“We have already spoken to Dr. El-Baz,” the officer said, shifting his weight impatiently. “This should only take a few hours of your time.”
Xander seemed to think it over for a moment, running a hand through his hair. “Right. I’ll be right there.”
“We will be waiting outside.” The officer and Mark headed for the door.
Once their footsteps faded down the hallway, Xander let out a breath of air.
Leila’s blood grew hot. She rose to her feet, fists clenched, and faced Xander. “What is this all about?”
“I’ll explain later. It’s not what it sounds like.” Xander reached for her hand, but she backed away, shaking her head.
Her voice rose an octave. “So you lied to me?”
He chewed on his bottom lip. Why wouldn’t he deny it?
“No, I never lied to you.” Xander stepped nearer. She inched back until she bumped into the wall.
“Past connections?” Her breathing shortened, her voice taking on an edge of hysteria. “Is this supposed to be some kind of coincidence? I’m not stupid, Xander. You were the mole, weren’t you? You told Amir everything!”
“Leila, I’ve been completely honest with you. I’m sorry, I haven’t told you everything yet. And I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I didn’t want to say anything until I was absolutely certain. I needed time and a clear head and—just give me a chance.”
“I’m not falling for it, Xander. Amir was right. You’re a lying murderer!” Leila shouted. She regretted the words immediately. His mouth dropped open, yet he said nothing as he stared at her with a wounded expression.
Someone cleared his throat from the doorway. Xander nodded at the Egyptian police officer then cast another glance at Leila, but she hurriedly diverted her gaze. He wheeled around, shrugged the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder and left with the policeman.
The door snapped shut and Leila stood frozen in place, the only sound in the room the soft whirring of the computer and other machines. Her head spinning, she leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, where she hugged her knees. Xander didn’t deny having a connection to Al-Rashid. He didn’t deny he was involved in the black market. Her throat tightened. He had been deceiving her the entire time.
Burying her face between her knees, she inhaled deeply, trying to fight back the tears. Her throat squeezed painfully, her eyes burned, vision blurred, but none of that compared to the way her heart had shattered into a thousand shards of clay.
She propped her head against the wall behind her. She had to pull herself together. The other lab technicians would arrive at any moment. What she needed to do was get back to work. Distract herself. The last thing she wanted was for her coworkers to come in here and find her in this state. Reluctantly, she wiped at her cheeks and rose to her feet.
She ran her fingers through her hair, brushing it away from her face, and her gut twisted. Xander had her hair tie. She dug a new one out of her bag then took her place in front of the computer. Fingertips waited on the keyboard. No command came.
Where had she left off? She glanced down at the vase, waiting unconcerned on the table.
Measurements.
“Fifty-three centimeters,” she muttered, holding a ruler against the vase. Swiveling back around to the computer, her fingers tapped on the plastic keys. She hastily finished the description of the ancient ceramic, though she could hardly remember what she wrote.
She greeted Mariam and Fatima as they entered the lab a few minutes later, trying her best to keep her voice steady. She’d love nothing more than to scream.
“Need any help with anything?” Mariam asked casually, plopping her oversized purse onto an empty chair.
“No. I’m okay.” Leila gestured toward the storage room door. “Just grab anything that hasn’t been labeled and get started.”
Her coworkers provided animated discussions about the artifacts and the tomb—with occasional giggles and snickers when other colleagues were mentioned in between—as the three of them threw themselves into their work. Despite that, the day passed slowly. Xander never came back from his interview, which was just as well. Leila returned the clay shards to their box and left it at his workstation. Then she helped lock up.
On her way back to the dig house, she walked past buildings with crumbling plaster, shop windows covered in dust from the latest sandstorm, and dodged scruffy stray cats. Her mood continued to sink without the artifacts to distract her.
Countless possibilities raced through her mind as she wondered what role Xander had truly played—or was playing—for the Al-Rashids. It felt less like a coincidence Xander had been with her father when he died. It couldn’t be a coincidence he didn’t have any memory of the accident. If it was an accident.
How could I have been so stupid?
She rounded a corner, and the front door to the dorm came into view. Xander and Mark lingered on the sidewalk talking, seeming not to notice her approach. Before either of them could see her, she ducked behind the thick, scraggly trunk of a date palm, straining to hear what they were saying.
“Again, sorry for the trouble. I’m sure it won’t happen again,” Mark said, a hand jingling keys in his pocket.
“It’s not your fault. Keep up the good work.” They shook hands and a phone rang. They both checked their pockets. Xander turned away from Mark to face Leila’s hiding spot and put his phone to his ear. A drastic change of expression fell over his features. His eyes widened, his mouth dropped, then he pivoted on his heel and strode into the dorm.
Leila waited until Mark was out of sight before leaving her hiding spot then followed Xander up the stairs to his room. He’d left the door open. She hovered outside and caught the last few words of his conversation.
“Thank you so much for letting me know. I’ll be on the next flight to London.”
He was leaving? Just like that? Was he taking the first opportunity to run away? She strode inside his room as he tossed an empty suitcase onto the bed.
“You going somewhere?” she asked, crossing her arms.
Xander threw a glare at her as he emptied the drawer of boxers directly into the open luggage.
Anger simmered in her chest. “I want the truth, Xander.”
He faced her. His eyes glistened and he gaped at her with a strange mixture of emotions. She wasn’t sure what she saw. Was it grief? Exasperation?
“Leila, the world doesn’t revolve around you, you know?”
She blinked as he resumed packing. Where did that come from?
“Come again?”
