Page 18 of The Last Close Call

“My specialty is cases where the adoption records are sealed, and people have to resort to DNA to find their birth parents,” she went on. “It can get complicated. So, in tough cases, people turn their results over to me and I reconstruct a family tree for them.”

“They hire you,” he stated.

She nodded. “It’s a lucrative business. Or, at least, it will be once I get my referral streams going. Right now I’ve got a couple of family law attorneys that have been throwing business my way when their clients don’t want to do the genealogy research themselves. A lot of busy professionals don’t have time to spend on it and would rather just hire someone. The other thing is a lot of people prefer to keep some distance. They want a liaison to reach out to their biological parent to see if they’re amenable to contact before they initiate communication. It shields them from the trauma of rejection.”

“So, you’re the middleman.”

She nodded. “It can be a sensitive topic, for all kinds of reasons.”

Rowan turned and grabbed a printout she’d made for him showing a snapshot of her research. This version didn’t go all the way back—just three generations.

“Here’s an abbreviated version of my findings so far to get you started.” She handed him the paper. “I’ll send you a full report detailing everything, but you said you were on a ticking clock, so I figured you’d want to get going right away.”

“I do.” He frowned down at the paper, his gaze homing in on the name at the bottom of the page.

“I’m telling you, you want to be careful how you approach her.”

He nodded.

“Really, I mean it.”

He glanced up.

“I’d be happy to go with you,” she said.

“Go with me?”

“To interview her. You plan to go in person, don’t you? You’ll probably have more luck that way.”

She could see he hadn’t thought about it.

He folded the paper and checked his watch. “I appreciate the offer.”

“But you don’t want help.”

“Like I said, I’ve been doing this awhile.”

She sighed. As she’d feared, he was going to be stubborn about this, meaning he might blow the interview.

“Thank you for this, though.” He held up the folded printout. “This is huge for us.”

“I know.”

“Really, you have no idea.”

***

Jack let himself into his apartment and dropped everything on the bar—keys, phone, mail, along with the warm cardboard box containing his dinner.

He ran a hand through his hair, sprinkling water onto his tile floor. The rain had started up again the minute he’d left Rowan’s house and continued his entire drive home.

His phone buzzed from beneath a pile of junk mail. Jack checked the screen and was surprised to see a San Antonio area code.

“Are you at home?” Heidi asked when he picked up.

“Yeah.”

“Same place?”

---