Risk Factor by Michael Brandman

Author:Michael Brandman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2021-01-27T00:00:00+00:00

Thirty

“DNA,” Marsha Russo uttered as she dropped into the visitor’s chair across from me.

A woman of a certain age, Marsha was particularly energized this morning. A longtime veteran of the Sheriff’s Department, she’s a great favorite of my father, who affectionately refers to her as his “shtarker.”

“What about it?”

“They found a match.”

“Go on.”

“Prints were identical to those of a young woman already in the system.”

“Who is she?”

“Prints match with a Jill McDonough. Last known address in Santa Barbara, CA.”

“Is the address still active?”

“Good question.”

“Is it?”

“I think so.”

“What, I think so?”

“My SB police pal says real estate records indicate it’s a one-family home owned by an R. J. McDonough.”

“Did he check it out?”

“She.”

“Did she check it out?”

“I didn’t ask her to.”

“Because?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to sound an alarm. This Jill person has already fled once. Be a shame to lose her again—if she’s there, that is.”

“Want to take a ride?”

“With you?”

“To Santa Barbara.”

“What are we waiting for?”

* * *

It took almost half an hour to make the drive to number 40 Colony Drive East, the alleged home of Jill Nelson. Née McDonough.

It was a white and black Minimal-Tudor cottage, representative of mid-century American home design, located in a residential neighborhood amid a number of similar residences.

We parked down the street and made our way on foot. Marsha slipped around back to ensure that if Jill were there, she couldn’t flee. I climbed two steps to the front door and rang the bell.

After several moments, it opened and standing there before me was Jill Nelson.

“Shit,” she said and tried to slam the door in my face. My foot prevented it.

“So nice to see you again,” I said.

“Yeah, well, fuck you, too.”

Her cheeks a bright red, she glared at me defiantly. She wore an oversized gray sweatshirt over torn blue jeans. She was barefoot.

“You might want to put on some shoes,” I said.

She gave me the finger.

“I’d hate to haul you off to the hoosegow without shoes. Be pretty uncomfortable for you.”

Again she tried to slam the door, but I grabbed her arm and pushed her back into the house.

“Back door,” I said.

“What about it?”

“Take me to it.”

“Fuck you. No.”

“You know, this would be whole lot easier if you were at least somewhat cooperative.”

I squeezed her arm harder and escorted her to the rear of the house. Once in the kitchen, I opened the door for Marsha.

“A real pain in the ass,” I told her, pointing to Jill.

“Allow me,” she said.

She slammed a pair of handcuffs on the girl. “Come with me, honey. We need you to pack a few things and get some shoes on those feet.”

Without waiting for a response, Marsha hustled her out of the kitchen and disappeared upstairs.

I made tracks for the cruiser and moved it onto the driveway of the McDonough house.

Marsha led Jill to the car and the two of them climbed into the back seat.

A pair of dog-walkers were staring at us.

I waved to them, backed out of the driveway, and headed for San Remo.

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