Chapter Six #2
Matthew followed a half step behind, his presence steady, his attention sharp. She didn’t have to look to know he was still scanning, watching the workers, the tree line, the edges of the lot, taking everything in without saying much at all.
They reached the side entrance of the main building, and Callie keyed in her office door code. “Not much of an office,” she said, pushing the door open. “It used to be the storage room for our seed orders. I decided to claim a corner and shoved a desk in.”
“Bet it still runs better than half the ops I’ve worked with,” Matthew said, stepping inside.
She almost smiled. Almost.
Sammy padded in behind them and curled up in his usual spot in a bed under the desk, head on his paws.
Callie left the door open and moved to her laptop, tapping the screen to wake it up.
From the hallway beyond the customer counter, the sound of the front door chimed.
Caspian stepped into the office a moment later, his eyes scanning the space before landing on them. “Nothing by the road. No fresh tracks, no tire marks. If someone parked out there, it was yesterday or earlier.”
Matthew nodded. “Carter just pinged me. Let’s get him on.”
He tapped his phone and hit speaker before placing it on the corner of Callie’s desk.
Two rings, then Carter’s voice came through, light and casual. “You rang? Please tell me this is the part where I get to say ‘Enhance’ like in those terrible crime shows.”
Matthew huffed out a breath. “You got anything?”
“Do I ever . Ran the plate. Truck’s registered to a company that doesn’t exist anymore—ghosted completely.”
Callie exhaled sharply. “So it’s a ghost truck.”
“Casper would be proud,” Carter said. “Oh, hey, he’s there with you. Are you proud, Casper?”
Caspian didn’t miss a beat. “Only proud you finally ran something without setting off the firewall, genius.”
“One time,” Carter shot back. “One time I crashed the VPN and suddenly I’m the cautionary tale.”
“Twice,” Caspian muttered.
Callie frowned. “I thought your name was Caspian.”
“It is,” he said, deadpan. “Unfortunately, some people like to live in the past.”
“Hey,” Carter chimed in, unbothered, “when your call sign is Casper because you ghost through ops like a damn myth, we’re required to keep using it. It's tradition.”
Caspian crossed his arms. “It was tradition to duct tape rookies to cargo crates too. Doesn’t mean it was smart.”
Callie’s lips twitched. “Ghost truck. Ghost operator. That tracks.”
“Careful,” Carter said. “Flattery’ll only encourage him.”
Matthew shook his head. “Focus.”
“Right, right,” Carter said. “Anyway—fake company, burned address, no legit supplier history. Whoever sent that truck wanted it to look real enough to breeze past a clipboard check. But there’s no paper trail. At least, not one that leads anywhere legal.”
Matthew leaned in slightly. “You get the perimeter photos I sent?”
“Yep. About half an hour ago,” Carter said, tone more focused. “I ran a quick enhancement pass. That scuff by the post? You’re right, it’s rubber. Possibly boot tread, but weird angle. Not enough detail to get a pattern match yet.”
“So, not a tire?” Caspian asked.
“Not unless it belonged to a unicycle,” Carter deadpanned. “It’s narrow. Compressed. Someone stood there, not drove through. Probably scoped the fence line before dark.”
“And the light?” Matthew prompted.
“Clear visual shift,” Carter said. “That model’s angle can’t adjust on its own. Somebody reached up and repositioned it deliberately. I’d bet money they came through after dusk, tested the layout, and walked away without triggering anything.”
Callie’s arms crossed tightly. “So we were watched.”
“Looks that way,” Carter confirmed. “You’ve got natural blind spots, and that little sensor trick would’ve created another one. Whoever did this had time, patience, and just enough tech smarts to avoid being obvious.”
“So we’re dealing with someone who knows how to play invisible,” Caspian said. “And probably isn’t done.”
“Exactly,” Carter said. “I’m still digging on the plate.
Got a few backdoor queries running to see if there was ever a paper trail on that truck—auction house, salvage yard…
anything. I’ve also pulled traffic cam access from the highway near your turn-off.
If it passed through, we’ll get timestamps. I’ll let you know if something hits.”
“Appreciate it,” Matthew said.
“Callie,” Carter added, tone shifting again. “No offense, but your security isn’t tight enough to fend off this threat.”
Her spine straightened. “I figured that out about the time I saw a strange delivery truck parked in my gravel lot.”
“Fair,” Carter said. “But it’s not only the delivery. Whoever did this moved like they had a blueprint. They knew what time to hit, what angle to avoid, and how to make it look normal. That means they’ve either been watching for a while…or they had inside info.”
“Inside?” she repeated, frowning.
“Could be accidental,” Carter offered. “Someone on your crew mentioning routines, schedules, order patterns. Doesn’t have to be malicious—just careless.”
“Or someone’s pretending to be a supplier to collect that kind of info firsthand,” Matthew added.
Caspian crossed his arms. “Either way, we need to prepare as if they’ll escalate.”
“Already drawing up a plan,” Carter said. “Motion cams. Light sensors. And maybe a couple of my sneaky gadgets, if you’re willing to let me play.”
“Play away,” Callie muttered. “But make sure whoever’s behind this regrets it.”
“Now that’s music to my ears.”
The line went dead with a cheerful beep.
Callie stared at the phone a second longer, the buzz of Carter’s words still hanging in the air. They hadn’t talked price, but it didn’t matter. The equipment was needed.
Her security wasn’t enough. Someone had tested her land like it was a game board, and she hated how close that came to being true.
She felt Matthew shift beside her, steady and quiet, and Caspian already moving into planning mode.
No one told her to stand back. No one suggested she step aside.
Good.
Because she had no intention of being a spectator.