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the country. The conditions were extremely harsh. He spoke about it to a symposium of engineering students from several colleges here in Milwaukee and the area. I attended because it was part of my history. I honor him and his engineers.”

She took a tissue from her briefcase, wiped her face and straightened up. “Da, I will look.”

I set the pictures on the table in front of her and sat beside her again, ready to reassure or comfort.

After a short interval, she handed them back to me. “I cannot be sure about the camouflage uniform. Many troops in the area wore those and they all looked alike to me. But I believe the dress uniform is from a Serbian officer. There was no insignia?”

“None. All identification, even clothing tags, was removed when I found them.”

“Colonel Lewis couldn’t be sure?”

“No. Rua, the colonel is investigating the possibility that the Johnsons and a man who helped them get to the States might be on the war criminals database.”

“If they are, may they live forever in the nightmare they imposed on my country and my people. May there be no respite from their pain, no end to their misery.” Her gaze was steady.

I placed my hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed.

“So,” she said, “enough!” She slapped her palms on the table and rose. “You will keep me informed about the progress?”

“As much as I can, Rua. Whoever is behind this is not aware of you, as far as I know. But be careful.”

She stood and tipped her open briefcase toward me. I glimpsed a revolver in a holster. She took a couple of business cards out, wrote on them and handed them to me and Lily. “My cell phone number and personal email are on those. Call me any time, day or night. I will help however I can. These monsters must not go free.” Then she closed and fastened the briefcase and, turning, put her hands on my arms. “Allah protect and guide you, Angie.”

I clasped her arms. “God grant you comfort and peace, Rua.”

She repeated the farewell with Lily. “Allah watch over you.”

“And you, Rua,” said Lily.

Then she left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Lily and I stood in silence. I don’t know what was passing through Lily’s head, but I prayed without words. I had none. I trusted that God would know.

***

Spider entered the room quietly, pausing in the doorway to assess Lily and me. “That was intense. You two okay?”

Lily said, “I’ll probably have bad dreams. But they’ll only be dreams. Rua has the reality.”

“Come in and close the door, Spider,” I said. We all sat again. “I’d like to do something to help her. She’s probably dealing with PTSD. She gave a few indications—needing to protect herself by facing the door, difficulty with social interaction, wearing black as a sign of mourning, stress reaction from the pictures.” I stopped. “Although she did wear the blue scarf. That might be a sign that she’s recovering.”

“She always wears it, Angie,” Lily said. “I complimented it once and she told me it was her mother’s. I think it’s part of her mourning garb, to be honest.”

“Yeah, PTSD is a given,” Spider said. “Anyone who lived through what she described would need counseling.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “So—next steps.”

I recognized his need to move away from emotion and toward action, a classic male response. Wukowski does it, too.

“I’ll have DMV pictures of Petrovitch and Josif Zupan later today,” I said. “They may not be the best images. Lily, can you help us find other photos? Petrovitch got a law degree from Marquette. I have no idea about Zupan. He’s a mason.”

“A Freemason?”

“No, a bricklayer.”

“I’ll get in touch with Marquette and the local bricklayer’s union and see what they can do.”

“You’re a godsend, Lily.” I meant it. I could do the legwork myself, but I wanted to read the pamphlet on Sarajevo and spend time with Bobbie on background searches. Lily’s offer would give me some precious alone time to process Rua’s story before Wukowski came over tonight.

“I want to do anything I can to help. For Rua and all the victims.”

“Me, too.” I turned to Spider. “Bobbie and I plan to meet at one-thirty at my office. I have a pending background check to run for a client that I’ll use for training. Then I’m going home to rest and recover. Wukowski will be over for supper.” I didn’t want to make a statement about his staying overnight in front of Lily. “Will you be on duty tonight?”

“Nah. Once Wukowski arrives, the Feeb can take over until morning.”

“That’s slang for an FBI agent,” I told Lily.

“He’s retired. Don’t say Feeb in front of him,” Spider cautioned.

Lily’s eyes lit up a bit. I could see she was temporarily enjoying detection again.

“Spider, I want Bobbie Russell to attend the funeral for Dragana Zupan with me tomorrow. Another set of eyes will be helpful. I haven’t checked with Bram York yet. I know he said that Bobbie could go about normal business, but Zupan is still a suspect in my mind.”

“One sec.” He pulled out his cell phone and called. “Bram, Angie wants Bobbie Russell to accompany her to the Zupan funeral tomorrow morning. Whaddya think?” He listened, then said, “Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta shake the tree and see what falls. Remember Dakar?” More listening. “We can keep them safe, sir.” Rumble. “Sorry—Bram. Old habits…Okay…Right…Hang on.” He turned to me. “He’ll have some men in place. Looks like it’s a go for Bobbie, but Adriana wants to be there, too.” He handed the phone to me.

“Angie,” she said, “I feel so bad about Dragana. Can’t I attend the funeral? I want to pay my respects and tell her husband how sorry I am. She was a nice lady.”

She was focused on her emotions, while the rest of us concentrated on the logic of protecting her and discovering the killer. “It wouldn’t

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