Shinichi found himself entering detective mode more and more. It was easier this way. He wanted to detach himself completely, treat Heiji like any other victim, but he knew he couldn’t. This was too close to home. Seeing Heiji like this was incredibly painful. It clouded his judgment, made him less objective. He had to remove himself, if only just a little.

He would help Heiji find Sen’s killer. He owed his friend that much.

The detective looked at the bandages, nodding. Heiji was lucky to be alive, and the other boy knew it. He was still obviously in shock, and the drugs probably weren’t helping any. They needed to keep taking this slow. That was okay. They had all the time in the world as far as Shinichi was concerned, nurses be damned.

“Hattori, the man who attacked you. Can you remember what he looks like? Do you think he’s one of the patients?”