His good eye opened. Recognition flickered. Then relief. Then wariness. Emotions cycling through in quick succession.
"Detective C." His voice was rough. Damaged. "You came."
I moved to his bedside. All pretense abandoned. "Of course I came. What happened to you?"
From the doorway, I felt Hawley observing this version of me he'd never seen before. The real one. No performance. No deflection. I didn't look back at him. Couldn't. In that moment, Daniel was all that mattered.
Daniel and the debt I still owed him.
A nurse hovered nearby, adjusting his IV with practiced efficiency.
"We need privacy." My tone carrying authority I rarely used at 51. Not Carlson the charmer. Not the Service's former goldenboy. Something older and harder. A version of myself I'd packed away with my 52 Division badge.
The nurse hesitated. "Sir, the patient needs..."
"Five minutes. Please."
She studied us. Read something in my expression. Then nodded reluctantly. "Five minutes. I'll be right outside."
As the door clicked shut, I turned back to Daniel. "Hey, kid. You look like shit."
Daniel's split lip curved into a painful approximation of amusement. "They said you'd been transferred. Didn't say it was to hell."
I huffed despite myself. "51's not so bad once you get used to the leaky ceilings and casual hostility."
"Still wearing those fancy shirts, though." His good eye flicked to my collar. "Some things never change."
I was acutely aware of Hawley watching from the doorway. Silent. Observant. Cataloging. This wasn't the Ryan Carlson he knew. The one who deflected with jokes and charm. Who kept everyone at arm's length with carefully calculated grins.
This was someone else entirely.
I wasn't sure which version he preferred.
"What happened?" I kept my voice low. Gentle.
Daniel's face darkened. "What do you think happened? I got made as a snitch." He shifted, wincing. "After your case went sideways, I tried to disappear. Changed my number. Moved apartments. The whole thing. Thought I was being careful."
The monitor beeped steadily beside the bed. Each beat of his heart felt like an accusation.
"Three guys caught me coming home two nights ago. Professional job." Daniel's fingers twisted in the thin hospital blanket. "They weren't there to kill me. Just send a message."
My stomach dropped. "What kind of message?"
"They said..." He swallowed hard. "They said to thank 'the detective sergeant' for the referral."
The words landed like ice water down my spine. "They mentioned me specifically?"
"Not by name. But yeah, they knew who I worked for." Daniel met my gaze. His good eye sharp despite the pain medication. "They wanted me to know this wasn't random."
The guilt hit me like a punch to the already-bruised ribs. I'd promised to protect him. Instead, my failure had painted a target on his back. It had stayed there for months. Waiting for the right moment to fire.
I ran a hand over my face. Momentarily forgetting Hawley's presence. Forgetting everything except the raw, gnawing shame.
"I'm sorry, Daniel. This is on me. I should have..."
"Don't." Daniel cut me off. "We both knew the risks."
I leaned forward. Elbows on my knees. Close enough that my voice wouldn't carry. "Did you recognize any of them? Anything that might help us identify them?"
