Page 14 of Devlin

Cole asked, “When food leaves this distribution center here and goes to one of the villages, what is the process?”

She shifted slightly on her desk and turned her laptop around. “Our internet is not always reliable, so we usually have our spreadsheets to check off when crates are loaded from here. One of my staff or I will go to the village with the truck and note it as the food is transferred. The staff assigned to that village’s food distribution center oversees the refugees in that area. When they get low on supplies and notify me, the process begins again.”

“Are the food distribution centers guarded?”

“Yes and no.” She shook her head, her shoulders slumping. “When no food distribution staff member is present, the centers are secured and locked. Moses provides security for each village, and his team makes rounds near the food distribution centers. It’s not a perfect system, but aside from small thefts, we remain fairly secure.”

She lifted her chin and slowly looked at Cole, then Todd, and finally, Devlin, meeting each man’s gaze in turn. “I’m sure you must assume that the refugees are so desperate for food that they would take everything they could by any means possible. But you will find that most refugees are so grateful to be here because their lives were so poor where they came from that they work with us, not against us. I’ve seen families turn away some of their rations when they realized we were running short so there would be enough to go around. I’ve seen men go without so their wives and children could eat. I’ve seen families with meager portions share with newcomers just arriving. While there is evidence of small thefts—a bag of rice, a crate of fruit—these refugees also farm, grow what they can, and share or sell their produce.”

The room fell silent as she finished, the weight of her words settling over them. She fought the urge to shift on the desk again, wishing now she’d asked for another chair to be brought in.

As though he could read her thoughts, Devlin stood. “Please, sit,” he said softly, stepping away from the chair.

She battled the desire to bark at him, refusing any act of generosity. But not wanting to raise questions among the others, she stood, shifted the chair next to her laptop, and sat down. Devlin leaned against the wall by the doorframe, casually crossing one booted foot over the other, his arms folded across his broad chest. For all outward appearances, he seemed calm, in control, and unbothered.

She wanted to slap him.

The intensity of the desire shocked her. She wasn’t a violent person, yet she was surprised by how much she wanted to hurt him. Christ, even after a decade, just being in a room with him could make her lose herself.

She continued with another shake of her head to dislodge all stray thoughts. “The villages are set in a semicircle. Thereare five, the largest of which is Bulit, which holds about thirty thousand refugees. Then there is Kaborogatu with twenty-five thousand. The next ones farther along are Mukondo and Kaoni, at twenty thousand each. The smallest village is also the farthest from us. It’s the one where some new refugees will be brought. Sweswe only has about twelve thousand refugees. It is also the village closest to our outer perimeter on the north.”

She leaned over and jerked on a drawer, jiggling it until it opened. Pulling out a map, she spread it on the desktop. “While the camp is in constant flux, this shows how it is now.”

“Is each village self-sufficient?” Devlin asked.

“Yes,” she replied, casting a furtive glance his way before looking back down at the map as though it was the most interesting thing in the room. “Each village has its own food distribution center, supply distribution center, and director who reports straight to Dr. München. They have their own medical clinic and their own WASH representative.” Her brow furrowed as she considered how much the three men understood about the camp. “WASH stands for water, sanitation, and hygiene. As you can imagine, without the work of these people, many of the refugees would die of disease.”

She spared another glance toward Devlin, finding him nodding, his gaze still pinned on her.

Shaken slightly, she pushed forward. “I began to see discrepancies from Sweswe. My records of what they distributed and requested for months didn’t match up. I noticed this last month. I brought it up with my staff, but none seemed to understand where the discrepancy was. When we looked, we found crates were missing. At first, I thought it was refugees stealing. Most of the refugees there came from the Congo and were in bad shape when they arrived. I also understand that many have had to steal, beg, and borrow anything they could to survive. I hoped the discrepancies would stop as soon as theyrealized there would be plenty of food, and we would all work together.”

“They didn’t,” Margarethe said.

Mia shook her head as she lifted her hand to rub her temples, staving off the blossoming headache. “I reviewed several months’ records and realized that the village was requesting more and distributing less than what would have been correct. Thinking my staff might have been overwhelmed, I shifted around a few people. But that didn’t seem to make a difference. Because the thefts were not random, I then began to wonder if I didn’t have a systemic problem on my hands. I also began to think that more than just a few refugees were stealing. It was too much at a time. It was too coordinated.”

Cole nodded. “What made you think of the black market?”

She scoffed. “I live and work in an area surrounded by countries with military regimes that are just as desperate for money and goods as the refugees are. The black market abounds. Food, clothes, medical supplies, office supplies, and weapons. A refugee camp can be the perfect place for these predators. They prey on the weak and take whatever they can.”

“And you went to Margarethe because you weren’t sure who to trust here.”

Once again, Devlin spoke, and Mia felt forced to meet his gaze. His rich and steady voice seemed to wrap around her, pulling her attention even as she tried to resist.

“I don’t deny that there could be refugees here who the Congolese placed specifically to steal what they can,” she said, her tone sharp. “But it’s so organized. And it makes me not trust anyone. Even the heads of the camp that I work with.” She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, hating the bitterness that had crept into her heart.

“Mia.”

The way he said her name softly sent a jolt through her. Her eyes snapped open, locking and then narrowing on his. Devlin leaned against the wall, arms still crossed, his posture seemingly relaxed, but his expression told a different story. Something flickered in his eyes—sadness? Regret? She couldn’t tell, and it infuriated her.

Dragging her gaze away from him, she turned to Margarethe. “I went out one night last week, and when I came to the food distribution center at Kaborogota, I noticed I didn’t see a security guard around. I parked down the lane and waited. He finally came around, so I left and came back here. It just made me realize we have no consistent way to ensure no one is stealing. And with trucks coming and going at all hours, the food can be vulnerable. I emailed you immediately. Unable to know who I might trust, I thought it best to go straight to my superior outside this camp.”

“You should always take someone with you when you are out at night,” Margarethe gently chastised.

The three men erupted simultaneously, their voices blending into chaos, but Devlin’s broke through above the rest. “What the fuck, Mia? What the hell were you thinking?”

White-hot fury surged through her. She turned on him, her gaze burning. “How dare you question what I do in my job?” she bit out, her voice shaking with anger. Her fist pounded against her chest. “I understand the qualities of loyalty and protection, not just ensuring the nutritional needs of these people.”

Margarethe raised a hand, her expression a mixture of concern and authority. “Enough,” she said firmly. “You’ve given us plenty to start with, Mia. It’s almost dinnertime. I’ll take these files and look them over tonight. We’ll regroup in the morning.”

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