Page 40 of Pursuit of Her

Reagan absorbed this information with outward calm, though beneath her composed exterior, concern for Eve intensified. Administrative leave meant Eve had lost her protection, her authority, and her access to department resources.

It meant Eve was vulnerable.

"What's our timeline on Fairchild?" Reagan asked, redirecting to the mission.

"Forty-eight hours maximum," responded Elena Vasquez, the network's surveillance expert. Her prosthetic right leg—a memento from military service—was barely noticeable beneath tailored pants. "His medical team has moved up his transfer to the Mayo Clinic. Terminal diagnosis accelerated faster than projected."

Reagan nodded and moved to the central table where a three-dimensional map of Phoenix Ridge Grand Hotel hovered as a holographic projection. "Then we accelerate."

"The gala tomorrow night remains our optimal window," Mira said, manipulating the hologram to highlight security features. "Every member of the network will attend Senator Fairchild's fundraising dinner."

Dr. Leila Morrison stepped forward, once the youngest neurosurgeon at Phoenix Ridge General Hospital until she'd reported Sebastian Harrington for assaulting an unconscious patient.

"We have testimonies from seven women," Leila reported with clinical precision. "Three were trafficked through Fairchild's diplomatic connections. Four were campaign staffers who were drugged at private events."

She placed a flash drive on the table. "Their statements are time-stamped, notarized through back channels, and corroborated by medical documentation."

Sophia opened a metal case, revealing an identical drive to those Reagan had left at previous scenes. "Financial transfers connecting Fairchild to all four previous targets. Records of payments to Brooks for 'specialized security.' Everything authenticated and ready for distribution."

"Tomorrow night isn't just about Fairchild," Reagan said, her voice softening slightly. "It's the endgame. When we expose his connection to Brooks, the entire network collapses."

Mira's expression hardened. "And Captain Morgan? Her investigation parallels ours now."

"She's pursuing the same truth we are," Reagan replied, words carefully chosen. "From a different angle."

"She's a cop," Elena stated simply.

"She's more than that," Reagan countered. "She's gathering evidence against Brooks through official channels."

"And if she tries to stop you?" Mira pressed.

Reagan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "She won't."

"You can't know that," Sophia said gently. "She took an oath."

"So did we," Reagan responded, her voice carrying quiet intensity. "Different words, same purpose. Justice for those the system failed."

The underlying question remained unspoken: Would Reagan choose her mission or Eve if forced to decide?

As they finalized planning, Reagan felt the weight of inevitability settling across her shoulders. After tomorrow night, nothing would remain the same—not for Phoenix Ridge, not for the network, not for her. The question that had haunted Reagan through each calculated execution now demanded an answer: what came after justice?

She'd never allowed herself to contemplate a future beyond the mission. But now, with Eve back in her life and the operation nearing completion, whispers of possibility had begun to penetrate her armored resolve.

Twilight settled over Phoenix Ridge as Reagan positioned herself on the rooftop of the Bayside Professional Building with a perfect line of sight to the Phoenix Ridge Grand Hotel. She assembled her surveillance equipment methodically: directional microphone, thermal imaging device, and a compact drone no larger than her palm.

The autumn wind carried salt from the nearby harbor as Reagan calibrated each device. Below, the city pulsed with early evening activity—restaurants filling with diners, theaters opening their doors, normal life continuing, oblivious to the machinery of justice being assembled above.

Through her high-powered binoculars, she spotted a familiar figure crossing the hotel lobby: Eve, dressed in civilian clothes. Even at this distance, Reagan recognized the purposeful stride and the subtle way Eve's gaze swept each room upon entering, cataloging exits and potential threats.

"You always were the best student in tactical approaches," Reagan murmured to the wind.

Her earpiece crackled with Sophia's voice. "Housekeeping confirms Fairchild's suite has been prepared according to his specific requirements."

"Staff positioning?" Reagan asked, maintaining surveillance of both the hotel and Eve's movements.

"Elena secured placement as part of the catering team. Leila will be attending as a guest. Mira has press credentials."

"And the security protocols?"

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