Page 76 of A Vicious Rumor

"Hmm," my mother hummed. "I'm not seeing him. What's his dad's name?"

"One second," I said, pulling out my phone and googling the Academy. "Matthew Allen King," I said.

My mother typed away again and then leaned back in her chair. "He's right here, and it even says he has one dependent record on file, except when I click it, it says file not found."

I popped a french fry into my mouth. "That's what he said would happen. He said there was some sort of paper folder that's hidden in the office. He said he saw it once as a child, and remembers coming here where it was returned and hidden somewhere."

My mother gave me a suspicious look. "This all seems very far-fetched."

"I'm just telling you what he told me. But, you have to admit that it's weird that you can't click on the dependent file."

My mother nodded her head in agreement. "That is true."

"Let's see," she said, standing up and walking to the back of the room. She grabbed a pair of keys from the key ring in her pocket and opened a locked door. I peered inside and it just looked like rows and rows of dusty old cabinets. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling and my mother pulled the chord. Dust fell down around her and she coughed as she waved her hand in front of her face, trying to clear it.

"How are we ever going to find it in all this?" I asked her, popping another french fry into my mouth.

"I've been working here since before you were born," she said. "Which means I was working here since before your little friend was born. Which means that I know where people trying to cover things up try and hide things."

She made her way into the back room and I followed her, careful not to touch anything. I still wasn't sure if we were supposed to be back here or not, but Mom didn't seem worried.

"You think you know where it could be?" I asked.

"Years ago," my Mom said, as she pulled open one of the drawers, "we had this one clerk. She was a pretty young thing and she was only here for a matter of weeks. She was never at her desk, though. Always taking calls and meeting people in the parking lot outside. I always thought it was very suspicious, but she left on her own before I had a chance to voice a complaint. But," my mom said, closing that drawer and opening another. "I got really curious one time. So, I hung around one night out of sight to see what she was up to."

"Mom!" I said, shocked at her confession. "You were spying on the girl?"

"Is it spying to spy on a spy?" my mother asked.

I just rolled my eyes and decided not to banter.

"Anyways," my mother said, "at the time everything was paper documents. None of this computer stuff. Which meant that if someone's paperwork went missing, that was it. There wasn't another file of it elsewhere. Made it really easy to cover up indiscretions if you knew who to bribe," she said.

"In any event, I stayed past hours and out of sight, and I watched the girl make her way to this room, and to this specific cabinet. I remember checking it after she left, but I didn't think anything of it. It was just more files. But, all these years later, maybe my instinct was right, and something was going on, but I just didn't have enough information to put it all together."

She pulled a file out and held it up in triumph. "I think this might be what we're looking for."

We made our way back out to the main part of the office. My mom set the file on the table, and we both looked at each other. She opened up the file gently, as if something were going to leap out at us. There weren't many papers in it. She started turning pages over. One looked like an application for a social security number, a copy of old driver's licenses to go along with it.

She flipped over another page and stopped. "What is it?" I asked, trying to turn my body so that I could read the document straight.

Right at the top, it read, "Birth Certificate Amendment Request Form," and the signatory at the bottom was none other than Matthew Allen King.

"Why would he fill out a form for an amended birth certificate?" I asked my mother.

"It's not for him," my mother said, her eyes wide.

My stomach dropped. "It's for Zachary, isn't it?"

She nodded her head.

"What's the request?"

"It's alleging there was an error in identifying the birth mother," my own mother said. "Which," she shook her head. "Is almost impossible. The paperwork gets filled out right there at the hospital. The mother is clearly the one to give birth to the child."

"Who does it say was the original birth mother?" I asked her.

"A woman named Helene Beaux."

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