Lewis laughed, a harsh sound that he cut off quickly. “No, not hardly. But, in time, he grew on me. They all did.” He shrugged. “Of course, I didn’t see them all that much, but . . . yeah.” He paused and broke off a piece of the biscuit Jenny had set in front of him. “I’ve never asked you this before, but . . . you’ve never married or had children. Do you regret it?”
Marshall raised a brow and blew out a slow breath. “I’ve been so focused on my life’s work that I haven’t had time to think about marriage or kids.” He stopped, then shook his head. “No, I don’t regret it. At least not right now.”
“You’re doing good stuff.”
His friend smiled. “That’s the idea anyway.”
Lewis rubbed his eyes. “I should have done more,” he said, his voice soft, “for Dustin.”
“What more could you have done?” Marshall set his spoon on the table and lifted his cup to take a sip.
“I don’t know what, but just . . . more. Something. Anything. I knew he was having issues. I knew he was in trouble and fighting to keep his sanity. I knew about the panic attacks, nightmares, and that he was an alcoholic. I just didn’t know he was so close to the edge.” He rubbed his eyes again. “How could I not know?”
“You did everything you could, my friend.”
“I should have stepped in and gotten him out earlier or delayed his release. Something.” He had no idea what would have been the right thing to do. “But I didn’t. And now look where we are.”
The waitress arrived with refills for their drinks and Marshall waited until she left to raise a brow in Denning’s direction. “So, that’s why you tanked Rochelle’s Army career.”
Again, his daughter’s enraged face flashed to the forefront of his mind. She wasn’t going to forgive him very easily or quickly. But she would. Eventually. Hopefully.
“I might not have wanted them to start with,” he said, “but I can’t lose another child, Marshall. I can’t.”
His friend eyed him, his gaze sad. “There’s more than one way to lose a child.”
Rays of sunlight filtering through Caden’s guest bedroom window woke Sarah, and she wished she’d told him to make sure they were shut after he’d taken her tray of food last night. Then it occurred to her. She’d actually slept without a nightmare interrupting her rest. Hope sprouted that she was well on the way to recovery—both mentally and physically. She grimaced. Probably more so physically than mentally. Just because she had a few hours of sleep nightmare-free didn’t mean they were gone forever.
But hopefully, her fever was. She’d had a slight relapse at the hospital—a fever spike and a couple more days in and out of awareness until Caden had finally been able to bring her home with him. She stayed in the bed for three days, except for the debrief that finally happened yesterday afternoon, short walks to the bathroom, and the occasional nap on Caden’s deck off the sunroom.
Yesterday, she noticed a big improvement in her energy level, and today, for the first time since getting her stitches out, she’d sat up without the piercing pain in her side.
It was down to a dull throb to match the one in her head. She refused to take the stronger medication tempting her with more oblivion. And the only reason she’d conceded to take that was because Caden promised her he’d be there while she slept. True to his word, every time she awakened screaming, he was there to help chase the nightmares away. Now that her mind was clearing, questions were surfacing. Questions that she’d had to put on hold while she healed.
Whatever had happened to Brianne? What had Dr. Kilgore and the other man meant by their conversation? Had they actually been talking about Brianne or someone else entirely? Who was the other man?
She still wasn’t completely sure and had, during her more lucid moments, bugged Caden to find out about Brianne. This morning she’d learned he’d come up empty.
Had she simply dreamed all of that in her fever-induced state? Dreamed that, along with the nightmares of her kidnapping and Fatima’s shooting and Dustin’s suicide?
She had a brief flash of the hysterical woman in the room next to hers. Weeping, pulling against her restraints so hard her wrists had bled.
No. Those screams echoed, reverberating in her head. The woman had been real, all right. As real as Dustin.
Before the grief could once more consume her, Sarah shoved thoughts of her brother away while taking a physical inventory of her injuries. Her shoulder was sore, but the graze had scabbed over and the itch was more annoying than painful. Her side was healing. Her emotions had a ways to go.
“You’re awake,” Caden said.
She turned to see him standing in the doorway. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
He raised a brow. “And grumpy. This is the thanks I get for taking you in? I don’t share my guest room with just anyone, you know.”
Sarah grimaced, then swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “Thanks for letting me stay here and for taking care of me.” She rubbed her eyes. “I guess I need to move home at some point.”
“In spite of your grumpiness, I’m not in a hurry for you to leave, but we could go by there and grab some clothes and whatever else you need if you want. Although, I can’t think of what that might be. I got your suitcase full of stuff you had with you overseas, so I think you’re good for a while.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. Clothes were really the last thing on her priority list. And, truthfully, so was going home. “Please tell me I’ve just been trapped in a really bad nightmare.”
“I wish I could.”
The huskiness in his voice seared her and grief slammed her all over again. “Why’d he do it, Cade? Why would he kill himself?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense to me either.”
She swiped a stray tear. “Why do you say that?”
“I picked him up from the hospital the day he was released and took him home.” Caden walked over to sit in the chair next to the bed. “He was upbeat and happy. Said he felt like the sessions at the hospital had really helped and the drug protocol was working. He’d also been sober for three months and was working out, getting in shape.” Caden shrugged. “He said everything was looking brighter and he had hope that the future held good things. Less than forty-eight hours later, he’s dead? I don’t get it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Tell the general?”
“Dustin told me to keep my mouth shut. He wanted it to be a surprise.”
Sarah huffed a harsh laugh. “Well, guess what? I was definitely surprised.”
“Stop, Sarah. He wanted everyone to see how good he’d done for himself. That he was doing better and getting his life together.”
“So he was lying? Putting on a good show for you and the doctors in order to get released on time?”
“The thought occurred to me, but I don’t think so.”
“Then he was bipolar and you caught him in the manic stage?”
Caden blew out a low breath. “Maybe.” A guilty look flashed across his face. “But I don’t think that was it either.”
“For an FBI agent, you have the most expressive face. What are you hiding? Come on, spill it.”
Caden rubbed a hand down his chin. “I looked at his medical records.”
She raised a brow. “How’d you manage to do that?”
“I was suspicious after I saw him so . . . up. I tracked down his psychiatrist—Melissa McCandless. Told her about the whole thing, and she said while she couldn’t talk about Dustin’s medical information without permission from Dustin, she seemed to think Dustin had turned a corner and was expecting great things.”
“But how’d you see his medical records?”
He flushed.
“Caden . . . ?”
“I . . . uh . . . sort of sweet-talked a nurse into finding me some creamer for the cup of coffee she’d offered. She might have left her laptop open and I might have happened to see her type in the password, so . . .” He shrugged.
And with his unique ability to remembe
r just about anything he saw or heard, he hadn’t had any trouble retaining the password. He could probably still tell her what it was. Caden didn’t often use his good looks and charm to do something like that, so he must have been feeling pretty desperate. She let it go without teasing him, not in the mood to bother. “Then . . .” She lifted a hand in confusion. “I don’t understand. What happened?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s all I’ve been able to think about in between making sure you weren’t going to die. I went to see Dustin once more after that—a couple of days after he was released—and he was still doing great. With the help of one of the counselors at the center, he had a job lined up and a place to live. He said getting out of the Army was the best decision he’d made in a long time. He seemed happy, Sarah. Really happy about everything.”
She frowned. “Then you missed something.”
He stood and slammed a fist onto the desk behind him.
“Cade!”
He whirled back to face her. “Don’t you think I’ve thought of that? I keep going over it and over it in my head, wondering what I missed. How could I not pick up on that he was so depressed he was thinking of killing himself? How?” Tears stood in his eyes.
“No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not your fault.” She pressed a hand against her side, keeping the pain from her expression. If Cade thought she was hurting, he’d change the subject.
“But that’s just it,” he said. “How can it not be my fault? As far as anyone knows, other than the hospital staff, I was the last one to see him alive.”
Sarah closed her eyes. “It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault. I’m not even sure it’s the general’s fault, but I’m okay with blaming him.” She swallowed hard and opened her eyes. “Only I can’t. As much as I hate to say it, this is Dustin’s fault. He’s the one who made the choice.”
Caden pressed his fingers to his eyes, then sat down next to her. “Yeah, but what did we miss?”
“We could do this all day, making ourselves crazy, trying to find a place to put the blame. I, for one, would prefer to look for answers.”
His gaze sharpened. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I want to talk to the people who were treating him, the people at the rehab center where he was getting help for his alcohol addiction, the nurses and doctors that worked with him on a daily basis, the counselor who helped him get the job and apartment. Everyone.”
“Sarah—”
“No. Someone missed something—not you, not me—but the professionals who’re trained to work with people like Dustin. They missed something.” She paused and looked away. “Have you searched his home yet?”
Caden grimaced. “No. The general told me to take care of it, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to go over there yet—or found the time, what with nursing my sister back to health.”
“The general,” she muttered. “I don’t want to hear about him.”
“He asks about you every day.”
“He can ask all he wants, he’d just better not show his face in my presence.”
He blinked. “Sarah, that’s not like you.”
She flinched and memories better left buried flooded back. Caden must have read every one of them. He gripped her fingers. “That was a long time ago, Sarah. You’re not that rebellious high schooler anymore. You’ve moved on from that.”
“I thought I had,” she whispered. “But old feelings are being fueled. Old behaviors are wanting to rear their ugly heads. How could he do this to me?”
“Do what? I know you two have your differences, but you’re on a whole other level right now. It’s almost like you hate him.”
Hate? That was a pretty strong word. And emotion. Did she hate her father? Not sure she wanted to explore that question, she waved a hand. “Sit back and let me fill you in, because I’m going to need your support if this goes to court.”
By the time she finished, Caden’s face had paled. Fury and pain flashed in his eyes and he shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
“I’ve used that word a time or two.”
“Wow. I can see why you’re so upset.” He paused. Looked at his hands, then back at her. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but he really does want the best for you. He just doesn’t go about it the right way.”
Sarah bit her lip on the retort she wanted to fling and simply said, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s go back to the topic of Dustin’s place. I want to go with you. Promise me you’ll wait until I can go.”
“Sarah . . .” He sighed. “Yeah, sure. We’ll do it together.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “What if his death wasn’t a suicide?”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged and met his gaze once more. “From all you say, it doesn’t sound like he was depressed. You looked at his records and there’s nothing about bipolar or any other mental illness in there. So . . .”
“So?”
“So, what if someone killed him and set it up to look like a suicide?”
“But . . . why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he was involved in something he shouldn’t have been? Who knows?”
“Don’t hate me for saying this, but I think—sometimes—you look for a story where none exists.”
“You just said you don’t understand it, that Dustin seemed happy and upbeat and—”
“And there’s security footage of him jumping, Sarah. No one pushed him. He walked to the edge of the roof . . . and jumped. It was suicide.”
She rubbed her eyes. “Then—”
The doorbell rang and Caden jumped like he’d been shot. “Good grief. Let me see who that is.”
“Sure.”
Caden left and Sarah dropped her head back onto the pillow. She didn’t know why she’d thrown out the possibility that Dustin hadn’t committed suicide. It had just popped into her head, but Caden’s description of his last time with Dustin didn’t sound like the personality of someone who was planning to jump off the roof of a hospital.
Voices from the foyer reached her and she thought she recognized Gavin’s. And just like that, her pulse skittered into overdrive. Why did he have that silly effect on her?
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and waited for the room to stop rocking. When she finally felt steady, she started to rise, then noticed the end table for the first time. Really noticed it. It looked like a pharmacy. She opened the top drawer and swept the medications and bandage material into it.
She’d only taken the pain pills at night in order to sleep, unwilling to chance becoming dependent on them. Now, she was done with them. Especially if they made her so loopy she couldn’t distinguish a dream from reality. And if Gavin decided to walk down and pay her a visit, she sure didn’t want him seeing them.
Why it mattered, she couldn’t say. It just did.
Gavin followed Caden into the den and took a seat on the couch. “How’s she doing?” He finally asked the question that had been burning a hole in his brain since he’d followed her and Caden home from the hospital three days ago.
“She’s healing. And she’s struggling,” Caden said.
“With?”
“A lot of things. We had a long chat and she told me what our father did.” He shook his head. “He really got her discharged on ODPMC? Saying the PTSD makes her a danger to herself and possibly to others?”
Gavin nodded. “Yeah, she wasn’t too happy about that.”
“That’s an understatement. She’s mad as fire and plans to fight him—even said something about suing him and the diagnosing psychiatrist.”
“Suing?”
“Libel. HIPAA violations, malpractice. She’s still thinking.” He paused. “I wouldn’t say this in front of her, but I understand my father’s actions on a certain level. He’s a dictator for sure, but what Sarah doesn’t understand is that he really loves her and I know he just wants to keep her safe.” Gavin narrowed his eyes and Caden held up a hand. �
�However, I’ll be the first to admit that wasn’t his call to make. If she finds out he’s hired you to be security for her, she’ll send you packing.”
“I know.” Gavin sat forward with his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees. “But I’m surprised you know. The general said he wasn’t going to tell you about any of it.”
Caden let out a laugh that sounded more like a snort. “I’m surprised he thought he could keep it from me. He finally confided in me three days ago when I questioned the security around my home and at Dustin’s funeral. He muttered something about incompetents and fessed up.” Caden shook his head. “He’s been getting threats for his stance on the war in the Middle East and the attack he ordered on a terrorist. The man’s wife, three young children, parents, brother, and two sisters were hit. It was thought it had taken him out as well, but . . . apparently, it didn’t.”
“And he’s vowed revenge.”
“Exactly.”
“I know this terrorist,” Gavin said. “Know him better than I’d like to admit.”
Caden studied him with sudden realization. “You were a part of the strike.”
“I was.” He’d been so much more than that, but he’d let that explanation suffice for now.
A short huff escaped Caden. “The general didn’t tell me that part, but it explains why he wants you as security for Sarah. You know the man and how he works.”
“I do.” Boy, did he ever.
Caden raked a hand over his head. “Sarah wonders if someone got to Dustin. I wonder what the general thinks.”
Gavin nodded. “When I talked to him, he was certain it was suicide.”
“I know. It was. I watched the security footage. He just walked over to the edge and jumped. Didn’t even hesitate like he was having second thoughts.” He swallowed for a moment and closed his eyes. When he opened them, the raw grief sliced at Gavin’s heart. “But . . .” Caden sighed. “I told the general about Dustin’s mood and everything he’d accomplished during his stay in the hospital. He was doing so well. The general finally confessed to the threats. He also admitted that while he knows what the security footage shows, he keeps wondering if the two—the threats and Dustin’s death—are somehow related. That Dustin was set up or there’s something missing from the security footage and Dustin didn’t really jump. Or . . . something. Then he shakes his head and decides that’s impossible.” Caden threw up his hands. “I don’t know. Sounds like we’re all in denial, if you ask me.” A pause. “But I can’t help wonder too. Could Dustin have been working on something that got him killed, and the killers simply had the sophisticated skills to pull it off?”
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