Page 25 of Matthew
Matthew straightened. “They’re testing response times. Looking for weaknesses.”
She crossed her arms, jaw tight. “Then they found the wrong damn place to play games.”
Matthew didn’t smile this time. “Good. Because now we know where to watch.”
Chapter Six
By the time she and Matthew and Sammy circled back to the main lot, the nursery had settled into its usual rhythm. The sprinklers ticked quietly in the distance like a metronome keeping time. A pair of employees worked near the shade tunnel, their motions fluid and practiced as they unloaded bags of soil onto a wooden cart. The air smelled of lavender, damp earth, and the faint tang of fertilizer. Normally, that mix grounded her. Today, it scratched at her nerves.
Too much sat beneath the surface, unspoken but undeniable.
Caspian stood near the potting shed, talking with Nate and Rosie from the front desk. He leaned against one of the posts, arms crossed casually, but his posture was all purpose. Callie slowed her steps. She didn’t want to interrupt, but Caspian’s voice reached her anyway, low and measured. There was nothing urgent in his tone, but it held that quiet command people didn’t ignore. He was asking the right questions, and her team was listening.
Rosie shook her head at something. Nate pointed toward the lot. Callie caught enough to know they hadn’t dismissed the strange delivery as a fluke. Caspian gave a nod, said something that made Rosie smile, and then turned to walk toward her.
“Nothing out of the ordinary from your team,” he said, brushing dust off his palms. “Nobody recognized the truck or the driver. But they all mentioned Mickie showing up late.”
“He had a flat tire,” Callie replied, a little sharper than she meant to.
Matthew’s brow ticked upward. “So that explains the ghost delivery taking his place.”
Callie frowned. “Sort of. Mick doesn’t use third-party suppliers. Never has.” She crossed her arms, the breeze catching the hem of her shirt. “If someone hijacked his delivery window, they knew our schedule.”
The idea lodged deep in her chest, an anchor pulling against her ribs. Intentional. Timed. Whoever had done it knew the routine here. They’d chosen this place on purpose.
Matthew’s gaze shifted to the gravel lot where the truck had parked. His expression didn’t give anything away. When he looked at her again, there was something steady in his eyes, like he’d already started calculating the next move. Having him there, grounded and watching, made it easier to breathe.
She didn’t say anything, she just nodded. It wasn’t over. Not yet.
Caspian bent to pet Sammy before he glanced up and divided his gaze between them. “Okay,” he said, rising to his feet. “What’d you find?”
“There’s a scuffed area near the back corner—black rubber mark at the base of one of the posts,” Matthew said. “Could’ve been a tire spin. Not enough to ID, but fresh. Grass was still matted.”
“You get a photo?”
His lips twitched. “Of course.”
“And one of the motion sensors was shifted,” Callie added, her voice tight. “The one by the landscape display. I check it all the time. It’s not something that would slide on its own.”
“Deliberately turned,” Matthew confirmed. “Angle was clean. No storm damage, nothing broken.”
Caspian’s posture shifted, more alert now. “Someone walked the perimeter ahead of time. Scoped your layout. Knew how to avoid triggering the lights.”
“That’s what it felt like.” Callie’s fingers curled around her elbow. “As if they were testing us.”
Caspian nodded slowly, processing. “We’ll get a camera on that section of fence. Motion-triggered, wide lens. I’ll loop Carter in on what you found.”
“I’ll forward the photos to Carter and Gabe now,” Matthew said, holding up his phone.
“Good,” Caspian said. “Let’s make it harder for whoever this is to play invisible.”
Callie felt her shoulders ease the tiniest bit. Not because it was over, but because they weren’t brushing it off.
And this time, she wasn’t facing it alone.
“I’m going to go check by the road,” Caspian said before turning to walk in that direction, leaving her alone with Matthew and her jagged thoughts.
She headed over to the low bench under the shaded eave of the potting shed, while Sammy happily trotted over to his water bowl. Her legs didn’t feel tired, but the weight in her chest had grown heavier with every passing minute. A few yards away, the sound of shovels clinking against wheelbarrows mingled with the chirp of cicadas. Familiar noise. Not enough to distract her.
