Page 13 of Pursuit of Her
A security guard hovered near the doorway, shifting his weight nervously. Eve recognized the signs of someone with information they were reluctant to share.
"You have something to add?" she asked directly.
The guard straightened. "Mr. Davenport had a visitor earlier today, Captain. Not logged in the official system." His eyes darted to his supervisor, who stood stone-faced nearby. "A woman. She sat with him for almost twenty minutes in the executive lounge."
"Description?"
"Professional. Mid-forties maybe. Kept her face angled away from cameras." He hesitated. "She seemed familiar with the building."
Eve felt a chill that had nothing to do with the office's aggressive air conditioning. "Get me that footage."
"That's the thing, Captain." The guard swallowed visibly. "That segment is missing from the system. Like it was professionally erased."
Detective Martinez chose that moment to enter, her arrival causing a subtle tension in the room. Eve noted how officers shifted slightly, conversations paused, a warning rippling through the investigative team like a stone dropped in water.
"Captain Morgan." Martinez nodded, her expression carefully neutral as she surveyed the scene. "Commissioner Brooks is requesting an immediate update."
"I'll call her when I've completed my initial assessment," Eve replied evenly, turning back to Foster. "I want every second of security footage from this building. Signal Detective Mendez to coordinate with the cyber division on recovering any deleted segments."
Martinez stepped closer, her voice dropping. "The Commissioner was quite insistent, Captain. She mentioned concerns about evidence handling in this case."
The implication hung in the air between them. Eve met Martinez's gaze directly, the challenge clear in her eyes. "All evidence is being processed according to department protocol, Detective. The Commissioner will receive her update when I have something substantive to report."
Eve turned to Dr. Rivera. "Complete analysis. Prioritize ballistics comparison with previous scenes. I want confirmation this is the same weapon."
Rivera nodded. "Already underway, Captain."
The team moved with practiced efficiency, documenting, collecting, analyzing. Eve stood at the center of the storm, her mind simultaneously processing the scene before her and the decade-old investigation files she'd reviewed in her apartment.
The vigilante was methodically eliminating men that Reagan Shaw had connected years ago—men who formed what she had called the "Phoenix Network." But why now? What had triggered this campaign of executed justice after ten years of silence?
Eve's gaze returned to the evidence splayed across Davenport's desk. The voice recordings of Rosalie Gresham. The financial records. Her tragic suicide. Each piece told a story of systemic failure—of powerful men protecting each other at the expense of vulnerable women.
The same story Reagan had tried to expose before disappearing.
Eve's phone vibrated in her pocket. A text message from an unlisted number:
Check his desk drawer. Bottom right. The system protects its own.
Her breath caught. The message style, the phrasing—it carried a familiarity that struck like a physical blow. With carefully controlled movements, Eve moved to the desk and opened the specified drawer.
Inside lay a leather-bound appointment book, its pages filled with handwritten notes in Davenport's script. Eve lifted it carefully, aware of Foster watching with puzzled interest.
"Evidence bag," Eve requested quietly, maintaining her composure though her heart hammered against her ribs. This wasn't part of the vigilante's display. This was something else—a direct communication.
As Foster handed her a bag, Eve casually checked her phone again. The message had disappeared, deleted remotely through means that spoke of sophisticated technical capabilities.
She sealed the appointment book into evidence, her mind racing through implications. If Reagan was alive—if she was the vigilante—she was now communicating directly with Eve, guiding her investigation whilesimultaneously forcing Eve to hunt her.
"Captain?" Foster prompted, concern evident in her voice.
Eve returned to the present moment, to the crime scene and her waiting team. "I want the full financial history on this transfer. Track where the money went and who benefits. And get me everything on Rosalie Gresham's case. I want to know exactly how it was derailed."
As she issued orders, Eve's awareness remained split between the professional Captain Morgan directing a homicide investigation while a deeper part of her mind grappled with the possibility that her long-lost partner was systematically executing powerful men while leaving breadcrumbs for Eve to follow.
The question was no longer whether Reagan Shaw had survived, but what she wanted Eve to discover—and why she was willing to risk capture to ensure these crimes were exposed.
Eve cast one final glance at Davenport's body, at the precise bullet hole that had ended his life and the evidence that explained why. Four men dead, all four in what Reagan had called the Phoenix Network.
