Cut Too Deep (51 page)

Hadley and Miller sat at a secluded table in a downtown Italian restaurant to enjoy a celebratory meal. Sascha had woken them at five after nine in the morning to deliver the good news. The body guards had the night off, but Hadley felt safe, knowing Duwatski wouldn’t risk getting caught by approaching her in such a public and crowded setting. Plus, Miller had armed himself for the evening.

The waitress finished taking their drink orders when Miller’s phone rang.

“Miller Genetti.”

“We got him, Miller.” Don announced. “We’re outside of his hotel room now.”

Miller glanced at his phone, checking the service bars. “Don, hold on a second. Let me step outside. The reception here is lousy.” He held the phone and smiled at Hadley. “They got him. I’ll be right back.”

Hadley felt the weight lift from her shoulders and float away. In one day, her dream of dancing in the ballet had come true and now her former guardian was on his way to prison. Life was perfect.

Hadley got up to use the restroom, delighting in being able to do so without an escort.

It was the opportunity Harold Duwatski had been waiting for, a chance to get her alone. Hadley wasn’t paying attention for the first time in nearly six weeks. He snuck in behind her and secured the door. He wouldn’t have long, but if he was going to prison, she would make it worth his while. He would have her one more time. He held a few strips of Duct tape loosely in his hand and waited.

Miller stepped outside the restaurant and held the phone to his ear. “Is that better? Can you hear me?” The detectives reply was still broken, and Miller walked down the road a ways and tried again. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, we got him. It’s over.”

“Where is he?”

“A seedy hotel outside of Harlem. We’re about to go in.”

“Wait! He’s not in custody yet?”

“No, we received an anonymous tip about forty-five minutes ago. When we got here, the hotel clerk confirmed he was here off of a photograph… Miller?”

Miller didn’t finish listening to the detective. He sprinted back to the table, dropping to his knees when he found her gone. He stood immediately and darted his eyes around the restaurant, the room spinning on axis around him.

The second Hadley opened the stall door, a look of fear shined in her eyes. In an instant Duwatski sealed the tape over her mouth. Hadley tried to scream, but through the tape it was barely audible. He forced her back and spun her around, securing her hands behind her back with another strip of tape.

Harold pulled a gun from his pocket and ran the barrel tauntingly down her cheek.

“Kinda like our first time together, huh, sweetheart?” Harold snickered.

Hadley shook her head frantically, her body assaulted by tremors. She tried to speak through the tape. Harold thought maybe she missed him and regretted turning him in. Hopeful, and curious, Harold removed the tape halfway to hear her.

“It wasn’t our first time together, though, was it, you sick fuck?”

Before she screamed, he sealed the tape back over her lips and laughed menacingly.

“Oh, you remembered. I’m flattered.” She didn’t recall a single minute, but wanted to hear him admit what he’d done to her. “I had the perfect set up. I paid those two a lot of money. All they had to do was give you a place to live and make social services happy, but they were filthy pigs. That cunt social worker showed up and took you away. For years, I couldn’t get to you without raising suspicion. I waited a long time for my chance to come, and when it did, you rejected me. That hurt me. When you were little, you never told me no. Why did you do that?”

The tape over her mouth prevented her from answering. Her inability to speak turned him on. He slammed her head into the tile, splitting the skin above her right eye. Warm droplets trickled into her eye and she squeezed it shut.

“Then you left me again. Did you think I would give up without a fight? You ruined my life, you little cunt! You think I’m going to let you get away with that?”

Her old instincts to let him control her and give him what he wanted were taking over, but, deep down, Hadley knew if she didn’t fight back this time, he would kill her. When Harold lifted her dress and ripped her panties from her body, survival mode kicked in. As he fumbled with the zipper on his pants, she launched her foot upward and connected forcefully with his balls. The gun fell to the floor as he clutched his groin, shouting obscenities.  With her hands behind her back she couldn’t pick up the gun. She kicked it away from them.

The waitress approached the table and set their drinks down.

“Sir, are you all right.”

“The woman that was with me,” Miller said frantically, “did you see where she went?”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t”

“Oh, fuck…no…she’s gone.”

The waitress shrugged.

“She probably went to the restroom.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly as the waitress’s words hit him, his paranoia softening. It made more sense than Duwatski taking her out a back door in a public restaurant. She would have made a scene. His phone rang in his pocket. It was Don calling him back, probably to inform him they had the bastard in cuffs. Miller swiped the phone and sat, letting the tension dissipate before he answered.

“Miller are you there?”

Don’s voice broke up again.

“I’m here.” Miller started walking toward the door for better reception. Don’s next sentence knocked the air clean out of him.

“He wasn’t there. I’m on my way back to the station now.”

“We’re at Toscana’s. She gone.”

Miller dropped the phone when he heard a woman tell one of the waiters the bathroom door was locked.

He sprinted to the door, bumping into a few people on the way. When it wouldn’t open, he pounded on it with his fists and shouted her name, his heart hammering a hole through chest. He pulled his gun from his jacket pocket and pounded on the lock with the barrel. He considered shooting the lock, but was afraid the bullet may penetrate the door and hit Hadley. A man passed, staring at Miller like he was a lunatic. Miller screamed at him to go and get a key.

Hadley heard Miller, but couldn’t scream. When Duwatski opened the stall door to retrieve his gun, Hadley darted past him and kicked the gun again to the other side of the room. He came at her. She slammed her foot into his gut and lifted her knee to his nose, the way Antonio had shown her a few days before.

Harold doubled over in pain, blood squirting everywhere. She went to the door, and turned her back, struggling to lift her arms high enough to unlock it. After a few attempts, she got it. Miller bolted through the door, gun in hand, pointed at Harold Duwatski. Hadley looked horrified at the weapon in his hand. Duwatski lifted his head, blood gushing from his nose. Miller looked sideways at Hadley, taped and blood trickling from her head. His eyes moved to the floor. When he saw her discarded underwear, he folded his finger over the trigger of the weapon. He wanted to kill Harold Duwatski.

A crowd formed outside the door to witness the commotion. Hadley heard someone yell to call the police. Someone else identified Miller and snapped pictures with their cell phone. Miller held the gun on Duwatski, using every ounce of strength he could muster not to pull the trigger. Her muffled pleas kept him from following through. He kept his eyes on Duwatski and, with his free hand, removed the tape from Hadley’s mouth and then her hands.

“Miller, don’t. Killing him offers mercy. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Miller heard her, but images of Duwatski forcing himself on Hadley again had his finger twitching. He remembered her telling him how much easier it was to give him what he wanted, that she pretended to enjoy it. His mind went black. His eyes saw red. He was angry he left her alone. He felt hopeless and wanted to rid the world of this man.

Hadley read the expression on his face, realizing what Miller must think happened.

“He didn’t do anything to me. I fought back this time. I stopped him. Now, put the gun down, please!”

Miller turned his head to her voice, an overwhelming sense of relief coming over him. Harold saw his opportunity and launched forward, wrapping his arms around Miller’s waist and tackling him to the ground. The gun skidded across the floor. Hadley bent down and picked it up.

“Turn around,” Hadley shouted at her former guardian.

Harold Duwatski spun on his knees. He looked at a woman he’d been able to control for most of her life, doubting she would shoot him. There was a time he knew she loved him. They shared a couple of years together where she didn’t fight him and she told him she cared for him. As Harold noticed the confidence in which Hadley held the gun, he held his hands in the air. Her eyes conveyed hate, and that anything she had ever told him was a lie. She no longer belonged to him, and she would definitely shoot him.

Miller jumped quickly to his feet, his eyes moving between her and Duwatski. He wanted the man to die but feared the impact pulling the trigger would have on Hadley psychologically. Unsure what to do, he let Hadley control the outcome.

Gripping the metal between her fingers, the urge to kill her abuser was strong. Up until now, Hadley had been able to fight it, wanting to make an example out of him, but the lure of a single bullet ending the madness was tempting.

Seconds later, Don McAllister and several NYPD detectives stormed through the door with their guns drawn.

“Hadley, no!” Don shouted.

Hadley swallowed and lowered the weapon, letting it fall to the floor.

“I had no intention of shooting him.”

She lied. In a few more seconds, the police would’ve had a dead body to mop up. The police surrounded her former guardian. Miller folded his arms around her trembling body.

As Hadley walked past the man that stole everything from her, she stopped and spit in his face.

“You’re going to rot in prison, and every day when you wake up in a cage, I hope it’s my face you see.”

Harold Duwatski looked up, his eyes moving to Miller. Their gazes met and engaged in a territorial standoff.

His anger no longer controllable, Miller reared back and landed a solid blow to Duwatski’s jaw, knocking the man to the floor. Miller shook his hand. He may have broken a few bones, but six weeks in a cast would be worth how good that felt and the look of fear in Duwatski’s eyes right before his fist connected. That memory would be etched in his mind forever.