Page 11 of Devlin

They soon approached a modest one-story building made of weathered wood with a thatched roof. An awning stretched over the front porch, shading several chairs arranged around a firepit. Margarethe led them inside, guiding them through a narrow hallway to a room tucked into the back corner of the house. “Here we are,” she said, motioning them in.

Devlin stepped through the doorway, quickly surveying the space. Four military-style beds lined the room, each accompanied by a narrow metal wardrobe. The room was sparse but functional, the kind of accommodations he’d seen countless times before in the military.

“You can store your things here,” Margarethe said. “I’m going to get keys for your room.”

As she disappeared down the hall, the Keepers tossed their duffels onto the beds, each claiming a cot. The mosquito netting was strung over each bed, pulled to the side during the daytime. They worked efficiently, stowing their belongings in the wardrobes and securing their equipment with the padlocks they’d brought. Devlin knew the locks wouldn’t stop anyone determined to break in, but they might deter someone with idle curiosity.

The sun shone through the slats of shutters over a small window. An overhead fan rotated lazily, barely disturbing the heavy air.

Margarethe returned, a kerchief tied around her neck to catch the perspiration. She dabbed at her brow before handing each Keeper a key. “I don’t expect you’ll have trouble with security here,” she said, her tone steady but cautious. “That said, these are uncertain times. Our visit may unsettle someone who has something to hide.”

Devlin nodded. “We’ll remain armed, like any other security personnel here.”

“Understood,” Margarethe replied, her expression resolute.

They stepped outside, the sun blazing as it descended toward the horizon. Along the lane, Ugandans and refugees moved about, some carrying baskets of supplies and others chatting in small groups. Most smiled and waved as they passed, their warmth and resilience striking Devlin. Despite the hardships, there was an almost tangible sense of hope here.

After a short walk, the road widened, revealing several large buildings on either side. Margarethe gestured toward one of them. “Food storage is over here. I see our truck has arrived. Let’s head inside so you can meet the team.”

They entered a reception area, where a woman sat behind a wooden counter. Her face lit up when she saw Margarethe, and her smile was warm and genuine. “Oh, Ms. Gunther,” she said in halting English. “It is so nice to see you again.”

“It’s lovely to be back,” Margarethe replied. “Is our truck being unloaded?”

“Yes.” The woman nodded. “Farid is in the back, ready for intake.”

Margarethe turned to the Keepers, her eyes alight with purpose. “Let’s get started.”

Devlin exchanged a glance with Cole and Todd, each silently preparing for what lay ahead. This mission wasn’t just about inventory but about peeling back layers to uncover a truth someone was desperate to hide.

Without hesitation, Margarethe led the Keepers through a side door into a sprawling storage facility. The air inside was cooler but carried the earthy scent of packed goods and wooden crates. Devlin’s sharp gaze swept over the space, noting the organized rows of crates stacked with precision. Workers moved purposely among them, carrying, stacking, and inspecting items with practiced efficiency. From what he could see, a method and controlled rhythm kept the chaos at bay.

Near the center of the room, a man with dark hair and sun-kissed skin stood holding a clipboard. His sharp eyes scanned the workers. As he turned and saw Margarethe, his serious expression melted into a broad smile. He strode toward her with open arms, his joy palpable.

“Margarethe!” he exclaimed, his voice reaching them through the buzz of activity.

Margarethe engulfed him in a hug, her warmth unmistakable. Keeping an arm around him, she turned to the Keepers. “This is Devlin, Todd, and Cole.” She gestured toward them. “And this is Farid Hussein. He’s the second-in-command here, and this place wouldn’t function without him.”

Farid offered a firm handshake to each of them, his demeanor welcoming. He turned to Margarethe. “I know you are anxious to see her. She’s on the other side,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. “Let me get her!”

Margarethe didn’t wait, following him as he navigated through the rows of crates toward the far side of the building. Devlin and the others trailed, weaving among the rows. As they approached, his eyes locked on a woman standing with her back to them. Her long, dark braid hung down her back, swaying slightly as she moved. She wore a simple white T-shirt tucked into khaki pants that fit her snugly, emphasizing a lithe, graceful frame.

Margarethe quickened her pace, and as she reached the woman, the two embraced heartily, their laughter cutting through the activity in the building. The woman turned partially, offering a glimpse of her profile, and Devlin felt an unexpected jolt. She was much younger than he’d imagined.

Margarethe waved them over, and Devlin followed, his steps slowing as they drew closer. The woman turned fully, her smile bright and welcoming as her gaze landed first on Cole, then shifted to Todd. But when her eyes reached Devlin, the air thickened, making breathing difficult.

They stared at each other, the space between them suddenly electric. Devlin’s heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out the distant chatter and the scrape of crates being moved. His world narrowed to the impossible reality standing before him. The woman he had loved fiercely when they’d been together and still loved after he’d walked away was now standing before him, her gaze just as wide and disbelieving as his.

Margarethe’s voice broke through the haze, though the words barely registered. “Devlin,” she said, her tone cheerful. “Let me introduce our food security officer, Mia Duff.”

Mia Duff.Her name echoed in his mind, loud and clear. It was as if time had rewound the years between them into nothingness. Her expression was unreadable, her lips slightly parted as though she, too, couldn’t find the words.

Devlin didn’t move, his body rigid and his chest tight. Questions swirled in his mind, unanswered and unanswerable at the moment. All he knew was that Mia Duff was here. And just like that, the mission took on a whole new weight.

6

Mia stared, unblinking, at the man before her—a tall mountain of a man with black hair and a heavy black beard. And blue eyes that were pinned on her. Her breath caught, and her mind struggled to process the sight of him. She stared at a vision she never thought she’d see again.

Jim Devlin stood in the dusty warehouse, his presence commanding, as though he belonged there despite the improbability of his being in Uganda. Every visit back to her parents in Kansas had been fraught with the risk of stumbling across memories she’d buried. The high school they’d shared, the spots where they’d laughed, argued, and fallen in love—ghosts of a past life she’d carefully avoided. She’d succeeded in never crossing paths with him or his family, always managing to stay out of reach. But now, there was no evading him. No running.

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