Page 5 of Pursuit of Her

Eve stilled, her coffee cup halfway to her lips. "What kind of investigation?"

"Sexual assault allegations with potential evidence tampering." Foster's voice dropped lower. "There were multiple victims, all women who worked for or had relationships with these men. The detective leading the case was building a conspiracy argument, claiming these men and potentially others were protecting each other, using their influence to bury accusations."

The muscles along Eve's spine tightened incrementally. "Which detective?"

Foster met her gaze. "Reagan Shaw."

The name hung in the air between them, charged with unspoken significance. Eve's expression remained perfectly neutral, though it cost her considerable effort. She set her coffee down carefully, the slight tremor in her hand noticeable only to someone watching closely.

"Detective Shaw disappeared ten years ago," Eve said, her voice measured. "Presumed dead after an undercover operation went wrong."

Eve could still see Raegan’s piercing blue eyes in her mind.

Foster's gaze never wavered. "That's the official record, yes."

A loaded silence stretched between them, filled with implications neither woman voiced aloud. Eve broke eye contact first, turning toward the evidence wall where the three victims stared back at her, their secrets laid bare by a killer who seemed to know exactly what they had done—and exactly how they had escaped justice.

"This stays between us for now," Eve decided, handing the tablet back to Foster. "Continue your research, but keep it off the main servers. Use the secure terminal in the archives room."

Foster nodded, understanding the gravity of the directive. "Captain, there's one more thing." She hesitated. "I accessed Judge Harmon's cell phone records. In the hours before his death, he received a call from Commissioner Brooks."

Eve's gaze sharpened. "That could be innocent. The commissioner knows many people in the justice system."

"It wasn't the call itself that flagged my attention," Foster clarified. "It was the fact that the call was deleted from the judge's phone log. I only found it in the carrier records."

The implications solidified in Eve's mind like ice crystals. The commissioner's insistence on containment. The assignment of Detective Martinez as a watchdog. The mayor's nervous energy at the crime scene. The connections between victims who had all escaped justice through seemingly miraculous legal maneuvers.

This wasn't just about a vigilante targeting abusers. This was potentially about corruption reaching into the highest levels of Phoenix Ridge's power structure.

"Keep digging," Eve instructed. "But watch your back. If what you're suggesting is true?—"

"Then we don't know who we can trust," Foster finished quietly.

As Foster left, Eve turned back to the evidence wall, her gaze settling on the stylized phoenix emblem found at each crime scene. She reached up, touching the scarred wedding ring finger on her left hand—a habit she'd developed after removing Reagan's ring ten years ago, when hope of finding her had finally faded.

Eve opened her desk drawer and removed a small evidence bag she'd taken from the scene that morning that contained the business card left beside Judge Harmon's body. "The System Failed. I Did Not."

The handwriting tugged at something in her memory, a ghost of recognition that she couldn't—or wouldn't—fully acknowledge. She slipped the card back into her drawer, beneath a stack of files where it would remain hidden from casual observation.

Outside her office window, the city lights blurred as night descended fully over Phoenix Ridge. Below, the Harbor District sparkled with activity—restaurants filled with diners, clubs pulsing with music, boats gliding across the darkened bay. Life continuing, oblivious to the storm gathering in Eve's mind.

Three victims connected by wealth, power, and allegations of abuse. Three executions carried out with professional precision. Three crime scenes meticulously staged with evidence that had vanished from official channels years ago.

And at the center of it all, a decade-old investigation led by a detective long presumed dead.

A brilliant detective with piercing blue eyes.

Eve leaned back in her chair and sighed, the weight of realization settling across her shoulders. This case wasn't just a hunt for a vigilante. It was potentially a confrontation with ghosts she'd tried desperately to bury—both the ghost of a woman she'd once loved and the ghost of her own suppressed doubts about the system she'd sworn to uphold.

She picked up her phone, thumb hovering over Commissioner Brooks' missed calls. Then, making a decision, she set it down without returning them and instead reached for her jacket. Whatever was happening in Phoenix Ridge ran deeper than a series of vigilante killings. If she was going to uncover the truth, she needed to start at the beginning—with the investigation that had disappeared ten years ago, along with Reagan Shaw.

2

REAGAN

The morning air bit at Reagan Shaw’s lungs as she ran, her boots striking a steady rhythm against the earth, breath crystallizing in the pre-dawn chill. Up here in the mountains overlooking Phoenix Ridge, autumn arrived weeks earlier than in the city below, a reminder of nature's indifference to human timelines. She welcomed the cold, the way it sharpened her focus and burned away the remnants of nightmares that had chased her from sleep.

The trail was familiar beneath her feet, a path worn by two years of identical morning runs—five miles out, five miles back, the meditative punishment that started each day. From the ridge ahead, the entire scope of Phoenix Ridge would spread before her.

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