The Gender Experiment: (A Thriller) Read Free Page A

ring. “Carson Obstetrics Clinic.”
    “Hello. This is Taylor Lopez from the Denver Medical Examiner’s Office.” She had that part down pat. The woman was silent, so Taylor blurted out her opening line. “Logan Hurtz, one of your birth babies, died in an accident a few weeks ago.”
    A long pause. “I’m sorry to hear that.” The voice sounded weak and soft, like an older woman.
    “Adrian Warsaw drowned in a pool early this morning. I think he might have been a clinic baby too.”
    A strange sound escaped the receptionist’s throat. “Why are you calling here?” She sounded distressed.
    Taylor gulped in air.
Just say it.
“Both men had genital abnormalities. Do you know anything about it? Or who I should talk to?”
    A longer hesitation this time. “That information is confidential, and I’m not at liberty to discuss patients.”
    “Can you tell me if Adrian Warsaw was one of the clinic doctor’s deliveries?”
    “Technically no, I can’t.”
    That meant he probably was, and the receptionist wanted her to know.
    “How long have you worked at the clinic?” The question popped out of Taylor’s mouth, surprising her.
    “Twenty-three years. But you should forget what you think you know about Logan and Adrian.” The woman ended the call.
    Taylor’s pulse quickened. Was that a warning? The receptionist had been at the clinic the year Adrian and Logan were born, and she knew something about their condition. Feeling shaky, Taylor paced in front of the fish tank, thinking everything through. Logan and Adrian’s mothers had both been patients at Carson Obstetrics, where they’d received prenatal care around the same time. Then they’d both given birth to intersex babies. Taylor’s mother had been stationed at Fort Carson during her pregnancy, and she’d started labor in the military hospital. She had probably been a patient at Carson Obstetrics that year too.
    A startling thought hit her brain.
How many more were there?
Taylor knew she was one of them—whatever they were. Two clinic babies from 1996 were dead. A chill ran up her spine. Was she in danger?
    She ran to the end of the hall. On the closet floor sat a white plastic tub that contained everything she had left of her mother. Taylor pulled it out and dug straight to the bottom for the bundle of paper, trying to ignore the soft fabric of her mother’s favorite scarf and the scent of vanilla wafting from her jewelry box.
Please let there be something!
A receipt, a note, or maybe the doctor’s name was on her birth certificate. She would check that next.
    Taylor scanned the military papers first, but nothing medical surfaced. Her mother’s high school track-and-field awards made Taylor smile, but she pushed them aside. A few handwritten letters from her father were also in here somewhere. He’d sent them when her mother had been overseas during the Gulf War. Or so she’d been told. Her dad had disappeared when she was four, and her mother had never talked about him. She’d never used the word
died
, so Taylor sensed he was still out there somewhere. Some day, she would take the time to find him, if only to ask him why he’d abandoned her. Right now, it didn’t matter.
    She found the stash of letters inside a folder, remembering that she’d tucked them there for safekeeping. The first one was brief, written on lined paper, like she’d used in grade school before they got laptops in the classroom.
I love you… I miss you… I’m keeping the bed warm
. Taylor’s cheeks flushed, and she flipped to the next letter. They’d all been written before she was born.
No help.
That was her mother’s expression, and she’d subconsciously started using it soon after her death. Along with a few other choice phrases. It was a way of keeping her close.
    Pushing to her feet, Taylor reached for the small metal safe on the top shelf. The code, made up of her favorite numbers, three and seven, was similar to her password for everything she did online. Keep