Shanti satin the middle in the back seat of the Land Rover, Dylan on one side of her and Malik on the other, while Connor sat in the front passenger seat. Connor hadn’t said a word to her since they’d left the hotel. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still upset with her.
Can you blame him?
She had apologized. There was nothing else she could do. Besides, her job here was to collect evidence that could be used to support a warrant for General Naing’s arrest, not to start a relationship with the very sexy head of her security team.
“Copy that.” Connor turned to the driver. “We’ll wait in the car until we find out what’s happening.”
Shanti wanted to know. “What is it?”
“The drone is showing a crowd of people not far from the hospital.”
“I hope nothing bad happened.” She knew from her experience yesterday how easily the camp could flood.
At least the rain had stopped—for now.
Pauline and Noor were waiting for them once again, but rather than getting out, Connor rolled down the window.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s awful,” Pauline said. “A mudslide buried some shelters on the hillside just south of the hospital. We’re trying to find survivors and bring them to the hospital, but so far, we’ve only recovered bodies.”
Oh, God.
Connor talked it over with his team, trying to decide whether the situation warranted returning to the hotel.
Shanti wanted to tell him that she couldn’t go back. She had four witness interviews today, four interviews she could not miss, but he already knew that. She had agreed to abide by his decisions, and she would honor that agreement. But she didn’t have to like it. She let out a relieved breath when Connor told her they could go ahead with the day as planned.
“Jones, Cruz, you’re with me. The rest of you stay with the vehicles and be ready to join us or to leave at a moment’s notice.”
“You got it.”
Shanti turned to Isaksen. “What do you do all day while we’re at the hospital?”
“Keep watch. Crack some jokes.” He grinned, his Danish soft.
“That sounds awfully dull.”
“You’ve never served in the military, have you?” Malik chuckled. “Most of the time, it’s ‘hurry up and wait.’ We do alotof waiting.”
All of them laughed, except Connor.
He was all business. “Let’s move.”
Shanti pulled her headscarf over her hair, and they started off for the hospital, making their way along muddy paths, Connor ahead of her, Malik beside her, Dylan behind. She heard the crowd before she saw it—a murmur of voices mixed with shouts and raw wails of grief.
Her stomach knotted.
After all, they’d been through, these people didn’t deserve this heartbreak.
As they drew close to the hospital, Connor stopped, making way for men who carried the dead and wounded on stretchers.
“One o’clock,” Malik said.
“I see him,” Connor said.
Shanti imagined standing in a clock and looked toward the one to see a man in a maroon T-shirt and graylungi—a kind of sarong. He was staring straight at her, acting as if he wanted to talk to her. “He might be one of my appointments.”
She would be speaking to a couple of male survivors today and might need Connor or one of the other men to be in the room with her so as not to violate Rohingya cultural norms.