Page 142 of The Atlas Maneuver

But he was too wound up.

She reached into her shoulder bag and withdrew a large manila envelope, which she tossed to him. “From President Fox. With his thanks.”

The tone—cold, unmoved, unquestionable—carried a sense of finality.

She turned and left.

He heard the front door open, then close.

The envelope lay atop some of the books.

He stared at it like it was cursed. He wanted to vent his anger and frustration by tearing it to shreds but his curiosity was too much, which Trinity Dorner had apparently known.

He opened it and shuffled through the papers. A lot there. Mainly field reports from an investigative agency, which apparently had located this woman a few years back. He skimmed through some of it. There were three color images showing a lean figure in a simple red dress, her face sharp-featured and attractive. At the bottom of the papers he found an order of adoption, issued by a Texas court. The petitioner was Susan Baldwin, noted as the natural mother. The adoptive parents’ names were also there, with the court divesting Suzy of all her parental rights. He knew what that meant. Even the birth certificate would be changed so that Suzy’s name would not appear. The order also provided that the petitioner had sworn, under oath, that she did not know the identity of the natural father.

He knew what that meant too.

The notice of the adoption would have been run in a local Texas newspaper for four weeks announcing to the world that the petition had been filed. If anyone had a claim, including the unknown natural father, there was a mechanism provided where they could assert it. Not the best way to let people know, but it was the only way available. Service by publication, it was called. A copy of the new birth certificate was there showing the adoptive parents now as mother and father, vested with the same rights as if they’d produced the child themselves.

But the last sheet grabbed his attention.

The original Texas birth certificate. Listing Suzy as the mother and the father as unknown. And the date of birth?

He did the math.

Seven months after Suzy left Pensacola.

A tingle of apprehension ran down his spine as an uncomfortable question forced its way into his thoughts.

Could it be?