Heart pounding, she took an abrupt turn into a side alley. The footsteps followed. She broke into a run, dodging empty plastic bags and ignoring the smell of urine.
She whipped around another corner then took a left. She flattened herself against the wall. A shaky breath escaped through her nostrils, but she didn’t hear any more footsteps. Slowly, she poked her head around the corner. The alley was empty. Maybe he hadn’t been following her after all.
Certain she was alone, she ambled down the quiet street. Maybe Soliman had been right about riding camels to the tomb. With the camels on her mind, she wondered if anyone had told his friend not to have the animals ready for them that night. It had completely slipped her mind.
Movement came from ahead. The figure exited an alley a couple houses ahead of her and placed himself in the middle of the sidewalk. His face was covered by black cloth, revealing only his gleaming eyes. A wide, curved blade he held at his side glinted as the metal caught the moonlight.
Panic poured over her like a bucket of ice water. She whirled and bolted across the street, her only thought now to reach the stable. There she could at least get her hands on a shovel. Her dull paring knife wouldn’t be much use against his blade of death.
She didn’t need to look behind to see if he was following; she could hear his footsteps slamming into the pavement. At one point, they faded, but she blazed across the deserted courtyard. She burst into the stable and threw herself against the wall.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, taking in deep whiffs of hay and manure. The aromas gradually subsided and her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Flakes of straw floated in the beam of moonlight shining through the open door into the barn, illuminating a pitchfork leaning against the opposite wall.
The sound of footsteps scraped outside the door. Heart racing, she snatched the tool. Holding the sharp points in front of her, she backed deeper within the stalls.
A shadow fell across the doorway.
Then her back hit something hard—and breathing. She screamed and spun around, ready to gouge the person with the pitchfork. A light flashed in her eyes, blinding her. Eyes clamped shut, she stumbled back and the pitchfork was yanked from her grip.
“What’s gotten into you?” came Xander’s voice. Leila shielded her eyes with her hands and squinted at Xander, who finally lowered the light from her face.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, somehow relieved to have run into him. A suspected murderer was better than a knife-wielding shadow.
“I was wondering the same thing about you.” He raised an eyebrow and propped the end of the pitchfork on the ground next to him. “Out for a little stroll?”
“Exactly. Out for a walk. Some fresh air and all that. Preferably alone, thank you.” She returned to the doorway, which seemed empty, and hesitantly peeked out. Whoever had been following her had disappeared. Had she dreamed the whole thing?
She glanced over her shoulder at Xander, curious. “But what are you doing?”
Xander gestured with his flashlight toward one of the stalls. A camel lazily chewed and gave her a lethargic blink. “Just visiting our new friends. Forgot to tell Mohammed not to get them ready for us, so they were standing in the courtyard, waiting. I was about to head back home.”
His excuse sounded plausible enough, though something told her it was too convenient. Leila scanned the courtyard once again, hesitant to leave the safety of the stable.
“So what actually brings you barging into stables and attacking people with pitchforks in the middle of the night?” He came to stand behind her and peered out the door at the deserted square with a frown.
“Nothing. Really. Nothing.” Leila forced a laugh and slipped outside to avoid further questioning. After being followed by that creep with the knife and running into Xander of all people, she was ready to call it a night. She could try to slip away from the dig tomorrow, in the daylight.
“Leila,” Xander said as he followed, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation. “Soliman told me something interesting earlier today.”
She came to a halt. Trying to keep her countenance neutral, she faced him. Dread settled in her stomach like a bag of rocks. “Oh, really?”
“Were you seriously planning on going back, despite knowing how unstable it is, with a pitchfork?”
“Not anymore,” Leila muttered, her blood growing warm. Her mind reeled at the fact Soliman blabbed. She couldn’t count on anyone, could she?
“The thing is,” Xander said and let out a frustrated sigh, “I’ve been waiting for you to mention that you found the tomb to me all day. We’re on the same team, aren’t we?”
“I trusted you once. Look at how that worked out.” She pivoted on her heel and stormed down the alley.
Before she could round the corner, he called, “You don’t honestly think I did it on purpose, do you?”
Although she wasn’t sure what she should say, she whirled around. Her mind blanked at the wounded expression on his face, the expression of not only being accused of something heinous but being considered guilty.
He took a few paces forward. “I know you don’t believe it.” His voice was almost a whisper. “You wouldn’t have come if you thought we were murderers, would you?”
She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking of the small knife in her pocket. Although laughable, she’d taken precautions. She’d constantly been on the lookout for an escape. But she still went along with them. She still told Soliman.
Not ready to admit he was right, she lifted her gaze to meet Xander’s.
“Tell me what happened. I want to hear it, in your words.”
He raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “I… I don’t know. I’ve told you that. I just know it wasn’t on purpose. I would never—”
“How am I supposed to know that’s the truth?”
After a few seconds of silence, he asked, “Would it help if I told you a secret?”
She paused. Okay, she was intrigued. He’d been hiding something, after all. “What secret?”
He leaned in toward her and whispered, “I stole something that night we broke into the Weston Manor.”
Leila sucked in her breath. “But the Westons said nothing had been taken.”
“They lied.”
“What did you steal?”
“A papyrus.”
