Cut Too Deep (11 page)

“Hadley?” The frantic worry in Don’s voice made Hadley feel guilty. She never called him to talk or see what was new in his life. Speaking with him usually stirred painful memories. He had a connection to a point in time she tried to forget. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Hadley reassured him. He exhaled in relief.

The line went silent. Hadley glanced at the screen briefly, wondering if the call dropped. She held it back to her ear when he said, “It’s nice to hear from you. What’s up?”

“Umm…I hope it’s okay that I called.”

“Of course. You can call me anytime.”

“I actually have a legal question for you?”

“Oh…” After a slight pause the detective continued. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. I’ve been dancing again.”

“That’s great to hear.” Hadley smiled, wondering if he thought it was
great
she wasn’t in legal trouble or that she was dancing again—probably both. “Are you at the ballet then?”

“No, I still can’t swing it financially, but my friend dances in the underground scene and I…”

“Oh”

“That’s why I’m calling. Mr. Duwatski says attending is illegal. My friend says it’s not a big deal. I was hoping you could shed some light on that, so I don’t end up in jail.”

“I work in homicide, and I’m not exactly sure. I have some friends in the department I can check with and get back to you.”

“That would be great, Don.”

“Give me a couple of days.”

“No problem.”

“I’m glad you called to check first.”

“Me too. Like you always said, I need to keep my nose clean.”

His deep chuckle filled the line, making Hadley smile.

“Oh, yes. I remember the first time I said it and you wiped your nose and told me it was all clean.”

“It took a while, but I guess I finally get it.”

“I guess you do, sweetheart. How else are things? Tell me about this friend of yours?”

“He’s a good guy.”

“
He
, huh?”

“We’re just friends.”

“Uh huh…and what about Dr. LeClair? Are you still seeing him?”

“Every week, sometimes twice.”

“Good.”  After a lengthy pause, he asked, “And are you still searching for answers?”

Don knew Hadley believed more happened the night her parents died than she remembered. He’d assured her the scene was investigated properly. Her story matched the evidence, but he’d never been able to convince her of that.

“Yes. I start regression therapy, Thursday. I’m hoping it will help me remember.”

“I don’t think there is anything left to remember, but I hope the therapy helps you.”

“I hope so, too.”

“Listen, I’m heading out, so I have to go, but I’ll call you soon to let you know what I find out about this dance stuff.”

“Thank you.”

“No thanks are needed. Stay tough, little one.”

A smile spread her face. ‘Stay tough, little one,’ is what Detective McAllister said to the frightened eight-year-old the night he turned her over to child services. She’d never been convinced spending three days alone in an apartment with her dead parents made her tough, but Hadley liked that Don had faith in her.

H
adley spent a fairly uneventful Sunday exercising and doing laundry in preparation for the work week. Monday morning, she arrived at work early to be greeted by a reporter asking if she worked at Genetti Industries. Without answering, she shoved past the nosy woman into the lobby where Mac greeted her with a cup of coffee in his outstretched hand.

“What is it?” Hadley asked while accepting the cup from her friend.

“Caramel Macchiato. I saw the caramel creamer in your fridge and figured you’d like it.”

“It’s my favorite.” Hadley smiled. Mac’s shoulders relaxed when he realized she wasn’t nervous about him knowing something she hadn’t chosen to share, which was typical of his friend. He marveled at the thought that spending Saturday together had softened her. “I can’t believe they’re still here,” Hadley commented, nodding toward the front doors of the lobby and the massive amount of press out front.

“Vultures,” Mac joked as they walked toward the elevators. “Hey, Dickhead is out again today. Something big is going on.”

Hadley nodded her agreement with a laugh and pressed the button for their floor.

The rest of the day progressed normally, except Mac and Hadley ordered lunch in to avoid the media frenzy out front. After convincing herself to mail the letter she wrote to Miller on her way home, Hadley left the office feeling confident.

Hadley stopped at the mailboxes in the lobby of her apartment building. She pulled the letter from her purse, determined to let it slip though her fingers and into the slot—to take a risk. Her hands trembled holding the letter halfway in the slot as her mind began to rebel. She silently scolded her indecisiveness. Her insecurity won. She yanked the letter out of the slot and set it on the ledge below the mailboxes. Maybe tomorrow, after her appointment with Dr. LeClair, she would feel more courageous. Hadley found her keys and opened the mailbox, collecting the few letters and flyers from inside.

Once in her apartment, Hadley flipped through mostly junk mail. She threw it away before tossing the electric bill to the side. The last letter in her hands nearly buckled her knees. Her eyes roamed over the return address from Genetti Industries. The name above the address completely floored her, Mr. Miller Genetti CEO, addressed to Ms. Hadley Walker. She let the envelope fall to the floor.

Why is Mr. Genetti writing me, and when?

It had to be before his trip, but why? If Hadley read the letter, she would find out. Instead, she gawked at the envelope as though a mutant virus contaminated the pages and it might kill her if she touched it. After ten solid minutes, Hadley, finally, picked up the envelope. She slowly dragged her finger under the seal. Her hands shook as she pulled out the letter that was about to change her life, although, she wouldn’t know the extent of which for some time. Her heart tap danced on her chest as she unfolded the letter that began,

Dear Ms. Walker,

I know exactly who you are. You're the beautiful and intriguing young woman who shakes like a leaf when I get near you, but watches me with heated intensity every morning when I arrive to work as though you would like to undress me.

I'm pleased to learn the little voice in your head won out and you decided to mail your letter. Perhaps with distance between us, I won't intimidate you, and we can get to know each other properly. I would very much like to know more about you.

Oh, my God! Someone found the letter and mailed it to him.

Hadley knew exactly who. Her skin flooded red with anger. She was going to murder Mac when she got a hold of him, or hug him. She’d yet to decide. Miller wrote her back though, and she couldn’t hide the smile highlighting her face while she continued reading.

I am receiving many letters, but let me put your mind at ease. I'm not opening any of them. I'm not interested in words from strangers that are obviously looking for ten tiny minutes of fame. Yours, however, spiked my curiosity. I wasn't sure if it was the same Hadley Walker that brightens my mornings until I smelled the delicate perfume on the outside of the envelope, and knew with certainty it was you.

He knows who I am, and he recognized my perfume?

Hadley felt shocked and thrilled at the same time. Her cheeks flushed. Warmth soothed its way down her neck as she continued reading.

You would like to know what I miss the most about home. I'm a man. Your answer, Ms. Walker, is sex. I'm accustomed to having a woman in my bed. There are no women here, and it's lonely. Would you be willing to keep me company? Fucking through words can be very erotic. Chances are, you squirmed in your seat, shocked by what I've written. Your panties are wet, and you're reading the above sentence over again. Perhaps you're cursing me, but it won't stop you from reading on. You said you're drawn to me, and I am rather enamored with you as well. There is nothing for you to be “curious” about. It's purely sexual attraction that draws you to me and me to you. I've wanted to have you since the first time I saw you watching me. The other morning when your big doe eyes peered up at me, and you knew I'd caught you, I wanted to drag you into the elevator and fuck you until you screamed my name so loud, the entire building heard you. I've thought about nothing else since. I saw in your eyes that you wanted me to make you come right there in the building lobby. I'm hard thinking about it.

What do you say, Ms. Walker, would you care to have letter sex with me? When I'm free of this shit hole, I promise to deliver the real thing, and then you can determine if I'm still mesmerizing.

Regards,

Miller Genetti

“Of all the womanizing, disgusting, egotistical, pompous…argh!”

Anger shot through her, heating her blood to the point of combustion. She thought about her mother and how similar they must be, her man picker equally warped and beyond repair. How could she be attracted to such a despicable human being, let alone desire to know more about him? Miller clearly had no regard for women. They were merely a toy for him to play with and toss aside once he tired of them. She thanked the powers that be for her lack of courage earlier and opened her purse prepared to shred the new letter she’d written him into a million tiny pieces. It wasn’t there.

Hadley mentally retraced her steps. She recalled setting it on the ledge by the mailboxes.  As fast as her feet would move, Hadley sprinted down the stairwell to the mailboxes. It was gone.

Someone must have found it sitting on the ledge and slipped it in the outgoing slot. In a short time, Miller would receive another letter Hadley never intended to mail. There wasn’t a solitary thing Hadley could do about it. Nausea swirled in her gut, threatening to bring up today’s lunch. Dr. LeClair may not believe it, but the universe definitely hated her.

She went back to her apartment and checked the trash in vain to see if she accidently threw the letter out with the junk mail. No such luck. She’d opened her heart to a man ultimately no different than Harold Duwatski. She wondered if all men were alike, if testosterone guided all of them to perversion. Even Mac had told her all guys were tramps. She thought about her conversation with her neighbor and her hopes of love being within her grasp and realized what an enormous cloud her head had been stuck in. Real love touched a blessed few, and Hadley had been cursed to live life alone. She wasn’t worthy of a love like the St. Armonts shared.

In all honesty, Miller wrote what all men wanted from her, dirty sex with no feelings attached—a meaningless fuck. What annoyed Hadley most was knowing his offer was all she deserved. She had been a fool to think she might be worth more, and her ignorance made her furious.

Red with anger and hatred, Hadley pulled out a pen and wrote Miller another letter. He might receive the letter where she swooned over him, like a teenager deep in puppy love, but this one would follow and set him straight. Standing up for herself was new, but she liked the rush it delivered. She may not be worthy of love, but she was done being a doormat for men.

Dear Mr. Genetti,

You obviously have me confused with one of the many women that bow down at your feet and adorn your bed nightly. We will not be “paper fucking”, having “letter sex”, or any other kind of sexual relations. I am attracted to you, I admit. But, I only wanted to get to know you, and judging by your vile letter, you're a PIG I would prefer not to associate with at all! Honestly, I wrote you, but I never mailed the letter. Someone else did. Take your offer of meaningless sex and shove it up your smug ass!

Not so sincerely,

Ms. Walker

To quell her frustrations, Hadley emptied an entire tub of Nutella before bed.

Tuesday morning, Hadley marched into Dr. LeClair’s office. She rudely tossed Miller’s letter onto his desk. With an amused grin, the therapist picked up the letter in one hand and with the other gestured for her to have a seat. He steadied his reading glasses over the bridge of his nose.