Page 93 of Manner of Death

“Have you had any more luck with her?” Nan asked.

Yang shook his head. “She’s clammed up. Her attorney is in there with her, and even he advised her to talk, but she won’t until Dr. Ramin is present.” His eyes flicked to Bashir. “I appreciate you coming down.”

Bashir nodded. “I’m happy to help.” He also wanted to get eyes on Tami just to make sure she was okay. Something told him that whatever was going on, she’d gotten in way over her head. Or maybe he was just gaslighting himself into believing she wasn’t capable of being part of a serial killer’s plans. Because for every murderer out there who creeped people out and gave them all a gut feeling that something was wrong, there really was another who was “so quiet” and “never seemed like someone who could do such a thing.”

“What do you need from me?” he asked the detective.

“Right now?” Yang gestured at the door. “Just come in and let’s see if she talks.”

Bashir nodded again. “All right. Let’s do this.”

Yang stepped into the interview room. Bashir glanced at Sawyer, who gave his hand an encouraging squeeze, and then he followed the detective.

The room was empty except for some chairs and a table with a tape recorder on it. Tami sat in a plastic chair against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. There were heavy circles under her eyes, and she was alarmingly pale even to someone who was used to the sight of corpses.

She gave Yang a bland glance, but then her eyes landed on Bashir, and she jumped to her feet. “Oh, thank God!” She crossed the room in an instant and, before he could warn her not to, threw her arms around him, nearly bowling him over.

Bashir grunted, “Fuck!” as his vision went blurry. He staggered back a step, and for a split second, he was afraid he was about to crash into the wall, broken ribs first.

A strong hand on his shoulder steadied him. “Whoa, easy,” Sawyer said.

Tami jerked back with a yelp. “Oh my God. Are you okay?” She looked him up and down. “Are you hurt?”

Bashir wanted to feed her the same bullshit he fed everyone else—that he was good—but he was still trying to remember how to breathe with that knife in his back. Fuuuck broken ribs.

“He’ll be okay,” Sawyer said, still holding Bashir’s shoulder. “It was a, um, eventful morning.”

Bashir wheezed a laugh. “Understatement.”

Tami’s eyes got even bigger. “But… you’re okay?” Her hands went to her lips. “Andy did this, didn’t he? It was him.”

Bashir wasn’t sure if he should volunteer any information under the circumstances, so he just leaned against Sawyer and let his obvious pain shield him from any obligation to answer. As much as everything hurt, Sawyer’s arm felt nice around his shoulders. Best thing he’d felt all day aside from the relief that Boyce was neutralized and Sawyer was still alive.

Eventful morning indeed.

“Ms. Glen,” Detective Yang said. “If you could have a seat, we still have some questions for you.” He tipped his head toward Bashir. “Now that Dr. Ramin is here as you requested.”

Tami turned uneasy eyes on Bashir.

He gave her a nod.

Someone found some extra chairs, and at Sawyer’s insistence, Bashir took the soft one with the most back support. It even had one of those ring-shaped back rests, which conveniently kept all the pressure off his bitchy ribs.

Sawyer pulled up another chair and stayed conspicuously close to Bashir. They weren’t hiding their relationship. Not now. Bashir was grateful for the hand gripping his, and he had to wonder if Sawyer was also seeking reassurance that they were both okay.

We’re fine. We made it through. We’ll be all right.

It repeated like a mantra through Bashir’s head while Detective Yang updated Nan and Sawyer on what little Tami had said. She’d refused to give up much at this point, only indicating that she was absolutely sure Dr. Boyce was behind the murders, and that she had proof.

Detective Yang leaned against the wall opposite Tami and gazed down at her, arms crossed over his button-up white shirt. “Ms. Glen, what can you tell us about Dr. Boyce’s involvement in these murders?”

Tami chewed her lip. She glanced at Bashir, and for a moment, he thought she might not show any cards after all.

But then she started talking.

And she held nothing back.

After a deep breath, she stared down at her wringing hands and began, “Andy hated that Bashir was his supervisor. The thing is, he always regretted that he never pursued being a forensic pathologist. He was burnt out on school at that point, and… Anyway.” She ran a shaky hand through her hair. “When he started here, he was working for the old M.E. Dr. Hanley. And he was okay with that because Dr. Hanley was like seventy.” She flicked her eyes toward Bashir again before refocusing on her hands. “After Dr. Hanley retired, Bashir started, and Andy was… He just wanted the M.E. position and couldn’t handle a younger doctor being in charge. And not only being charge, but being an expert who everyone in the county—in the state, honestly—came to for the toughest cases, you know?”