Tuesday evening, Dorothy sat at the kitchen table with her laptop open and a folder of documents spread in front of her. Jake was in the bedroom with Kylee, reading to her in that soft voice he used when he thought no one was listening.
Dorothy had been researching for three days. How to get a birth certificate. What documents were required. How the verification process worked.
It was more complicated than she’d expected.
The fake discharge papers she’d created weren’t enough. To get a birth certificate, she needed to file with the state vital records office. They required proof of birth—hospital records, a birth worksheet signed by medical personnel, detailed information about the delivery.
Dorothy had none of those things. Not real ones, anyway.
But she had access to templates. She
