Page 22 of Pursuit of Her

The same network Eve was now mapping across her dining room wall.

She returned to the files, focusing on the records Reagan had maintained before her disappearance. The investigation had been officially classified as an exploration of judicial corruption, but Reagan's notes revealed something far more extensive: a network of powerful men protecting each other, using their influence to silence accusations and eliminate threats.

The pattern was unmistakable now that Eve had both Reagan's original investigation and the evidence left at each crime scene. The four victims had all been connected to cases where evidence had mysteriously disappeared. All had faced allegations of violence against women that had been dismissed through "procedural errors." All had financial ties to Jonathan Brooks, Commissioner Hannah Brooks's husband.

Eve's phone vibrated against the table, the screen displaying Detective Andrea Martinez's name. She stared at it, Reagan's warning echoing in her mind: "Be careful who you trust. Brooks has people watching you."

The call persisted, buzzing insistently like an angry wasp. Eve finally answered, keeping her voice professionally neutral despite the hour and circumstances.

"Morgan."

"Captain." Martinez's tone held none of the deference expected from a detective to her superior. "Commissioner Brooks is concerned about your activities following the incident at the textile factory. You left the scene without filing a complete report."

Eve's spine straightened, her free hand instinctively covering the evidence spread across her table, though Martinez couldn't possibly see it. "I filed the necessary paperwork before leaving, Detective. The pursuit yielded no apprehension, and I determined my time was better spent reviewing existing evidence rather than continuing a search in worsening weather conditions."

"The Commissioner has requested a complete briefing at 0800." Martinez's emphasis on 'complete' carried clear implications.

"I'll be there," Eve replied, then added with deliberate casualness, "Is there something specific about tonight's pursuit that concerns the Commissioner?"

A pause, brief but revealing. "She's particularly interested in any evidence recovered or contacts made during your solo pursuit."

Eve's gaze fell on the waterproof case Reagan had given her, its contents now integrated into her private investigation. "Nothing substantive to report. The suspect evaded apprehension, as noted in my preliminary filing."

"I see." Martinez's tone conveyed clear disbelief.

"Was there anything else, Detective? It's nearly 3 a.m." Eve made no effort to disguise her irritation.

"Just one more thing, Captain. Your GPS signal disappeared for approximately seventeen minutes during your pursuit. Technical glitch, I assume?"

The question hung between them, weighted with unspoken accusations. Eve had deliberately disabled her phone's tracking function before approaching the textile factory, standard procedure for undercover work but suspicious under these circumstances.

"Storm interference, most likely," Eve replied smoothly. "The weather has been particularly severe tonight."

"Of course." Martinez's voice dripped with skepticism. "Sleep well, Captain. Tomorrow promises to be…enlightening."

The call ended, leaving Eve staring at her phone with renewed suspicion. Martinez wasn't simply following orders; she was actively investigating Eve's movements with unusual focus. If Reagan was right about Commissioner Brooks's connection to the victims, then Martinez's scrutiny represented a direct threat.

Eve set her phone down and returned to the evidence wall, her attention drawn to a detail she'd previously overlooked: a notation in Reagan's handwriting on a case file from a decade ago. A single sentence, underlined three times: "E.M. under surveillance. Proceed with caution."

E.M. Eve Morgan.

Reagan had known they were watching Eve even then. Everything she had believed about Reagan's disappearance—every bitter conclusion, every moment of anger and betrayal—had been based on a fundamental misunderstanding. Reagan hadn't chosen vengeance over love or justice over their relationship. She had chosen Eve's safety over her own presence in Eve's life.

A sacrifice masquerading as abandonment.

Outside, the storm intensified, rain drumming against glass with increasing urgency as if nature itself demanded acknowledgment of truths too long buried. Eve stared at the evidence before her, at the network of corruption Reagan had died to expose and returned to dismantle, and faced the choice that had been accelerating toward her since the first vigilante killing four weeks ago.

The law or justice. The badge or the truth. The system or the woman.

Eve Morgan had built her identity around upholding a system she believed in despite its flaws. Captain Morgan commanded respect because she embodied that system's highest ideals. But if Reagan was right, if the corruption reached into the highest levels of Phoenix Ridge's power structure, then the system itself was compromised beyond redemption.

Lightning flashed again, highlighting Eve's reflection in the window: a woman at a crossroads, balanced between duty and truth, between the path she had followed for a decade and the one Reagan had chosen in darkness.

Tomorrow, she would retrieve the safety deposit box key and access whatever evidence Reagan had secured there. She would follow this investigation wherever it led, even if the destination destroyed everything she had built her life upon.

But tonight, in the privacy of her apartment with rain battering the windows like accusations, Eve finally acknowledged the truth she had been avoiding since seeing Reagan's face in the abandoned factory: she had never stopped loving the blue eyed ghostwho had returned to haunt Phoenix Ridge with lethal justice.

And that truth would ultimately determine which side of this war she would choose.

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