Harry played his role well, sitting cool, calm and collected as the prosecuting attorney grilled him about his actions.
He had been through this before, and knew exactly what to say, and how to say it, to gain the jury’s trust and sympathy.
After all, he was a master at this, wasn’t he, getting women to fall for his charm and every line until he had them under his spell.
He was certain that no one was going to believe his now ex-girlifriend’s claims about the terror she’d experienced while being held hostage as he drained her emotionally and then financially; he had been very careful not to leave any paper trails or bruises.
Early on in their relationship he had separated her from her friends and family, cleverly convincing them that she was unstable and prone to lying, a real basket case; just as he had done in a dozen or more previous relationships while building up sizable accounts in foreign banks that were going to finance his dream life in Belize as soon as he could free himself from the minor inconvenience of this trial.
What Harry hadn’t counted on was a ghost from the past, Sabrina, one of his early conquests from time spent in California, sitting there in the front row of the courtroom gallery, silently staring him down as she passed a note to the bailiff.
This has been a Six Sentence Story, written for Denise’s blog hop at GirlieOnTheEdge. The prompt word we were assigned to use this week was “gallery.” Click on the link to read more great stories, and maybe add one of your own!