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Dave stood behind his desk and extended his hand once again. We shook and he held my eye.
“Give
Kate a big hug for me and tell her I hope she’s doing well. Maybe we can all go out for dinner some night when things have quieted down.”
I nodded. “We’ll see. There’s a lot going on with her family right now. Ethan isn't doing well and so I doubt she’ll feel like going out and leaving Sophie any time soon. But maybe when this all clears up.”
“Sounds good,” Dave said and walked me to the door to his office. He opened it for me and watched while I left the room and made my way to the elevator. I ran the same gauntlet of staff as I approached the elevators and turned, noticing that several of them glanced quickly away. Would that be how it was from now on? I’d walk into a room and people would stop talking, staring at me as if I were a sexual deviant and attempted-murderer?
I said a quick goodbye to the front receptionist and left the building, her red cheeks not lost on me. She probably read the article and thought I was a deviant, too.
I had thought I’d be there to oversee the business of the Foundation, but instead, I was there to remove myself from any public participation. I started the foundation as a tribute to my father, to carry on his work. I was immensely proud of it and it gave me a way to keep connected to my dad in a way we weren’t when he was alive. I enjoyed my time there, feeling like I’d done something beyond myself when I did Foundation business.
Sadly, for the time being at least, that wasn’t going to be the case.
Chapter 6 : Kate
Drake and I hunkered down in the apartment for the next week, watching the television and reading the gossip columns. Luckily, the news about the case died down as things were slow and the police were still investigating.
I thought things had settled down, but then I got a call from Detective St. James asking if they could come over again for a talk.
“I don’t want to be difficult,” I said, frowning, a knot of fear in my gut. “But you’ve talked to me about the case several times. What more can I tell you?”
“We want to talk to you to make sure we have the timeline right,” he said. “It’s normal for these kinds of cases. It’s routine.”
“My husband will want to be present," I said.
"We'd rather he not be present," St. James said.
"That's not possible," I said, remembering how angry Drake had been that I did the interview with the police without him. "Drake will want to be here."
"We can bring you in to the precinct if it's impossible for us to see you at your house alone, but I thought it would be easier for you, considering."
"Why can't Drake be present?"
There was a moment of silence on the other end. "Mrs. Morgan, your husband is a person of interest in our investigation. Surely you can understand why we want to discuss the case with you alone…"
"He's not involved," I said plainly. "He's innocent. Can't you see that? Lisa's a nutcase. She fabricated everything to hurt Drake when she realized she can't have him."
"What time works best for you so we can come by?" St. James said as if he hadn't heard a thing I said.
I sighed. "Should I have my lawyer come over at least?” I asked.
“Do you need your lawyer?” he asked, his voice sounding impatient.
“Of course not, but I wondered…”
“Invite your lawyer if you want,” he said. “But it’s unnecessary. You’re the victim. You’re not going to be charged with anything. We want to make sure every ‘T’ is crossed and every ‘I’ dotted. If we could come by at 2:30 or 3:00, we’d appreciate it.”
“Okay,” I said and sighed. “Around three would be best but Drake will be upset that he's not allowed to sit in with me.”
"We'll be talking to him separately. He'll get his chance to respond."
I hung up and looked at Sophie, who was asleep in her chair, her pacifier occasionally moving as she sucked away contentedly.
“Poor Sophie, has a mother who’s being interviewed by the cops and a dad who's a person of interest.” Of course, that made me cry and I sat and wiped tears away from my eyes. Just then, Drake walked in after a trip to the store for some groceries. He had two bags in hand, with some celery sticking out the top of one and a fresh baguette out of the other.
He saw me and immediately placed the bags on the dining room table, a look of concern on his face.
