The Gender Experiment: (A Thriller) (8 page)

A ping let her know that the email from the Colorado Springs coroner had landed. Bailey opened it, then downloaded and read the autopsy report on Bonnie Yost. The woman had been struck on the head with a heavy instrument that left a crescent-moon shaped wound. Most likely the end of a flashlight.
Interesting.
Cops carried heavy flashlights. Further reading revealed that a matching flashlight had been found on the premise and belonged to the victim. No fingerprints or signs of trauma to the body and no mention of motive. Had Yost been robbed? That was critical information. If nothing had been taken from the victim’s house, then her murder was probably personal. Bailey called the Colorado Springs Police Department and asked to speak to the detective handling Yost’s death. The desk clerk gave her the name Brad Miller and patched her through. She got an answering machine, a male voice. She used a soft tone with a hint of distress to leave a message asking for a callback.

A few minutes later, an email from the Denver morgue came through. Bailey opened the list of deceased names, each accompanied by a date and a cause of death. Heart attacks, stabbings, accidents in the home. One drowning and a fall from a balcony.
Logan Hurtz?
He’d been named in the article about Carson Obstetrics, where Bonnie Yost had worked. Two people associated with the military medical facility had died in the last three weeks. What if Hurtz had been pushed? Had he and the receptionist been silenced? But why?

Bailey’s bloodhound neurons were firing at full capacity. Something was going on in Colorado, and the deaths were likely connected to an armed militant group. This was exactly her kind of investigation. Time to take it to her boss, then get on a plane for Denver.

Special Agent Lennard waved her in but continued her phone call. The woman was tall even sitting down and wore cropped platinum hair that should have worked against her but didn’t.

The irritation in her supervisor’s voice made Bailey consider waiting for a better time. But she wanted Lennard’s job, so she decided to listen and file away what information she could. The conversation, obviously about money, heated up quickly. Agent Lennard fought to defend her decision to send a team to Florida to stake out a motel in Tampa where a Cuban drug runner was rumored to be keeping teenage girls for company. Bailey had not been involved, thank god, because it had been a waste of time. Her cases were usually more high profile. The drug trade was just not interesting.

Lennard finally ended the call. “Sorry. The director is on my case about wasting the team’s resources.”

The director was right
. “The drug runner didn’t meet our critical incident standards.”

Her boss’ mouth tightened. “What do you have for me?” Her tone was curt.

Oh hell.
Bailey realized her mistake in blurting out the truth. Her filter hadn’t caught it, but she couldn’t apologize. “A few incidents in Colorado make me think a militant group might be quietly killing people. Owen Granger, specifically, as the key perpetrator.”

“Granger isn’t known for quiet tactics.”

That was a key sticking point in her theory. She also suspected military involvement, but wouldn’t bring that up yet. “I know, but this is worth looking into. Bonnie Yost, Granger’s sister-in-law, was murdered the day before he was arrested for another assault and possibly attempted murder. In addition, a young man connected to the clinic where Yost worked died rather mysteriously a few weeks before
.”
Now that she’d said them out loud, the connections seemed lame.

Her boss’ blond eyebrows arched. “That’s it? You’re not going to Colorado on that intel. The director would fire me.”

That would work out well for her.
Bailey felt compelled to argue her points, but forced herself to hold back. She stood. “I’m still waiting for a return call from the Denver police. We’ll see what else I can come up with. Thanks for your time.” She hurried out before her boss gave her a different assignment. Bailey could afford to be choosy about what cases she took because the director loved her work. She’d tracked down a power-mad CEO who’d kidnapped scientists—and a North Korean cryptologist—in his quest to dominate the cell phone market. In doing so, she’d averted another crisis with the North Korean government, and that had moved her to the top of the director’s list of rising stars. Yet Lennard was still her boss, and Bailey had to play every situation to her advantage. She should have tried to show empathy for Lennard, but that emotion wasn’t real to her, and she’d never learned to fake it.

On her way out to meet Garrett for lunch, her phone rang with a Colorado area code. She turned back to her desk. “Agent Bailey.”

“Detective Miller with the Colorado Springs Police Department returning your call. Why is the FBI interested in Bonnie Yost’s murder?”

“She’s the sister-in-law of Owen Granger, leader of the Freedom Guardians, an armed militant group that doesn’t recognize the authority of the federal government.”

A pause. “I hadn’t learned that yet.” The detective cleared his throat. “On the surface, the homicide looks like a burglary gone bad. But her car was in the driveway, so the perp had to know she was home.”

“What was stolen?”

“Her cell phone was missing and there was no computer in the house, but we’re still trying to interview people who knew her. She was mostly a loner.”

The missing items could have been taken to make the homicide look like a robbery. “Have you run prints?”

“There were none on the murder weapon, and those we took from the house didn’t match anyone in our database.”

“Any witnesses or leads?”

“We have a suspect we’re hoping to pick up soon.”

“Who?”

“We don’t know her name yet, but we’re watching for her.”

A woman?
That surprised Bailey. “What’s her connection to the case?”

“We don’t know that either, but she was seen outside the victim’s house at the time of the murder.” A pause, as though he hesitated to give her too much information. “The suspect was seen at the clinic right before as well.”

“What’s the description?”

“Young, slender, maybe still a teenager. Straight dark hair and attractive.”

A teenager? Odder still.
“Will you update me if you find her?”

“Sure.”

Bailey gave him her cell number but didn’t expect to hear anything. She’d had to drag every nugget of intel out of him. After she clicked off the call, the young ages of the two accident victims in Denver came to mind. Particularly, Logan Hurtz, who was connected to the clinic. This was all related somehow, and she felt an urgent need to figure it out. But was it a federal matter that could justify the attention of the Critical Incident Unit? Her boss didn’t think so. Yet.

Bailey called the Denver police again. Maybe they could tell her something about Hurtz’s death that would connect him to Owen Granger, who was someone of interest to the CIU. The transfer took a few minutes, but she finally reached Detective Pat Delphy’s phone and was asked to leave a message. The voice wasn’t distinctively male or female and neither was the name. Bailey didn’t particularly care, but it would be nice to know before they talked.

Her cell phone rang, and she looked at the ID.
Garrett!
She’d been on her way out to meet him for lunch and had gotten sidetracked.
Oh hell.
Garrett understood the nature of her job, but this kind of thing bothered him. He would also be upset to learn she might be leaving town again soon. The thought of his distress caused a tug on her heart. Not guilt. She never felt that. But some level of empathy. A new experience since she’d met him. He was the one person she’d ever really connected to—besides her father. Yet she didn’t empathize with her father because he didn’t feel much pain. Garrett was a kind soul who felt everything, and she loved him more than she expected to. Their deep connection was a first for her, but she knew their relationship probably wouldn’t last. They never did. Men always wanted more from her than she could give.

Bailey hurried into the restaurant, found Garrett near a window, and kissed him before she sat down. “I’m sorry. Thanks for waiting.” Her boyfriend was the only person she apologized to and only when she was blatantly at fault.

“Something important came up?” The tension in his face was obvious, but he was still handsome with bright blue eyes, great cheekbones, and a strong chin.

Bailey nodded. “Several deaths in Colorado seem to be connected to an anti-government group, and I may have to fly out there soon.”

His jaw tightened. “How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t have any idea.” She gave him a sly smile. “But you know how fast I work.” Garrett was the son of a kidnapped scientist she’d located and rescued six months earlier. They’d fallen for each other during the investigation, and he’d moved to Washington D.C. to be with her.

“I knew your job was demanding, but I didn’t realize you traveled this much.”

His discontent had started. He would break off with her before the year was over. A sadness overcame her. Bailey would miss him, particularly the sex, but she wouldn’t fight for the relationship. Her ego wouldn’t allow it. “Don’t be upset. I haven’t left yet, and we should make the most of our time together.” She picked up the menu. “Let’s order.”

While they waited for their food, she asked Garrett about his classes, and he seemed to relax as he updated her on his academic progress. Then he abruptly switched back to her impending travel. “Hey, you said ‘Colorado.’ That’s where you grew up, right?”

“Yes, Denver. Why?”

“Isn’t your dad in jail there? You should go see him.”

The thought had briefly crossed her mind. “I won’t have time, and it doesn’t sound like fun.” Her father was also a sociopath. He’d instilled a code of ethics in her from a young age but had less control than she did, at least for violent tendencies.

Garrett shook his head. “Sometimes family isn’t fun, but you make the effort anyway.”

Bailey laughed. “Maybe you do. Not me.”

The food came, and they ate in silence for a minute. Garrett put down his burger and stared at her. “Do you ever do anything that’s just for someone else’s benefit?” He blushed. “I mean other than within our relationship?”

Her sacrifices for him were minimal, but she appreciated his acknowledgement. She shrugged. “I give money to charity.” It was the best she could do. She just didn’t feel empathy, except for Garrett, and she couldn’t make herself endure discomfort just to help someone else feel better. She had tried when an old friend from college had been sick with cancer, but witnessing the pain and deterioration had made her avoid contact. In the long run, the experience had taught Bailey to limit her friendships.

“I still think you should visit your father,” Garrett pressured. “If I had the money, I’d fly home to see my mother every few months.”

Bailey bit her tongue. He was such a momma’s boy. But that was probably why he was attracted to her. She told him she’d think about visiting her dad just to get him to change the subject. They talked about rescheduling their plans for the weekend if she had to travel, then moved on to discuss an art show they’d seen together recently. When the server picked up their plates, Bailey asked for the check. “I have to get back to work.”

“I think we should get couples’ counseling,” Garrett blurted out.

Oh hell.
She’d been honest with him about her sociopathy, but she wouldn’t discuss her nature with a counselor. Never again. Bailey patted his hand. “No. I’m not capable of change. You know that. You’re either in or out.”

She paid the bill, kissed him again, and walked away.

Thursday, Oct. 13, 7:35 a.m., Colorado Springs

Taylor woke with her pulse pounding. A building had exploded in her dream this time. She’d known in her heart that it was full of people. Why was she dreaming about explosions every night? She sat up, confused by her surroundings.
Oh god.
The motel room. The plan to steal clinic files. The panic in her pulse spread to her stomach. What the hell was she doing? Taylor glanced over at the other half of the bed. Jake slept with his mouth open, but he didn’t snore. The first time she’d woken up with someone in her bed. Her lack of panic surprised her. Jake was starting to feel like an old friend. Yet the new stubble on his chin made him look older, sexier.

She jumped up and hurried to the tiny bathroom. Maybe she could get out of this whole thing. Just grab her stuff and go. She didn’t owe Jake anything. The names on the list played in her mind, especially Seth Wozac. What if he was killed because she was afraid to make a scene? Guilt pulled her back in. She could do this. What was the worst that could happen to her personally?

Arrested and dragged to jail in handcuffs.

Then what?

A few days in jail. What would they charge her with? Conspiracy to commit data theft? Was that even a real thing?

Taylor locked the bathroom door, showered, and pulled on yesterday’s clothes. She wished they could have stopped by her apartment to pick up a few things and feed the fish, but she’d be all right. As a busy student—and compulsive worrier—she carried emergency supplies in her satchel, including some cash, a toothbrush, and a travel-sized tube of Crest. And in one of her pockets, she always carried a small, all-purpose, knife-like tool, a stocking stuffer from her mother when she was thirteen.

When Taylor came out of the bathroom, Jake was brewing coffee. He turned and smiled. “It’s the cheap stuff, but at least it’s caffeine. And it’s fast.”

“Thanks, but I’ll grab a soda from the vending machine. I may be the only person in the world who doesn’t like the taste of coffee.”

“I’ll try not to judge you for it.” He reached for his paper cup, looking sleepy and disheveled but still cute. “I need a flash drive for downloading. Do you have one in your bag?”

“Of course. Do you have a comb?”

“I think so.” He started to grab his backpack, then caught her meaning and laughed. “You meant for me. Don’t worry, I’ll get myself together before we head to the clinic. Coffee first.”