when I was just a few months old. Jim managed to keep me and take care of me while studying and working at the same time. Needless to say, Mr. D’Alesio, I adore my father. I would battle you—or every sheikh and emir in a thousand deserts—if it would lead me to him.”
D’Alesio lowered his lashes and sipped his coffee. He should have known she was his daughter. Crosby had hair that same soft gold color. But his features were angular, and hers were so delicate.
“Your father told you to get hold of Ali?”
“Yes.”
“How? When?”
Alex bit her lip for a second, considering telling him to go to hell— she would talk to Sheriff. But he seemed honestly concerned, and no matter what her feelings toward him were, if he could offer any help, she would accept it.
“I got a letter from him on the fifth. He said, exactly, ‘if anything goes wrong, get hold of Sheriff. A few things are making me a little nervous.’”
Dan was silent for several seconds, his fingers idly tapping the rug as he mused over her words. “Sounds like he knew something was up somewhere.”
Alex waved a hand impatiently in the air. “Obviously. But this must be Sheriff’s oasis. If I could just talk to him—”
“You’re going to talk to Sheriff,” Dan said dryly. “But he isn’t going to be able to help you much. I planned on coming out here as soon as I got back to Cairo after your father didn’t show in the Valley of the Kings. I’ve already talked to Ali, and he doesn’t know anything.”
Alarm rose in Alex’s voice. “But Jim was here—I know he was here. He called me from Abu Dhabi—”
“When!” The sharp edge in his voice irritated Alex, but she merely shot him a hostile glance and then responded. “On the fifth—the night I got his letter.”
“What did he say?”
Alex frowned, forgetting for a moment that she despised D’Alesio. “He—he said that I had the puzzle pieces. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, so I asked him to repeat himself.”
“And?”
“And … nothing. The line went dead.”
Dan set his coffee cup down on the rug and stood. Alex watched as he began to pace the confines of the tent, thinking that in his black robes he reminded her of an extremely tall panther. He was constant energy; terribly alive, terribly vital. From the coal of his eyes to the smooth agility of his muscled limbs, he was vibrant and electric. Still wishing she could kill him—or at least see him hanged by his toes from a tree for the next ten years—she couldn’t fight his compelling attraction. As he moved, her eyes followed him.
He stopped pacing, and Alex felt as if her soul were being impaled when he abruptly turned to stare back into her eyes.
“You know for a fact that he was in Abu Dhabi when he called?”
“Yes. I tried to get him back through the international operator.”
“Do you have any idea what he might have meant by ‘puzzle pieces’?”
Alex hesitated only a second. “Yes. I think he was talking about the dig—the expedition. The letter he had written was all about the way he had discovered historical ‘clues’ that fit. He wasn’t worried about months or years of digging; he was certain he knew exactly where the tomb would be.”
“You don’t know?”
Alex shook her head with a grimace.
“But ‘you have all the puzzle pieces.’”
“I—I suppose. But you have to realize these pieces are all in a haystack. I believe I might be able to find them—”
“Who else knows you have these pieces?”
Alex stared at him with marked annoyance. He asked questions like a drill sergeant.
“Would you answer me, please?” He read her expression, and then sighed. “Alex, I’m as determined as you are to find your father.” She was still sitting on the sand, and he walked to her to offer his hand. She stared at it without touching it for a long time, then accepted his assistance in getting up. “I know you’re angry. I was angry myself when I started this thing.
D’Alesio lowered his lashes and sipped his coffee. He should have known she was his daughter. Crosby had hair that same soft gold color. But his features were angular, and hers were so delicate.
“Your father told you to get hold of Ali?”
“Yes.”
“How? When?”
Alex bit her lip for a second, considering telling him to go to hell— she would talk to Sheriff. But he seemed honestly concerned, and no matter what her feelings toward him were, if he could offer any help, she would accept it.
“I got a letter from him on the fifth. He said, exactly, ‘if anything goes wrong, get hold of Sheriff. A few things are making me a little nervous.’”
Dan was silent for several seconds, his fingers idly tapping the rug as he mused over her words. “Sounds like he knew something was up somewhere.”
Alex waved a hand impatiently in the air. “Obviously. But this must be Sheriff’s oasis. If I could just talk to him—”
“You’re going to talk to Sheriff,” Dan said dryly. “But he isn’t going to be able to help you much. I planned on coming out here as soon as I got back to Cairo after your father didn’t show in the Valley of the Kings. I’ve already talked to Ali, and he doesn’t know anything.”
Alarm rose in Alex’s voice. “But Jim was here—I know he was here. He called me from Abu Dhabi—”
“When!” The sharp edge in his voice irritated Alex, but she merely shot him a hostile glance and then responded. “On the fifth—the night I got his letter.”
“What did he say?”
Alex frowned, forgetting for a moment that she despised D’Alesio. “He—he said that I had the puzzle pieces. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, so I asked him to repeat himself.”
“And?”
“And … nothing. The line went dead.”
Dan set his coffee cup down on the rug and stood. Alex watched as he began to pace the confines of the tent, thinking that in his black robes he reminded her of an extremely tall panther. He was constant energy; terribly alive, terribly vital. From the coal of his eyes to the smooth agility of his muscled limbs, he was vibrant and electric. Still wishing she could kill him—or at least see him hanged by his toes from a tree for the next ten years—she couldn’t fight his compelling attraction. As he moved, her eyes followed him.
He stopped pacing, and Alex felt as if her soul were being impaled when he abruptly turned to stare back into her eyes.
“You know for a fact that he was in Abu Dhabi when he called?”
“Yes. I tried to get him back through the international operator.”
“Do you have any idea what he might have meant by ‘puzzle pieces’?”
Alex hesitated only a second. “Yes. I think he was talking about the dig—the expedition. The letter he had written was all about the way he had discovered historical ‘clues’ that fit. He wasn’t worried about months or years of digging; he was certain he knew exactly where the tomb would be.”
“You don’t know?”
Alex shook her head with a grimace.
“But ‘you have all the puzzle pieces.’”
“I—I suppose. But you have to realize these pieces are all in a haystack. I believe I might be able to find them—”
“Who else knows you have these pieces?”
Alex stared at him with marked annoyance. He asked questions like a drill sergeant.
“Would you answer me, please?” He read her expression, and then sighed. “Alex, I’m as determined as you are to find your father.” She was still sitting on the sand, and he walked to her to offer his hand. She stared at it without touching it for a long time, then accepted his assistance in getting up. “I know you’re angry. I was angry myself when I started this thing.
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