All she needed to do was slow down and try to avoid any more unexpected road hazards until she found a place to around-turn. Or if she was incredibly lucky—which would be an anomaly—she might actually find the lodge. She hadn’t passed a building or another vehicle or any sign of life, human or otherwise, since she’d left the highway and headed off into the Adirondacks.

When all her gauges remained blessedly in the midzone, suggesting she hadn’t done irreparable damage to her automobile, she set off once again. Sweat trickled at her temples and misted the back of her neck. She settled her sunglasses into place and squinted into the early morning glare. She’d made excellent time driving north from the city, but that had been open Thruway driving, and at five in the morning, she’d been able to avoid speed traps with the aid of her radar. What should have been the shortest part of her journey was turning out to be the most arduous. Hopefully not a portent for what was to come. Giving up on the GPS, she trusted to fate and continued deeper into the densely packed evergreens.

She swung around a blind corner, hoping the camp would come into sight any moment or she would at least see a sign saying Turn Around Here You Idiot, and slammed on her brakes.

“Oh!” Heart pounding, arms braced against the wheel, she stared at the front end of the vehicle she’d nearly hit. And blinked. Not a mirage. An army-green Jeep with the roof removed and a single occupant in olive-green fatigues sat a foot off her front bumper.

Wonderful. She was alone in the mountains faced with a survivalist, or worse, some private militia playing soldier. She didn’t even have cell service. She ordered herself to take a breath. Panic was not her usual response to a crisis—at least it hadn’t been, before…

The faint haze that curtained Lily’s vision cleared as her pulse slowed, and she got a clearer look at the figure climbing down from the Jeep. The sun was behind them, and in the glare, Lily had a hard time distinguishing the fine details. She could make out that the person striding around the front of her car, headed for the driver’s side, was a woman. From her lower vantage point and limited vision, Lily registered tall-ish, lean-ish, in a short-sleeved uniform shirt—nicely defined arms—and matching pants, and yes indeed, a utility belt with a holstered pistol or whatever they were called, along with other paraphernalia.

“Morning,” the woman said as she halted by the side of Lily’s car, a question in her voice. She wore aviator-style sunglasses…how appropriate, which hid most of her face. Her mouth was sculpted and full above a squared-off chin and angular jaw. Imposing was a good word for the impression she created.

A yellow patch on her sleeve indicated she was a member of some kind of organization, but with the sun in Lily’s face and her perception still reeling, Lily couldn’t identify what branch.