Page 37 of Pursuit of Her

A movement near the counter caught Eve's eye. Lavender Larwood, the café's owner,was serving customers with easy grace. When her gaze met Eve's, a subtle nod passed between them—acknowledgment without obvious connection. Beside her stood Dr. Ingrid Westfield, the medical examiner, ostensibly waiting for her order but positioned to observe the café's entrance.

"Lavender's part of this?" Foster asked, following Eve's line of sight.

"Not directly. But she provides a secure meeting place for certain conversations." Eve returned her attention to Foster. "I need your help. Commissioner Brooks has effectively hobbled my investigation by partnering me with Martinez. I need someone I can trust to continue gathering evidence without official oversight."

Foster didn't hesitate. "Tell me what you need."

"Access to Commissioner Brooks's husband's financial records, documented connections between him and any of the victims, and evidence of his involvement in suppressing investigations into their activities."

"That's dangerous territory, Captain." Foster's voice remained steady despite the implications. "Martinez reports directly to Brooks. If she catches wind of this?—"

"I know." Eve's grip tightened on her mug. "That's why I need absolute discretion. Secure channels only. No department resources. No digital footprint."

Foster studied Eve, then nodded. "I've been developing sources in financial crimes for the past year. I can reach out through backchannels, keep it unofficial."

"Thank you." The simple words carried the weight of Eve's gratitude and the recognition of what she was asking Foster to risk.

As they finalized details, Ingrid Westfield approached their table, coffee in hand. "Captain Morgan," she greeted with professional courtesy. "I was hoping to run into you. The forensic analysis from the Davenport scene revealed some anomalies you should review."

The casual words masked the real message: Ingrid had discovered something significant that couldn't be discussed openly.

"I'll stop by your office this afternoon," Eve replied, matching her tone.

Ingrid nodded and moved away, but not before passing a folded note beneath Eve's napkinwith a movement so subtle Foster barely caught it.

Eve waited until Ingrid had left the café before palming the note. "Keep working your financial angles," she told Foster. "Report only to me and only through secure channels. If anyone questions you, you're following up on routine background for the Davenport case."

"Understood, Captain." Foster rose, leaving cash for their untouched coffees. "And if this goes sideways?"

"Then we never had this conversation."

After Foster departed, Eve finally unfolded Ingrid's note, reading the precise handwriting:Trace evidence from Davenport matches Shaw case file. Fingerprint partial. 87% probability. Files sealed by Brooks personally. Come alone.

Eve's breath caught. Physical evidence connecting Reagan to the vigilante killings—evidence Ingrid had found but kept off official reports. The medical examiner was putting her career at risk by sharing this information.

As Eve left Lavender's Café, she caught the owner's eye once more. Lavender gave an almost imperceptible nod toward the rear exit, a silent confirmation that Eve could leave unobserved if necessary.

With Foster pursuing the financial angle and Ingrid providing forensic connections, Eve had expanded her investigation beyond Brooks's control. The noose was tightening around the Phoenix Network—but so, too, was it tightening around Eve's neck.

"She's heading east on Harbor Boulevard," Detective Martinez's voice crackled through the radio. "All units maintain visual but keep distance. Target appears to be meeting someone."

Eve suppressed a smile as she listened to the department-wide channel on her personal radio. The "she" in question was Officer Reeves, a patrol officer whose build and hair color were similar to Eve's, wearing a coat Eve had left in her locker that morning. The elaborate misdirection was working perfectly. Martinez had committed substantial resources to following a decoy while Eve conducted her real investigation.

From her position in an observation room adjacent to the evidence lockup, Eve watched as Martinez coordinated the surveillance operation through the department's command center. The detective was thorough, Eve had to give her that—deploying officers at all potential meeting locations, establishing a perimeter that would catch most suspects.

Most, but not all. Not someone trained by Reagan Shaw in counter-surveillance techniques.

Officer Julia Bennett approached, her casual stride masking her purpose.

"Everything set?" Eve asked quietly.

Bennett nodded. "Reeves will lead them to the marina, then appear to realize she's being followed. She'll double back through the fish market, change clothes in the public restroom, and emerge as a tourist. By the time Martinez realizes what happened, you'll have a thirty-minute window."

"Good work." Eve handed Bennett a sealed envelope. "Deliver this to Detective Foster at exactly 2 p.m. Hand to hand only, no intermediaries."

"Understood, Captain." Bennett hesitated. "Martinez has been asking questions aboutyour movements yesterday. Specifically, your visit to the archives."

Eve's expression remained neutral despite the warning bells sounding in her mind. "What kind of questions?"

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