“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?”
