Page 69 of The Atlas Maneuver

Japanese.

Which sparked his interest.

He paid for the food and continued to watch as she approachedthe van, peeked inside, then moved to its rear double doors. He hadn’t locked the van yesterday. No need. He still carried the gun from yesterday and readied himself to make a move.

Two new vehicles sped into the parking lot, brakes screeching to a stop. Three men sprang out, each carrying a weapon.

The woman froze.

The men with guns converged.

KYRA’S PHONE BUZZED AND SHE ANSWERED.

“I’ve made contact with Kelly Austin,” Catherine Gledhill said.

She’d been watching as the woman from the consulate car inspected a white van.

“I have eyes on the Japanese right now,” she told Gledhill.

More cars appeared. Men with guns stepped out.

She debated what to do, but Gledhill decided the course for her.

“Forget the Japanese. A better avenue has opened.”

KELLY SAT STUNNED IN THE QUIET ROOM.

Like Cotton, who’d come face-to-face with his past, hers had found her through Katie Gledhill. How could that be? Was it possible?

She closed her eyes and thought back.

“Sign here,” the lawyer said to her.

She lay in the hospital bed. Her abdomen ached. But it was finally over. The pregnancy had been uneventful, routine. The labor anything but. Twenty-nine hours. No epidural. The doctor had said there could be issues. So all natural it had been, one damn contraction after another. Finally, it ended with a last push and the birth of a daughter.

Whom she hadn’t been allowed to see.

And for good reason.

She accepted the pen and studied the page.

The top was headlinedFULL AND COMPLETE SURRENDER OF PARENTAL RIGHTS. The body of the document was clear and straightforward. Being solicitous that my newly born female child shall receive the benefits and advantages of a good home, I do hereby surrender the child and promise not to interfere in the management of the child in any respect whatever; and, in consideration of the benefits guaranteed by the adopting parents, I do relinquish all right, title, and claim to the child, it being my wish, intent, and purpose to relinquish absolutely all parental control.

Further down in the annoyingly long paragraph was a provision that she would have ten days to withdraw the surrender, which had to be done in writing at the address provided.

“This document is the final one necessary for the adoption to be completed,” the lawyer said. “I regret this has to be done here, in the hospital, but it’s necessary. The adoptive parents need to take the child home. They can’t, without this surrender.”

She understood. But that did not make it any easier.

She signed her name.

Quick. Decisive. She’d thought about the decision for a long time. There was no other path to follow. None at all. Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. She was not cut out for motherhood.

“Are the adoptive parents here?” she asked.

“You know I can’t answer that,” the lawyer said. “We talked about this. This is a closed adoption. Everything is sealed. Forever.”

Apparently not.