Free The Gender Experiment: (A Thriller) by L.J. Sellers

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