Agent Peter Burke's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Burke pinned a new photo to the wall of the shack. Tire tracks. Same coordinates. Third set this month. He needed one hard lead tying Salvatore to a crime, or the bureau would pull him. He had eleven days of radio silence and an empty case file. He drove out to the spot before dawn. The old wrecked truck sat half-buried in pale sand, its panels bleached white. Burke circled it. Fresh tracks again. No vehicle. No people. Just the wreck and the wind. He knelt by the rear tire ruts. Something glinted under the running board. A small drawer, weathered wood, rusted lock, wedged up inside the truck's frame like it belonged there. Someone had built it in. Burke pried it free with his knife. The lock snapped. Inside lay a folded letter, sealed with cracked bone wax. He broke the seal. The ink was faded but the words were clear enough. A name. A date. A meeting. Salvatore Capone, written plain. Burke read it twice. His hands were steady. This was the lead. This was the thing that kept his file open and his badge active. He folded the letter into his jacket. Then he saw the second set of tracks behind his own. Fresh. Someone had followed him in. Someone had wanted him to find it.