“He was an inventory specialist,” Eleanor said. “He always wrote down part numbers.”

“These aren’t standard military supply codes,” I said.

I opened a blank document on my computer and typed out the numbers in a single line.

*34.5518, -120.4822*

The numbers sat on the white screen.

“Those look like coordinates,” I said.

“Coordinates to where?” Eleanor asked.

I opened a secure military satellite mapping program.

I typed the coordinates into the search bar and pressed enter.

The map zoomed in, passing through clouds and terrain until it focused on a dry, brush-filled valley in Southern California.

The camera resolved into a high-resolution image of a fenced compound.

There were three metal warehouse buildings inside the perimeter.

“An old military depot?” Eleanor asked, squinting at the screen.

“No,” I said. “It’s a private commercial storage facility.”

I zoomed in closer on the main gate.

A small sign was visible on the chain-link fence, but the resolution was too low to read the text.

“Why would Daniel leave coordinates to a storage lot?” Eleanor asked.

“Because he hid something there,” I said.