Kevin O'Brien - Disturbed

He’s a very nice guy, who obviously loves his son. But I believe he compartmentalizes his life. Jeff Dennehy doesn’t seem to realize how his womanizing ways are spilling over from one compartment and hurting his family. With his good looks & his friendly, confident manner, I’m guessing he attracts a lot of women & it’s hard for him to say no. Chris has felt very close to his dad. . until he found out about all the cheating. But I don’t know if Mr. Dennehy can stop, even with his new wife. It’s as if this is how he’s used to living. The guy just can’t say no to a pretty woman. .

As she walked down the first-floor hallway of the Marriott, she felt as if someone was following her. She kept glancing over her shoulder at the vacant corridor with its gaudy-patterned green, pink, and oatmeal carpet. She peered at the darkened doorways and alcoves but didn’t see anyone. She told herself it was nothing, just her imagination.

She reached room 104 and knocked. She knew Jeff would be there waiting for her.

She knew how hard it was for him to say no.

* * *

He’d followed Angela Dennehy’s ex-husband as far as the twenty-ninth Floor of the Bank of America Tower, and then to this hotel near the airport. From a table on the other side of the domed bar, he’d watched Jeff and his Willow Tree Court neighbor have their pathetic little assignation.

He’d been extra careful to make sure they hadn’t noticed him. It had been a close call yesterday, when Molly had spotted him in the backyard next door. He’d barely had enough time to check out the lock on the sliding glass door to the Dennehys’ house. He’d heard the police sirens while ducking back inside his car, parked on another dead-end road behind those woods. At the intersection of the other cul-de-sac, he’d watched the cop cars zoom by with their roof lights flashing and swirling. He’d counted four patrol cars. He’d felt sort of proud his presence on Willow Tree Court had prompted such a forceful response.

Jeff Dennehy’s girlfriend seemed to pick up on the fact that someone was watching her in the Marriott’s first-floor hallway. She kept glancing over her shoulder as she sauntered down the corridor with her big purse. He stayed hidden in the alcove with the pop and ice machines. He heard her knocking on a door and waited for the sound of the door clicking open. Then he caught a peek of her stepping inside room 104. He didn’t want to listen in at the door. So he tried the window on the other side of the room and discovered that number 104 had access to the pool through a sliding glass door. Each one of the poolside rooms had one or two patio chairs outside it. An indoor mini-jungle separated the lanai area by the room entrance from the huge, star-shaped pool. So it was easy for him to wander around by those doors and not be seen.

He could hear splashing and the laughter of children as he settled down in the patio chair outside room 104. Though Dennehy and his girlfriend had shut the drapes, the edges didn’t quite meet, and he could just make out their naked forms through the sheer curtain. He adjusted the chair so it was a bit closer to the glass.

“Marco. . Polo. . Marco. . Polo!” some kids were yelling.

He leaned over to one side, like he’d fallen asleep in the chair. He could see into the room now. The air conditioner — radiator must have been right near that sliding door, because every once in a while that sheer curtain fluttered open — and he could see everything. He spotted a quart bottle of Wild Turkey — a little over half full — on the table near the door.

It looked like booze wasn’t the only thing she’d bought to the party. Lying naked on the bed, he saw her carefully applying something that might have been cocaine to her breasts. Dennehy was naked, poised over her on all fours. She grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head down. He eagerly sniffed and licked at her nipples. Even with the door closed — and the kids screaming and carrying on in the pool, he could hear her muffled laughter.

The sheer curtain billowed and reflected against the glass, totally obscuring his view for a few moments. He wasn’t sure what he missed, but as the curtain moved again, he could see her walking across the room naked. At first, he thought she was coming to the sliding glass door, but she was only retrieving the bottle of Wild Turkey.

Dennehy was sitting on the bed with his feet on the floor. He gripped the side of the mattress with his hands, and shook his head repeatedly as if having a spasm of some kind.

Perhaps it wasn’t just cocaine he’d been snorting off his girlfriend’s breasts, but something even stronger. Dennehy put a hand to his forehead.

She started to hand him the bottle, but he knocked it out of her hands.

All at once, Dennehy bolted up. It looked as if he was about to attack her, but he took two steps and collapsed on the floor.

The curtains began to billow again, and he couldn’t see much.

It appeared as if she was just standing there with one hand on her hip, looking down at him.

The man in the patio chair kept waiting for her to help Dennehy. But she didn’t move. The man thought about counting the seconds so he could time her, because she stood like that for a long, long time.

She watched Jeff Dennehy writhe on the beige-carpeted floor.

Jeff had said he wasn’t into drugs. But he’d already had at three shots of Wild Turkey heavily laced with ecstasy. And she knew he couldn’t say no. There was only a bit of cocaine in what he’d snorted off her breasts. Most of it was highgrade heroin.

One hand on her hip, she stared down at him. She remembered Wolf commenting that the ecstasy was quite powerful. “Two tabs, and you can fry an egg on your forehead,” he’d said. She wondered if Jeff was reacting to the ecstasy or the heroin — or the combination. He was covered with sweat and gasping for air. She touched his chest with her toe, and the skin was hot. It was almost as if his body was cooking. His handsome face was crimson.

“My husband actually liked you, Jeff,” she said, gazing down at him. “He didn’t blame you as much as the others for what happened to us. But I do. Before Ray was even killed, I was already planning on how I’d meet you and seduce you. I knew you couldn’t resist a pretty girl.”

His eyes seemed to keep going in and out of focus. One moment his gaze connected with her — and the next his stare was blank. He vaguely reached out to her, but she kicked his hand away.

“My family and I went through hell for five months. My husband lost his job, our marriage was ruined, our teenage daughter ran away — all thanks to you and your meddling neighbors on Willow Tree Court,” she continued. “Your children came to my husband for the guidance you couldn’t give them — and then all of you turned on him. I think I aged years in those few months. But I was still pretty enough to turn your head. Less than two weeks after Ray was killed, I had you in that Jantzen Beach hotel room in Portland. Remember? That was the same night Kay died. Molly called you and got you out of bed. . ”

Thrashing about on his back, Jeff looked like he was choking. He was like a helpless little baby who couldn’t turn himself over.

Jenna Corson felt just a twinge of pity, but not enough. She stared down at him, fascinated by his suffering. “Ray and I were unofficially separated,” she said. “I’d given up on us, but he hadn’t. He kept coming back to me. When I discovered Ray had taken out a very expensive insurance policy, I knew something was up. It didn’t take me long to figure out he was planning to kill himself — so the kids and I would be taken care of. I just didn’t know how he would make his suicide look like an accident. We were spending more time apart than together, but one night while he was in the shower, I found a number on his cell phone, the number of the man he’d hired to kill him.