Page 41 of Pursuit of Her

"That's where we have a problem," Sophia replied. "They've added a secondary checkpoint for the VIP section. Biometric scanning, not just credentials."

"Recent addition?"

"Within the last twenty-four hours. Commissioner Brooks personally requested it."

The implication was clear. Brooks suspected something. Either Eve's investigation had triggered additional precautions, or they were being more careful after four connected men had been executed in as many weeks.

Reagan adjusted her equipment to focus on the hotel's security center. "We need floor plans for the new system. And access codes for the biometric scanners."

"Already working on it," Sophia confirmed.

Reagan returned her attention to Eve, who had moved to the mezzanine level. For a moment, their sightlines crossed and Eve glanced upward toward neighboring buildings as if sensing being observed. Reagan remained perfectly still, though logic dictated Eve couldn't possibly spot her at this distance. Yet something in Eve's posture suggested awareness.

They'd always had that connection, an inexplicable awareness of each other's presence. In their days as partners, it had made them Phoenix Ridge PD's most effective team. Now it created a dangerous variable in an already complex operation.

Reagan watched as Eve casually approached a staff member, engaging in mundane conversation while subtly directing their attention away from the service hallway. A perfect distraction technique, creating space for someone to slip past unseen.

Moments later, Detective Caroline Foster emerged briefly from the service corridor, making eye contact with Eve before disappearing into the crowd. Eve had allies within the department, officers willing to risk their careers to pursue the truth alongside their captain.

Reagan's secure phone vibrated with a message from Elena:Captain Morgan accessed security room 10 min ago. Planted something. Couldn't see what.

For a flickering moment, Reagan allowed herself to imagine what might have been if she hadn't disappeared ten years ago, if they'd pursued this investigation together from the beginning.

The fantasy dissolved quickly. That path had never been possible—not with Brooks and his network controlling the system, not with their willingness to eliminate anyone who threatened their operation.

"All points documented," Reagan reported, disassembling her equipment. "Withdrawing to secondary position."

Tomorrow evening, Senator Landon Fairchild would face justice. The Phoenix Network would begin its final collapse. And somewhere in that carefully orchestrated chaos, Eve Morgan would be pursuing the same goal.

The Phoenix Ridge Grand Hotel's service corridors formed a labyrinth. Reagan moved through these arteries, her maintenance uniform and credentials granting her invisibility among the hotel's workforce.

Her target was the central security hub on the mezzanine level, where she needed to place a transmission interrupter that would create a three-minute blind spot during tomorrow night's operation.

Reagan turned a corner and froze.

Twenty feet ahead, Detective Andrea Martinez stood with the hotel's head of security, examining staff rotations. Brooks was taking no chances, deploying her most loyal officer to supervise security personally.

Reagan retreated silently. The security hub had only two access points: this corridor and the main security office entrance from the lobby. Both were now compromised by Martinez's presence.

Her earpiece vibrated:Additional police presence detected. Standard security sweep initiated.

The operation was rapidly deteriorating. Reagan ducked into a linen storage room as officers passed by, a standard sweep team checking service areas against unauthorized access.

Reagan's secure phone vibrated once, Elena's signal that the kitchen entrance remained clear. She moved in that direction, maintaining a casual pace, the tools and device concealed in her maintenance cart.

As she rounded the corner toward the kitchen, Martinez appeared at the far end of the corridor, her gaze sweeping the space with predatory focus. Their eyes met briefly before Reagan ducked into an alcove.

Martinez had seen her—not clearly enough for recognition, but enough to register her presence in a restricted area.

"Security sweep in progress. All staff return to designated areas," announced a voice over the service intercom.

Reagan abandoned the maintenance cart and moved deeper into the service areas, shedding her maintenance jacket and cap. Beneath, she wore a hotel catering uniform—a secondary identity that might provide temporary cover.

"Female suspect, maintenance uniform, blonde hair. Potentially armed. Secure all exits," Martinez's voice directed behind her.

Reagan emerged into a busier corridor where staff rushed to fulfill preparations for an evening event. She matched their hurried pace, blending with the controlled chaos as she navigated toward the kitchen's swinging doors that would lead to the main lobby.

As she pushed through, the expansive marble lobby opened before her—and there, by the concierge desk, stood Eve. Their eyes locked across the space, a moment of perfect recognition despite the distance and Reagan's partial disguise.

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