He’d been a gruff Vietnam vet with an understandable deep distrust of the government. He’d viewed every action by the park with suspicion. And of course, in many instances, he wasn’t wrong. After all, ONP’s early days had been rife with colonialism. It hadn’t been a golden age for the tribal members who’d been locked out of their usual and accustomed fishing and hunting areas—theirs by right of treaties signed over a hundred and sixty years ago. But even Jeb recognized the progress of the last few decades. George’s tribe had reclaimed their ancestral cabin, and George was granted unrestricted use of the woodshop and official title as master carver for the park.

The park didn’t do everything wrong. But Audrey knew the park didn’t do everything right either.

ONP could never make up for all the losses the tribes had suffered over the centuries, but at least they were making an inclusive effort and offered reparations in ways the park could give.

Now Jeb was dead and George… Where was he?

He’d been close to Jeb. They both had been sent to Vietnam at the tender age of nineteen, serving a few years apart. Audrey figured a bond had formed when they both returned, utterly changed from who they’d been previously and needing the touch point of someone who understood the experience.

Had George known Jeb planned to stay in his cabin during the training? What had been Jeb’s plan?

She dearly hoped they’d find answers in his cabin. Plus, she harbored a hope that maybe his phone line—and all the phones on this side of the split in the road—still worked. Then Xavier could call the Navy, who would swoop in and rescue everyone.

Hope was dangerous, but it had enabled her to place one foot in front of the other for the last miserable hour. Hope was the only thing that kept incapacitating fear at bay.

Palmer moved. Relief flooded Paul’s system at catching the sudden twitch of the man’s shoulders, just visible across the dark room. Palmer was alive. Waking up.

This was a good sign. Maybe Krieger was also asleep.

It made sense that the four men would have been drugged. Easiest way to take them down quietly before the training started. At the time, two had been in the forest and two inside the lodge. A tranq gun would do the job.

Paul had been inside the yurt. He’d heard the intruders and had put up a fight, but four on one had made for a lopsided battle.

It had to be a powerful tranquilizer for all four men to be out cold for so long.

Palmer moved again. Another twitch, then his body settled, and Paul wondered if he was awake enough to realize he needed to feign sleep.