Why had George listed these people specifically?

Harriet Jamison. Jason Caruthers. Bastian Ford.

She’d assume he was indicating cabins, except she’d been in the Jamison cabin last night and it wouldn’t be safe to return there. Plus, there was no mention of Jeb, whose cabin they knew George had plundered to build weapons.

Technically, Bastian Ford didn’t even have his own cabin. It was a tribal holding, not personal. Why name him and not someone else in the tribe?

Bastian and George were close, as she’d mentioned to Xavier, due to their tribal and Army ties. Bastian was Special Forces, and when he visited the elder, they would trade stories in the lodge, sometimes with Jeb joining them.

“What does it mean, Aud?” Xavier whispered.

“I’m not sure. There’s a connection here. Meant for me to decipher. I know it.”

Harriet Jamison. Jason Caruthers. Bastian Ford.

They each had long ties to the peninsula. Jason’s and Harriet’s families had owned cabins at the time the lodge was built, before the park even existed. Bastian was Kalahwamish, like George. A soldier, like George.

Think, Audrey. Think. What do these people have in common?

All at once, it hit her.

The Jamison library. The Thorpe—not Caruthers—ballroom. And the Ford dining room. All public rooms in the lodge, named after a patriarch who’d donated money to the park when it was founded. Except, in Bastian’s case, the donor with the last name Ford wasn’t a relative; it was automobile manufacturer Henry Ford. The name was a coincidence, which George had used.

“These are rooms in the lodge,” she whispered. She studied the numbers next to Jason’s name. He represented the Thorpe ballroom. “I think this means there are five hostages in the ballroom.”

“That fits the count for my team, but why do you think the number refers to hostages?”

She pointed to a crude drawing that looked like it was supposed to be a petroglyph. George was a tribal artist, a carver. He had excellent drawing skills. He’d intended to make this look amateur. “This human figure only has four fingers on one hand.”

Xavier sucked in a sharp breath. “He saw what happened in the yurt.”

“Or he watched them move your team to the lodge and saw Cohen’s hand. But yeah, if he saw the men at the site digging up weapons, he might have followed them. Saw them kill Jeb. Watched what he could until he slipped away to make weapons.”

She looked into the bear canister. “What are those, by the way?”

“It looks like he made match guns.”

“What are those?”