She took a deep breath as her heart cracked in two. She wasn’t in the military, but she understood triage. They weren’t even certain George was here and in danger, but the specter with the knife had made it clear the SEALs were. Not to mention she and Xavier both could have been killed. “Where is your command center? I might know a faster—or safer route.”

“It’s the yurt on the other side of the lodge complex from here.”

She bit her lip, mentally going over the trail map. It made sense that the yurt was their command center. The seventies-era home was not in keeping with the historic lodge and not yet old enough to fall under her domain with historic properties, so Xavier’s team didn’t need her approval for its use. Plus, being round and situated on a point as it was, it had an amazing view of the lake.

There was a trail that ran through the woods above the blacksmith shop and lodge. It intersected with the forest behind the yurt. If they hiked up the hill from the burial ground, they’d reach that trail in about a mile.

She described the route to Xavier. “We’ll have to go back to the meadow and burial ground, but we can bypass the road behind the blacksmith shop and lodge. Except for the switchbacks here, the entire route is in the forest.”

“For safety, we’ll have to do most of the hike without light, and I don’t have my NVGs. You up for it?”

She’d always said she could navigate these woods blindfolded. Time to put that bravado to the test. “My watch has a compass and Indiglo. As long as we can stop to check our bearing, yes.”

“Let’s go.”

He led the way back down the switchback, moving as fast as the terrain allowed. They reached the narrow trail where she’d slipped before, but he didn’t slow. She shifted her center of gravity toward the hillside and kept pace with him. When they reached the corner of the switchback, he stopped abruptly. She caught herself right before she stepped on his heels.

“What’s wrong?”

“Blood. I think.” He pulled out his flashlight and shined it on the rocky edge, and she saw the red streaks.

He glanced up, and she followed his gaze. “We’re below the ledge where you tossed him,” she said. She looked back at the bloody rocks. It hadn’t been a straight fall. He’d tumbled down the slope and hit this ledge. Had he continued down, falling to his death? Or had he managed to scramble onto the path here or on one of the lower switchbacks? “If he survived, he could tell others where we are,” she said.