Page 36 of Taken from Her (Phoenix Ridge Police Department #4)

As EMTs began the medical assessments, Diana stepped back to coordinate with her team while keeping the rescued women in sight.

The magnitude of success was beginning to sink in—not just criminal prosecution but three lives restored, three families reunited, and an entire community's fear finally resolved.

"Alpha Team, survivors are secured and receiving medical attention," Diana reported through her communication device. "Three survivors confirmed. They require immediate hospital transport but appear stable."

"Copy, Alpha. Bravo Team has secured the data center. Extensive digital evidence was recovered." Julia's voice carried satisfaction. "Server data suggests this network was operating across seven states."

"Charlie Team reports eighteen suspects in custody, no casualties," Morgan added. "Evidence collection is in progress, but the scope is enormous. This is going to require months of analysis."

Diana remained with the three women while EMTs prepared them for transport, her presence offering official reassurance while her mind processed what they'd uncovered.

Not random disappearances but calculated targeting by a network sophisticated enough to have operated for months without detection, using Phoenix Ridge's coastal access and isolated industrial areas as part of a much larger criminal enterprise.

"Thank you," Tara said as EMTs helped her onto a stretcher. "We heard people searching in helicopters and boats. We knew someone was looking for us, so we stayed hopeful."

The observation hit Diana with unexpected emotion. All those search efforts, community volunteers, and police resources hadn't been wasted. Even in captivity, the women had known they weren't forgotten and that their community was fighting to bring them home.

"Your community never stopped believing you were alive," Diana told them. "Lavender Larwood organized search efforts, community meetings, and safety protocols. Everyone was working to find you."

"Lavender." Isabel smiled despite her exhaustion. "Is her café still open? I've been dreaming about her lavender lemonade for weeks."

"It's still open. She'll be so happy to see you."

As the ambulances prepared to transport the rescued women to Phoenix Ridge General Hospital, Diana felt the weight of success settling alongside bone-deep exhaustion.

The immediate crisis was over. Three lives had been saved, and they had the perpetrators in custody.

The community could finally begin healing.

"Delta Team, final sweep complete," Agent Delacroix said. "All facilities secured, evidence catalogued, and suspects processed for federal custody. Outstanding work, everyone."

Diana watched the ambulances disappear toward the hospital, their red and blue lights cutting through the industrial darkness.

In a few hours, Corinne would be reunited with Joanna, Tara's environmental science students would get their teacher back, and Isabel could return to mentoring women who needed guidance through their career transitions.

But something still nagged at her as she surveyed the warehouse that had held the three women captive for weeks. The facility had been operational until mere moments before the raid began.

"Chief." Angela approached with her tactical gear already secured. "Federal agents are requesting a full debriefing, but Agent Delacroix says we can handle the detailed analysis tomorrow after everyone's had some rest."

Diana nodded, checking her watch. 3:15 a.m. The operation had taken less than four hours, but the preparation and adrenaline had left her feeling hollowed out, running on reserves she hadn't known she possessed.

All she wanted now was to return to Lavender's houseboat, share the news that the missing women were safe, and sleep in Lavender’s arms.

"Exceptional work tonight," Diana said to her assembled team as federal agents began processing the crime scene. "All of you. We brought them home."

Morgan joined them. "The digital evidence alone is going to break this network completely. We found financial records, communication logs, and transport schedules—everything we need for prosecution across multiple jurisdictions."

"Is there any indication of remaining operational capacity?" Diana asked.

"Not sure," Morgan replied. "Some data was wiped recently, and there are gaps in the communication logs that suggest operational security measures we haven't cracked yet."

Angela consulted her notes. "Federal agents recovered evidence suggesting other facilities, but nothing specific enough for immediate action. This was a major blow to them, but they probably weren’t completely eliminated."

Diana absorbed this information, recognizing that while tonight's success was significant, the broader criminal network might still pose threats.

"Go home," Diana told her team. "Rest. We'll handle federal coordination and follow-up tomorrow."

As her officers dispersed toward their vehicles, Diana stayed behind for a final coordination with federal agents. They still had the administrative aftermath with paperwork, evidence transfer, and jurisdictional protocols that would all lead to successful prosecutions.

But through it all, her mind kept returning to Lavender. In less than an hour, she'd be sharing victory with her.

After the brief meeting, Diana gathered her tactical gear and headed toward her patrol car. The radio crackled with routine traffic as she drove through empty streets toward the harbor.

The harbor was quiet in the predawn darkness, only the gentle lapping of water against hulls and distant fog horns breaking the silence. Diana pulled into the marina parking area, her patrol car's headlights sweeping across empty boat slips and mooring lines that swayed in the salty breeze.

Exhaustion pressed against her shoulders like a weight, eighteen hours of intense work finally catching up now that adrenaline was fading.

But underneath the fatigue was deep triumph.

Three women were safe. The community could sleep without fear.

And Lavender would be so proud of what they'd accomplished together.

Diana gathered her tactical gear from the passenger seat, her hands shaking slightly from caffeine and adrenaline withdrawal. The rescue operation had been flawless, but her body was demanding rest that had been deferred too long.

The dock stretched ahead, now familiar even in darkness. Other houseboats bobbed gently at their moorings, their windows dark except for the occasional reading light or security lamp. Normal night patterns that spoke to a community at rest.

But something felt wrong.

Lavender's houseboat sat too still in the water. No warm light spilled from the galley windows; no soft glow came from the reading area where she often stayed up late with tea. The space that usually welcomed Diana home looked empty and abandoned.

Diana quickened her pace along the wooden walkway, boots echoing against the planks in a rhythm that seemed too loud. Maybe Lavender was asleep. Maybe she'd turned off all the lights and gone to bed early, trusting that Diana would return safely from the operation.

But Lavender never went to bed without leaving the galley light on when Diana was working late. It was one of their small domestic rituals, a beacon that said home was waiting.

Diana reached the houseboat's main deck, and her senses heightened. The door hung slightly open. Marina security required people keep their doors locked, and Lavender was too careful to leave her home vulnerable.

"Lavender?" Diana called softly, not wanting to wake neighboring boat residents but needing to announce her presence.

No response.

Diana pushed the door open wider, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon while her mind rejected what she saw.

The main living area looked normal except for details that made her chest tighten: overturned cushions on the reading chair, books scattered across the floor, and candles burned down to stubs as if they'd been left unattended for hours.

"Lavender?" Diana called again, louder this time.

The cats appeared from their hiding spots: Saffron emerging from under the galley counter, Basil creeping out from behind the reading chair. Both moved with the careful gait of animals who'd been frightened, their usual confident territorialism replaced by nervous energy.

Diana moved through the space systematically, her training overriding personal panic. No signs of forced entry beyond the unlocked door. No obvious evidence of struggle beyond the disturbed furniture. But wrongness permeated everything.

The bedroom was empty, bed unmade but not slept in. The galley showed signs of interrupted activity: dinner dishes still drying in the rack and coffee grounds scattered beside the French press. Everything suggested normal evening routines that had been suddenly abandoned.

Diana's phone buzzed with a text message. For a moment, hope flared and she thought it was Lavender. But the message was from Agent Delacroix about tomorrow's debriefing schedule.

She tried calling Lavender's number. The phone rang somewhere inside the houseboat—in the bedroom, muffled by fabric. Diana followed the sound and found Lavender's phone tangled in bedsheets, as if it had been dropped or thrown during some kind of disturbance.

The discovery made Diana's hands shake. Lavender wouldn't leave home without her phone. She wouldn't leave the cats without food and water. She wouldn't abandon the evening rituals that structured her life.

Diana forced herself to think like a police officer instead of a terrified lover. She collected evidence and preserved the scene as best as she could, but her hands trembled as she photographed the disturbed areas that felt like violations of the sanctuary they'd built together.