CHAPTER
FIVE
The general rubbed his eyes, an unusually human gesture for him, and Sarah steeled herself, because he wore the same expression he’d had when they’d buried her mother fifteen years ago.
“Rochelle . . .”
“I said don’t say it.”
The general’s gaze didn’t waver this time. “Dustin was released from the hospital three days ago. He went back to the hospital for a check-in appointment but never made it to the psychiatrist’s office. Instead, he went to the roof of the building—”
“Stop,” she whispered. “Please stop.”
“—and he jumped. He’s dead.”
She held the tears inside, refused to let them fall, but the heart that had been anguished and livid by her father’s dictatorial actions now shattered. “Why?” she choked.
“I don’t know. No one does right now.”
“Get out,” she whispered. “Just . . . go away.”
He hesitated. “Rochelle—”
“Get out!” The shout echoed through the room.
Gavin shifted, reminding her that he was there, and shame burned a scorching path up her spine and into her cheeks. “Both of you, please. Go. Leave me alone.”
“Our flight leaves in two hours,” the general said. “Be ready.” He left and didn’t look back.
Gavin did. She turned her gaze from his, holding her body rigid. Finally, Gavin stepped back and shut the door.
Her mind reeled with so many things to consider, but all she could think about was Dustin. So . . . she would go home just in time to bury her brother, then find the strength to fight her father and the diagnosis, get reinstated, and get back to Afghanistan.
Sarah closed her eyes and allowed the sob to break free. Shivers racked her, pain assaulted her, and she wasn’t sure how long she suffered alone—until Gavin returned to the room and sat on the bed next to her. When he gathered her up against his chest to simply hold her, she didn’t have the strength to fight him. The tears continued to flow. Sarah cried herself into a fitful sleep, broken by alternating shudders that threatened to shake her apart, followed by a fiery heat that left her weak, sweaty, and disoriented.
Time passed. She had no idea how much, but then someone was shaking her shoulder, pulling her from her nightmares, demanding she get into the wheelchair. She refused, her heart shattered, her need to grieve overshadowing her will to cooperate.
Strong arms lifted her, settled her into the wheelchair, and wrapped a blanket around her. Her father?
“No,” she cried, “don’t touch me. Go away!” It was petty and childish—and she didn’t care. “Gavin can push me, but you stay away from me.”
She thought she might have seen pain flash in the man’s eyes but refused to acknowledge it.
Gavin stepped behind her, and then she was moving, rolling through the hallways. She kept her eyes on the tile flooring. At some point, Gavin stopped and lifted her from the chair. He carried her into the plane and lowered her onto a gurney. His face hovered above her, his calloused fingers gentle when he wiped the tears from her cheeks. “She’s got a massive fever,” he said to someone. “Maybe we should stay here until she’s stronger.”
“She’ll be fine,” the general said. “We’ve got a nurse on board to monitor everything. I want her out of this godforsaken country before it claims her life too.”
He wanted. It was always what he wanted. What about what she wanted? It was her life.
Gavin hung the IV on the pole and gripped her hand. She was mortified that she so desperately needed his presence, knew she didn’t deserve his support, but was grateful to have it nonetheless. Her eyes refused to stay open, and she dropped into yet another fitful sleep.
Once they were in the air, Gavin’s phone rang and he snatched it to his ear, as though the gentle vibration could possibly wake Sarah. Although, sleeping might be stretching it. She muttered often, and only his hand in hers seemed to keep her from attempting to flee the sheets tucked around her.
“Hi, Dad,” he said, his voice low.
“Son. Well, you answered, I guess that means you’re still alive.”
“I am.”
His father was retired special forces. Gavin kept his mouth shut about a lot of things but, for the most part, was relatively unsuccessful in keeping his dad in the dark. He knew too much because he’d lived it.
“On a plane, too, I hear. When do you land?”
Gavin huffed a short, quiet laugh. “Not for a while.”
“So . . . overseas? Which was it this time? Afghanistan, Syria, or Iraq?”
“Dad, come on now. Don’t do this to me.”
His father laughed. “Forget it. I’m just messing with you.”
“Although, you’d really like this plane. It’s a private one with lots of room and a very attentive staff.”
“Rich clients, huh?”
“Something like that. What can I do for you?”
His sister? “Not recently. Been a little busy, why?” More to the point, why would his dad even ask that question? Last time he was home, Kaylynn had had no interest in talking to him.
“Just curious. She’s so focused on getting through her last year of college that we don’t see her very much.”
“She hasn’t moved out, has she?”
His father chuckled. “No, she’s still here. At least when she’s not with a friend who lives on campus.”
“So, what’s going on with her?”
“I’m not really sure anything’s going on with her. Just thought I’d see if she’d talked to you.”
“You know how we left things, Dad,” Gavin said, his voice rough.
“Yeah, I know. I’m only slightly ashamed it was you who confronted her boyfriend and not me. But since I have to live with her, I can live with that shame fairly easily.”
Sadness gripped Gavin, even as his lips curved into a small smile at his father’s words. He wanted to make things right with his sister, but she shunned him every time he tried. She was still angry with him for chasing off her scummy boyfriend. A fact he hated but didn’t know what to do about. If he’d had to do it all over again, he’d do exactly the same thing. “How’s Mom doing?” he asked.
Thankfully, his father allowed the change of subject. “She’s great. Still volunteering at the homeless shelter and reading to vets in hospice. I don’t know how she does it.” His voice roughened before he cleared his throat.
“She does it for Uncle Jordan. It’s his legacy.” His mother’s brother, Jordan Standish, had died of liver cancer after serving his country for thirty years. One year after retirement, he’d passed away, but not before establishing the Standish Literary Foundation for terminally ill vets. Gavin’s mother had been one of his first recruits.
“I know. Jordan was a standup guy, but it tears her up every time she goes over there.”
This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, and Gavin figured it wouldn’t be the last. “Just keep praying for her. She knows how you feel.”
“Course she does. I tell her as often as possible.”
“Maybe she needs you not to be so vocal about it. Maybe she just needs you to support her. In silence.”
“Maybe so, son. I don’t want to talk about all that. I’m just making sure you’re okay. You need anything?”
“Nope, I’m good.”
“Went by your house the other day. Cut the grass and trimmed up the edges so your neighbors won’t complain or sic the HOA on you.”
Gavin pressed his fingertips to his eyelids. How did he get so fortunate to be born into the family he called his own? “Thanks, Dad, I appreciate you.”
“I know you do.”
“I probably should sell the house and just get an apartment, but when I got out of the Army, I thought I’d be spending more time at home and wanted a yard.” For a dog. The dog he hadn’t gotten yet.
“Things are different when you do contract work.”
Gavin huffed a laugh. He’d never told his dad what he was doing, just that he was opening his own security business.
“Now, if I could just get your sister to see how awesome I am,” his father was saying, “we’d be in business.”
Gavin laughed. “She knows, Dad, she’s probably just busy.” But he made a mental note to text her and tell her to pull her nose out of her books—or whatever she was doing—for a few minutes to acknowledge her parents. He hesitated. “She’s not seeing that jerk again, is she?”
“No way. I checked on him and he’s serving time in the local prison for distribution.”
“Well, well, he finally got caught, huh?”
“Someone tipped off the cops and he got swept up in a raid.”
Gavin narrowed his eyes. “Someone tipped them off?”
“Yeah, craziest thing.”
His father paused and Gavin frowned. “Is everything really all right, Dad?”
“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Good to talk to you too.”
Sarah groaned and cried out. Gavin squeezed her hand while the nurse checked her vitals.
“I’ve got to go, Dad,” Gavin said. “We’ll talk soon.”
“Sure, of course.”
“Tell Mom and Kaylynn I love them.”
“Will do.” His dad hung up and Gavin turned to Sarah.
The nurse looked up. “She’s still out,” she said, “but those nightmares are brutal. Wish she’d let me give her something to ease them.”
“She was very clear she wanted nothing more than the antibiotics and whatever it took to keep her fever under control, and that’s all we’ll do unless her life is in danger.” He kept his tone mild, but he was sure the woman heard the thread of steel in the words.
“I understand. Her fever’s holding steady at a hundred four, though, so I’ll admit I’m concerned.”
The nurse pulled the empty IV bag from the pole, and Gavin took the full one from her, connected it, then hung it. “Come on, Sarah,” he whispered, “fight that infection off.”
“That’s my job, you know.” The nurse eyed the bag, then him.
“Yeah, I know, but it makes me feel useful. Humor me, please?”
She offered him a small smile. “Of course. She’s a lucky woman to have you. It’s obvious you care very much about her.”
“I do.” Gavin didn’t bother to correct her mistaken assumption that he and Sarah were a couple. The fact that they’d almost been that very thing still unsettled him when he thought about it too long. He didn’t know why they weren’t or where he’d gone wrong, he just knew Sarah had ghosted him after their third date. But all that was water under the bridge and not important. Now, he just wanted to get her home safe so she could recover.
Through lowered lashes, Gavin studied Sarah’s father. The man seemed immersed in his newspaper and coffee, but every so often, Gavin would catch him shooting glances at Sarah. Every time she cried out or groaned, he’d frown and his jaw would harden a fraction more.
“Gavin?” Sarah whispered.
He leaned in. “I’m here.”
“Good.” She licked her lips and he scooped a teaspoon of ice chips between them while he had the chance. “Where am I?”
“On the plane headed home.”
“Don’t wanna go home.”
“You’re really sick. You need to heal.”
Her eyes locked on his. “Don’t let him take me to his house. I mean it. I won’t stay in the same house with him.”
She was as lucid as she could be, and she really didn’t want to go to her father’s home. He nodded. “I’ll call Caden.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes shut and Gavin glanced at her father once more. He didn’t know whether to be angry with the man or pity him.
When Sarah woke again, it was to the dreaded familiar smell of a hospital. She frowned, vaguely remembering the flight. Gavin had been there, holding her hand because she wouldn’t let him go. And he’d wiped her tears. Hadn’t he?
Or had that just been a dream?
Oh, please let that have been a dream.
And the general. Had he been there as well? Memories flickered. Fuzzy and difficult to bring forth, but finally, she brought them into focus.
On the plane, Gavin had stayed with her, held her hand, fed her crushed ice, changed her IV bag . . . Ugh. Not a dream. Then she remembered Dustin. Her baby brother had jumped off a building. Grief crushed her and she swallowed, desperately wanting a sip of water but unable to muster the energy to look for some.
Her eyes finally stayed open long enough to zero in on the softly snoring man in the chair beside her bed. He’d fallen asleep facing the television that was turned to a national news channel. Captions ran across the bottom of the screen. For a moment, she watched, trying to figure out what day it was. The date and time stamp in the right-hand corner finally flashed and she blinked. She’d lost another two days.
“Cade?”
Sarah wasn’t sure she actually voiced his name out loud until he jerked and sat up. “Sarah?”
“Water.”
He grabbed the cup and held the straw to her lips.
After two pulls, she lowered her head back to the pillow. “What happened? Which hospital am I in?”
“You spiked a fever just before the flight home—which turned out to be thanks to a raging infection. We transported you here to the VA hospital, and the doctors pumped you full of antibiotics and more.” He shuddered and squeezed her fingers. “It’s been touch and go for the past few days.”
“Dustin . . . ,” she whispered.
Grief flashed across Caden’s face and he glanced away. So, that hadn’t been a dream—a nightmare—either. She noticed Gavin sitting under the window. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” He leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”
Embarrassed. Mortified. Devastated . . . “Tired. Very, very tired.”
“You’ve got visitors,” Caden said. “You up to it?”
“Who?” She forced her eyes to stay open.
“Brooke, Heather, and Ava.”
“Ava? Thought she was still on a boat somewhere in the Persian Gulf keeping Iran out of trouble.” Ava Jackson. A certified genius.
“She got home about two weeks ago. Her mother’s having some medical issues and Ava got a humanitarian placement in order to be closer to home and take care of her.”
“Her father died,” Sarah said, wondering why her tongue slurred the words.
“I know.”
“There have been times I wish mine would.” The thought shocked her. The look on Caden’s face jolted her. Had she said the words out loud? Apparently. Remorse came in waves, but her father’s latest betrayal had struck deep, creating a wound she couldn’t fathom ever healing. This one even worse than the first. The first betrayal had been his lack of caring for her mother when she’d been dying. No, forgiveness wasn’t an option at the moment.
“Sarah . . .” Gavin’s voice came from a distance while the blessed blackness beckoned. The darkness tempted her to let go of reality. All she had to do was drop into it and she could escape this world of pain, sorrow, and traitorous fathers. For a moment she fought it, then gave up, letting it swallow her back into the world of painless oblivion.
The nightmare woke her the next time. And the next. Every time it was the same. And every time, either Caden or Gavin had been there to hold her hand and reassure her that she was safe.
But now, she let herself relive it, sifting through the details, trying to tell herself it wasn’t real.
She was trapped in the midst of a crush of bodies. When she finally managed to break free and run, she ended up at a locked door while the bodies followed her, reaching for her, wanting to smother her. And then Dustin was stepping off the roof of the hospital, arms outstretched, face raised to the heavens. Free-falling . . .
And she was screaming, reaching through the bars of her prison cell . . . and firing the gun that killed a man. That red mist spraying, covering everything. Her hands, her face, drowning her, filling her mouth, her lungs, cutting off her air . . .
She shuddered and threw the covers off. Gavin and Caden were both gone, and for some reason, being alone terrified her. Sweat beaded her brow in spite of the cool hospital room. When she sat up, her stomach growled. The rumble took her by surprise, and she realized she was starving. A good sign she was on the way to getting better? Hopefully.
Light filtered in under the door from the hallway, and a scream reached her. Then another. Sarah swung her legs over the side of the bed and her bare feet touched the floor. Yet another wail sent shivers racing over her skin, and she wondered if it was the same person she’d heard last night about this time. Ignoring the dull throb in her side, Sarah grabbed the IV pole and stood. While weak, she decided she could make it to the door.
Once there, she opened it a fraction. The yells had subsided to sobs that came from the room next to hers. The palpable angst twisted her heart into a sympathetic knot.
Sarah carefully slipped out the door, and walked five steps to her neighbor’s room. When she pushed the door open, the crying intensified.
Stringy blonde hair lay limp around a pretty heart-shaped face and tears tracked down flushed cheeks. Blue eyes lifted and locked with Sarah’s, and Sarah sucked in a sharp breath. For a moment, the cries faltered. Sarah’s gaze dropped to the restraints around the thin wrists with enough lead to let her reach the bathroom. But she definitely couldn’t leave the room. The pitiful woman whimpered. “Please let me go. Please help me.”
“What’s your name?” Sarah asked, moving closer.
The eyes darted to the door, then to Sarah. Back to the door. Tears continued to fall and drip from her chin to the bedcovers. “Bri—Brianne.”
“Take them off,” Brianne whimpered, holding up her shackled wrists. “Please take them off.”
Sarah bit her lip. “Why are they on?” She couldn’t help asking.
“Because I know too much. We all do. They’re killing us,” Brianne whispered. “They’re going to kill us all!” She shook her hands, a violent convulsing that rocked her whole body and dug the plastic into her tender skin. “Get them off! I need to get out of here before they kill me!”
The woman’s stark terror sent waves of unease through Sarah. Obviously, she was mentally ill, but just as obviously, she clearly believed someone was out to kill her and she needed comfort or something to calm her down.
“It’s a conspiracy.” Brianne grabbed her head with her hands and began to rock.
“What’s going on in here?”
Brianne screamed. Sarah stumbled backward. Hands settled on her shoulders, steadying her. She spun, pain snagged her side, and she pressed it as she came face-to-face with Dr. Kilgore. Her doctor and obviously Brianne’s as well. His brown eyes flicked from her to Brianne. “Sarah? Brianne?”
“I heard her crying,” Sarah said. “No one was helping her.”
Dr. Kilgore dropped his hands. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’ll help her. Go on back to your room.”
“No!” Brianne cried and once again set up a violent struggle to get loose.
Blood seeped from under the restraints, and Sarah started forward, only to have Dr. Kilgore’s hand clamp on her bicep and pull her to a jarring halt. “You can’t, Sarah. She’s dangerous. Go back to your room.”
“Where’s Max?” Brianne cried. “Max! Help me, please!”
Footsteps hurried in the hallway.
“Dangerous?” Sarah asked. “More like hurt, frustrated, and confused, but not dangerous.”
The doctor’s eyes hardened. “You don’t know the situation here. Go back to your room. I’ll be in shortly to check on you.”
That was the third time he’d made that statement. This time it sounded like an order. What would he do if she refused? She was tempted to press the issue, but the pain in her side had intensified to the point that nausea churned.
A nurse rushed into the room, holding a syringe.
“No! No more drugs! Please, make them stop! They’re trying to say I’m crazy and I’m not. I’m not. What have you people done to me?” The last two words were drowned in sobs.
Sarah’s heart thudded, and if she could have ripped the drugs from the nurse’s hand, she would have, but the doctor was ushering her out of the room and into the hallway. She lasered him with a frown that had intimidated many, including her two brothers. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I’m not allowed to discuss that with you. Any more than I’d discuss your issues with her.”
Okay, that was a fair answer. Sarah sighed. “Right. Sorry. I just feel so bad for her.”
His eyes softened. “I understand. She’s in a sad state right now. In the morning, she’ll feel much better, I promise.”
“Of course.” The initial adrenaline rush Brianne’s screams had sent coursing through her had faded. Now weakness invaded her. “I think I’m just going to get back in my bed.” Before she fell flat on her face.
“Good idea. I’ll have the nurse bring you something to help you sleep.”
“That’s all right. I’ll pass.”
Sarah returned to her room under the watchful eye of the doctor. He really was a nice man and he was right. She didn’t know what was going on with Brianne, but she’d rather have the nightmares than put drugs in her body. She shuddered. That was one thing she could relate to.
When the nurse stepped into her room, Sarah shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep, and the woman left without administering the medication. Sarah let out a low sigh of relief.
She lay there and let the minutes tick past, unwilling to drift back off—mostly because she didn’t want to dream, but also because Brianne’s desperate cries continued to echo in her mind. More time passed and she wondered where Caden and Gavin were. She wanted one of them to check on Brianne and make sure she was really okay.
She stilled and drew in a breath. Then again, she’d never been one to wait around on someone else to get something done. Once more, ignoring the pain, Sarah pushed herself out of the bed and made her way to the door.