Page 38 of Matthew
Callie folded her arms tightly across her chest. Her skin felt clammy despite the heat radiating off the gravel. “Why go to all that trouble just to rattle a gate and mess with my camera?”
Carter didn’t look up. “Because it’s not about the gate. Or the camera. It’s about showing you someone’s still watching.”
Caspian swore under his breath. “Any way to trace who hauled it out?”
“Scrapyard’s got security cams, but they only keep footage for ninety days. I’ve got feelers out. If anything survived, I’ll find it.”
Callie’s throat tightened. Whoever had done this hadn’t been reckless, they’d been patient. Strategic. Waiting for her to let her guard down.
Matthew’s voice was steady behind her. “We’ll get ahead of it. You’re not alone in this.”
She turned toward him, surprised by how much she needed to hear those words. His expression didn’t waver, and something unspoken passed between them. She didn’t know what it meant yet, but it felt like a lifeline.
Sammy wandered over from the shade, tail swishing, and nudged her leg as if reminding her she wasn’t the only one who could sense when something was off.
Carter clicked through another screen. “Whoever’s pulling these strings is not only stirring up trouble, they’re also wakingup something that’s been buried. Maybe Duke Carver didn’t finish everything he started.”
Callie stared at the image on the monitor, her reflection faintly visible in the screen. Behind her own eyes, she could see the threads forming. The nursery, the truck, the shell companies. All of it felt like a map drawn in shadows, and someone out there knew exactly where it led.
If only she had an idea of how close they were.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, most of the operatives were out on assignment, leaving only a handful left to work on Callie’s case. ESI’s boardroom always had that buzz of low-level chaos beneath the calm—papers shuffling, boots thudding on tile, Carter clicking through screens at lightning speed.
Matthew sat at the far end, arms crossed, half-listening as Carter finished his update with a flair only Carter could make sound both brilliant and ridiculous.
“…and the kicker is,” their tech wizard said, spinning his laptop around, “this company, Real Terra Landscaping, used to be owned by some local guy out near Lockhart. Legit, had awards and everything. But last year, it got swallowed by an LLC tied to a parent group that hasn’t filed a tax return in five years.”
Caspian, slouched next to him with his boot propped on a chair leg, raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. One of Duke Carver’s shell networks?”
“Ding ding.” Carter shot him finger guns. “We have a winner.”
Mac leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Explain how this ties to our nursery.”
“Because it’s not about the nursery, it’s about the cover,” Matthew said without hesitation.
The room quieted.
He tapped his knuckles once against the table. “Someone’s using these deliveries to stash something. Launder, move, hide—I don’t know yet. But Morgan Creek’s regular supply chain and clean reputation make it the perfect place to slip something through.”
“What are you thinking?” Bennett asked, pushing his laptop aside. “Weapons? Drugs?”
“Or cash,” Caspian said. “Could be anything. Doesn’t have to be big if it’s meant to pass unnoticed.”
Carter held up a hand. “Before anyone starts digging trenches and swabbing leaves for fingerprints, let me say this—nothing’s confirmed. Although, there’s enough smoke here to start sniffing for fire.”
Mac nodded once, then looked at Matthew. “Stay close. Quiet. No alarms until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Matthew gave a tight nod. “Already planned.”
Mac shifted his gaze to the others. “Caspian, I want you on logistics. Quiet checks with our regular suppliers—see if anyone noticed anything off the books. Carter, keep tracing the LLC links and match delivery manifests to what was actually received. Bennett, start mapping out the nearby properties. If someone’s using the area as a drop point, I want to know who’s close enough to watch or intercept.”
Bennett tipped his chin in acknowledgment. “On it.”
“And hey, while you’re there…” Carter rose with a grin. “Can you find out what kind of fertilizer they use for those rosemary bushes? My kitchen plant’s suicidal.”
“Try watering it,” Caspian muttered.
