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Drake did like control. In the past, he used control to keep his relationships with women at arm’s length. He didn’t need to do that anymore – not with me. He tried to keep women at arm’s length because he was afraid to get hurt again.
How could I tell that to Detective St. James? He was probably titillated by the whole BDSM connection and the fact that Drake was a Dominant. He probably thought Drake was a control freak who liked to hurt women.
“In fact, he’s all about control, or so he says in these emails he wrote to Ms. Monroe.” He held up some more sheets of paper taken from a folder.
“May I see those letters?" I asked.
St. James seemed only too happy to hand them over, like he was hoping that they'd upset me so much that I'd reveal something, incriminate Drake.
I took the pages and read them over. There were a dozen, dated over the past year. One seemed familiar, and then I realized that it contained text from Drake's letters to his submissives.
I've known every part of you – every naked inch, inside and out.
I can't wait to bind you with my leather restraints and make you cry out my name as you come, again and again. Then, I will really kiss you, smothering your moans with my mouth...
Lisa had copied them verbatim and used them in her fake letters. I didn’t know what to say about it. Should I let them know?
“I wanted you to see what your husband has been writing to Ms. Monroe."
"My husband didn’t write those letters,” I said plainly. “That's not his email address."
"That you know of. Many people have several email addresses. Are you sure you know them all?"
"Drake is a happily married man and isn’t interested in being part of that lifestyle any longer,” I said, although that wasn’t exactly true. He was only interested in it as fun and games now, with me. Maybe we might have considered going to a dungeon party for fun, and because it excited us both, but now that we had Sophie? We had better and more important things to do.
“It’s my understanding that people don’t change their interest in kink all that much,” Detective St. James said.
“Maybe not for most, but for Drake, he did. That was a part of his life before he met me. Now, he’s monogamous and happy to be so. He wanted a family and children more than anything.”
“Funny way to get a family, being part of BDSM…”
“Excuse me, Detective,” Dana said, her voice impatient. “I don’t think your opinion on people’s motives regarding their families is pertinent to this matter.”
Detective St. James sat back and nodded. “Whatever, we are interested in whether there was an ongoing relationship with Ms. Monroe the way she claimed and that was why she decided to do her residency in Neurosurgery – at Dr. Morgan’s suggestion and with his encouragement. According to her journal, Dr. Morgan and Ms. Monroe had plans to open up a practice together once they both finished their respective courses.”
My jaw dropped open at that. “What?” I sat forward, my hands gripping the chair’s arm rests. “That’s ridiculous! Can’t you see that she’s totally delusional?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “It's in the diary and letters,” he said. "Ms. Monroe is painting a picture of Dr. Morgan that is very different from the happily married family man that you claim he is. She’s painting a picture of is a married man with a pregnant wife, maybe pregnant with a baby he had no interest in, with a mistress who was in his medical field, and who he wanted to be with instead. She’s painting a picture of Dr. Morgan as controlling her mind and behavior, suggesting that they could be together if only you weren’t in the picture.”
My heart pounded in my chest. “Surely you can see that she’s making all this up.”
“It’s not out of the realm of possibility,” Detective St. James said doubtfully. “I’ve seen cases like this before, although not with such direct ties to the whole Bondage and Dominance side of the equation. That’s a first. Usually, these guys don’t join websites dedicated to BDSM and do it so overtly. They’re usually your ordinary run of the mill sociopaths and sadists, who dupe women into being their servants and doing their bidding.”
“Detective,” Dana said, holding out a hand, palm forward. “I think that’s more than enough speculation about this matter. Do you have any further questions of Mrs. Morgan? If not, I think it's time for you to leave.”
St. James shook his head. “No, that’s all I wanted to ask. I wanted to give you the opportunity to come clean, in case Dr. Morgan was controlling you, and you were afraid to tell the truth. Sometimes with these men, their wives or girlfriends know something’s up but are afraid to be beaten or abused, so they keep silent, hoping to prevent retaliation.”
“I hope you can see that Mrs. Morgan is not in that category. She and Dr. Morgan have a loving relationship and this is all a fabrication of Ms. Monroe, who I suspect has some form of erotomania.”
“Could be, but we have to rule out every possibility.”
Detective McDonald turned to me and smiled. “Thank you for letting us come over, Mrs. Morgan. I appreciate your time. If you think of anything else, related to anything in your relationship with Dr. Morgan, either in the past or present, and you want to talk to me, please give me a call.”
He pushed his card across the coffee table.
I ignored it. “I already have your card,” I said, frowning. “There’s nothing I can tell you that I haven’t already told you. I’m sad that you seem to suspect my husband is involved in any way. He came to me as soon as he knew Lisa was in his class. He wanted to quit, but I encouraged him to stay. She’s the one who’s guilty here. She’s crazy.”
Detective McDonald made a face as if he wasn’t sure. “Thank you for your time, and please, keep the card,” he said and pushed the card closer on the table. “If you have anything else, please feel free to call me. Either my partner or I would be glad to come back or have you brought in if you ever feel in danger and need someone to come and get you.”
