Just a kid, Daniel reminded himself. He smiled and squatted so that he and Hussein were at eye level.
'You're doing very well. It's brave of you to tell me these things.'
The boy hung his head. His father took hold of his jaw and whispered fiercely in his ear.
'I went inside,' said Hussein. 'I saw the table.'
'The table?'
'The rock,' said Khalid Jussef Ibn Umar. 'He calls it a table.'
'That makes sense,' Daniel told the boy. 'It looks like a table. Did you touch anything in the cave?'
'Yes.'
'What did you touch?'
'That piece of cloth.' Pointing to the shred of white.
A forensics nightmare, thought Daniel, wondering what else had been disturbed.
'Do you remember what the cloth looked like?'
The boy took a step forward. 'Over there, you can pull it off.'
Daniel restrained him with a forearm. 'No, Hussein. I don't want to move anything until some other policemen get here.'
The terror returned to the boy's face.
'I?I didn't know-'
'That's all right,' said Daniel. 'What did the cloth look like?'
'White with blue stripes. And dirty.'
'Dirty with what?'
The boy hesitated.
'Tell me, Hussein.'
'Blood.'
Daniel looked at the cloth again. He could see now that it was larger than he'd thought. Only a small portion was white. The rest had blended in with the bloodstained rock. Enough, he hoped, for a decent analysis. '
Hussein was mumbling again.
'What's that, son?' asked Daniel.
'I thought? I thought it was the home of a wild animal!'
'Yes, that would make sense. What kinds of animals do you see out here?'
'Jackals, rabbits, dogs. Lions.'
'You've seen lions? Really?' Daniel suppressed a smile; the lions of Judea had been extinct for centuries.
Hussein nodded and turned his head away.
Tell the truth, boy,' commanded his father.
'I've heard lions,' said the boy, with unexpected assertive-ness. 'Heard them roaring.'
'Dreams,' said Khalid, cuffing him lightly. 'Foolishness.'
'What,' Daniel asked the boy, 'did you do after you touched the cloth?'
'I took the ewe and went out.'
'And then?'
'I told my father about the table.'
'Very good,' said Daniel, straightening himself. To the father: 'We're going to have to take your son's fingerprints.'
Hussein gasped and started crying.
'Quiet!' commanded Khalid. 'It won't hurt, Hussein,' said Daniel, squatting again. 'I
promise you that. A police officer will roll your fingers on a pad of ink, roll them again on a piece of paper, making a picture of the lines on your fingertips. Then he'll wash them off. That's it. He may also take a picture of your feet, using white clay and water. Nothing will hurt.'
Hussein remained unconvinced. He wiped his nose, hid his eyes with his arm, and continued to sniffle.
'Hush. Don't be a woman,' admonished the father, pulling the arm away. He dried the boy's tears with the back of his sleeve.
'You've done a very good job,' Daniel told Hussein. 'Thank you.' He offered a smile that went unreciprocated, turned to Khalid, and asked, 'Did anyone else touch anything in the cave?'
'No,' said Khalid. 'No one went near. It was an abomination.'
'How long have you been grazing near this cave?'
