Status Updates From Offer (Burke, #6)

I chased dead trails. Followed a rumor about a safe house for pedophile priests. Where they take them for therapy until the heat's off And put them right back in another parish, never saying a word to the congregation. If there's a devil, he's laughing at this new way to recycle garbage. And if there's a God, somebody should sue him for malpractice.

I'd like to own a trotter someday. They don't cost that much, and I've scored heavy enough to pull it off more than once. But you can't own a horse if you've got a felony record, so that lets me out. I could open a day–care center, though.

There's others like me. Children of the Secret. Raised by so many different humans. Those who ignored us, those who tortured us. No place to run, so survival becomes all. For us, a religion. Nourished on lies so that we alone know the truth. An army of us. You can't see us, but we find each other. Like a special breed of damaged dog, responding only to the silent whistle.

Bottom line, baby: they won't do it! Too high a risk, they said. I'm all a mess inside. God, like I needed some fool in a white coat to tell me that. So here's my choices. I can come back, like I am. Keep taking the hormones. Even get psychotherapy if I want it. Above the table. That's one thing they gave me, I'm official now, the diagnosis is on paper. Pre–op transsexual. MAJOR SUBTEXT OF THE SERIES