Page 95 of The Atlas Maneuver

She’d always wanted to know what happened after that day in the hospital. Finally, six years ago she’d used some of the money made from the bank and hired a top-notch investigator from New York to look into the matter. But that woman had found little to nothing. The adoption had occurred in Texas, with everything under seal, no public access allowed. They’d tried bribing a local clerk, and that had led to the name of the petitioners and information that the adoption file itself was destroyed in a fire a decade earlier. No electronic versions existed, and finding the adoptive parents had led to several dead ends.

But not so for Katie Gledhill.

Or was she lying?

“I need to speak to Catherine,” she said.

KYRA OPENED HER EYES.

Kelly Austin had spoken to her.

They were cruising at thirty thousand feet, headed south toward the African continent. She’d lied to Austin. She knew exactly where they were headed. She’d left the woman alone, just as Gledhill had instructed, waiting for her to make the first move.

I need to speak to Catherine.

“Tell me more about my daughter.”

She heard the pain in the request but, in truth, she personally knew nothing. She’d not been involved with that matter, until today.

“Have you really seen her?”

She nodded. “I have.”

Not a lie, as a photo had been included in the e-file.

“Does she know she’s adopted?”

“I have no idea.”

The file had made no mention if anyone had made contact with the daughter, who would be approaching twenty years old now. Surely Austin had often wondered about appearance, manners, personality.

And the ultimate question.

Had any of her been passed on to the child?

Then there was—

“What about the father?” Kyra asked.

KELLY HAD NOT CONSIDERED THAT QUESTION IN A LONG, LONG TIME. When it all happened, involving the father had never been an option. She’d wanted nothing to do with him. So she’d lied to the lawyer handling the adoption and said the father’s identity was unknown, adding that there’d been several men in thepicture at the time of conception, impossible to say which one was the father. She’d signed an affidavit swearing that his identity could not bereasonably ascertained. The lawyer had warned her that lying could prove disastrous. The father, if he later became aware, could challenge the adoption, no matter how much time had passed.

His rights last forever.

But the father had never known about the child and she planned to keep it that way.

“He does not exist,” she said.

“The presence of your daughter says otherwise.”

She hated the condescending tone. “Have you ever made a mistake?”

“Who has not?”

“I mean a truly epic mistake. One that alters the course of your life. One you can never, ever take back.”

The plane buffeted from turbulence. Truth be known, she wasn’t all that keen about flying. But answers to lifelong questions might exist at the end of the journey.

“You have an opportunity to reverse the mistake regarding your daughter,” Lhota said.

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