Caden unlocked the door and pushed it open. “So, let’s see if we can find some more pieces.”

Sarah stepped around him and took in the chaos. Upon closer inspection, she could see it was organized chaos. Boxes lined the walls, but they were labeled. To her right was the dining area. A table and four chairs were tucked into the space in front of the bay window overlooking the backyard. Off that was the galley kitchen.

Straight ahead, the hallway led to the back of the duplex. Sarah headed that way, passing a bedroom on the left and a bathroom on the right. She ended at the master bedroom. Dustin had placed a mattress on the floor under the window with an end table next to that, but no other furniture. His clothes were stacked in neat piles against the wall nearest the closet. He’d tossed a pair of jeans onto the impeccably made-up mattress. She picked up the denim and buried her face in the fabric, inhaling.

“They still smell like him,” she whispered.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Caden said, his voice husky.

“Wish he’d asked for help,” she muttered.

“I know.”

“Could have at least gotten him a dresser or something.”

“Sarah.”

She dropped the jeans back onto the bed and glanced at her brother, her emotions roiling near the surface. “What?”

“He wanted to do things his way. He was an adult. Interfering would have only caused him to distance himself.”

“Like I’ve done with the general?”

He shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

Gavin stood in the doorway watching, the compassion in his eyes nearly her undoing.

Sarah headed for the master bathroom, her heart aching. How she missed Dustin. She’d missed him in a different way while they were in Afghanistan together, but at least she had the hope of seeing him at some point in the future. Now, his absence left a hole in her chest, like a piece of her heart was missing. And while the thought of seeing Dustin in heaven gave her comfort, the grief of the temporary earthly separation still hurt.

With a shaking hand, she opened the medicine cabinet.

“Need any help in here?” Gavin asked from the doorway.

“I’m looking for drugs,” she said. “I want to know every chemical he put in his body. Maybe he mixed up some medications and it messed up his thinking. Or something.”

He studied the contents of the cabinet. “Maybe.”

She pulled down three bottles. “Antidepressant, decongestant, prescription-strength Motrin, something I don’t recognize, and another something I’m not sure about. You know what they are?”

She handed him the two bottles and he pulled his phone from his pocket. “That’s what Google is for.” A quick search had him frowning. “One is a painkiller. The other a muscle relaxer.”