Almost Dead (Lizzy Gardner #5)(28)

“Maybe the dog just dug his way right under the fence.”

“No,” Lizzy said. “The woman told me she has a sturdy iron fence and her dog is too fat to fit through the rails.”

“Why would somebody go to all that bother to steal a dog?”

“People are crazy,” Hayley told Kitally. “You know that.”

“Take a turn through the neighborhood,” Lizzy suggested. “Talk to a few neighbors. See if anything smells suspicious.”

“Find out more about the owner, too,” Hayley said into the open refrigerator. “See if you can flush out any enemies. Maybe an ex-husband or disgruntled boyfriend took the thing.”

Lizzy looked at her notebook and then lifted her chin toward Hayley. “Any leads yet on Pam Middleton’s daughter?”

Hayley straightened and shut the refrigerator, empty-handed. “I forgot to tell you guys. As you know, Dan and Barbara Blatt adopted Pam Middleton’s baby. Kitally and I did find Mr. Blatt, but it’s a sad story. They named the little girl Debra. When she was four, her mom, Barbara Blatt, died of cancer. Dan Blatt was so overcome with grief he couldn’t take care of his daughter, so he offered to pay Barbara’s mother to watch her for a while.”

“He had to pay his mother-in-law?”

“You bet. It gets worse. The mother-in-law is an old lady who had nothing good to say about her granddaughter. After watching Debra for two years, she turned the little girl over to Child Services.”

“Why?” Kitally asked.

“She didn’t like the kid bothering her cats, for one thing. When Debra began to wet the bed, she’d had enough. And it turns out Dan Blatt never paid her, which is a good thing.”

“Why is that a good thing?” Lizzy asked.

“Because the old bat might have kept Debra, and that would have been a shame.”

Lizzy shook her head. “Have you talked to Child Services to find out what happened to the little girl?”

“I’ve called twice. No response yet, which means I’ll have to pay them a visit.”

“Keep me updated.” Lizzy turned again to her notes and heaved a sigh. “OK, I got a call recently from Beverly Dow. She sounded upset. Do either of you know anything about that?”

Kitally looked at Hayley.

“She hired us to follow her husband,” Hayley said. “She wanted to know if he was cheating.”

“I saw the file,” Lizzy said. “I know what we were doing for her. I just don’t know why. We don’t do infidelity cases.”

“That’s what I thought,” Hayley answered. “That’s why I was a little surprised when Mrs. Dow came to the office and you drew up a contract right then and there.”

Lizzy sank back in the chair. “I do sort of remember that. Was that the woman who wore a bottle of perfume?”

Hayley nodded. “That’s the one.”

“I could hardly breathe. She’s going to stop by the office next week. I want you both to be there.”

Hayley and Kitally caught eyes, then both looked away.

“Is that a problem?” Lizzy asked.

“Nope,” Hayley said. “Let us know when she’ll be coming and we’ll be there.”

Lizzy nodded. “Moving on . . . I’ll be out all this week visiting schools, giving kids the usual safety spiel.”

“What about the man who’s watching you?” Kitally asked. “Maybe we should have Tommy place a couple of surveillance cameras in the front and back of the house.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Kitally said.

Lizzy pointed at Hayley. “Let me know the second you learn anything about Debra Blatt’s whereabouts. Her sister is back in the hospital, and it’s crucial we find her as soon as possible.”

“Will do.”





CHAPTER 20

The moment Jenny Pickett opened the door, regret slithered up her spine. She should have stayed in the kitchen until whoever was at the door went away.

The man standing on her front porch looked familiar. Under the glow of the outside light, she guessed him to be in his thirties. He wore khaki pants and a newly ironed buttoned-up dress shirt. His dark hair was thinning, but there was something glimmering within his blue eyes that told her he’d been a charmer in his day. Grasped in his hands was a letter-sized envelope.

He looked at her with sorrowful eyes. “Sorry to bother you. I was told that Jenny Pickett lived here.”

“I’m Jenny Pickett.”

He looked hopeful and doubtful all at once. “Jenny?”

“Who gave you my address?”

“Your mother.”

“Should I know you?”

“I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me. It seems like a lifetime ago that we graduated high school. I’m Dean Newman.”

The name rattled something deep within, something foul. Dean Newman. Quarterback.

The boy who raped her and then held her down for his friends to take turns.

Her instincts screamed for her to slam the door on him, but the voice in her head demanded otherwise.

Let him in. Now!

“I came to tell you how sorry I am, Jenny,” he said, his voice hoarse, “and to ask for your forgiveness.”