It had to be the Stone.
He wove his way through the museum. This had better be the last stop. He was going to give this joker an earful because at this rate he had already missed the bus home. All he could do was send Vivian a text to let her know he and the minister would be late, thanks to some cheeky stranger.
At last he entered the ancient Egyptian collection that housed the Rosetta Stone. Black with white engravings, elevated on a pedestal, and illuminated with a golden glow, the four-foot tall stone stood in the middle of the room. He slowed and approached the display, searching for another Post-It. Nothing.
Was he wrong? What else could the clue have meant? He turned around. Whoever this clown was had to be here somewhere. At the sight of a person in front of him, he sucked in his breath like he’d been punched in the stomach.
There she stood. The bodice of her wine red dress hugged her frame, the skirt flaring out until it reached just below her knees. A silver necklace with a scarab charm he had given her during his last visit to Cairo for her birthday draped over her collarbone, framed by dark waves that drew his eyes upward, to her smile that stretched from ear to ear.
“You came,” he whispered.
Her smile glittered. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
It didn’t even matter how or why. She was here. He ran forward and wrapped his arms around her, her arms finding their place around his neck. Before he started asking questions, he caught her lips with his own, deeply, fervently, momentarily considering not to bother with the rehearsal. He pulled away only because Vivian would skin him alive.
With his face buried in Leila’s hair, he murmured, “What about defense?”
“I did it on Thursday afternoon.” She leaned back to grin up at him. “I bugged the committee for weeks to let me change the date and finally they relented and they got me in a few days early. I got here last night and Vivian helped me with a few arrangements.”
She lifted a hand and his keys jingled beside his ear.
“You’re amazing.” His hands found hers and he pressed her fingers against his lips. “You know that?”
“No, it shouldn’t have been this way.” Her eyes glinted. “I should have been paying attention when I scheduled. Vivian had complained how hard it was to get the location she wanted and had to settle for a Sunday and not a Saturday and then like the dunderhead I am, I completely forgot”
“But you’re here. Now. That’s all that matters.”
“Yes. And now we’re supposed to be at your sister’s wedding rehearsal.” She pressed her lips together in a sly smile. “I promised we wouldn’t be late.”
“Right. Vivian will turn me into beans on toast if I don’t show up. And the minister is waiting for his ride.”
“Beans on toast? That sounds… interesting.”
“It’s not bad. Now would probably not be a great time to try it, though.”
“I’ll save that for the next time we go to the movies.” She batted her eyes then laughed. The sound lingered in his ears, and he held on to it as he recalled how they left the museum, hand in hand, caught a bus home, eventually picked up the minister and made it to the rehearsal fifteen minutes late. Vivian was in on the whole thing, so the day still ended up being drama-free. At least he was sure it was. The rehearsal, the wedding, all of it was a bit of a blur by now. He spent most of the time staring in awe at the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, his mind elsewhere—rings, proposals… and moving to the African continent.
Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. With a jerk, he looked behind him to see Emma, her gun at her side. She wasn’t smiling.
“We should probably go,” she murmured, her eyes downcast.
“Yeah.”
Emma took a deep breath. “We’ll check the hospital or clinic in Saint Catherine. If she was hurt, she would be there.”
“Yeah.” His mind refused to kick back into gear.
“I’ll drive if you want me to,” she called as she started down the ladder.
“No.” He shook his head, finally coming out of his daze. “That won’t be necessary. We need to get there tonight.”
CHAPTER 36
Snow began to fall before they reached Saint Catherine. Watching large, fluffy, white flakes float down from the clouds in Egypt wasn’t a concept Leila had ever considered but then again, they were at a mile elevation as they neared the ancient town.
For a while, the flakes simply melted on top of the stony path before them. It wasn’t until they neared the city that it began to stick, leaving enough Leila could probably roll some decent snowballs.
But the sight of snow only made sadness and regret writhe in her stomach. If they had known it would snow, they wouldn’t have felt the need to search for water. It should have occurred to her. The gray clouds should have been a clue.
Without any urging from Leila, her camel followed behind Abdullah. Not a single word had been spoken since they’d left El-Misbah. Amina’s body was draped in front of Abdullah, wrapped in the moth-eaten blankets from the house. A large, red stain had soaked through one side of the frizzy gray material.
Slowly, signs of civilization began to appear between the mountains. Stone walls lined the narrow valley they traveled through, built long ago by Bedouin settlers. Rows of fruit and nut trees lined the hillsides as snow built up around their trunks, coating the bark in a layer of white.
The orchards soon turned into clusters of simple stone houses, built into the rocks above the valley floor. Finally, they had reached the outskirts of Saint Catherine Town.
They came to a paved road that glistened from the fresh snowfall. With a cloud of mist trailing behind, a giant bus roared over the asphalt, carrying tourists from their sunny beach vacations in Sharm El-Sheikh to the historical monastery.
The two weary travelers kept a short distance from the road. Getting themselves sprayed by exhaust fumes and mud was probably the last thing either of them were in the mood for, Although, Leila could think of worse.
Farther down the road, signs for hotels and restaurants popped up on the shoulders. Leila couldn’t help but shake her head as they passed a gas station. She’d long lost count how many days she’d been in the desert. A week, maybe two. Already, even the most simple things felt alien to her.
Serrated peaks towered above them, covering the city in their shadows. A mountain of red granite rose above the others, its tip hidden within the low, gray clouds. At its foot, the city of Saint Catherine sprawled across the snow-covered valley.
Mount Sinai.
With her goal in sight, Leila took in the imposing rock formation. The monastery was just on the other side.
When they came to a crossroad, Abdullah brought his camel to a stop. Fatma paused beside him without prompting and snorted.
