Chapter 7

© Copyright 2006 by Kendra Cornell



Karen’s car slowed in the darkness, although her heart still raced. She turned off her headlights as she parked on a dark, sparsely lit street next to Observatory Park. Moonlight illuminated the domed Chamberlin Observatory and shadows of huge trees stood sentry along the streets.

White-knuckled, Karen gripped the steering wheel and willed her heartbeat to slow, and her breathing to calm. She forced a steady inhalation and exhaled in just as controlled a manner. A painful knot in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t ease its grip. Finally, after several minutes in the dark silence, she was able to suppress the jumble of thoughts that swirled around in a non-comprehensible mish-mash.

Struggling to make sense of what had just occurred, she could only think one thing. That was a police officer. A police officer forcibly entered my home and tried to attack me.

“Calm down Karen. First things first. What am I going to do now? Obviously, home is out of the question… What is someone with police resources going to know about me? Where I live, where I work, my family,” Karen ran down the short list audibly. She knew very little about the police department and its procedures, and even that information was likely faulty, gleaned from television shows somewhere along the line. “Okay then, I need somewhere to go. I need somewhere safe, where I can figure out what’s going on here.”

Her hands rhythmically tapped on her legs while she thought through her sparse list of options. Out of the dash glowed a dim, green light that softly reflected on the supple leather of the interior. And then a thought came to her… someone whom she didn’t know well admittedly, but who was well placed to discover information that could really help the situation. It didn’t hurt that he had expressed interest in her either.

After engaging the dome light, Karen fumbled awkwardly with her purse. She located the card that she had tucked into a side pocket and dialed the number quickly, although she expected to have to leave a message. He answered on the third ring.

“Jeff Yendale.” She answered quickly, trying to cover her surprise.

“Jeff, this is Karen Cook. We met last evening after the debate?”

“Of course! Karen, hello! What can I do for you?” He sounded remarkably happy to hear from her.

“Actually, a lot. There’s something I would love to discuss with you, but I’d rather not do it over the phone.”

“Did you want to meet me somewhere then?” Jeff replied asking for no other details. He sounded as if this was a familiar situation.

“I’d really like to meet you at your home,” she said grinding her teeth as soon as the words left her mouth. She immediately hoped he wouldn’t misconstrue her intent.

He hesitated only a moment and replied smoothly, “Yes, of course. I’m in Bonnie Brae. Are you familiar with that area?”

“I’m not far from there. If you could give me your address, I can be there soon.”

She wrote it down in her blackberry and they ended their brief conversation with her informing him she’d be only a few minutes. Karen pulled away from the park and slowly passed the beautiful Victorians that were typical of the area. Golden light illuminated the windows in these stately homes. She felt more centered, relying on self-discipline to sustain her for the moment. At least I have a direction now- somewhere to focus my energy.

Karen easily found his house, a two story Colonial brick with a path that wound to his doorway from the narrow, curving street. Light spilled into the yard from all the downstairs windows, imbuing the well-maintained flower beds with a fairy-tale quality. Karen was able to pick out small statuary and glass orbs set playfully among the greenery. It seemed early to have a garden blooming like this, and Karen assumed he either had a greenhouse somewhere around back, or he had employed an inexplicable garden service.

Jeff seemed to be waiting for her, because he opened the door as she approached.

“Welcome to my home. May I offer you anything to drink?” he asked as he ushered her into his entryway.

Karen tried not to look surprised as she answered, “Yes. I’d love some water. Thank you.”

The surprise registered when she tried to pair up her initial perceptions of this man with his striking home. Gleaming, honey-colored hardwood floors reflected the brilliant light of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A curving, wrought iron staircase rose delicately in front her. A brilliantly-hued avant garde painting hung in the hallway that led under that stairs and into what was presumably the rest of the house. It wasn’t so much that she was stunned by the style or quality of his home, but by the man himself. Jeff Yendale, with his ridiculously glossy brown hair reflecting the light, clearly knew and enjoyed the best in life.

Excitement broke through the weariness around his eyes. His tie hung loosely from his neck, and the sleeves on his once-crisp white shirt were rolled up around his elbows as he handed her a spotless glass filled with ice water.

“So, Karen,” he said with a bemused and curious glance at her bare feet, “I must admit I find this situation somewhat… interesting. What brings you here?” Jeff gestured her into a living room that was part of one large open space. It was lit brightly by a series of lamps set at short intervals along the walls. His square-lined leather furniture framed a space designed for entertaining.

Karen figured candor was the best approach.

“Jeff, someone tried to attack me tonight. I got out of my house thankfully before he was able to… well, to do whatever it was he came to do. Unless his only intention was to scare me to death, in which case, he succeeded remarkably well.” She took in his drawn eyebrows, and the slightly incredulous look he was obviously taking pains to hide. “I know it sounds bizarre. I just think it might have something to do with something I saw at work the other day. It pertains to Tom Delaney.”

His look morphed to interest immediately. “You’re running his campaign right?”

“Well, I’m on his team of consultants. I’m not managing the campaign.” She broke off, not wanting to pursue this tangent.

“Look, I need help. I’m not even sure the break-in tonight had anything to do with… what I saw. But if it did- well, if it did, then I’m still in trouble.”

Jeff broke in quickly, “Why? You think Tom Delaney sent someone after you?”

“I have reason to believe that the man who broke into my house is a cop. I heard a police radio when I dropped out my window. And, he broke in only a few minutes after I had spoken to a detective at the police department. We were supposed to meet in my home to discuss this… incident.”

Jeff switched gears. “What exactly are we talking about? You have evidence that Tom Delaney is involved in something illegal, and you were planning to inform the police department?”

“I don’t know if it was illegal. All I know right now is that there were members of the team who were extremely reluctant to have me share this information with anyone. I don’t even think I was ever supposed to know what was going on,” Karen said.

“Karen, what exactly are we talking about?” Jeff repeated.

She’d already waded in up to her ankles, she might as well take the plunge. “There was a woman who was murdered last night. I’m guessing that I saw her not long before she died, having a serious- uh, discussion with Tom Delaney. Which doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but he didn’t want anyone to know. And I thought he should inform someone. When I told them that I was going to the police, let’s just say that didn’t go over well. Then tonight, my house gets broken into. Now you know what I know,” she raised her palms slightly in frustration.

“So you think that whatever this woman was… discussing with Tom Delaney may have gotten her killed?”

“It stands to reason, doesn’t it? And it also stands to reason that that is the reason that I’m sitting in your living room tonight, not knowing exactly what to do. If Tom has the police involved, am I really safe calling them?”

“Karen,” Jeff said with a slightly patronizing tone, “it is highly unlikely that the entire police department is after you right now. However, being as you are barefoot in my living room,” he interjected with a bemused tone, “there must be something to what you’re saying.” He paused as he quietly came to some esoteric conclusion, “My guess is that you want my help in figuring out what it is?”

Despite her serious annoyance with his condescending attitude, she felt slight relief that someone else was helping her to think right now. It was true, the break-in could have had nothing to do with Tom Delaney. And it was also true that the police radio might not mean that it was a police officer who had broken in to her home. But if that’s not what it meant, then what was it? She sat barefoot in a virtual stranger’s home, confused and still slightly nauseous- at the mercy of a man who didn’t really seem to believe her.

After a steady exhalation of breath, he answered her, “Let me make some phone calls. We’ll find out who, if anyone, from the police department was over that direction. I can also find out about the detective you called- I’ve got a source at the department that I use when I need an inside track. All I need are some names, and a few facts.”

“Whose names?

“The name of the detective that you were planning to meet tonight, the name of the woman that you saw with Tom Delaney, what you remember the two of them discussing… anything you can think of whether you think it matters or not,” he replied. Jeff had risen and was pacing.

“Uh… absolutely. Jeff?” Taken aback by his quick movements, she nevertheless had to ask, “Am I safe here for a little bit? Just until we rule some things out, I mean.”

He stopped and looked at her. “Of course, Karen. Don’t worry about a thing. I’m going to get started on this now- I don’t want to lose any time. There’s a guest room at the top of the stairs- Please make yourself comfortable, try to get some sleep, and hopefully, I’ll have some answers for you soon.”

Karen felt a little awkward, but accepted, feeling dismissed. There existed no desire to get out of his way. She wanted to help, to contribute to all of this in some way. But… Karen knew she was no longer on her own turf. She’d asked him for help, and she got it. Walking out of the room and up the stairs, Karen felt a keen stirring in her gut that deadlocked her legs. Something was off, but what was it?

She quietly turned, and crept back down the stairs and into the hallway. Jeff was already on the phone, presumably making calls. She stayed in the hallway out of sight and listened. Jeff spoke quietly.

“Hey… It’s me. She’s here… I don’t know why. What do you want me to do?- How am I supposed to do that?- Alright, I’ll do what I can. When will you be here?- Not ‘til then?” A weary sigh escaped his lips. “I’ll take care of it. Bye.”

Karen paused, nervous anxiety washing down her back. Who was he talking to? No one was supposed to know she was there. Oh no. Karen backpedaled down the steps, panic rising in her throat. She had to get out of here, but her purse and her keys were in the living room. She was going to have to go get them if she wanted to leave.

Calm down. Relax. Look loose. She took a deep breath, and walked into the room. He looked up, startled.

“Oh Jeff? Sorry, I forgot my purse.” She walked over to where she had placed it. But when she turned to exit the room, he was blocking the hallway.

“Sorry Karen. I don’t think that’s the best idea,” and he started toward her, grabbing a small red ceramic lamp off of a table pushed against the wall. He yanked it hard, disengaging the cord from the outlet. She backed into the great room, trying to distance herself from this man.

Karen turned in a panic, looking for some other way she could escape. The room was lined with windows and a brick fireplace was inset along the far wall, but there was no other way out. Could she break a window? Rush past him somehow? She quickly ascertained that there was nowhere to go. Before Karen had a chance to defend herself, she sensed him approach from behind… She tasted only fear before everything went black.




HEY! and don't forget to e-mail Kendra Cornell if you have a comment! She would really like to hear from you.





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