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television screen. “The police have just issued this sketch of the man believed to have allegedly aided Dr. McCain in the theft.”
    Dark brown hair, gray eyes, sharp, angled jaw and a long nose. They’d gotten the nose wrong, but the rest…close enough.
    Cam staggered back a few steps, his calves bumping the edge of the coffee table. “Son of a bitch.” The remote slipped out of his clammy palm and hit the carpet with a dull thud. He couldn’t drag his attention away from the detailed sketch.
    He blinked at the phone still gripped in his other hand then raised it to his mouth. “Uh, Keith? I gotta go, man.”
    “Cam, is everything—?”
    He disconnected the call, a twinge of guilt pinging his chest. He’d just hung up on his best friend. The deed was a capital offense in his book, but it seemed the least of his transgressions given the bomb the news channel had just dropped into his living room.
    Apparently, he was a wanted man.

Chapter Four
    We’re running out of time. Our communities are no longer ours. We are a minority in our own country. Yesterday, an Albanian family claimed your land, Ivan. The remains of your charred home were demolished. What is next? Our churches? They must be stopped. We have lost enough. Don’t let us lose what little is left. I’m counting on you.
    Tears gathered in Ivan Petrovic’s eyes when he reached the end of Miloje’s letter. The desperation of his brother’s words was not lost on him. Hopelessness penetrated his soul. He took a deep breath to ease the longing that tightened his chest.
    The ripe smell of his fertile land filled his lungs, land that had been passed down within the Petrovic family for generations. If he closed his eyes, he could see the cluster of walnut trees cradling their black bird nests. He could taste the crisp water that flowed from the nearby stream.
    He wanted it back. All of it.
    He crumpled the letter and tossed the single sheet of paper into the fireplace. He struck a match, tossed it on top of the cream-colored stationary and watched orange flames lick around the edges.
    His cell phone rang and he answered it, turning away from the last of the glowing embers. “Tell me you have it.”
    The inept security guard he’d hired to steal the armor stammered. “I tried. Dr. McCain…she doesn’t have it.”
    He gripped the mantle, bowed his head. Blood flooded his veins and rushed into his cheeks. “Are you sure?”
    “Yes. I tore apart her entire house. It’s not there.”
    He pounded the marble. “She must have passed it off to her accomplice before the police arrested her. Find it.”
    “But how will I—I need more money.”
    “I don’t care. Two days. If the prototype isn’t in my hands by then, you forfeit the rest of the money.”
    “Listen, you made a deal—”
    “Now I’m making a new one. Get me that prototype, Mr. Walker, or you might lose more than the other half of the cash.”

    ***

    The smell of ripe urine and stale vomit clung to Audra’s nostrils. She drew her knees tighter against her chest and winced at the feel of hard metal under her butt. She shifted on the bench, a sharp pain shooting down her stiff neck, but she couldn’t move her exhausted limbs to massage the ache away.
    After using her one phone call to contact an attorney, she’d spent the rest of the night huddled in this very spot, afraid to close her eyes or even let her guard down in the crowded cell. And though twenty-four hours had passed since her nightmare arrest, the events still buzzed through her brain like a wasp with its stinger poised to strike.
    This wasn’t happening to her. She was a scientist, not a low-life criminal. Her fingers inched up towards her ears, desperate to block out the discordant noise of distant cell doors clanking shut. The finality of it made her situation seem even bleaker.
    She shuddered and buried her face in her knees. A lump reared in her throat and she fought back the bile that threatened to make her stomach heave.