Page 30 of Matthew
They moved on in silence, the kind that didn’t need explaining. Sammy rushed ahead and then looped back, brushing lightly against Matthew’s leg as he passed.
Matthew felt something settle low in his chest. Not calm. Not yet. But something closer to certainty.
And that was enough for now.
By the time they circled back toward the central path, more of the staff had returned to their usual rhythm. At least on the surface. Matthew knew the look of people pretending not to look worried. He’d seen it in cities overseas, on crowded docks, in the faces of civilians when something was coming and they didn’t know where from.
He kept his posture relaxed, his steps even, but his eyes scanned everything.
Rosie was at the front counter, but she wasn’t focused. Her attention kept drifting to her phone, thumb tapping against the edge as if fighting the urge to check it again. One of the younger guys—he hadn’t caught his name—walked past the display beds with a little too much interest in Matthew’s direction, then looked away fast.
It didn’t take much to rattle people. A strange delivery, a hint of law enforcement involvement, and a few clipped conversations from the boss were probably enough.
But then, an hour later, he saw something that sat wrong.
Near the lot, a delivery van was parked—one of the local suppliers, judging by the logo. Nothing suspicious there. What caught Matthew’s attention was Rosie, no longer inside at the counter, standing at the open driver’s side window, leaning in a little too far. The driver glanced toward the main office before shaking his head. Then Rosie handed him what appeared to be a note.
Matthew’s boots crunched over gravel as he changed direction slightly. He didn’t head toward them—didn’t need to. He shifted his route enough to make his presence known.
Rosie noticed.
She straightened immediately, turned her back to the van, and walked quickly toward the rear greenhouse. The driver watched her go, then pulled out without a wave or a look toward the counter.
Matthew didn’t chase it. Not yet. Could’ve been nothing. But it didn’t feel like nothing.
He reached Callie where she was checking the irrigation timers by the south beds. She glanced up, the breeze tugging a few strands of hair from her ponytail.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
He considered brushing it off, but he didn’t.
“Rosie passed something to a delivery driver. Might be unimportant, but the timing’s questionable.”
Callie’s brow furrowed. “She’s been with us for a while. Never had any issues.”
“That you know of,” he said quietly. “Sometimes people don’t know they’re giving something away. A casual question. A schedule. Even a simple routine.”
She looked past him toward the lane, her jaw tight. “You think she’s involved?”
“I think we keep our eyes open.”
Sammy wandered back over, sniffed at the corner of one of the raised beds, then dropped to the grass and rolled onto his back as if the world was fine.
Matthew watched Callie for a second longer.
She didn’t look panicked, she looked sharp.
And more determined than ever.
They’d only made it a few steps toward the upper rows when Matthew heard the rumble of an engine on the gravel.
Callie paused, her hand hovering over the latch on the irrigation panel. Her shoulders stiffened the moment the sound registered.
A white delivery truck rolled into view, midsize, clearly marked with a nursery co-op logo he hadn’t seen earlier. Nothing unusual about it on the surface, but the way Callie’s jaw locked said everything.
She turned, her eyes tracking the vehicle as it eased to a stop near the side loading area. Sammy barked once, not out of alarm, but recognition of movement. But he didn’t run forward. Even the dog sensed something was off.
Matthew automatically stepped in front of her, placing himself between her and the unknown.
