Page 33 of Matthew
Auction yard receipt. Rural lot, two counties north. Seven months old. Partial VIN match. Listed buyer:
D. Carver Contracting.
The name stopped him cold.
He didn’t need to run it through a database. He didn’t even need a second read.
Duke Carver.
Except Duke Carver was dead.
Murdered in town over a month ago.
Matthew stared at the name on the screen. It didn’t matter that the man was gone. Carver’s reach had always extended further than it should have—backdoor deals, bad contractors, whispered threats with no paper trail. ESI had files on him. Nothing ever stuck.
But that name on that truck?
He exhaled through his nose. Someone was pulling strings behind the scenes. Someone who either worked for Carver or wanted people to think they did. That meant two possibilities, and neither of them sat right.
Either Carver had set something in motion before his death.
Or someone was using his name to send a message.
Matthew looked up.
Callie stood near the stacked crates, skimming something on her clipboard. Her dog hovered close, his tail wagging like nothing had shifted. But it had. She didn’t know it yet, not fully. But this wasn’t just a weird delivery anymore.
This was connected. And calculated.
He crossed the gravel without hesitation. No need to prep her gently.
“You’re gonna want to see this,” he said.
She turned, one brow lifting, her eyes sharp despite the exhaustion there.
He held the phone out.
She read it and went still.
“D. Carver?” she said quietly. “As in Duke Carver?”
He nodded once.
Her jaw clenched. “He’s dead.”
“Yeah. Which makes this a hell of a lot messier.”
She handed the phone back slowly. “You think it’s someone connected to him?”
“Maybe. Or someone who wants us to think that. Either way, it’s intentional.”
She didn’t speak, but her expression sharpened as if something slid into place. A new edge of resolve settling in.
Matthew watched her closely. She wasn’t unraveling. She was bracing.
And whoever dragged Duke Carver’s name into this hadn’t counted on that.
Chapter Eight
