I ran a search on the parcel number associated with the coordinates.

The screen loaded slowly, the progress bar ticking upward.

A deed appeared on the screen.

The property was registered to a company called Pacific Rim Distribution Group.

I tapped the company name to view the corporate officers.

The registration had been updated three months ago.

The primary stakeholder was a subsidiary of Richards Global.

“Gregory’s firm,” Eleanor said.

Her face went pale under the yellow light of the truck stop.

“He still owns it,” I said. “And the lease is active.”

“But Daniel died thirty years ago,” she said. “How could he have known about this lease?”

“He didn’t,” I said. “He knew about the original site.”

I scrolled down the historical record of the property.

The facility had been built during the Cold War as a munitions storage depot.

Gregory’s firm had purchased the land from the government for a dollar during the base closures of the nineties.

They had never demolished the bunkers.

They had expanded them.

“He is using the same infrastructure my father tried to expose,” I said.