Page 22 of Manner of Death

There’s a great Thai place downtown. You have time for dinner?

Tonight? That was even faster than Sawyer had hoped for. Despite both of them being knee deep in a murder investigation—something that demanded round-the-clock attention until the killer was caught—they were at a serendipitous lull. Bashir was waiting on results from tox screens and other tests. Sawyer had Nan and several officers chasing down some incredibly flimsy leads. There were wheels turning and people making things happen, which meant Sawyer (and apparently Bashir) could slip away to grab a meal, however brief. It would be good for clearing both of their heads anyway. Unless some new information dropped out of the sky in the next hour or so, he could get away with escaping to eat. He just had to wrap up the paperwork for the day…and talk to Kurt. The thought of that was almost enough to derail his enthusiasm, but he wrestled it back into the forefront of his mind.

For you? Absolutely.

It took another minute to get a reply, just a smiley face and the address of the restaurant. Sawyer grinned. If there was anything that could make today less than a trainwreck, it was a date with Bashir, even if it was a brief dinner that was as likely as not to be interrupted.

He put his phone away and headed back inside to his desk, only to find that Kurt was gone. Nan was still there, though, flipping through a file. She looked up as Sawyer got close. “Kurt’s gone home for the rest of the day.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“He’ll be back tomorrow, though.” She shook her head. “Never mind that he’s going to be next to useless while he comes to terms with things. You know I’ve been riding a desk for a while now, but if you need backup and Kurt is having issues, you call me, all right? It’s not okay for him to leave you hanging, but if we get the brass involved they might just fire him this time.” It went without saying that that would destroy any remnant of stability in the guy’s life.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Sawyer said, “but I appreciate the offer.”

“I expect you to take me up on it.” She closed the file and pointed it at him. “Got it?”

There was no way he was going to be pulling Nan into the field when she had four kids to tuck into bed every night, but he knew that wasn’t the answer she wanted. “Got it,” he said, projecting earnestness.

“Good.” She smiled at him. “Say hi to Dr. Ramin for me when you see him. Or don’t, if you don’t want to bring work into your date.”

Oh, hell yeah. He had a date tonight. “Thanks.”

You probably have once chance to impress him.

Don’t mess it up.

Chapter 7

All things considered, Bashir’s day had been quiet. By the time he was ducking out to meet Sawyer for dinner, he’d done all he could with his two exceptional cases. He’d also completed a routine autopsy on a seemingly healthy middle-aged man who’d dropped dead at the gym. It hadn’t revealed anything suspicious or worrisome; though Bashir had spent the entire procedure certain he was going to find some obscure poison, bizarre parasite, or impossible but lethal wound. What could he say? The cases of Upworth and White had him on a hair trigger for What the fuck?

In the end, the autopsy’s revelation was neither unusual nor shocking—a massive heart attack brought on by severe atherosclerosis. In fact, the coronary arteries had so much plaque, the only real surprise was that the man had lived as long as he had. Bashir had triple-checked everything, certain he’d missed something, but no—he was just jumpy after two bizarre cases had landed in his lap with deceptively obvious causes of death masking the far stranger realities.

Bashir wrote up his report since he had time to do them himself instead of handing them off. Then he signed the necessary forms and made an appointment for next week to get his own cholesterol checked.

Now the day was over, there was nothing left to be done, and Bashir couldn’t help being suspicious.

“There has to be something else.” He looked around the morgue from his office door. “Are we sure there’s no one else waiting to be autopsied?”

Tami laughed softly, pulling her own office door shut behind her. “Even if they did, you’re not doing them until tomorrow anyway.”

There was that. Autopsies were done first thing in the morning. Always. If someone came in at three in the afternoon, they stayed in the cooler until ten the next day. That was how every morgue Bashir had ever worked in operated, and it was the schedule he’d lived and breathed for his entire career.

Everything just felt… off the rails lately. Upworth and White had thrown him for a loop.

And admittedly, so had Detective Villeray. Who he was meeting tonight. For dinner.

For a date.

Was that why he was so twitchy about leaving? Not because he was afraid he was neglecting something in the morgue, but because he was having second thoughts about tonight?

Both. Probably both.

But there really was no reason for him to stay late, and he was curious about how an evening with the persistent and… okay, fine, incredibly attractive Villeray would go. Plus this would probably be their one and only opportunity for a while. Murder investigations were harsh mistresses, and they’d both be eating takeout at their desks more often than not until the cases were solved.

Which… if things went south with Villeray, then at least he’d be too busy to ask Bashir for another date for the foreseeable, so Bashir wouldn’t have to figure out a tactful way to reject him.

He locked his office door. “I’m heading out. I have plans for once.”