Fury - a Frank Corso Novel by Ford G. M

Author:Ford, G. M. [Ford, G. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Mystery, Seattle, Hard-Boiled, Suspense, Crime
ISBN: 9781405034449
Google: P4eKPwAACAAJ
Amazon: 1405034440
Goodreads: 52185388
Publisher: Macmillan & Co Ltd
Published: 2001-04-24T07:00:00+00:00

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” Corso said. “And?”

“He was talking about the way the murders were committed and how no two of the methods were the same.” She leaned forward in the seat. “Right then we were driving past the town graveyard. I told Warren it seemed like I was spending a lot of time in cemeteries lately.” She put her hand on Corso’s shoulder. “And that’s when it hit me. Maybe the murder methods didn’t match, but what about the way she came up with new identities? What if she used the same method of identity theft as she did the lasttime?” She waved a hand. “At least the last time we know about anyway.”

“So?”

“So we went to the courthouse and checked the death records for the year preceding her disappearance from the area. Women. Late twenties to late thirties.”

“How many?” Corso prodded.

“Two,” she said. “One of them had two names, the other had three. You wanna guess which one I tried first? The county had a request for a birth certificate seven weeks after Nancy Anne Goff’s funeral. The Social Security Administration sent her a new Social Security card a month after that. By the time she disappeared, Sissy Warwick had a complete new set of identification, including a driver’s license and two credit cards.”

“Everything sent to a P.O. box in Midland, Michigan.”

“Dude,” Corso said. He slapped high fives with both of them. “Hell of a job! Hell of a job!”

“What next?” Dougherty asked.

“You come up with a copy of the license?”

“No picture,” Warren said. “Wisconsin didn’t start putting pictures on their driver’s licenses until ’89.”

“Shit.”

“We’ve still got the mug shot,” Dougherty said.

“What we’ve got is a twenty-five-year-old shot of a seventeen-year-old hooker with one side of her face swollen up the size of a grapefruit. We turn anything from that shot, we’ll have to get real lucky.”

“So . . . what? We’re gonna give up and go crawling back to Seattle?”

“Of course not. That’d be way too sensible.”

“What then?”

Corso thought it over. “Where’s Midland?” he asked.

“Northern part of the state,” Warren said. “Want to see a map?”

“Love to,” Corso replied.

Warren rummaged around in the glove box and found a packet of road maps held together by a red rubber band. He handed it to Corso, who spread the map across his knees. Warren snapped on the overhead light.

“Near the base of what I think they call the Upper Peninsula,” Dougherty said as Corso found his way to Midland with his finger.

Corso nodded. “That figures,” he said. “Someplace away from people. But where there’s enough bodies to get lost in.”

“Good place to hide out,” Dougherty said.

“Actually, she’d be better off in Chicago, where folks come and go all the time and nobody gives a shit anyway. Get herself lost in the crowd.” He tapped the map with his fingertip. “Place like Midland, it’s big enough to blend in but small enough to find a place out of town where you can have a little space.”

“Which is why she’s not someplace like Chicago,”

she said.

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