The cave was immediately secured, and the artifacts were documented. Under Lenora’s guidance, the sacred bundle and offerings remained undisturbed under guard. The historical artifacts—the notebook, the ring, and the cracked camera—were rushed to the forensics lab. Mara held little hope for the film. Sixty years of desert heat and moisture should have turned the emulsion to dust. Two nights later, her phone rang. It was the photo technician. “Mara? You need to get down here right now.”
The technician brought up the digitized scans on a high-resolution monitor. The first few frames were clear: Elias’s measuring tape laid out against the sealed slab, documentative shots of the outer chamber. Then came the photos of the inner room.
“Look at this frame,” the technician said, zooming in on the edge of the shot. Standing right at the periphery of the frame was a heavy, non-issue work boot. Next to it sat a heavy canvas bag bursting with iron tools, pry bars, and thick wrapping cloths. “That must’ve been Harlan’s gear,” Mara realized. “He wasn’t there to help. He was looting.”