Page 61 of Callum

“Come on,” I sigh, pulling away from her when reality seeps back in. “We need to get some sleep.”

Part Three: Counterfeit

Harlowe Hunt

“The Forger”

Three Years and Two Months Ago

“This is why you’re here, Harlowe,” Ginetta bites out the words as if I don’t know them already—as if she doesn’t remind me of them day after day.

The only reason I’m here, the only thing that got me a spot amongst these violent women, is my ability to replicate any document perfectly. Some of them take more time, and there are certainly documents that take more skill, but I always get it in the end.

“I’m aware of that, Ginetta.” Her name drips with sarcasm, and I know she sees the threat behind my words. “But these things take time. It isn’t just printing a birth certificate on any random scrap of paper. If it were that easy, Kyler could do it.”

The woman in question flips me off across the room, but there’s no malice in it. We’ve come to an understanding of sorts in the last few months. With Rosalind hidden away, it’s become glaringly obvious that I’m out of friends around here. While Kyler scares the ever-living fuck out of me, we have a common interest.

I’ve been teaching her sign language. It’s slow going, and she’s certainly been more frustrated than not in our recent lessons, but I’ve seen a marked improvement in her.

If only Ginetta would pull her head out of her ass and join in those lessons. She thinks she can read everything she needs to in just one look from Kyler, but a handful of lessons have shown me that cannot possibly be true.

Kyler has a lot to say but no real way to say it. Yet.

“I’m going as fast as possible, but you keep adding to the workload every time I turn around. Now, you want me to do a thirty-year-old certificate for a county that isn’t even in Colorado. And I’m guessing you want it ‘right fucking now’.”

“Yesterday.”

“Of course.”

A sharp snapping sound draws my attention to Kyler again. She places her left fist on her open right palm and moves it toward me in a small arc while mouthing, “You need help?”

I shake my head, signing back, “No, thank you”.

“She can fucking hear you.” I nearly roll my eyes at Ginetta’s egregious blind spot here but decide it isn’t my fight. Kyler never seems to mind that she and Ginetta can’t properly communicate, so who am I to get in the middle of it?

Ignoring the woman pacing in front of me, I turn my attention back to the computer. The birth certificates for the girls can be printed easily enough, but I’ll have to search for records to match the adult certificate. Each state has a different certificate format, many of which change every few years. Some switched to printed certificates earlier than others, though most would have been handwritten thirty years ago.

Unless it’s a certified copy, in which case it could be a printed version.

“Do you want Benson’s certificate to pass for an original?”

Ginetta stops pacing but doesn’t answer. When I meet her gaze, I can see the hesitation there. She’s never been good at making decisions. Or, more accurately, the decisions she makes tend to be the wrong ones.

If you ask me, this entire situation has been one wrong decision after another, and it’s only getting worse.

“Do we need to call—”

“No,” she cuts me off, knowing exactly who I was going to suggest. “Make it an original.”

Great. The more time-consuming choice. “Whatever you say, boss.”

She must hear the annoyance in my voice, but she doesn’t lash out. I notice she’s been doing that less and less lately. Her anger is still there, don’t get me wrong, but it’s more like the enormity of her responsibility is weighing down the vitriol. She physically can’t rise to anger against the pressure of running things alone.

A dam is going to break inside her soon, and I hope to God we all make it out alive.

Seventeen: Church

CALLUM

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