by S. E. Lund
“Let me check his calendar and let you know when he’s free. He has a lot of meetings about the new Congressman. Plus, there’s some of his old golfing buddies in town…”
The way she let her voice trail off seemed that she was overwhelmed with my father’s busy schedule, which was impressive considering his health.
“Are you okay?” I asked, worried about her.
“I’m fine. I thought your father wanted to slow things down after the stroke, but he seems determined to make up for lost time or something. I’ll tell him you’d like to come by and he’ll call or text you. He has a new iPad and has been using it all the time.”
“Okay,” I said and sighed. “Hopefully, Sophie and I can come by soon and visit.”
“Bye, sweetie,” she said softly.
“Bye,” I replied. “Tell my dad I love him.”
“I will,” she replied and ended the call.
On my part, I sat staring at the cell in my hand while Sophie slept. Learning that my father had to use a motorized wheelchair to get around was not good news. Until I found out, I saw my father as still quite mobile, walking with a cane around the house and when he went places, only using a wheelchair when he went to the hospital for tests or treatments. The thought he needed a wheelchair permanently made my sense of gloom deepen.
I should have been ecstatic with my circumstances. I had a beautiful healthy baby and loving handsome husband who was devoted to me, but something prevented me from being able to enjoy anything. I felt as if at any time, the world would come crashing down and I’d be alone. Or dead.
I made sure Sophie was sleeping and was safe in the middle of the bed, with battlements made of pillows and receiving blankets rolled up surrounding her. She was still unable to do much of anything besides kick and punch and had yet to roll over so she wasn’t going anywhere, but I had terrible images of her falling off the bed that I couldn’t quite get out of my mind.
I walked to the living room and stared out at the dark sky. The streetlights had all blinked on and there was still foot traffic on the streets. Now and then came the blare of a horn.
I went to the drawer and pulled out the menu from Quance and sat thinking about what to order but my mind kept wandering to Drake and his visit to the Herald's office for his meeting with the editor.
What story would they run? How would it affect Drake? His career and his public persona?
Until the accident, it had been spotless – he was the brilliant young neurosurgeon who was a pioneer in robotic techniques, the billionaire son of a wealthy trauma surgeon turned medical implements manufacturer. Philanthropist and volunteer for Doctors Without Borders.
It would be horrible for him if his reputation was damaged because of what Lisa Monroe did. I could only imagine the fallout. I chewed a nail while I looked at the menu from Quance and considered. Maybe he could convince the editor not to run the story, but I had little hope. Something as juicy as a Doctor Dominant spanking his submissives would be too good not to run.
I picked up my cell phone to order but before I could dial, the phone rang and I looked at the caller ID. Detective McDonald from the NYPD major crimes squad.
Oh, great. Something else to worry about.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mrs. Morgan? This is Detective McDonald calling. I wanted to arrange a time for us to come and speak with you, if that’s all right.”
“You want to come to my home?” I said in surprise.
“Yes,” he said, his voice emotionless. “We’d like to swing by tonight if possible. Will you and Dr. Morgan both be home in an hour?”
I checked my watch and realized that they would arrive before Drake could get home.
“Tonight’s not a good night,” I said. “Dr. Morgan is out at the moment. Maybe tomorrow?”
There was a pause on the line. “Oh, that’s fine. We can come by and speak with you. We want to speak to you both at some point.”
I frowned. “You’ve already taken a statement from me,” I said, unable to hide the impatience in my voice. “I have a newborn, and she’s a premie, in case you forgot.”
“Is she not well?” McDonald said, and I could hear in his voice that he knew I was stalling.
“No, she’s fine. It’s just that I’m tired a lot as you can imagine. I’d rather Drake be here when we talk.”
“Tonight’s the best time for us. We’ll see you in about thirty minutes.”
Then he ended the call.
I stared at my phone. Tonight was not going well – not at all. In addition to everything, now I had to speak to the police again. I stared at the menu from Quance and didn’t feel hungry any longer.
I went back into the bedroom and laid on the bed beside Sophie, who was sleeping peacefully. Thank God she was healthy.
I lay facing her and watched her sleep. Why did the police want to come by again? Hadn’t I spoken with them enough already? They had to know that Lisa was a nutcase who was acting alone…
On a whim, I texted Lara.
KATE: Hey, the police are coming over in about 30 mins. They want to interview me. Drake is out meeting with the editor of the Herald over a piece she plans on publishing this weekend. What should I do?
There was a pause of a few moments and then a response came.
LARA: I’ll be right over.
I frowned, alarmed now that Lara wanted to be with me when the police came by.
KATE: Should I be worried? Why do you want to come over?
LARA: No, you shouldn’t be worried but they shouldn’t be coming over and bothering you. You’ve given them a statement already. That should be enough. I suspect they want to see your apartment.”
KATE: Check it out for dungeon equipment? *I texted sarcastically*
LARA: Ha Ha. Something like that. Hold tight. I’ll be right over.
I got up after checking that Sophie was still okay, and went to the bathroom to brush my hair, my teeth and try to look somewhat presentable.
Then I sat and waited, passing the time while Sophie slept reading my news feed and Facebook posts from my family and friends. I was nervous about the interview and went over in my head what I knew about Lisa and Drake’s past.
They had been involved in dungeon play several times. Each time, Drake was asked to take part by Lisa’s then-Master Derek Richardson, a wealthy friend of Drake’s in the BDSM community.
She liked to be dominated and spanked. Drake tied her up and fucked her. That was the end to it. Richardson liked to watch her be taken by other men, and at the time, Drake was in between submissives and was available.
He thought nothing of it.
Seeing Lisa in his class of residents during morning rounds was the biggest shock of his life. Drake had a bad feeling about her being in the group and because of their past relationship, he eventually spoke with the head of the Fellowship program but had been encouraged to stay. That everything would be okay.
It wasn’t, of course. She pushed Drake. And pushed him, insisting that he be her ‘friend’ and that they spend time together. Drake confessed to me how she asked him to come up to her apartment and help her install a heavy flat screen television. How after he was finished, she tried to seduce him, even tried to kiss him but he fought her off. How he did everything he could to dissuade her from any thought that there could be a relationship other than casual colleagues between them.
She didn’t get the picture.
She must have grown more and more obsessed with him and then, when things came to a head, after Drake had gone to Fred Parker with his concerns, she sought revenge.
Attacking me was her way of getting back at Drake. Did she really think that with me and my baby out of the way that Drake would be hers?
If so, she was seriously mentally disordered. Delusional.
I made a pot of tea and then stood at the window, waiting for Lara to come by.
In about fifteen minutes, she arrived and I buzzed her into the apartment. I heard her footsteps on the stairs a
nd stood at the entry and ushered her in. Lara gave me a quick hug and then handed me her coat. She looked stunning, even on a weekday evening, dressed in a women’s business suit and white silk blouse.
“I’m sorry you had to do this without Drake,” Lara said as we sat in the living room and had a cup of tea. “I didn’t want the police to have unfettered access to you so I thought I’d better come by.”
“Will you be my lawyer?” I asked, wondering if I needed one.
“No, sweetie,” she said and shook her head, reaching out to take my hand. “You don’t need a lawyer, but you do need a friend who’s knowledgeable about your rights and about what the police can and can’t ask you.”
I nodded and took a sip of my tea. “I’m sure they’ll understand that Drake had nothing to do with what happened soon enough.”
She shrugged. “Not necessarily. If Lisa can spin a good tale, and convince her lawyer and the jury that Drake was her secret lover and trying to get rid of you, things might get messy. Not that I think Drake would be charged, but there might be enough doubt to ruin his career and reputation. We don’t want that.”
“Of course not,” I said and frowned at the thought, my sense of doom deepening. “Why couldn’t they see right away that Lisa’s delusional? To attack me and think she could get away with it after renting a car in her own name?” I shook my head. “She had to have lost touch with reality.”
“You and I both know that, but stranger things have happened. I’ve seen cases where the one partner in crime wanted to pin a death on the co-conspirator and gotten off because he could convince everyone he was the innocent party. It has happened before so the detectives will be keeping all angles open until the evidence leads them to one conclusion or another. Until then, we have to be careful so that they don’t make any wrong assumptions about Drake and his time in the BDSM community.”
“He’s so not what Lisa has painted him to be. Or Sunita.”
Lara took a sip of her tea and nodded slowly. “That damn video… I wish I had advised Drake at the time to be careful of any recording devices. I thought I knew Sunita well. I was wrong.”
“Why did she do it?” I asked, wondering about Sunita. “Why would she deliberately hurt Drake?”
Lara sighed. “She was a sick woman who wanted Drake to be her father figure. You have to admit he’s one of the best looking Doms around.”
I smiled. “He is. But still, to do something so mean and to lie about things…”
“You’re pretty naïve and very sweet if you think that there aren’t women out there who are a bit broken and want to hurt the man who rejected them in some way. It’s common enough.”
Lara took a sip of her tea. "So, what did Drake say about this meeting with Peterson?"
I shook my head because I didn't know much. "Just that she was offering him a chance to respond before they went to print."
"Poor Drake. It's not like he's done anything wrong."
"I know…" I sighed.
At that, the doorbell rang and I glanced at Lara.
“What are you going to tell them about why you’re here?”
Lara stood and straightened her suit jacket. “I’m only a friend offering advice.”
I nodded and went to the doorway. When I got there, I took in a deep breath and tried to calm myself. Then, I opened the door.
There stood the two detectives who had interviewed me in the hospital – Detectives McDonald and St. James.
We said hello and I invited them in. Lara stood a few feet away from the entrance.
“This is Lara, a friend who will be with me while you interview me. She’s a lawyer.”
St. James frowned and looked Lara over. “You don’t need legal counsel now,” he said and handed me his coat. “You’re the victim. We want to ask a few more questions about what happened and what you know about Ms. Monroe.”
“I’m not here to offer her legal advice,” Lara said, her voice calm. “I'm here to sit with her and be moral support. You have to understand that dredging all that up is upsetting to her, all things considered, Detective.”
Lara held St. James’s eye for a long moment and then he relented and nodded his head.
“Shall we get started?” he said and I pointed to the couches in the living room. McDonald and St. James sat on one sofa and Lara and I sat across from them.
McDonald took out a small notepad and pencil and flipped through the pages. Finally, he sat back and regarded me with a piercing gaze, his blue eyes intense.
“So, as you may have heard, we’ve found Ms. Monroe’s personal diary and have been reading it to see what she might have written about Dr. Morgan and you.
“And?” Lara said, her voice sounding impatient. “I’m sure you found that she imagined a relationship with Drake that didn’t exist.”
McDonald shrugged. “She wrote very highly about Dr. Morgan and claims he was willing to maintain the relationship they had before, when she was Mr. Richardson’s submissive partner,” McDonald said to me, after turning pointedly in my direction.
“That’s not true at all,” I said. “They had no relationship. Drake never saw her again after the last time they were involved with Mr. Richardson until the day his fellowship at NYU started.”
“Did you know about that relationship before the accident?” St. James asked, his eyebrows raised.
I nodded, but I didn’t like the way he was looking at me – like I was a naïve little woman who couldn’t see the truth.
“When Drake and I became serious about each other, he told me about his past relationships. Not any details, but he told me that he’d been with several submissives. He didn’t mention names or anything. But when Lisa showed up in his class, he told me about what happened between them.” I cringed a bit inwardly because he hadn’t told me immediately. He didn’t tell me right away. We were getting married, and then there was Christmas…
McDonald nodded and wrote something down in his book. “And when did he tell you?”
I swallowed. “After Christmas when she started to bother him.”
He glanced up at me. “What did he tell you?”
“He told me that Lisa was nothing but a friend’s submissive who he topped a couple of times, but that they never met outside of those instances,” I said, feeling weird talking so openly about BDSM. It now seemed second nature to me but to be talking about it to police officers felt very strange. “She wanted more than the occasional experience with Dr. Morgan. She pushed for a threesome, but neither of them wanted it. Richardson was a voyeur. He liked to watch.”
St. James leaned forward. “Did he ever tell you that he exchanged personal emails with Ms. Monroe?"
"What?" I asked and frowned. "Do you mean work related emails?"
'No, personal."
"No," I said, a surge of something in my gut at the news Drake had sent her emails. "He never said he emailed her. Mostly, they talked in the hallways at the hospital. Or in meetings. During rounds, that sort of thing. He never said he emailed her…" I glanced at Lara. "Did he tell you he emailed her?"
Lara shook her head. "Not that I'm aware of. Can we see the emails?" she asked St. James.
He shook his head. “We have a few we can show you,” he said. “As you can see, they’re of a personal rather than professional nature."
He handed me a couple of sheets of paper from a file. I took them and glanced at them, my heart in my throat.
She’s not a real sub, Lisa. She fights me at every turn. I can’t be myself with her because she might report me to my employer if she thinks I’ve crossed the line…
My heart beat faster. “These can’t be from Drake,” I said and handed the letters to Lara, who read them over and shook her head. I was certain that Lisa had written them, but they did make me feel sick for a moment.
Drake didn’t feel that way at all. He always said I was a perfect submissive — for him.
“They’re from an address with his name, but we're still investigating. We will be co
ntacting Dr. Morgan for more information based on some new evidence."
“Dr. Morgan didn’t write these,” Lara said and handed the letters back to Detective St. James.
“You’re so sure?” he replied, his eyebrows raised.
“I know him,” she said. “I’ve known him for years. He doesn’t whine.”
I caught Detective McDonald’s eye. “She probably wrote those herself. You should be able to tell by the IP. Even I know that.”
"And how did you meet Dr. Morgan?” St. James asked, leaning forward again like he wanted to push me.
I glanced at Lara and she nodded so I turned back and swallowed before answering.
“We met at a fundraiser my father held for Doctors Without Borders," I said, remembering it with a sense of happiness. "My father knew Drake before I did, although my father used to talk about Drake a lot.”
“Was your father aware of Dr. Morgan’s… interests?” St. James asked, his voice sounding suggestive, like this was scandalous.
I frowned, not liking the way this was going. “I don’t know for sure when my father knew, but Drake went to him to explain because one of my…” I hesitated, not wanting to mention Dawn’s name. “A friend felt concerned that I was seeing Drake and wanted to tell my father that he was involved in BDSM. Drake went to my father because he wanted to be the one to break the news.”
McDonald nodded. “Drake and your father were close?”
“My father was like a father to Drake. My father and his father were best friends from Vietnam. They fought together. Drake’s father saved my father’s life.”
“So there’s a history between your two families.”
“Yes,” I said. “Our fathers went way back. My father thinks the world of Drake.”
McDonald asked me a few more questions about my recovery and how Sophia was and then the two stood up.
“Well, that’s all we have.” McDonald glanced around the apartment. “This is a nice place you have here. Can I look around a bit? I love these old apartments.”