by S. E. Lund
“Thanks,” I said and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You’re the best.”
She smiled. “I am, aren’t I?”
We laughed and then parted. As I walked down the street to the parking garage, I was glad Lisa picked an event that I could account for every minute of my time. She made a big mistake. She lied about everything, of course, but that lie was one I could prove. That had to count for something. If she lied about that, why believe anything else she said?
I arrived at my car and got in just as a light snow started to fall. Eager to get home to Kate and Sophie, I was glad that the meeting was over. I’d do my best to forget about it, like Lara suggested, but I doubted I could. Not until they officially cleared me.
Until then, the case was a dark cloud over my day.
When I got home, I saw that Kate and Sophie were taking a nap so I went to my office and sat down, flipping through my contacts so I could find Richardson’s cell and call him. It was a long shot, since he was probably out of the country and using a different cell, but I thought I’d give it a try.
I dialed the number and got an answering machine.
A female voice gave a message:
Mr. Richardson is currently out of the country on business. Please leave your name and number and a brief message and he’ll get back to you as soon as possible.
The voice sounded a bit throaty, and I tried to remember if I’d met any of his staff but came up empty. Whatever the case, I left a message and hoped that he’d call me back the next time he checked his messages.
Chapter 18 : Kate
Over the next week, Drake was in a different mood – one that I hadn’t seen before during the entire time we were together. He seemed on edge, his silences prolonged, his focus on making sure that his dates and the dates Lisa provided the police were taken care of. I tried to assure him it would all turn out in the end, but he seemed unsure.
On Friday, after Drake arrived home from a trip to meet with Lara, we sat in the living room after Sophie had gone down for a nap, before eating the dinner Karen had prepared. I'd sent her home early, having had a nice nap and feeling more like I could handle things on my own. He’d come in, his shoulders covered with snow, and plopped the mail onto the table in the entry. I met him at the door and helped him off with his coat.
“How did things go?” I asked when we went to the living room. He sat down in the middle of the sofa and spread his arms out over the back. His face was a bit flushed, like he was upset.
“All right, I guess,” he said, his voice discouraged. “How can you prove a negative? Lara and I have been combing over all my schedules, cross matching with the dates Lisa claimed we were having our secret trysts, but it's impossible to prove I wasn't with her on some of the dates.”
I knelt at his feet, my hands on his thighs, trying to encourage him.
“Drake,” I said imploringly. “You weren’t with Lisa. Period. Once you cross off enough of those dates on the list, the police will know. McDonald will know and they’ll clear you of any involvement. You have to believe that.”
“I do,” he said and pulled me up off my knees and onto his lap, where I sat with my arms around his neck. “There’s so much fallout for me due to the case. The news reports are brutal. The stories she’s telling people, which are being leaked to the press…” He shook his head. “It makes me look like a bad guy. Doctor Dominant. Doctor Dangerous. Doctor Discipline. People in the public believe that if you’re a man and in the lifestyle, you’re a sadist. They don’t listen once they hear Dominant.”
He sighed and glanced away, as if he couldn’t face me.
“Don’t worry about those descriptions of you. They’re great for headlines,” I said and brushed hair off his forehead, “but they’re not true. Anyone who knows you, knows they’re exaggerations." He finally turned back and met my eyes. "You’re Doctor Delicious. Nothing more," I said and kissed him. "You should be Doctor Pleasure and Doctor Multiple Orgasms, if the truth were told.”
He smiled a bit at that. “I wish Richardson would get in contact and confirm what I told the detectives.
“Did you try to call him again?” I asked.
He nodded. “I did, but he’s still out of the country, apparently.”
“He’ll get in touch and he’ll confirm everything.”
I could tell he didn’t believe it. I remembered way, way back when I first saw Drake in the bar before I went to my father’s fundraiser. Dawn had said he was Doctor Dangerous. He was anything but dangerous. With him, I had felt so much pleasure. I found myself when I was with him. I felt safe. I knew I was loved. My insecurities and self-doubt vanished, because he helped me to see my strengths. Now, I had a family and a budding future as an artist. My MA was almost finished. Once it was, I could probably get a job at a newspaper or online as a journalist.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Drake said and raised his eyebrows. There’s a letter in the mail for you from the Ballantine Gallery.”
“What?” I jumped up and went to the entry to retrieve the letter. It was in a white, letter sized envelope with a logo for the Ballantine Gallery on the front. It was addressed to Katherine McDermott Morgan.
I sat beside him and ripped it open, frowning, for I hadn’t contacted them and hadn’t even heard of the gallery before.
Dear Katherine McDermott Morgan,
Thank you for the submission of your artwork titled “Scenes From Africa” for our consideration. Our board reviewed your work and think it would be perfect for an upcoming theme of naturalist and wildlife art. We would like to invite you to exhibit all five paintings at the gallery in February. Please call me at the gallery and we can arrange the details.
Yours truly,
Celine La France, Curator
The Ballantine Gallery
“What does it say?” Drake asked. I handed him the letter, totally confused about it.
“How did they get hold of my artwork?” I asked. “Did you send them images?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said and handed the letter back to me.
“Tell me the truth. Did you know about this?” I said, catching the grin on his face.
“I might have known something about it, but it wasn’t me who came up with the idea. I was a co-conspirator.” He smiled and pulled me back onto his lap. I continued to hold the letter in disbelief.
“Who did this? Was my father?”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” he said, grinning widely.
“Drake!” I squirmed out of Drake’s arms and went to get my phone out of my bag. I called my father’s cell phone and waited. It rang twice and then he picked up.
“Hello, dear,” he said.
“Did you send the Ballantine Gallery pictures of my artwork from Africa?”
He chuckled. “Not even a hello, father, how are you?”
“Daddy!” I said, unable to keep from laughing. “When did you do it?”
“Elaine and I talked about it with Drake a while back. Elaine met Celine LaFrance at some fundraiser or other and said you were a wildlife artist. She suggested that you send in some examples and they’d check them out. We knew you wouldn’t do it on your own, so we conspired to do it for you.”
“That’s so wonderful of her,” I said, my eyes welling up with tears. “Of both of you. Of all of you,” I said and glanced at Drake, who sat smiling like the Cheshire Cat. “I can’t believe it.”
“Apparently, you can believe it,” my father quipped.
“They want to include my paintings in an exhibit featuring naturalist and wildlife art in February.”
“That’s so great to hear,” he said, and I could hear the pleasure in his voice. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie, but you have to thank Elaine. It was originally her idea and she did the legwork. Drake and I went along for the ride. I think she took photos of your paintings when we babysat for you once, if I’m not mistaken.”
“That night Drake talked me into going out for dinner, when you and Elaine came over
and babysat?”
“Exactly,” he said with a laugh. “We’re a conniving bunch when necessary.”
I turned to Drake and stroked his chin affectionately. “What can I say but thank you so much. Maybe the four of us can go out and have dinner to celebrate? The Russian Tea Room?”
I looked pointedly in Drake’s eyes and he nodded. I knew he’d always be happy to go there.
“Any excuse for some blini and vodka,” my father said with a chuckle. “I’m able to get around with a wheelchair and I believe The Tea Room has an elevator and is wheelchair accessible.”
“It is,” I said and kissed Drake on the lips briefly. “How about next week? They’re probably all booked up this weekend, but Drake could probably get us in next weekend if he calls.”
“Sounds perfect. Come by this weekend if you have time and see your old man. We’d love to see Sophie and you two.”
“I’ll talk to Drake and we’ll come by.”
“Love you, sweetie, and congratulations once again. You deserve it. I’ll talk to you later.”
“I love you too, daddy. Tell Elaine thanks. I’ll call her later.”
We both hung up and I turned to face Drake, who was smiling widely.
“You and my parents…” I said with a smile. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Drake shrugged. “Didn’t want you to be upset if they turned you down.”
I glanced at the letter once more and sighed. “I’ll call Celine on Monday.” Then I put the letter down and turned back to Drake, who was leaning back, his gaze on my face. “How can I thank you?” I said, immediately thinking of making love with him.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said and stroked my cheek. “I should have thought about it myself, but thankfully, Elaine is on top of things.”
“She’s wonderful,” I said, shaking my head. “But I want to thank you. Tell me what I can do.”
He cracked a grin. “Well…” he said and raised his eyebrows. “A nice hot bath and massage might be in order. I haven’t seen my little slave girl for quite a while…”
“This one would love to provide her Master with a bath and massage,” I said, dropping my eyes and trying my best to look demure and submissive.
When I snuck a glance, he was smiling, his eyes narrow. “Going to be pretty tough for you to fall into submissive mode after all this time,” he said softly.
“This one definitely needs practice,” I said, and tugged at his tie, not meeting his eyes. “If it would please her Master, she’d love to go and run a warm bath. Then, she could undress him and bathe him, if it pleased him.”
“It would please me very much,” he said, his voice thick.
Then, he reached out and squeezed one of my breasts, which was hard and full of milk. “How close are you to feeding Sophie again?”
“Oh, damn,” I said and frowned, realizing that Sophie had been asleep for more than an hour and would need to be fed first. “I should wake her up and feed her first. But then she’ll be awake until bedtime.” I looked in Drake’s eyes. “Can you wait until then?”
“Of course,” he said. “I’d wait forever for you.”
“Luckily, you don’t have to wait forever. Only until after nine.”
I leaned forward and kissed him. He pulled me against his chest, one of his hands still squeezing my breast, the other tangled in my hair. His kiss was warm and deep, and I melted against him, wishing we could have made love then and there. When I pulled back, I smiled.
“I better go wake her up now or else she won’t be tired until late.”
“Let’s go get her,” he said and nodded. “I’ll hold her while you get ready. I haven’t seen her since this morning.”
I stood and went to her room, which was dim, the curtains closed. It was nice and cool in her room and she was asleep on her stomach, her little butt in the air. She looked so cute like that. I stood over her crib and stared at her, thankful that I had such a beautiful little child.
I felt Drake join me, standing next to me at the crib. “It’s a shame to wake her when she’s sleeping so nicely,” he whispered. “Here, let me get her.” He leaned over the bed and pulled back the blanket. Then, he picked her up and kissed her cheek before holding her in his arms. She woke up and stretched, arching her back. Drake was quick to slip her pacifier into her mouth and she sucked on it happily.
“Hi, sweetie,” he said and kissed her cheek once more. She smiled, her pacifier almost falling out of her mouth. Almost seven months old, she was getting so accomplished physically. When she saw me, she smiled as well. She was such an easy baby, always smiling and happy when she woke up from her naps. From what my mother used to tell me, I had colic and was a hell-raiser from birth. Sophie must have inherited her temperament from her father, for it seemed he had been a placid baby, and had always been self-soothing.
“Do you want to feed her in here or in the living room?” Drake asked. “I can start supper.”
“The living room,” I said and followed Drake down the stairs to the living room. I sat down on the sofa and removed one of my breast pads, pulling open my nursing blouse to expose one of my breasts. Drake handed Sophie to me and in no time, she was on the breast and eagerly nursing.
“What do you have in mind for supper?” Drake asked as he watched us.
“There’s leftover pasta,” I said. “You could make a fresh salad.”
He nodded and went to the kitchen while I sat and nursed Sophie. I could see him from where I sat, enjoying the ability to watch his domesticity.
It was while I was focused on Sophie that Drake’s cell rang.
He answered and I heard him say, “Oh, hi, Lara. What’s up?”
He listened and then came around the island to pick up the television remote control off the coffee table.
“I’m turning it on now,” he said and clicked on the flat screen.
I turned to face the television. As I watched, a scene came into view of a forested area next to a lake, the video taken from a helicopter. Below, was a white tent-like structure and several figures dressed in white suits that were used for crime scenes.
“Oh, my God,” I said when I read the subtitle. Derek Richardson, of Richardson Securities, Confirmed Dead, Autopsy To Be Conducted.
Drake stood in shock, his cell up to his ear, the remote in his other hand. “I’m watching now,” he said to Lara.
We listened to the television for a while. The news anchor said that a staff member went to the billionaire’s cabin to do a routine check of the premises as part of a security detail of the property. While there, the security guard noticed that a door had been unlocked and there were signs that someone had been living in the residence. In the basement of the property, there was evidence of a struggle so the police were called. Evidence led to the boat house, where a significant quantity of human blood had been found, suggesting a murder had taken place. Police divers checked the lake but found nothing. Searchers scoured the nearby forest and found a body in a shallow grave less than one hundred yards from the cabin.
The body was identified as Derek Richardson.
The coroner’s report would indicate how long the body had been in the grave, giving a better idea of when Richardson had been murdered, but the preliminary report suggested it had been months due to the advanced decomposition.
“Drake,” I said, turning to watch him. He was frowning, his jaw clenched, his cell at his ear. “Do you think Lisa…”
“Lisa’s been in custody since they arrested her soon after the attack,” Drake said. “How could she do it?”
He listened for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll call you back,” he said and put his phone onto the table.
“Do I think Lisa killed Derek?” he said, walking to the sofa and turning the volume up. “I think Lisa killed Derek or had someone kill him for her.”
“But how?” I asked, confused. “She’s been in custody since the attack. They didn’t let her out on bail, did they?”
“Not
that I know of,” Drake said. “Lara said she was held at Bellevue for a psychiatric evaluation and then was held in general lockup because she was not given bail due to evidence gathered when they arrested her. It must have shown she planned the attack.”
I put Sophie up on my shoulder for a burp, and thought back to the weeks after the attack. I saw a brief video of her being escorted into the courthouse. She was wearing prison orange.
“Maybe someone else killed him,” I said. “He’s very rich. He might have been killed during a robbery or something.”
“Seems far too coincidental,” Drake said and finally sat down beside me. "They would have found out sooner if that was the case. I thought he went out of town."
He seemed stunned, his eyes wide as he watched the video of the crime scene taken from a helicopter.
“Well, we know she has it in her to try to kill someone, so why not have Derek killed as well? But why would she? What did Derek do that would make her want to kill him?”
Drake shrugged. “You know,” he said softly, “there was a moment – several moments back when I was trying to deal with Lisa that I got this bad feeling about her. The way she looked at me – there was this madness in her eyes. This threat. I never thought she could actually harm you.”
“You did want the added security,” I said. “You must have sensed some danger from her.”
“Yeah, but this? I mean, I could blame her attack on you as a moment of hot blood, a crime of passion, but killing Richardson suggests something more calculating. She overheard me talking to you the day she attacked you. For her to get someone to kill Richardson suggests something more…”
“More evil?” I said, finishing his sentence. “I saw her in the club that night Mersey played. The way she looked at me actually made me shiver.”
Drake sighed. “I guess we were right to be worried about her. I wonder what Richardson did. I called him back when I first learned that she was in the Fellowship program and was pushing me for a relationship. I told Fred Parker about her and I might have mentioned Richardson in the discussion. I wonder if he didn’t contact Richardson for more information and she found out.”