Page 24 of Pursuit of Her

"There's something else you should know," Ingrid continued, her voice dropping further. "I've been reviewing the autopsy findings on all four vigilante victims. Each man had a terminal diagnosis."

"What?" Eve hadn't seen this in any reports.

"Davenport had pancreatic cancer with six months to live. Judge Harmon had an aggressive brain tumor. Peterson had late-stage liver failure. Sinclaire had been diagnosed with leukemia." Ingrid's clinical detachment faltered, replaced by grim understanding. "Our vigilante isn't just exposing their crimes; they're targeting men who would soon escape justice entirely."

Eve processed this revelation, understanding how it aligned with Reagan's methodical approach. The timeline wasn't random; it was dictated by medical necessity.

"Captain," Ingrid said carefully, "whatever you're investigating goes beyond standard procedure. I can see that in your face." She sealed her private records back into their folder. "You should know that Detective Caroline Foster has been making similar inquiries about old case files. Discreetly, but with purpose."

"Caroline?" That aligned with what Eve already knew; Foster had been investigating financial connections between the victims independently.

"She approached me last week," Ingrid explained. "Asked about inconsistencies in forensic evidence from cases involving our recent victims. She's thorough, methodical—reminds me of Detective Shaw in her approach."

Eve considered this information carefully. She'd already begun to trust Foster with aspects of her investigation, but knowing the detective had initiated her own parallel inquiry added new dimensions to consider.

"There's something else," Ingrid continued. "Foster discovered financial records connecting these men to an underground operation that silences victims through intimidation and bribes. She believes they're part of a wider network with connections to official channels."

"Does she know about these autopsy inconsistencies?" Eve asked.

"I've shared some of my concerns," Ingrid replied, restacking the official reports with methodical precision. "She's been gathering patterns of her own, particularly regarding cases dismissed by Judge Harmon and financial settlements orchestrated through Davenport's firm."

The connections multiplied, expanding beyond what Eve had anticipated. Not just Reagan operating alone, but others within the department who had recognized the corruption and were investigating through official—if discreet—channels.

"This conversation never happened," Eve said finally.

"What conversation?" Ingrid sealed the box with fresh evidence tape, signing across it with her neat signature. "I was simply filing old cases when you stopped by to inquire about routine autopsy findings on Richard Davenport."

As Eve turned to leave, Ingrid added, "If you need to continue this nonexistent discussion, I sometimes take walks in Phoenix Park near the memorial fountain. Very few people visit there around two o'clock."

Eve nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Westfield."

"For what?" Ingrid returned to her examination table, professional mask firmly back in place. "I've provided nothing but standard procedural information."

But they both knew otherwise. Ingrid had just confirmed what Reagan had claimed: a systematic corruption that reached into the highest levels of Phoenix Ridge's power structure, with evidence manipulated to protect powerful men.

More importantly, she had revealed that Eve wasn't alone in her suspicions. Detective Foster was pursuing the same connections, albeit through more official channels.

Eve left the morgue with renewed purpose, her investigation expanding beyond Reagan's vigilante killings to the corruption that had driven her to such extremes. The path ahead was increasingly clear, though no less dangerous.

And somewhere in that twisting path lay the truth about why Reagan Shaw had disappeared from her life ten years ago—only to return as both executioner and protector.

The Phoenix Ridge Police Department archives occupied the lowest level of the precinct building, a labyrinthine space of shelving units and storage boxes that held the city's criminal history in paper form. The transition to digital records had never been fully completed, leaving decades of investigations entombed in manila folders and evidence boxes.

Eve accessed the secure area using her captain's credentials, noting that the electronic log would record her visit. She didn't have time for subtlety anymore. If Commissioner Brooks was monitoring her movements, this would raise immediate red flags, but Eve was counting on her official position to provide cover for now.

"Can I help you locate something, Captain?" The archives manager, a silver-haired woman named Lydia Stratton, peered over reading glasses from behind her cluttered desk.

"I'm reviewing cold cases connected to our vigilante investigation," Eve replied with careful professionalism. "I need access to the sealed records from Detective Reagan Shaw's final case—judicial corruption investigation, 2015."

Something flickered in Lydia's eyes—recognition, perhaps even concern. "That's restricted access. Section D, Row 11. I'll need to accompany you."

As they wound through the narrow paths between towering shelves, Eve noted the dust gathering on older cases and yellowing of paper, the physical manifestation of justice delayed or denied. The air down here carried a distinct mustiness: old paper, aging cardboard, preserved secrets.

Lydia stopped before a secured cabinet, her key ring jingling as she selected an old brass key. "These records were sealed by executive order from Commissioner Davis's office," she explained. "I remember when they came down here. Two officers I didn't recognize brought them personally instead of following standard filing procedures."

The cabinet opened with a metallic groan, revealing a series of indexed boxes. Lydia located the one labeled "Shaw R. - Judicial Investigation 2015" and placed it on a nearby examination table before discreetly retreating to her desk, leaving Eve alone with the historical record of Reagan's downfall.

Eve opened the box with careful hands, almost expecting booby traps or alarm systems given the sensitivity of its contents. Inside, she found less than she'd anticipated. The investigation file had been heavily redacted, entire sections removed, pages missing between numbered sequences.

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