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“Kate,” he said and took Sophie from me. He placed her in her swing and turned on the little mobile that hung above her head and she was happy to sit there and watch the little stuffed toys bounce around. Then he came to me and pulled me into his arms.
“I’m hiring Dave’s aunt, Karen Mills, to come in and help us. You need to have some sleep and you need to stop worrying so much about everything. I’m fine. Sophie’s healthy. You’re healthy. This trial will be over soon enough. They’ll try Lisa for attempted murder, probably find her not guilty by reason of temporary insanity and lock her up in a psychiatric hospital. Then, we’ll be able to spend time with Sophie, maybe take a nice holiday with her and get away from it all. How does that sound?”
I leaned into his arms and buried my face in his shoulder. “It sounds wonderful. I’d love to go somewh
ere warm, but is Sophie old enough?”
“We’ll go in March. Sophie will be seven months old and will have all her first shots.”
I nodded and closed my eyes, thinking about escaping the whole business of the trial for a nice white-sand beach.
“Maybe we could go back to the Bahamas.”
“We could. Or maybe we could go to Africa. Visit my dad’s grave like we’ve been planning.
I glanced in his eyes. “Is it safe to take a baby to Africa? What about malaria and all those other tropical diseases?”
He nodded. “We should probably wait until she’s a year old for that. We could always go down to Key West or Pensacola.”
“Sounds wonderful,” I said and tried to brighten up, but the prospects of a talk with detectives dampened my mood even further.
Drake left the apartment for his meeting with reluctance. Since I wanted to do the interview at home instead of at the precinct, I sat alone in the living room, waiting for the law clerk named Dana who was going to come over for my 3:00 meeting. She finally arrived and reminded me so much of Lara, with her crisp pinstripe suit, her blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun and her dark horn rimmed glasses.
“Kate?” she said and held out her hand. “I’m Dana Johnston. Lara’s assistant. Pleased to meet you.”
We shook and then sat in the living, waiting for the detectives to arrive.
“I’ve read all I could about the case and Lara’s notes based on her discussions with both you and Drake. I’m sure this is just routine, but if you feel at all awkward about anything the police ask you, turn to me. We can discuss it or I can suggest that the police change their line of questioning. They’ll probably ask about how you met Drake and what he told you about Lisa. That kind of thing.”
I exhaled in frustration. “They already asked me about that. Why do they keep asking the same questions?”
She shrugged. “Hoping to see some consistency – or inconsistency – in your answers. They may think that he has you under his control because he’s a Dominant and you’re a submissive. They may be worried you’re lying for him, that kind of thing.”
“That’s only a small part of our relationship,” I said in anger. “We’re not TPE. We’re not 24/7.”
“They don’t understand. To them, it’s all titillation and suspect.”
I nodded. “I’ll answer what I can. Honestly, Drake had nothing to do with any of this and did everything he could to protect himself and me. She’s delusional.”
“I know that and you know that. Hopefully, they know that after they finish their investigation.”
Finally, Detectives McDonald and St. James arrived and rang the buzzer. I let them in the building and then when they arrived at the front door, I opened it and welcomed them in.
Once we got seated, and after a round of introductions, where I let them know who Dana was, they asked their questions.
The questions weren’t all that different from what they asked me before. I recounted what I remembered from the day of the attack, walking down the street after I’d talked to Drake on my cell.
“I remember deciding to cross the street and noticing that my bodyguard was in a car a few spaces away. I saw him pull out and that was it. The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital after surgery.”
Detective McDonald’s face was blank, showing no emotion or judgement. He merely made marks in his little notebook, as if he was writing down something of importance.
“I’ve already told you this,” I said, frowning. “I don’t see how this is anything new.”
“Please continue,” he said and gestured with his chin. “What did your husband tell you about the accident?”
I shook my head. “I remember him telling me I’d been in an accident and that my baby had been delivered by emergency C-section. I remember him saying that I she was doing well and that I was recovering. That was all he told me at first. I was recovering from a pretty terrible injury.”
He nodded. “When did he tell you that he suspected Ms. Monroe was the driver who hit you?”
