The Gender Experiment: (A Thriller) Page 10

  Taylor ignored the pain and spoke through clenched teeth. “I want to call a lawyer.” She was bluffing, but as she said it, Taylor remembered one of her mother’s military friends was a lawyer. Cole Ronan. But she had no idea how to reach him.

  Detective Blunt plunged his hand into her hair and jerked her out of the chair.

  Taylor let out a yell.

  He pressed his palm over her mouth. “Quiet.”

  The door popped open, and Detective Miller came in. “What’s going on?”

  Taylor jerked away from the older man and stared hard at Miller. “I want to call a lawyer, and I need you to find his number for me. Cole Ronan. He lives at Fort Carson.”

  Miller’s eyes darted back and forth between her and Blunt.

  “I’ll file a complaint if you don’t.” She couldn’t believe she’d just said that. It was a risk! But she was in survival mode. She had to get free.

  The younger detective led her into the hall. Relief washed over her. She was out of that horrible room.

  They walked down an empty passage, their footsteps echoing in the quiet building. Taylor asked to use the restroom and took the opportunity to rinse the stale taste from her mouth. Her reflection in the mirror startled her. Puffy eyelids, unwashed hair, and a gray undertone to her skin. As if she’d been locked up for a week instead of twenty hours. Or however long it had been. It’s not over, she reminded herself. Just because Miller was giving her a break didn’t mean he would release her.

  She stepped out of the restroom and smiled. “Thanks for intervening.”

  Miller silently steered her into a small office. “Tell me the name again.”

  “Cole Ronan.” Would the lawyer even remember her? She hadn’t seen him since a backyard barbecue her mother had hosted nearly six years ago. Cole had called once after the funeral, then faded away. Like everyone else. No one had known what to say to her.

  After a two-minute computer search, Detective Miller jotted down a number, handed her a slip of paper, and turned his desk phone toward her. “You can make the call here.”

  She’d never used an old-school phone. With a shaky hand, she punched in the numbers and held her breath through five rings. The lawyer was probably asleep, and his publicly listed number was likely a business phone. Why would he pick up? A voicemail kicked in: “You’ve reached Cole Ronan, attorney at law. Please leave a message.”

  This would be a waste of time. “Mr. Ronan. This is Taylor Lopez, Mariah’s daughter.” She sounded like a little kid, even to herself. “I’m at the police department in Colorado Springs, being questioned about a murder I didn’t commit. I need your help. Can you get me out of here?” She hung up and bit her lip to keep from crying. Two nights of minimal sleep had left her exhausted and vulnerable.

  Detective Miller led her to a different room, a slightly larger version of the gray windowless walls, but with a small couch. “We’re either going to let you go or book you into jail. I’m not sure yet, but you might as well rest until we decide.”

  That seemed like progress. Maybe just making the call had paid off. Not that she wanted to end up in jail, but at least they would feed her there. And the questions would stop. She lay on the couch and let her mind drift. Where was Jake? Had he hotwired her car and gone back to Denver? Or was he camped out at the motel, waiting to see what happened with her? She bet on the second option. For a homeless guy, he sure had locked onto her investigation with tenacity. He seemed like the kind of friend who wouldn’t abandon her.

  Out in the hall, raised voices made her sit up. The two detectives were arguing about what to do with her. She thought she heard Miller say they didn’t have any evidence. The argument drifted down the hall. Taylor lay down, again, closed her eyes, and tried to rest.

  A few minutes later, someone stepped in and shouted at her to get up. It was the older man, looking grumpier than usual. “Your lawyer isn’t here, but he called. So we’re letting you go.”

  Yes! A barrage of emotions rolled through her, but she was too tired to express them. She hurried out the door and into the hall.

  “This way.” Blunt grabbed her arm and tugged.

  Taylor didn’t care. She was getting out! They walked through a maze of hallways, the office doors closed and the building quiet. A moment later, they were in the wide lobby and she could see the glass front doors. The parking lot on the other side was dark and empty.

  She pulled on the thick sweater that had been tied around her waist and turned to the detective. “I need my phone.”

  He hesitated, then from his pocket, pulled out her phone pouch, which also contained her Bluetooth and car key. The detective held out the pouch, but didn’t let go. “This isn’t over, so expect to hear from us again.”

  She nodded, snatched her cell phone, and hurried out the front door. In the middle of the parking lot, she stopped and checked the time: 6:07 a.m. Now what? She had to call Jake and let him know, then start walking to the motel, which was closer than her car. The frigid air made her fingers stiff as she put in her earpiece and pressed the screen. Damn. This sweater wasn’t warm enough. After seven rings, her call went to voicemail and she left a message, sounding more frantic than she intended.

  Taylor walked to the sidewalk. Left or right? Her phone rang, and it was Jake. “Hey, I was sleeping. You must be out.”

  “I’m in front of the jail. The motel is south, right?”

  “Yes, but be careful. The assassin was at the clinic and came after me. I got away, but I suspect he’ll keep coming until he kills us both.”

  Good god. Her whole body stiffened, and she glanced around. A dark SUV sat across a side street, the only vehicle in sight. “Do you have my car? Can you come get me?” She started walking away from the dark vehicle, not wanting to pass by it, even though the motel was in the other direction.

  “I didn’t have the key, and I was afraid he was watching it. Look out for someone in dark clothes, a hooded jacket, and an androgynous face.”

  Was the killer one of them? “Stay on the phone with me, okay? I’m a little freaked out.”

  “Sorry to scare you. Just stick to the side streets. It’s only a mile or so.”

  On the corner, she hesitated. Should she go another block before she circled back?

  Sudden movement to her right. Taylor spun, but she was too late. Someone rushed her from behind a tree.

  She let out a yelp just before a hand with a rag pressed into her mouth. The strong medicinal smell gagged her. Poison! Her pulse raced with panic. Taylor dropped her phone pouch and grabbed the assailant’s wrist with both hands. But she’d lost her strength. She tried to scream, but the pressure on her mouth was too forceful. For a moment, she locked eyes with her attacker and saw no malice, only determination. So this was how she would die, in front of a police station, at the hands of someone who may have been delivered by the same doctor. Taylor’s brain clouded, and she could no longer think clearly. As her knees buckled, a strong arm wrapped around her. She was dying… but she wasn’t alone.

  Chapter 18

  Devin drove south, keeping her speed reasonable and her eye on the rearview mirror. Adrenaline still pumped in her veins. She’d just kidnapped someone five-hundred feet from a police station! Her boldest mission yet. Reckless, actually. But the major had called and said Lopez was being released. Devin didn’t ask how he knew. Her father had connections everywhere through the military structure, officers who did what they were told, with no direct knowledge of the major or his research. Or maybe Taylor’s monitor had reported it.

  Devin had been taking a sleep break in a nearby motel on the assumption that they wouldn’t release Lopez in the middle of the night. Foolish! After racing down to the police station, she’d taken a position and waited. Once she had eyes on her target, she’d moved in. Devin wouldn’t risk letting Lopez disappear into the night again.

  Devin checked the rearview mirror, but had no reason to believe anyone had witnessed the kidnapping or was looking for Lopez. Yet. By the
time anyone realized the little troublemaker was gone, she would be deep underground, and no one would ever find her.

  Devin turned off at the familiar sign for Fort Carson, showed her ID to the young soldier working the only open gate, and drove onto the base. She passed dark apartment buildings, recreation centers, and fast food restaurants. The base was its own small community of twenty-three thousand, and she’d grown up there, getting to know every numbered building and all the spaces in between. The hospital where her father had originally worked, and still commanded, was on a small rise at the back of the base. Cheyenne Mountain was behind her, towering over everything. The Rockies, the fresh air, and the dry beauty made Fort Carson the second most requested assignment for new recruits, after Fort Lewis in Washington.

  When she reached the T in the road at the hospital, she turned right and passed the golf course she’d never played on. Neither had her father. His research was too important to allow much free time, and when he did leave his office or lab, he preferred the shooting range or bear hunting with a bow in the Silver Peak wilderness. She’d started hunting and shooting with him at the age of five, firing a Luger handgun at a paper target and rarely missing the body outline. She’d killed her first bear at the age of eight. They never hunted deer or any other passive animal. It wasn’t sporting. Her father had treated her like a son, and all her paperwork indicated she was male. Correcting his assumption had never been an option. The major would have disowned her. Being male in the army was definitely an advantage anyway. Her female organs were on the inside, and so was her secret identity. She could live with that.

  After a few miles, Devin was no longer officially on the base, and the paved road narrowed and turned to gravel. The terrain rose in gentle hills with patches of green scrub—an open wilderness with no one in sight. Fifteen minutes later, she neared the familiar butte. Another five-hundred yards, and she would enter the security area for the Stratton Research Complex, where the military conducted long-term medical studies and carried out covert operations related to its discoveries. Buried partially in the side of the butte with more levels underground, the top-secret facility was known to fewer than fifty people. Her father had been selected for the program soon after its inception, and he’d recruited her when she’d officially enlisted in the army, even though she’d been training for years before that.

  A sliver of a pale moon reflected on the giant boulders lining the road, and the night was silent except for the hum of her engine. Feeling warm, Devin shut off the car heater. In the sudden quiet, she heard a scraping noise in the back of the vehicle. She slowed for the next curve and looked in the rearview mirror. Lopez was upright and next to the back car door. Shit! Devin slammed her brakes and reached for the master lock.

  Chapter 19

  Twenty minutes earlier

  Taylor opened her eyes, but blackness still enveloped her. Where was she? Why couldn’t she see anything? A gag cut into the corners of her mouth and her head ached. Slowly, her eyes began to focus and she realized she was in the back of a vehicle. A moving vehicle. Oh god, where were they taking her? Terror gripped her, and she almost vomited. She couldn’t let that happen or she would choke. The gag wouldn’t let her take deep breaths either. Her heart slammed in her chest and she willed it to slow down. Why was this happening? She’d expected to be killed, not kidnapped. Confinement—and torture or rape or whatever they had in mind—frightened her more than death.

  She rolled on her side to look around. Something dug into the front of her hip. Her little knife tool! Could she get to it? Her wrists were bound by plastic handcuffs this time, but her fingers were free. Still, her arms were awkwardly bound together, and she couldn’t get both hands into a front pocket. Using her fingertips on the outside of her jeans, she inched the tool upward toward the opening, then slipped it out. Getting the blade open was a struggle, but she finally managed. Now she felt almost more frustrated. Even if she could hack through the duct tape on her ankles—and that was doubtful—the vehicle was going thirty or forty miles an hour. It was also too dark to see what the terrain was like. If she jumped out, she would probably die or injure herself so badly she would wish she were dead.

  Still, she had to do something! If she could get her ankles free, she would wait until the car slowed, then make a run for it. She’d rather be shot in the back than face whatever they had in mind.

  Taylor brought her knees up to her chest and started cutting at the tape on her ankles. With little ability to apply pressure, she quickly grew frustrated and had to stop. But after a short break, she resumed, working until her hands ached and she had to rest again. A low voice from the front seat startled her. She glanced at the driver. Her abductor was talking softly to herself, unaware of the activity in the backseat.

  Taylor resumed cutting at the layers of tape on her ankles. When she finally broke through, she had to choke back a sob of relief. With her legs free, she could run! She needed her hands free too, but at least she was functional. Should she go now? The plastic handcuffs could take forever to cut through—if she could even get the little blade into position. She needed to sit up for more leverage but couldn’t take the risk. When she tried to maneuver the tool into a new position, she dropped it. Damn! Finding it with her fingertips on the dark floor of the backseat proved impossible.

  The car slowed for a curve, and her body rolled against the back of the seat. The deceleration gave her hope that she could make a leap and survive. She just had to get into position and anticipate the next opportunity.

  The driver had gone quiet again. Did that mean anything? Taylor tried to calculate her location. Considering her suspicion about the military’s involvement, it seemed likely she was somewhere on Fort Carson. No, the base wasn’t that far from Colorado Springs, and they were still traveling. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious. Maybe only ten or fifteen minutes. Her body processed sedative-type drugs very quickly. She’d learned that at an early age during painful dental appointments. When her tonsils had been removed as a teenager, she’d come awake during the surgery. But none of that mattered. She needed to get out now, wherever the hell she was.

  Taylor slowly sat up, planted her feet on the floor, and inched toward the door on her right. Leaping to the outside of the curve was risky, but it also gave her the best chance of getting away. With her shoulder hugged against the door, she grabbed the door latch as best she could with her bound hands and waited for the right moment.

  After a few minutes, she felt the car slow down. Her pulse accelerated, but her legs felt like lead. She couldn’t do this. It was too dangerous. Hitting the pavement would hurt a lot. Shut up and go! Taylor pulled on the door handle. Locked! She fumbled around for the mechanism and pressed it hard. The click was distinctly audible. Taylor glanced at the driver, who suddenly turned and stared at her with wide eyes.

  No!

  The car braked to a stop. Taylor leaned into the door to force it open and clambered out. On instinct, she turned back in the direction they’d come and ran along the road. With her hands bound, her movement was slow and awkward. She needed a place to hide before her abductor caught up. She scanned the terrain, but the near darkness was overwhelming.

  Footsteps pounded behind her, moving fast.

  Taylor tried to sprint, but without the use of her arms, it was pointless. She had to turn and fight and somehow overcome the assassin if she could. It was her only hope. She glanced down at the side of the road. There! A big rock, about ten feet ahead.

  The loud footsteps were right behind her now.

  Taylor scurried over, squatted, and grabbed it with both hands. The weight surprised her. She turned and lifted the rock, prepared to smash it down on the assassin’s head.

  Stinging pain suddenly burned into her chest and thigh. Oh god! A stun gun. Shock ripped through every nerve in her body, and she lost control of her muscles. The rock crashed to the ground as she sunk to her knees.

  The assailant squatted next to her and grinned. �
��I like your spunk.” Then she smashed a fist into her face.

  Chapter 20

  An hour earlier

  Jake heard a thump, then the phone went quiet. “Taylor? What’s happening?” More silence, except for the sound of footsteps moving away. Oh shit! The assassin had found Taylor! Jake jumped to his feet, still in his briefs. He was too far away to be any help. Panicked, he called 911.

  “What’s your emergency?” A male voice and not very pleasant.

  “My friend is being assaulted and needs help. She’s right in front of the police station.”

  “Is this your idea of a joke?”

  What? “No! She called me because she was scared. I heard her make a startled noise, then drop the phone.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Nothing. I heard faint footsteps walking away.” Taylor was probably dead, lying there on the sidewalk bleeding, like Zion had been. Jake’s throat closed up.

  “Which police station?”

  “The main one on Nevada Avenue. Will you get a cop out there please?”

  “I’m calling it in now. Stay on the line.”

  Why was that important? Jake put the phone on speaker and started getting dressed. He had to go out and see what was happening. It was stupid and dangerous, but he had to do it anyway. Taylor might still be alive, and he was only a mile or so away.

  What if he got arrested? He hesitated for a moment, then pulled on his tattered athletic shoes. He would be careful. Sitting here just wasn’t an option.

  “Sir, are you there?”

  “Yes. What’s going on?”

  “An officer at the department says there’s no criminal activity out front. Are you sure about the location? Could it have been the station on Center Park?”

  “Maybe. Did you alert them too?”

  “I will.”

  The dispatcher should have done that already. Jake ended the call. He pulled on his jacket, grabbed the room key, and headed out. He would stick to side streets and keep a watchful eye for the killer. On the sidewalk, he changed his mind and sprinted down Nevada Avenue. He didn’t have time to waste. The thought that Taylor might die in an alley or a dumpster because he’d been afraid for himself…