With a flick of his wrist, Elmahdy ripped the red tape off the door and eased it open. Instead of entering the room, the inspector took a step to the side, and waved a hand for Xander to enter.
He stood, frozen, his chest suddenly tight. Everything would be the way she left it. All her clothes and things would be in there… but she wouldn’t be. Maybe that was what made this hard to see.
After a long inhale infused with the acrid scent of burned chicken, he stepped through the doorway and into the living room. He stopped as his eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. The only light came from a golden glow that seeped through the bottom of the heavy curtains. The air as still as the inside of a tomb.
It was as he remembered. A gray rug lay between the couch and a desk covered with stacks of papers and books. Ballpoint pens punctuated the disarray. The walls were bare, except for the bookshelf that hung over the couch.
His heart twisted at the familiar aroma of her flowery perfume that fought the burned chicken for dominance. The pink kind. Cherry flowers or what were they called? His eyes slid shut. He could almost feel her in the room beside him. A rustling sound from the door reminded him of the investigator waiting by the entrance.
Whoops. He’d probably stood there a moment too long. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and strode farther into the room. Unsure of where to start, he wandered to the window and pulled the curtains open. The cobblestone pavement of the courtyard sprawled out below. Near the front gate stood a guard shack, where a dark figure reclined inside with a newspaper or magazine covering his face.
Xander turned to Elmahdy. “Has anyone spoken to the security guard on duty that night?”
“Of course I have,” the detective snapped and stepped into the living room. “He doesn’t recall anything out of the ordinary.”
“That’s it?” Xander raised an eyebrow.
“That’s it.” Elmahdy crossed his arms.
“How long was his shift?”
“He had relieved the first security guard of duty at five p.m. and stayed at his post until two a.m.”
“And he was alone the entire time?”
“Correct.”
Xander brushed the curtain aside and looked back down at the guard shack with narrowed eyes. Alone for hours. Either Leila didn’t make it this far or there could be a chance the security guard was covering up. “Mind if I ask him a few questions of my own?”
“Go ahead.” Elmahdy glanced at his watch. “It’s not like he’ll have anything new to tell you.”
Xander began to mentally prepare a few questions. Would it do any good? If the guard had lied to the police, he’d probably lie to him as well.
“Ahh,” the detective said, his voice carrying a smile. “What do we have here?” Elmahdy crossed the living room and stopped in front of the desk. A red light blinked on the phone system sitting in the corner. He pressed the button, there was a loud beep, and someone began speaking in rapid Arabic, asking if Leila could present the next project outline in two weeks and to call back to make an appointment. The answering machine beeped off. A life interrupted.
“We are keeping an eye on the phone records.” Elmahdy shoved both hands in his trouser pockets. “Who knows. Maybe she’ll call herself?”
“She’s smart.” Xander nodded. “She’d know her flat is being monitored.”
Frustration pressed down on his shoulders as he searched for the next thing he could focus his attention on—something aside from Leila’s very real absence. The weight in his chest grew heavier with every moment that ticked by and nothing unusual jumped out at him.
Figuring he might as well get the worst of it over with, he strode into the bedroom. As usual, crumpled blankets topped her bed. He scanned the sparsely furnished room and zeroed in on the dresser. Except for an empty, coffee-stained mug, the surface was clear. A sleeve hung out of one of the drawers, though that was no cause for alarm. He would have been worried if there wasn’t anything hanging out.
He slid the drawer open and rummaged through the contents. As expected, nothing seemed out of place. His heart clenched as he recognized one of the shirts, still folded near the bottom. A light blue one she always looked adorable in.
Unable to inspect further without his heart shattering into a million more pieces, he slammed the drawer shut and continued into the bathroom, where the smell of cherry blossom intensified.
A half-squeezed tube of sunscreen lay on the countertop. Her hairbrush had been placed beside the sink, hairs still wrapped around the bristles. He could almost see her rushing in the early morning hours, before the sun came up, to get ready for her next expedition into the dark tunnels of an ancient tomb.
There definitely hadn’t been a struggle, at least not in her apartment. She would never have gone willingly, so whatever happened took place while she was out. That much was clear.
He placed both hands on the edge of the counter and let his head hang between his shoulders.
Pull yourself together.
With a deep breath, he lifted his head and stared at his reflection. One side of his dark hair stood on end. Gray rings shadowed his skin beneath his reddened eyes. And he had thought Soliman looked bad. After running a hand over his head to flatten his hair, he tore his eyes away from the zombie in the mirror and exited the bathroom.
“How much longer will the room be cordoned off?”
The detective shrugged from his spot against the wall in the living room. “We will keep it sealed as long as needed. In case any new evidence turns up and we need to come back for a full forensic operation.”
Xander nodded.
“We are still trying to get hold of all the security camera footage from the area,” Elmahdy continued. “There isn’t much, I’m afraid. Just a few from the nicer hotels she may have passed by. I’m waiting for a call back from another residential building. They might have some footage from out front.”
Xander came to a stop at her desk. He shifted through the papers and books, not sure what he was looking for. The police would have already searched the contents. No scrawled note for help. Nothing torn. Her notebooks were filled with field notes, diagrams, maps, and a plethora of citations from history books and articles.
He snapped the book shut, the puff of air blowing a few papers across the desk. As he gathered them up, a slip of paper fell from the loose pages. A newspaper clipping. He frowned and picked up the long, slim article. Where had he seen this before? It was an older piece from a magazine, going on about the Neferkheri exhibit that had been on display in the British Museum earlier that year.
A photo of Leila was positioned next to the paragraph explaining her role in the tomb’s discovery. He must have read it when it had been published. Odd that she would bring this with her from England. She wasn’t the type to collect articles about herself. Someone must have sent it to her and it could have gotten mixed up with her things. Or she was simply using it as a bookmark.
He stared at her picture for a moment. He was missing something. But what? He flipped the clipping over and studied the advertisement that had been cut in half. Nothing unusual there. Except for the number scrawled at the top. A telephone number. It didn’t look like Leila’s handwriting.
“Have you found anything?” Elmahdy asked. Xander caught a hint of impatience in his voice.
With a shake of his head, he set the clipping down. “I don’t think so.” His hand hesitated over the surface of the desk. What was it about that article? He glanced over at Elmahdy, whose attention was fixed on his phone. Xander turned to block the view of the desk and picked up the slip of paper. Keeping Elmahdy in the corner of his vision, he tucked the article into his pocket.
“Professor Soliman just messaged me,” Elmahdy said with a sudden cheerfulness in his voice. “He and Miss Giovanni are waiting at the archaeological lab. We can head over there now.”
Sure, Elmahdy would be in a hurry to move things along. The man had a lot of other cases waiting. Xander rubbed his arm and made one final scan of the living room, his gaze lingering on the overflowing bookshelf above the couch. On the end, a brown leather Bible sat on its side. His throat tightened.
It was time to go. He’d seen enough.
He motioned toward the door. “After you.”
Elmahdy locked the flat back up, stuck new tape on the door, and they headed down the stairs.
“And the building here has no footage?” Xander asked, his voice echoing in the concrete stairwell.
“They do.” Elmahdy stopped to open the stairwell door. “Of both the front and the entry in the back. The last footage of her is when she left around eight in the morning.”
Xander and the detective headed outside and began to retrace Leila’s steps to the lab. He eyed the guard shack as they walked by. The guard peeked over the top of his newspaper, then looked away and turned a page. If Leila had been close enough to call out for help, anyone inside would have heard her. The noise from the street wouldn’t have been that loud. Yet it would be easy to deny it.
They continued down the sidewalk and Elmahdy recounted the various CCTV footage he had seen so far.
“Unfortunately, Ms. Sterling doesn’t appear in any of the videos,” Elmahdy said, his voice genuinely regretful.
“What about the footage from the lab?”
“She’s seen exiting, alone. Then she walks off-screen and that’s the last we have.”
“And the restaurant?”
“They don’t have any security cameras.”
“Right.” Xander let out a puff. She had simply vanished. Their only clue was the messages on Emma’s phone. “Have forensics been able to find out if Giovanni’s phone was hacked?”
“They tried to find any unusual IP addresses, but everything appeared normal. If Giovanni’s phone really had been compromised, the hacker would have to be very good. An excellent coder knows how to cover their tracks.”
Xander shoved his hands into his pockets. His right hand wrapped around the velvety box he couldn’t bring himself to remove. His heart clenched, threatening to tear in two.
They passed by another hotel, the shade from the front door’s overhang providing a moment of relief from the sun. A figure leaned against the shadowed wall, arms crossed over his white linen shirt.
With his long khaki pants and sunglasses, the man looked like any other tourist. But Xander would recognize him anywhere. His gut twisted and he cursed under his breath, keeping his eyes straight ahead as they walked past.
He’s not going to leave me alone, is he? Watching his every move, like this was some sort of spectator sport. Not even an offer to help. He could feel the man’s gaze following them, anchoring on his back as he and Elmahdy continued down the sidewalk. Xander’s hands curled into fists as they walked the final block to the lab.
The man had to know what was going on. He had endless resources. If anyone could find Leila, it was him. But Xander resisted the urge to turn around. Asking for his help would have to be his last resort. It would only complicate things.
When he and Elmahdy reached the lab, the door banged open and someone ran out, her black curls flying behind her.
“Oh Xander, I’m so sorry,” Emma cried, wrapping him into a crushing embrace.
Xander swallowed, his throat tight, and patted the top of her head.
“It’s all my fault.” Emma sniffed. “I should have gone to her as soon as I knew something was wrong. I should have called the police right away. I should have—”
Elmahdy cleared his throat. “Why don’t we step inside?”
Emma released Xander and, wiping a red, puffy eye, led the way into the lab. Xander already knew every inch of the place, although it had been two years since he worked there.
Walking down the hall toward Soliman’s office stirred something inside him, itching to put the law enforcement life behind him and pick up a trowel again. If only it could be that easy.
The three of them stopped outside Soliman’s office, where Emma knocked on the door.
“Come in, come in,” Soliman said, rising from his seat behind the desk.
They filed inside and Emma plopped into one of the arm chairs by the desk. Elmahdy lowered himself into a folding chair nestled between two stacks of books. Xander settled his back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Thank you for coming to meet us, Miss Giovanni,” Elmahdy started. “I realize you two are already acquainted?”
Emma and Xander both nodded and Elmahdy leaned forward, his features engraved with purpose.
“Mr. Harrison has already been informed of your previous statements. Do you have anything new to add?”
Emma let out a long, noisy sigh and leaned back in her seat. “Nope. Nothing. She just disappeared.” She went on, repeating everything Xander had already heard, almost word for word, her eyes downcast as she wrung her hands in front of her.
Soon, her words faded out, and Xander lost himself in his own thoughts. That man outside couldn’t be a coincidence. Of all the places in the world to cross each others’ paths.
He was being watched. A wave of cold slowly enveloped him and sweat began to trickle down his temples. His stomach twisted as a new concept entered his mind. Could it have been them? No, that was ridiculous.
“I wish I had handled it differently,” Emma choked as she finished her recount of events.
Xander stared at Emma, trying to refocus. Maybe he was on to something.
“I knew she was in danger.” Emma wiped at her cheek. “I just didn’t think… at the time.”
Xander pushed himself away from the wall and left the office. None of this was getting him anywhere. Leila was slipping through his fingers with every passing moment.
“Harrison?” Elmahdy called out.
Xander’s footsteps echoed as he jogged back down the hallway. Was this all just a test? His chest lightened. This newfound fear brought hope. Hope that he could find out who was behind this. Hope that she was unharmed.
Xander raced down the sidewalk, his heart pounding. He would beat it out of the guy if he had to, if that was what it would take to get information. The hotel came into sight and Xander slowed to a stop. He turned in all directions, glancing up and down the street. The man was gone.