Page 53 of Manner of Death

Speak of the devil! “Hey,” Sawyer said, smiling wide enough that Bashir surely had to be able to hear it. “I was just thinking about you. What’s up?”

“Sawyer…”

Oh. Shit. That wasn’t a good tone of voice, not the “I’m on break and wanted to call” sound he’d been hoping for. “What is it?” It had to be another murder—but if it was a murder, why didn’t he know first?

“I got a call an hour ago about a suicide in Bellfield Park.” That was one of the city’s larger open space areas. “I didn’t realize until I got here that…” He took a deep breath. “I wanted to be the one to tell you, and I wish it could be in person, but Sawyer… The person who died—it’s Detective McKay.”

Everything went fuzzy for a minute. Sawyer wasn’t aware he’d stopped breathing until he almost dropped the phone; then he had to fumble to keep a grip on it.

“—yer? Are you still there?”

“Yes.” He was, he was present, he was…he could do this. “I’m…yes. Are you sure it’s him?”

“He had his wallet and badge on him.”

“Yeah, but are you sure it’s him?” Sawyer persisted. “Someone could have taken his identification, someone could have—”

“His features are still intact,” Bashir said with the sort of gentleness reserved for grieving friends and family members. “I know him, Sawyer. It’s Kurt.”

Oh my God.

“Have you…” Sawyer cleared his throat. “Have you called Molly?”

“I don’t have her number, but even if I did I wouldn’t feel comfortable stepping in like that when you’re involved.”

That made sense. “And…and you’re sure it’s a suicide?”

Bashir hummed. “At first glance, that’s how it looks. But I’ve learned better than to trust appearances, especially recently. I think you should come and see things for yourself before I move him. You might see something I don’t.”

Sawyer swallowed. “Where is he?”

“The east side of the park, about a hundred feet off the loop trail. You can see the cemetery from here.”

Of course he could. Shit. “I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Sawyer said.

“All right. I’m so sorry,” Bashir said, and despite how much of a bastard Kurt had been about him, Sawyer could tell that Bashir meant it. He wished he could appreciate that more right now.

“Thank you,” he said mechanically, then hung up. He stood, turned, and walked on rote back into the precinct. Jacket…badge…gun…

“Hey, finally!”

Sawyer glanced behind himself to see Nan standing in the hallway, hands on her hips. “That took forever,” she complained, then frowned. “Wait. Did you even get the coffee, or—”

“Kurt’s dead.”

Nan went silent, one hand rising to her mouth.

“I have to go,” Sawyer said. “Bashir’s at the scene. He thinks it might be a suicide. Or… not. I need to see it.” Everything was still fuzzy enough that Sawyer didn’t really feel the impact of what he was saying. “I’ll handle contacting Molly.”

Nan made to grab her purse. “I’ll come with you.”

“No.” Nan was a good partner and a better detective, but if it was a suicide—and the odds were regrettably good that it was, given how insane Kurt had been acting lately—then she didn’t need to be there. “Stay and work on the podcast.”

She folded her arms. “You want me to hang around here listening to that drivel while you handle one of the toughest moments of your career? Sawyer, come on.”

“Nan.” The fuzziness was beginning to clear, the sharp edges of reality nipping at his brain. He wasn’t going to be able to get through this if he didn’t stay numb, and he’d never manage that if Nan came with him. “Please. Let me do this.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “All right. But…” She came over to him and gave him a firm hug, managing to avoid his bruises. His skin crawled with awareness where she touched him, but he squeezed back. She needed this, he realized. She’d known Kurt a lot longer than he had, and if this helped her, then it was…fine. It was fine, but he needed to go before she stripped away his defenses.