“So you think someone killed him for that?”
“I have no doubt it would have sold for a good price on the black market.”
“Where did my dad get it, then?” She couldn’t keep the saltiness from her words. Neal couldn’t be suggesting her father stole it. Or that he was going to sell it. He would have never…
“I don’t know, Leila. I don’t know how or when he got it. I was hoping maybe you could help me answer that,” Neal said, placing the tips of his fingers together.
Leila fell silent again, wishing she’d been more observant back then. Obviously, this papyrus was more important than Soliman let on. Unless her father had been translating or transporting it, he wouldn’t have kept something like that in his home.
Unless he was trying to protect it.
She kept her gaze fixed on her tea, already cold. “I have no idea,” she groaned.
He began to sort through his papers on the table.
“According to the museum,” he said when he found the page he was searching for, “this papyrus was dated to be about three thousand years old. It had gone missing shortly after it had been found in the Valley of the Kings over thirty years ago. And I know I don’t need to explain to you it’s exceedingly valuable, not only in price but also for whatever is written on it.”
“Have you talked to Professor Soliman about this?”
“Yes. He said your father had shown it to him and that he had translated part of the document. He had never seen it before that day and never again. Believe me, that doesn’t take him off my list of persons of interest. He would have been fully aware of its value and importance.”
Leila swallowed. “So, what’s your hypothesis?”
Neal leaned back in his chair. “I suspect the three of them—Harrison, Soliman, and your father—fought over the papyrus. Then, excuse my bluntness, Harrison or Soliman killed your father. Harrison was on his way to finish him off, but he hit a deer and crashed into the ditch, which, luckily for him, expunged the obvious evidence of the murder. Meanwhile, Soliman hid the papyrus.”
Leila was at a loss for words. It couldn’t be possible that either of them were capable of murder. Unable to think clearly, she buried her face in her hands, wishing her brain could do a reboot.
“I’m sorry, Leila,” Neal said gently. “If it’s too much, we can continue this conversation some other time.”
“What can I do?” she finally brought herself to say, her voice weak.
“For now, just concentrate on the excavation. Please don’t mention this to anyone. Soliman asked for discretion, and I respect that. If you need to talk to someone, I’ll be here.
“For all we know, your father simply had a bad fall before getting into the car and the papyrus is entirely coincidental. Harrison and Soliman are only persons of interest. They both have been cooperative. Neither of their stories have changed. But the fact someone broke into your room and stole your Bible—”
“Xander didn’t steal it,” Leila said hurriedly, immediately wishing she hadn’t.
Neal raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“My father gave him one too.” She would just have to avoid mentioning how she found that out. “It’s just like mine. I don’t think he stole it. And it couldn’t have been Soliman. The man in my room…” Leila shook her head. The very thought was ridiculous. “No. He was too quick. Different build.”
Neal leaned back in his chair. “Well, innocent until proven guilty. But if you notice anything else unusual, just let me know.”
She would have plenty of opportunity for that if she continued with the plan to explore the tomb. Neal would probably tell her not to, so she didn’t mention it. Her gaze landed on the blank police reports, waiting expectantly for her version of events, and her stomach somersaulted. It wasn’t just some random break-in. Someone had been looking for something specific. Now that both Neal and Soliman had mentioned this missing papyrus, she was certain it wasn’t an old Bible her attacker wanted. While it wasn’t Xander or Soliman who had nearly strangled her to death, for all she knew they had an accomplice.
“So, we’re done?” she asked. As soon as Neal nodded, she gathered the forms and rose to her feet. “See you tomorrow,” she muttered and left the kitchen, leaving the rest of the clean-up to Neal. As she rushed up the stairs, she wiped the tear off her cheek.
Chapter Twelve
The next day dragged on. Leila picked away at a crust of sand plastered on the stone wall. Her heart was heavy and her mind whirled with this new twist on her father’s death. And she would be sneaking out with his suspected murderers at night. She had to be the biggest moron in the world. What was she thinking?
She was able to find some consolation by working. They had finally begun to uncover the other side of the wall. Here the rough stones were covered in hieroglyphics, proving their original belief of this being a mastaba was well founded.
Soliman, acting as though he was not suspected of murder by the FBI, was thrilled about the motifs of Thoth—the ancient Egyptian god of wisdom who had the body of a man and the head of an ibis—which decorated much of the stonework.
“Absolutely fantastic, these carvings!” he said, the pen in his hand dancing back and forth as he made notes. “More ornate than I expected! See those monkeys? Ancient Egyptians kept them as house pets. Absolutely delightful!”
After another hour of photographing and picking clumps of dirt off the wall, the team slowly began to disperse as they called it a day.
Soliman lingered behind while Leila placed her tools back in her leather pouch and rolled it up into a bulky cylinder.
He took a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and dabbed at his glistening brow.
“I’ve got the key,” he said, glancing down at the handkerchief as he refolded it.
Leila scrambled to her feet. Her heart clenched, unsure of how she was supposed to react. This was happening fast.
He glanced up at her as he stuffed the dirt-smudged cloth back into his pocket. “We’ll start tonight. Meet me at the back gate at midnight. Take care to not bring any attention to yourself. Don’t mention it to anyone.”
Even though her mind screamed not to, she nodded. Her apathetic confirmation seemed to satisfy him.
With a wave, he climbed out of the trench, leaving her alone, her gut twisting with confusion. Was this some kind of trick to get her alone? But he had been open with her. He told her the same story he told Neal.
Her mind spinning, she tucked the leather pouch under her arm and climbed from the pit. Soliman had no reason to hurt her—he could have done so by now if he wanted. She started back down the gravel path toward the parking lot, the others calling for her to hurry up as they waited in the Jeep.
This was too big of an opportunity to miss, a possible discovery of a lifetime. If Soliman and Xander had ominous plans, she could be the only one able to stop them. She would need to keep her eyes and ears open. And carry a weapon—just in case.
• • •
