For my big sister, Carolee Brockmann.

       And for my mom, Lee Brockmann,

       who even likes the ones that never sell.

CHAPTER 1

      It was extremely likely that she was going to die.

      And with every hour that passed, her chance of making it out of this godforsaken country any way other than inside a body bag was slipping from slim to none.

      Melody Evans sat quietly in the corner of the little windowless office that had become her prison, writing what she hoped would not be her final words in a letter to her sister.

      Dear Brittany, I’m scared to death of dying….

      She was terrified of the finality of a single bullet to the head. But she was even more afraid of the other sort of death that possibly awaited her. She’d heard of the kinds of torture that were far too prevalent in this part of the world. Torture, and other archaic, monstrous practices. God help her if they found out she was a woman….

      Melody felt her pulse kick into overdrive, and she took slow, deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

      Remember the time you took me sledding up at the apple orchards? Remember how you got on the sled behind me, and told me in that supertheatrical voice you sometimes used that we were either going to steer a straight course down the hill through the rows of trees—or die trying?

      Her older sister had always been the adventurous one. Yet it was Brittany who was still at home in Appleton, living in the same four-story Godzilla of a Victorian house that they’d grown up in. And it was Melody who, in a moment of sheer insanity, had accepted the job of administrative assistant to the American ambassador and had moved overseas to a country she hadn’t even known existed until six months ago.

      I remember thinking as we plunged down the hill—God, I couldn’t have been more than six years old, but I remember thinking—at least we’ll die together.

      I wish to God I didn’t feel so alone….

      “You