My pulse quickened.
“There was an entry from October 1987. It lists an infant placement.”
“Benjamin?”
“We think so.”
“Who arranged it?”
Lucas looked directly at me.
“Your father.”
Everything stopped.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Lucas handed me the phone.
There was a photograph of a ledger page.
The handwriting was cramped.
October 2, 1987.
Private infant placement.
Then a payment.
Then a name.
Thomas Carter.
I sat down slowly.
“He arranged the adoption.”
“It appears that way.”
“But why?”
“We don’t know.”
I looked at Douglas.
“Did your father know mine?”
“Yes.”
“Were they friends?”
“Not especially.”
“Could Benjamin be your father’s son?”
Douglas swallowed.
“Possibly.”
“Or your mother’s?”
“Possibly.”
My thoughts moved faster.
Then stopped.
There was another possibility.
One I didn’t want to say.
But Lucas saw it in my face.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
I looked at him.
“My father.”
He nodded.
