Chapter Nine #2
Matthew stilled, his instincts prickling. Sammy wasn’t the barking type unless he had reason.
Callie caught up beside him, her brow furrowing. “What is it, boy?”
The Golden Retriever’s ears were up, tail stiff, body tense. He was staring toward the gravel drive.
A second later, the sound of tires crunching reached them.
Matthew angled his body slightly in front of Callie out of instinct. The truck that pulled in wasn’t the white one from before—it was older, a weathered Ford with a mismatched door and no clear company logo. Dust coated the windshield as if it hadn’t seen a car wash in weeks.
The man who stepped out had a clipboard and the look of someone trying too hard to seem casual. Mid-forties, tan work shirt, a ball cap pulled low. His boots were clean. Too clean.
Callie shifted beside him. “Expecting someone?”
“Nope,” Matthew muttered.
The man spotted them and raised a hand. “Hey there. Looking for the manager.”
“That’d be me,” Callie said, stepping forward, keeping her tone neutral.
Matthew moved with her, silent and watchful.
The guy glanced at his clipboard, then back at her. “Name’s Greg. Was told to stop by, check on a standing order. Said y’all needed a soil test report re-run? I’m filling in for Roy.”
Callie blinked. “Roy?”
“Uh, Roy Jensen. Used to run deliveries for you folks. I picked up his route last week.”
Matthew didn’t move. “Who gave you that assignment?”
The man hesitated. “Uh…dispatch, I guess? Sorry, I thought someone here put in the request. If not, no harm meant. I can head out.”
Sammy gave another quiet growl.
Callie folded her arms. “Roy hasn’t handled our account in over a year.”
“Right,” the man said quickly. “That’s probably why I got confused. I’m trying to get my bearings.”
Matthew stepped forward. “Who’s dispatch?”
The man hesitated again…too long. “Look, I’m just the fill-in guy. Honestly, I don’t even remember the full company name. Some third-party outfit they contract out of Austin. I’ll get out of your hair.”
He turned without further prompting and climbed back in the truck. The vehicle kicked up a tail of dust as it slowly rolled back out of the lot.
Callie stood in the settling haze, frowning.
“Think he’s legit?” she asked quietly.
“Think he’s hiding something,” Matthew said. “Not necessarily dangerous, but shady. His story was loose, and he kept glancing at the office door.”
Callie’s lips pressed into a line. “You think he was looking for something?”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s checking if anyone else was watching.”
They stood there for a moment longer, Sammy at their feet, his head tilted toward the empty drive, gaze alert, no doubt making sure the man was gone.
Matthew glanced toward the office. “We’ll check security footage. See which way he came in and out. I want Carter to run that plate.”
Callie nodded once, then blew out a breath.
“He didn’t get anything,” she said.
“Not today,” Matthew agreed.
But in the back of his mind, something itched.
It wasn’t always the obvious threats that did the damage. Sometimes it was the ones that didn’t quite belong. The ones that drifted in with polite smiles and half-baked stories.
And this one had stirred the dust.
They stood there for a moment longer, Sammy still alert, head tilted toward the now empty drive.
Callie crossed her arms tighter. “Weird timing.”
“Too weird,” Matthew said, glancing back toward the path the truck had taken.
She exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders not fully releasing. “I’ve got a supply order coming in tomorrow. Same route. Same delivery window.”
That flicked something sharp and immediate in his gut. “You confirm it yet?”
“No. Was planning to this afternoon.”
“Mind if I take a look at the manifest?”
She led the way into the office, flipping open a slim binder on the counter. Sammy flopped onto the cool floor nearby with a grunt.
Matthew scanned the printed order, his brow furrowing. Pallets of topsoil, mulch, and seedling trays. Normal. Expected.
Then his gaze snagged on something tucked near the bottom.
“Citrus blend?” he asked, tapping the line with his finger.
Callie leaned in. “I don’t use citrus blend. Never have.”
“It’s only one pallet,” Matthew said quietly. “Easy to overlook. Easy to slip in.”
Her frown deepened. “You think it’s another break in?”
“I think someone’s testing the water. Seeing what gets noticed.”
He straightened, tugging the page loose from the clip. “Mind if I do some checking?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Please do.”
As he folded the manifest and slid it into his back pocket, something cold settled at the base of his neck. Whoever was behind this was reviving more than old ghosts.
They were setting something in motion.
And tomorrow’s delivery might be the next breadcrumb.
Back at the ESI SUV, Matthew opened the rear hatch and grabbed his tablet from the case beside the console. He slid into the driver’s seat, dropped the tablet in his lap, and pulled out his phone to text Carter.
Need a trace on a citrus soil vendor. One pallet added to Morgan Creek’s next delivery. Not on Callie’s list.
Vendor name’s on the manifest I just sent. Also going to send you an image of a truck and plate to check out.
The reply came fast. Carter:
On it, lover boy.
And remind the nursery queen to check her junk folder. I emailed her a camera feed link an hour ago. Tell her to stop ghosting me.
A second later, a meme popped up.
Kermit the Frog tapping away at a typewriter. Caption: “When you’re investigating a love story disguised as a supply chain breach”
Matthew snorted softly and didn’t bother replying.
Instead, he tapped into the SUV’s surveillance app and skimmed the feeds Carter had wired into the nursery’s perimeter.
Then he mirrored the feed to the tablet, pulling the most recent file from the front lot camera and creating a backup copy on a secure drive.
It took less than a minute to isolate the delivery truck from earlier, freeze-frame it, and drop a tag on the timestamp.
If anything happened tomorrow, they’d have this for comparison.
He leaned back, one arm slung over the seat, eyes drifting to the windshield where the soft morning light spilled across the drive.
Outside, Callie walked a slow perimeter near the side fence, Sammy close at her heels. She paused occasionally, letting the dog sniff or turning to scan the trees. Always alert. Always aware.
That part hadn’t changed since the kiss.
Although, now he could see what was underneath, why her shoulders stayed tight, why her gaze flicked a second too long at every unfamiliar noise.
She wasn’t just unsettled. She was bracing.
Matthew’s jaw flexed.
Something wasn’t right. And if someone thought they could rattle her or use this place as cover, they were going to learn the hard way. He was staying close. And he wasn’t the kind of man you could scare off.
Movement flickered at the edge of the highway.
He turned, his gaze narrowing as a delivery truck rounded the bend and merged with traffic. Same model as the one from earlier. Different markings. A different route.
But the timing scraped at his instincts.
Too clean. Too convenient.
His eyes tracked it until the trees swallowed it up.
Sometimes the real threat wasn’t what got dropped off.
Sometimes, it was what got picked up without anyone noticing.