“I’m reserving judgment, but I’m leaning toward no way. You fought too hard to live during the rescue.”

“I sure did.” She frowned. “Who’s the lying psychiatrist that was willing to make this brilliant diagnosis?”

“Lying? I don’t know that she actually lied. At least not on purpose. No physician who wants to keep practicing is going to offer up a false diagnosis. Your father—”

She held up a hand. “The name of the psychiatrist?”

He pursed his lips, then shrugged. “Dr. Emily Winslow. She’s the one who took Brooke’s place when she left.” Brooke Adams. She’d been one of the psychiatrists for the base for a long time—and one of Sarah’s good friends. However, when Brooke had been given the option to get out of the Army six months ago, she’d taken it. Gavin didn’t blame her, but he knew Sarah missed her terribly.

“So, Dr. Winslow witnessed a few of my nightmares, overheard something I said, had a little chat with my father, and decided she could diagnose that I was suicidal without putting her license in jeopardy.”

He studied her. “I could actually see that happening, but still, it’s a stretch if you ask—”

“If the general encouraged her to make the diagnosis official, she wouldn’t go against him. No one does. She could be wrong, but the documentation to support her decision is there. No harm, no foul. Except that I lose the career I’ve fought tooth and nail for. I lose the job I love and leave with a stain on my record.”

When she looked up at him, Gavin caught his breath at the fiery rage blazing in her eyes. The flush on her cheeks deepened to a bright red. “He’s not going to get away with this,” she said. “I’ll fight this all the way to the courtroom if I have to.”

“Sarah, before you condemn the man, maybe you should ask him.”

“I don’t have to. I know him and that’s something he would do without even giving it a second thou—”

A knock on the door interrupted her and she snapped off her words. The general stepped inside.

Sarah glared at him. “Get out.”

The man blinked, and Gavin stood when he noticed the waxy look to his skin. “Sir? Sit here.” When the general dropped into the chair without a word and his shoulders slumped, Gavin shot a glance at Sarah. Her expression had morphed from anger to confusion in the span of a second.

“What is it, General?” Gavin asked.

The man cleared his throat. “I just got a call.” He looked at Sarah. “Did you know Dustin had checked himself in to the VA psychiatric hospital in Greenville?”

“What?” Sarah’s cry shot through Gavin. “No. When did he leave Afghanistan?” she asked. “The last I heard, he was still here.”