“He used his company account to buy the records of my childhood,” I said.

My voice came out hardly louder than a whisper.

I rubbed the little silver filigree locket at my neck.

“Why would a venture capital firm do a background check on a teenage girl living in a state-run group home?”

Arthur turned to the second page of the report and pressed it flat on the table.

“That’s exactly what I’ve spent the past two hours trying to work out.”

He pointed at a digital cross-reference code printed at the foot of the page.