Almost Dead (Lizzy Gardner #5)(14)

CHAPTER 11

Two o’clock Thursday, while Lizzy taught her defense class downtown, Kitally and Hayley continued the search for any clue that might lead them to the daughter Pam Middleton gave up twenty-five years ago.

“I think I found the man who adopted Mrs. Middleton’s baby,” Hayley told Kitally. “Dan Blatt of Rocklin, California. He’s fifty, which would be the age of the man we’re looking for. He works at Ramsland Realty.” Hayley stood. “Let’s go.”

Kitally raised a brow. “Why not just give him a call?”

“People are more apt to give out information if we talk to them face-to-face.”

“You don’t think he’ll tell us where his daughter is living?”

“Not over the phone.”

“Maybe she still lives at home.”

“If so, we’ll find out. Let’s go.”

“Can we take my car?” Kitally asked.

“You have a problem with my Chevy? The vehicle that almost gave its life rescuing you from the slimy clutches of that creep Dow?”

“The vehicle that almost took my life, you mean! You could’ve launched me through the back window with that heap of metal.”

“That’s gratitude for you,” Hayley muttered.

Kitally shrugged. “I seriously think it’s time for you to put that thing to rest.”

“Come on—let’s go,” Hayley urged. “This has taken too much time as it is.”

“Should we leave Lizzy a note?”

“No. She’ll call if she needs us.”

“Do you think Lizzy will be OK?”

“I know she will be.”

“There must be something we can do for her,” Kitally said.

“We’re doing it. We just need to give her space.”

It was quiet for a bit before Kitally changed the subject and asked, “When we see Mr. Blatt, what’s the plan?”

“I’ll know what to say when I see him.”

Twenty minutes later, Hayley and Kitally walked in and then right out of Ramsland Realty after they were told Dan Blatt sometimes worked from home. Today was one of those days.

“Let’s take a ride to his house,” Hayley said. She looked at her notes and then punched his home address into the navigation system on her cell. “It’s less than ten miles from here.”

Dan Blatt’s white stucco house looked like every other house on the block: two-car garage, front window, shutters, a small square of newly mowed front lawn, and a stone pathway leading to the door.

Hayley rang the doorbell.

The woman who answered was all dressed up: charcoal pencil skirt, white blouse, and black heels. Her head was angled as she worked at putting on an earring.

“My name is Hayley Hansen, and this is Kitally. We’re looking for Dan Blatt.”

“I’m his wife.” Finished with the earring, she straightened for a better look at who was standing at her door. “What’s this about?”

“We’re looking for Dan Blatt’s daughter.”

“Sorry, girls. You have the wrong Dan Blatt. We don’t have any children.”

A heavyset man with a bald head and a bird’s nest of a mustache came to the door. “What’s going on?”

“These girls are looking for the daughter of Dan Blatt. I told them they had the wrong man.”

“Sorry to bother you,” Kitally said before turning to head for the car.

Hayley looked into the bald man’s eyes. “Did you adopt a little girl twenty-five years ago?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then looked at his wife.

“I told you—we never had children,” the woman repeated.

“Is your name Barbara?” Hayley asked.

The woman frowned. “That was the name of Dan’s first wife, but she passed away a few years before Dan and I met.”

“Who exactly are you looking for?” Dan asked Hayley, obviously shaken up, nervous. “Do you have a name?”

“We were hired by Pam Middleton to find the daughter she gave up twenty-five years ago. It was a closed adoption, but Mrs. Middleton saw the names Dan and Barbara Blatt in the file at her attorney’s office.”

“I don’t think I can help you,” Mr. Blatt said, his face pale, his eyes downcast as he reached past his wife for the door, clearly ready to get rid of them.

Kitally was back at Hayley’s side. “Mr. Blatt,” she said flatly. “Your adopted daughter has a biological sister. She’s sixteen and she has leukemia. There’s a real possibility she’ll die unless she can find a match. Your daughter might be her only hope for survival. Are you sure you can’t help us?”

His wife’s face was pinched, her body stiff. “Dan, what’s going on?”

He sighed as he rubbed the top of his head. “Barbara and I adopted a little girl. We named her Debra. Four years later, Barbara was dead.” His head bowed. “I was grief-stricken. So was Debra.”

Debra Blatt. They finally had a name. Hayley was about to ask about Debra, but his wife saved her the trouble.

“What happened to your daughter? Where is she?”

“I called the adoption agency and told them I couldn’t take care of a child on my own.” Dan Blatt’s gaze caught Hayley’s. His jowls shook as he said, “I couldn’t even take care of myself.”