“Glass?” Soliman stopped. “What glass?”
“I don’t know.” She tilted her head toward the classroom door. “I was about to go in and see.”
Soliman pushed his glasses up his nose and stepped forward. “Well then, let’s have a look.”
Confidence returning now that she wasn’t alone, Leila grabbed the handle again and pushed the door open. The room was dark, the chairs and desks empty, white scrawls from the last lecture still covering the blackboard. Not seeing any movement, she took a step inside. Her gaze darted toward the windows at the far end of the room.
“There,” she whispered, pointing at the jagged hole in one corner.
Soliman strode across the room, grumbling. Glass crunched under his shoes as he neared the window.
Leila joined him, surveying the mess on the floor. There was no object anywhere that could have been thrown through the glass. She walked up to the window and squinted, peering out into the darkness. Palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze, filtering the moonlight into strange patterns on the ground.
“I suppose I should get this cleaned up,” Soliman said from behind her. “Then I’ll have to check the security cameras. There aren’t any on this side of the building, but maybe they caught footage of someone coming and going on the street.”
Leila half-turned. “I’ll go find a broom.”
Something moved outside—a shadow flitted across the lawn. She whirled back around in time to catch a retreating form disappearing behind the trees.
“Someone’s out there!”
Soliman looked over her shoulder and they both scanned the grassy area.
Nothing moved. Even the breeze had stopped teasing the branches.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I saw something. Should we check outside?”
Soliman nodded, and Leila picked up the fire extinguisher again. They took the back door, going down the three steps that led to the lawn.
After a few minutes of peering into bushes and around corners, Leila caught Soliman’s eye and shrugged. There was no sign that anyone had been there.
“Well, it could have been an accident,” Soliman suggested as they trudged back inside. “Or a child causing trouble. I’ll make sure that window gets patched up for tonight and check the CCTV.”
“What should we put over the window? There’s a wooden pallet in the storage room that hasn’t been used in months. I could take it apart and—”
“No, no, no. I’ll give the janitor a call. He’ll come around and take care of it.” Soliman waved a hand. “Why don’t you go home? Aren’t you on vacation tomorrow?”
“Two whole weeks.”
“I thought so. Don’t worry about the mess. Go home and enjoy your break.”
Leila couldn’t bring herself to argue with him. She was tired and hungry. She’d never patched up a window before and would probably only get in the way. Plus, she had a date with Xander. A video-call date, but still a date.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll finish up and head out.”
Back in the lab, she boxed up the chalice she had been categorizing, briefly admiring the twisty lotus leaf pattern that swept up the sides of the cup. Clutching the box, she paused, closed her eyes, relaxed her fingers, and inhaled a deep, calming breath.
It was nothing. Probably just some kid.
Satisfied, she inspected her notes on the chalice to double check her work. It was the first time she’d seen the artifact since they began to empty Neferkheri’s tomb. The chalice had been listed in the database, only to be marked as stolen, and then forgotten.
Yet there she’d found it that morning, in a box at the bottom of a stack in a cobwebby corner.
It wasn’t unheard of for artifacts to be misplaced, lost, or stolen from a dig, so it was a relief that it was now accounted for. She took the box into the storage room and placed it back in an empty space on the shelf.
Her thoughts wandered to the video-call, making a mental note not to tell Xander about the broken window. He would only worry. But with her crazy hours at work and school, she would probably forget about it by the time she got home and saw his face on the screen.
Two more days. Two more days and he’d be there.
Before leaving the storage room, she stopped at the doorway and glanced over her shoulder. Vases of different sizes filled half the floor. The shelving unit was stuffed with boxes where some of the more delicate artifacts rested. Statues stood in the spaces in between, all waiting for categorizing and a museum to put them on display. Leaving them in a dark storage room would be a pity. She clicked off the light and closed the door, humming while she cleared her work station. Once finished, Leila grabbed her purse and stepped into the hallway. After a farewell to Soliman, who waved to her from behind his computer with a phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, she slipped her phone from her bag and headed for the exit.
Outside, the January evening was dry, the temperature cool enough for a sweater. Leila looked up and down the sidewalk, every shadow suspicious. Whoever had broken the window could still be lurking. Dusty lamps hanging from crooked telephone poles lit the street and the cars parked on the curb. A handful of pedestrians ambled down both sides, none of them interested in her passing, their thoughts probably on the upcoming festivals.
Hoping to get her mind off the window incident while she walked home, she glanced down at her phone. The little green light in the corner blinked. She turned on the screen to see a message from her mother. Without reading, she deleted it—a pang of regret stung in her chest. She was being too harsh. Or was she? She shook her head. As long as her mom was still married to that creep, Faris, she couldn’t have anything to do with her. And the only reasoning she’d heard so far were lame excuses, none of which made sense. Determined not to think about it anymore, Leila huffed and moved on to the next unread text.
Xander: Two more days and I get to see your beautiful face in person. Video call for eight is a go xx
She grinned like an idiot. He was the best. Before responding, she glanced over her other messages, making sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. Below Xander’s text, another unread message waited for her.
Emma: We need to talk. I think I’m in trouble. Meet me for dinner at Casa Della Pasta at seven.
Leila came to a halt on the sidewalk. Chewing the inside of her lip, her mind whirled with possibilities.
Another bad date? No, Emma would have mentioned if she had one.
A family crisis? Maybe the drama surrounding her sister’s wedding was finally getting to her, and she desperately needed to vent.
