Both Jessie and Dolan sat in the backseat quietly, pondering what he’d said. Jessie silently chastised herself for not noticing all the running-related paraphernalia in the house. It was a reminder that she still had a lot to learn on this job.

The drive up to Jerebko’s house was an adventure. The roads leading into the Hollywood Hills were narrow, with cars parked on both sides. Often only one car could pass by at a time. And they were winding, with corkscrews and switchbacks that had Jessie borderline nauseated by the time they pulled up to the house.

“This place seems pretty extraordinary for a public servant,” Dolan noted.

Three stories high and consuming half a block, the whole property was surrounded by a ten-foot-tall stone wall. Jessie had done some preliminary research on the family and knew that it wasn’t purchased on a councilman’s salary.

“Actually, his wife bought it,” she said. “Gayle Martindale Jerebko is a descendant of the wealthy Martindales, who originally struck it rich in the California Gold Rush of 1849. Most of the clan still lives in San Francisco. But while at Stanford, Gayle fell in love with a scrappy young student activist named Milton Jerebko. When he moved to Southern California, she followed.”

“A woman from that background threw in her lot with a political activist?” Dolan asked incredulously.

“There’s no telling when it comes to love, Dolan. Also, I guess she saw potential in him,” Jessie replied. “Turns out she had good reason. Milton eventually entered politics after gaining popularity with the local community for his vocal support of healthcare for homeless gay youth. He swept to victory in his city council race six years ago and was rumored to be considering running for mayor of West Hollywood or maybe even Los Angeles itself. After he was elected to the council, Gayle took over leadership of their healthcare foundation. According to news reports, she’s known as a tireless fundraiser for the cause. Neither has ever been arrested.”

“Family?” Dolan wanted to know.

“They have two children in high school, a daughter entering her senior year and a son about to become a sophomore. The only brush with the law for any of them was when their daughter accidentally rear-ended another driver while taking her driver’s test.”

They seemed like the perfect couple, which made Jessie inherently suspicious. As she reviewed what she knew about the Jerebkos in her head, the four of them got out of the car and walked to the main gate, passing the other Marshal vehicle idling across the street. Dolan was about to hit the buzzer when a voice came over the speaker.

“Please state your business,” a clipped male voice said.

“At least we know it’s not Darian,” Jessie muttered under her breath.

Dolan forced back a smile as he responded.

“I’m Special Agent Jack Dolan of the FBI,” he said. “We need to speak to Councilman Jerebko.”

“May I see your identification, Agent?” the voice asked. “Please hold it up to the camera to your left.”