Acceptable Risk - Lynette Eason Page 0,80

and actually not read it. A journalist with ethics. That’s a new concept, isn’t it? Seriously, thanks, Sarah. I’m looking forward to seeing you at Thanksgiving. Tell the general . . . well, I don’t know what to tell him. Tell him I hope we can all do Thanksgiving together and I’ll call him soon. I’m talking to Caden so you don’t have to tell him anything. Ha. I love you, baby sis. I can’t wait to see what you do with this story. This might just be the one to catapult you into that dream job you used to talk about. Anyway, I’ll keep sending information as I come across it. Bye for now. Dustin.’”

Tears slipped unchecked down her cheeks, and the general backed out of the kitchen, palms pressed to his eyes.

Gavin stepped next to Sarah. “Can I do anything?”

She shook her head and sniffed, grabbed a paper towel from the roll near the sink. “No, there’s nothing anyone can do.” She nodded to the package. “What do you think about this?”

“I think Dustin thought he was on to something. And that note doesn’t sound like a man who was thinking about killing himself.”

“No, it doesn’t. So what changed?”

Gavin leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “I don’t know, but I think if we follow the trail that Dustin’s left us, we might find out why. Someone wanted that package bad enough to trash your place looking for it—and then stage a hospital fire in order to snatch you in a moment of chaos. That says a lot right there.” He paused and frowned. “Sarah?”

“What?”

“Why did he send the package here? Why not to your address in Kabul? Or even the school where you were known to be teaching each week?”

“I sent him a text that I had some leave coming up. I was going to fly home to see Ava for a couple of weeks, hang out with Caden for a few days, then head back to Kabul—as long as I wasn’t in the middle of a story. Dustin knew I’d eventually stop by my apartment.” She paused. “He also knew my neighbor would be collecting my mail. And . . . he knew he’d be here.” She rubbed a hand down her cheek and switched gears. “I wonder if Lucy’s sister was involved in this drug trial.”

Gavin picked up the papers from Dustin and flipped through them. “Quite a stack here.” He pulled out a map of the United States. “Check this out. What do you think those little red dots mean?”

“I don’t know, but they stretch from coast to coast.”

He spread the papers out on the island. “There are two sets of data with names and meds and dosages just like Dustin said.” He pointed. “There’s his name.”

“So, this is the list of those who volunteered for the trial.”

“Looks like it.”

Gavin pulled out another list. “So, who are these people?”

She scanned the paper and gasped.

Gavin stilled. “What?”

Sarah tapped a finger on a name they both recognized. “Brianne Davis,” they said in unison.

“And look whose name is just above hers,” Sarah said.

Gavin’s eyes met hers. “Helen Craft.”

“I guess that answers that question.” She nodded. “And the last name on the list.”

“Terry Xia?” He straightened. “I think we need to have a talk with the detectives.”

“I’ll call Elliott when we get on the road. Right now, I’m going to tell your father goodbye,” Gavin told her.

“Help yourself. I, for one, am itching to get out of here.” She walked out the front door after giving Mrs. Lawson a hug.

If Travis and Asher hadn’t been stationed outside the gates, Gavin would have stopped her. Instead, he let the men know she was headed for his truck while he hunted the general down. He found him in his office and offered his condolences once more. With a wave of his hand, the general dismissed him. Gavin didn’t take it personally. He could tell the package and Sarah’s attitude hung on him like an albatross.

“I’ll be in touch,” Gavin said. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

“Just keep her safe.”

His distracted order almost made Gavin pause and spur him to ask if there was something else going on, but the man didn’t invite that kind of relationship, so Gavin kept his questions to himself. He hurried to the kitchen and grabbed the rest of the mail Sarah had left, then rushed down the front steps to his truck. She was sitting in the passenger seat, the

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