again. How had she forgotten to replace the Band-Aids? She quickly reached into her purse to pull out some tissues to stop the bleeding.

  Princess Slut.

  Savannah thought of Damián and how he’d made her feel special using that endearment. Gentry had only made her his slut, but to her Dom, she was a Princess Slut.

  “I also was the lucky man who had the first dance with you that night.” No, if this party was real, you must have forced me to dance with you. She imagined his clammy, hot breath on her bare shoulder, his hard penis pressing against her abdomen through the layers of lace and chiffon of the dress, and his fingers pinching her arm when she didn’t look up at him as adoringly as he demanded.

  Wait! How did she fill in those blanks unless they truly had danced at an eighteenth birthday party? A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. What on earth had happened back then?

  “I’ve always treated my little girl like a princess.”

  Lies! Everything he said was a lie.

  “Do you need some water, querida?” Damián’s voice came to her as if from down a long tunnel. She nodded, but Adam was the one to stand and go in search of water. Damián stayed with her, his arm around her back, repeating her mantra and reminding her she was strong and would soon be able to tell the true story. But there were too many gaps in her memory for her to talk about that night.