"Ris," he said, after a couple of moments. "What can I do for you?"
"Got a weird question for you—are there such things as face-shifters who are capable of transforming their whole bodies?"
He frowned. "Well, I've never come across one, but I can't see why there wouldn't be. They're probably rarer than hens' teeth, though."
"Would something like that be registered on a birth certificate?"
"I doubt it. Even face-shifters are registered only as shifters—and only if they come from a known line of shifters. If it's an out-of-the-blue occurrence, or they're the product of a human-shifter mating, then probably not." He hesitated. "Why?"
"I was just following a woman who reminded me of someone else, but she looked nothing like her."
"Could she be a sister or a relation?"
"We can't uncover much about her, let alone anything about her family. She may exist, but there's not a whole lot of paperwork to prove it."
"So you're thinking a fake ID?"
"Maybe." I scratched my nose. "I don't know."
He studied me for a moment, gray eyes narrowed. "I hope this woman has nothing to do with our two spiderwebbed victims."
"Not a thing. It's key related."
"Huh. Well, the best I can do is run a search for you, but I doubt anything will come up."
And I doubted whether a search done by Directorate resources would bring up anything more than one done by Stane, but I guessed it couldn't hurt. "The woman's name is Genevieve Sands. She lives at sixty-five Greville Road, Prahran."
"Posh address."