Page 78 of Manner of Death

“Sawyer.”

That shut him up, and he stared up at Bashir, his battered face full of fear and worry.

Bashir swallowed. “The important thing right now is that you’re okay. Everything else—”

“But I accused your assistant of—”

“The evidence accused her.” Bashir’s voice came out full of resignation. He’d been angry with Sawyer, and he hadn’t wanted to let go of that anger, but as he’d spoken the words, that anger died away. Sawyer’s job was to follow the evidence. That evidence had pointed straight to Tami.

With a sigh, Bashir pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down. “The evidence accused her,” he repeated, “not you. And I… I know you were doing your job.”

“But I still…” Sawyer trailed off, and Bashir couldn’t tell if the pain in his expression was physical, emotional, or a miserable mix of both. “I shouldn’t have used you to leverage her.”

Bashir winced, some of that anger flaring up again. “Did you, though?”

“I…” Sawyer gazed up at the ceiling. “I had to push her. And at that time, all we really knew was the evidence said it was someone with access to the morgue. We…” He looked at Bashir again, eyes pleading with him to understand. “I have to use whatever angle I have. Find a vulnerability and exploit it. I’m not asking you to like it. I’m just asking you to understand that my only goal in that interview was to find and stop whoever’s killing these people.”

Bashir stared down at his own wringing hands. He wanted so, so badly to insist the end didn’t justify the means and that he was still pissed at Sawyer over it. On some level, he was still pissed. But he had the same motive Sawyer did—people were dying, and the two of them needed to do everything they could to find the killer before more people died. Sometimes that meant saying and doing things they didn’t like. Especially in Sawyer’s position.

That wasn’t to say Bashir would’ve let truly shady or dirty shit slide. He would never have forgiven Sawyer for bullying or threatening Tami into giving a fake confession, which more cops did than people realized. There was a fine line between that and cornering someone into giving up information. It wasn’t something Bashir could’ve done. It was one of many reasons he gave cops a wide berth in his personal life.

But he just couldn’t spin what happened with Tami into anything other than Sawyer wanting the truth. When Tami hadn’t given him the truth he was looking for—the truth it turned out she didn’t have—he’d gone digging elsewhere.

And now… here he was.

Bashir moistened his lips and met Sawyer’s pained gaze. “I get it. I… In your shoes, I honestly don’t know if I would’ve done anything different.”

Sawyer watched him silently. The question in his eyes was impossible to miss: You understand why I did it, but is that enough for us to go back?

Exhaling, Bashir took Sawyer’s hand, making sure to avoid the IV. As they laced their fingers together, Sawyer also released his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You were doing your job.”

“Still.”

Bashir nodded. “I know.” He watched his thumb running alongside Sawyer’s hand. “What did you find on Boyce?”

Sawyer shifted again, which of course made him wince. “Not a whole lot, honestly, apart from the fact that someone tried to kill me.”

Bashir thought about what Walker had told him. “When you went off the bridge—was that deliberate? Or did you lose control?”

Without looking at him, Sawyer murmured, “Deliberate.”

“Why?”

“Because he’d rammed my car a few times, and I didn’t know what he’d do if I gave him the opportunity to do it again.” Sawyer’s right shoulder lifted in the ghost of a shrug. “Figured I’d take my chances with the river.”

Bashir couldn’t help it—he laughed. “You do realize how bugfuck insane that sounds, right?”

“Yeah. But let’s see you make rational, calculated decisions when someone’s roped you into a high speed game of bumper cars against your will.”

Bashir cocked a brow. “They’re giving you some good drugs, aren’t they?”

“Eh. Not really.” He scowled up at the bag of fluid hanging over him. “Pretty sure that’s just… goldfish water or something.”

“‘Goldfish water’?” Bashir gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I think there’s more drugs in there than you think.”