Falling For Him. Morgan Hayes
me taking the grief from Sarge.” She wasn’t sure why she said it; she should have welcomed Gavin’s offer to work on his own, to relieve her of playing his shadow on every move in this investigation. Perhaps it was that honesty and candor of his, but for the first time in months, the idea of working with a partner—particularly Gavin Monaghan—was beginning to have appeal. Besides which, as Sarge said, it was time. And what better time to put Frank behind her than on the day of their anniversary. Not to mention the fact that maybe she could learn a thing or two from Gavin.
The north side of the five-hundred block of Boston Street was lined with aging row houses, some boarded up, others literally crumbling to the sidewalk. The south side of the seemingly deserted street was dominated by the old Marmack Bed & Mattress Company, a weather-beaten red-brick warehouse that had been converted, apparently unsuccessfully, into a series of offices. Parked outside the building’s main entrance were a couple of police cruisers, and Claudia realized that in the time it had taken her to argue with Sarge about Gavin, the crime-scene unit had got the jump on them.
Gavin pulled to the curb, and Claudia was out the door before he’d taken the key from the ignition. In moments he was at her side, his long stride keeping easy pace with hers as they headed down the sidewalk to the main doors. She directed another glance at him, half-expecting to find Frank at her side. It felt odd, she thought, responding to a scene with someone else.
And she wasn’t the only one who seemed to think so. The uniformed officer who greeted them at the door—a young rookie she recognized from previous scenes—gave her a quizzical look, obviously surprised to see her with someone.
“Detective Parrish.” His greeting had a questioning lilt.
“Hey, Marty. How’s it going?”
“Good.” He touched the brim of his cap and then eyed Gavin.
“This is Detective Monaghan. He’s in charge.”
“Oh.”
“Can you tell us what we’ve got? Or is it a surprise today?”
“Nah. No surprises. Looks like a shooting,” he said. “Maybe a burglary gone wrong. Who knows? That’s your job, Detective.”
“Do we have a name on our victim?”
“Early-morning cleaning staff found him. They verify it’s James Silver. Runs a PI business.” He pointed to the Silver Investigations sign in the only lit window on the first floor.
Claudia nodded slowly, muttering a thank-you, and started for the doors. James Silver. A numbness came over her. She struggled to cover the reaction, but it didn’t work.
Gavin put a hand on her arm, stopping her in the foyer. “What is it, Claudia? You okay?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Yeah. Of course. I’m fine.”
“Do you know this guy? James Silver?”
She looked down the hall to the sign over the PI’s door.
“Claudia?” he prompted her again.
“Yeah,” she said at last, and headed toward the open doorway. “Yeah, I know him.”
CHAPTER TWO
“CLAUDIA, WAIT.” Gavin put his hand on her shoulder and spun her around to face him.
Almost immediately he regretted doing so. The second she lifted her gaze to meet his, Gavin felt as though the corridor had suddenly become too narrow. She stood close enough that he caught the residual traces of her perfume. He’d smelled it in the car, as well—something seductively intimate, with the slightest hint of jasmine. But at least while driving, he hadn’t been challenged by the added allure of staring directly into those captivating gray-green eyes.
Those same eyes had caught him by surprise when she’d first looked at him, back at headquarters. Sure, he’d studied the photo in her file: he’d stared at it for the past five weeks—a newspaper clipping taken from the Baltimore Sun two years ago when she’d been presented with the Maryland Officer of the Year award.
The faded black-and-white photo hadn’t done justice to the vibrant golden highlights in her hair or the glow of her perfect skin. But in the picture, Claudia had been smiling, and in the weeks he had studied her file, Gavin had imagined seeing that lush smile in person. Instead, there was concern on her face; it furrowed lines across her forehead and tightened her mouth as she gazed up at him.
“What is it?” she asked.
“This guy Silver. You know him?”
“I told you, yes.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be here then.”
“If it’s a conflict of interest you’re worried about, Gavin, forget it. I met the man a couple of times, but haven’t seen him since January. He was an acquaintance at best.”
Gavin wondered if the subtle twitch at the corner of her right eye indicated a lie. “You’re sure about this?”
“I’m sure. Now are you coming in or do I have to conduct your investigation?”
She slipped her arm from his grasp, and her trench coat whirled in the air behind her as she turned once more. Gavin watched her and wondered how it was that someone who stood barely five foot five in heels could command such presence.
It shouldn’t have surprised him though, he thought. After all, her file was chock-full of commendations and an endless stream of laudatory reviews from her sergeants, past and present. And besides the award, there had been the bronze star four years ago. Gavin had been impressed from the moment his lieutenant had handed him her file back in the Internal Affairs offices.
“Okay, guys, what have we got?” Claudia’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
He watched her pull a notepad and pen from her pocket and then just as quickly shove them back in, obviously remembering her role as the secondary detective on the scene.
“This is Detective Monaghan.” She gestured an introduction. “He’s the primary, so any details you’ve got go to him.”
She wasn’t liking this one bit, Gavin decided. It wasn’t her case, she wasn’t in control, and she hated that fact. Frustration appeared to stiffen her stance.
But when she stood over the victim, Claudia’s expression softened. In his years on patrol, then in Narcotics and finally Internal Affairs, Gavin had seen his share of violent deaths. It struck him now, however, that he’d never worked one with a woman. As Claudia studied the body of James Silver, a look of compassion seemed to wash over her face. It was a look rarely seen on the faces of seasoned detectives, and Gavin couldn’t help wondering if there was, in fact, more to her relationship with Silver than she’d admitted.
She hadn’t clarified the context in which she knew the private investigator. And then, as Gavin scanned the PI’s office, he saw the Baltimore Police cap on one bookshelf and the framed academy diploma on the wall.
He joined her, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Tell me how you know this guy.”
“This isn’t the time, Gavin.” Her response was barely audible, her focus never leaving the body crumpled in the corner amid a scattering of files.
“He was a cop. Did you work with him?”
She didn’t respond.
“Because if you worked with him, you know Sarge will have to take you off—”
She turned on him, a flare of impatience in her eyes as her whisper sharpened. “I told you, I hardly knew him. Now, are you going to take charge here, or do I have to?”
“Fine.” He withdrew his own notebook from his pocket, flipped to a fresh page and clicked his pen. “I want you to start by getting the report from the responding officer, and then arrange for an initial canvass of the