“About half past nine.”

“Do you have anything from the flight? To verify your statement.” The detective shrugged an apology.

Omar Yussef produced the stub of his boarding pass from his jacket. Hamza took it and said, “I’ll have to check this.”

Is that flight my alibi? Do I really need an alibi? It was as though by being drawn this far into the case, Omar Yussef had assumed some of the murderer’s guilt. “What time was Nizar killed?” he asked.

Hamza glanced at the stub. “About the time you say your plane touched down, as far as we can tell at this stage,” he said. “What about you, sir?”

Ala raised his eyes, keeping his jaw tight.

“Where were you at nine-thirty?” the policeman said.

“I was somewhere else.”

Hamza worked his tongue around his mouth and lifted his chin.

“That’s all I can tell you,” Ala said.

“It’s not enough.”

“My son, you have to give the policeman an alibi,” Omar Yussef said. “Weren’t you with someone who could verify where you were?”

“Yes, but I can’t say who.” Ala’s stern face became momentarily desperate and childlike. “I just can’t, Dad.”

“It isn’t your Dad who’s asking you,” Hamza said. “If you can’t give me an alibi, we’re going to have to take you in.”

“You can’t arrest him,” Omar Yussef stammered.

“Calm down, ustaz Abu Ramiz. This isn’t Palestine. If your son has to come to the station with me, he’ll have all the rights that are due to him.”

“But he’s innocent.”

“He’s guilty of hiding something, and I want to know what that is.”

“Ala, tell him where you were. This is serious.”

Ala clasped his hands, but Omar Yussef saw that they were shaking.

“You won’t tell Mama about this, will you?” the young man said.

Chapter 4

An officer put his palm on the crown of Ala’s head, guiding him down into the patrol car. When he took it away, the boy’s curls fell across his eye. Omar Yussef stepped forward to smooth the hair back, but the policeman slammed the door. As the car turned the corner onto Bay Ridge Avenue, Omar Yussef shivered.