“I’m not going to deny it was a long shot, but without the antidote, I thought it worth taking. All the people who survived the drug with no more effects had undergone anesthesia for surgical procedures. One who slashed her wrists, one who tried to run through a sliding glass door, one who needed his stomach pumped . . . and more. I’m just praying that’s the case with Sarah.”

“But that was after they actually attempted suicide,” Caden said.

“Wilmont didn’t.” Gavin shifted, his worry meter set at high. “When he came out from under, he was fine.” He paused. “But his dose was an overdose—which caused him to go crazy in a very criminal sense. Maybe once the drug started to wear off, he would have tried to find a way to . . . you know.”

“I know,” Heather said. “Trust me, I know. But the anesthesia is the only connection I could find with the ones who survived and are recovering with no suicidal ideations. We have to pray it’s right.”

Brooke and Ava came into sight from the long hallway and hurried toward them. “Is she awake?” Brooke asked.

“Not yet.”

“What’s taking so long? Can’t you bring her out of it?”

Heather shook her head. “I want to let the anesthesia wear off naturally—just like with the others.”

Ava pressed her fingers to her lips, her eyes wet. “I can’t believe this.” She looked at Caden. “Thank you for the quick phone call to fill us in, but I still can’t wrap my head around it. You’re saying her kidnapping was all a ruse to get the money from her father?”

He nodded. “Yeah. That was why they held her in the cell at the compound. They were waiting for McClain to get there with the papers. Once Sarah signed them, he’d only have to convince”—he used air quotes—“the general to do it. McClain would have Sarah and if the general didn’t sign, he’d just threaten to kill her.”

“Which he would have done anyway once he had the signature,” Gavin said. “The plan was probably to kidnap Sarah, get her signature, keep her alive long enough to get the general’s signature, then kill them both.”

“Only Sarah managed to get a call out on her sat phone,” Heather murmured.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Slow, measured steps. He turned to see General Denning coming toward them with the help of a walker.

Caden stepped forward. “General.”

“I want to see Sarah,” the man growled. His pale face and shaky hands gave away the fact that he shouldn’t be out of bed.

“She’s still sleeping, General,” Heather said.

“Well, wake her up. I need to talk to her.”

“I can’t do that.” The steel in Heather’s words said she wouldn’t do it.