Falling For Him. Morgan Hayes

I’m exhausted. But I’ll call.”

      There was a pause before Faith finally complied. Making Claudia promise to call, and assuring herself that her big sister was really okay, Faith at last hung up.

      Claudia’s hand hovered over the answering machine for a moment before she at last pressed Play.

      As predicted, three of the messages were from her sister. But there were five others—all hang-ups. Using her Caller ID, Claudia wrote down the number, and within a minute she’d confirmed her hunch. The Yellow Pages lay in her lap, open to the listings for private investigators.

      James Silver had called her five times in the past three days. It didn’t surprise her that he hadn’t tried her at the office, not if her suspicions were correct. If Silver had been looking into Frank’s death again, then the Homicide office was the last place Silver would have risked calling. But why hadn’t he bothered to leave even one message? Maybe because he thought this too would be a risk?

      Claudia stared at Silver’s ad for a long time, her mind staggering over the countless alternate scenarios that might have played out had he actually been able to reach her. Would he be dead now? Would they have uncovered something new about Frank’s death? Could she have intervened?

      Switching off both the machine and the phone, Claudia moved to the living room couch and turned on the TV. But the aimless flicking through channels did nothing to divert her thoughts from Frank and Silver. If she knew one thing for certain, it was that Silver had been taking a second look at Frank’s death. It was the only explanation behind his attempt to reach her.

      But why? What had prompted him to relaunch his investigation into Frank’s death?

      Claudia set down the remote control and reached under the couch. She groped for the orange pressboard binder that had been hidden there, unopened, for at least six months. Sliding it out, she brushed the thin layer of dust from its cover.

      CC# 2L5915.

      It was one thing to remove a case file, or any portion of it, from headquarters. The breach of security was done on occasion by detectives and overlooked by their supervisors. But to duplicate an entire file, from cover to cover—all the reports from officers and supervisors alike, from the Chief Medical Examiner’s office and the various crime labs, interview transcripts, detective’s personal notes, even crime-scene and evidence photos—was completely against department policy. Not to mention punishable by suspension, Claudia thought, as she eased the thick binder into her lap.

      For Claudia, copying the file had been worth the risk. Ten months ago she had believed that Frank couldn’t have killed himself, and that everything in the reports must have been a cover-up.

      She probably should have destroyed the file once she’d submitted to the consensus that Frank had taken his own life.

      Yet, now Claudia was grateful she had kept it. After all, maybe questions remained to be asked and answers to be found. Obviously Silver had believed so. But had there actually been new information? Or had he simply been grasping at the same old straws he’d had the last time they’d spoken?

      Claudia opened the file, trying to avoid the pages of photos. She was unsuccessful. The four-by-six color images brought back that unforgettable night as though it had been only yesterday. She relived the disbelief and the horror. And then the utter emptiness she’d felt when she held Frank’s hand for the last time.

      She remembered crying, and then Lori trying to console her. It wasn’t until Claudia had caught sight of the picture on Frank’s mantel—a photo of the two of them receiving their bronze stars—that Claudia had finally pulled herself together that night. For Frank, she’d kept up appearances. For him, she’d never once let on that he’d been anything but a partner to her.

      Claudia stared at the open binder in her lap. The crime-scene photos blurred with her tears. Frank couldn’t have killed himself, she thought for the millionth time. The Frank she had known, the man she’d loved…he hadn’t been a coward or a quitter. And yet, what else could she believe now that all the reports were in?

      God, but she missed him.

      She missed his voice and his laughter. She missed the excitement of working a case with him, having him by her side and knowing she was with the best detective on the force. And she missed the little things about Frank—the familiar gestures and wisecracks that could bring laughter to any gray day, his knowing smile when he’d look up from his desk to where she sat across from him, the light that would touch his eyes when she’d open her apartment door and find him standing on the landing, and the way his hand had felt in hers—rough, warm and secure. She missed the feel of his body against hers, and she missed the way he’d whisper his love for her and tell her they would always be together.

      But in spite of her longing for him, Claudia wasn’t certain she could ever forgive Frank for giving up. With the file open in her lap, she closed her eyes and settled her head against the top of the couch. Maybe that was the real reason she hadn’t gotten rid of the case file—maybe she felt that by hanging on to it she still held a piece of Frank. And maybe she would never be able to let him go. He lived in her heart, along with her anger and her resentment. No one could ever come close to touching her the way Frank had.

      Inexplicably, Gavin Monaghan entered Claudia’s thoughts. She’d be lying if she said there wasn’t a glimmer of attraction there. It was certainly the first time she’d felt anything like it since Frank. And she hadn’t been the only one who’d toyed with such thoughts—she’d seen the way Gavin had looked at her when they were in Silver’s office.

      She remembered the effect his smile had had on her when she’d dropped him off at his car and apologized again for her behavior in Silver’s office. He’d had every right to question her. If the roles had been reversed, she would have demanded the same from him. He’d accepted her apology and given her a smile. Her entire body had responded to that smile with a quick shiver of excitement.

      Claudia closed her eyes. She had to push Gavin Monaghan from her thoughts. It was ridiculous to think she was attracted to a man she barely knew. She was, Claudia rationalized, only because he’d done a couple of little things that had reminded her of Frank. That was all.

      Besides, how could she possibly have feelings for anyone when her heart still belonged to Frank?

      CHAPTER FOUR

      GAVIN BROUGHT HIS FIST against the upper panel of the door at the top of the stairs. It had taken him a good fifteen minutes to find the three-story row house in Fells Point that corresponded with the home address he had for Claudia. And he would have thought that those fifteen minutes should have cooled his temper. He’d been wrong.

      He raised his hand a second time, the resounding thud echoing down the narrow stairwell. It was enough to wake the dead. Certainly enough to cause the tenant on the first floor to stop playing the piano and listen.

      Where the hell was she?

      Gavin took a deep breath, hoping to quell his impatience, and was about to knock a third time when he heard movement from inside. There was the slide of a dead bolt and the scrape of a chain before Claudia opened the door.

      She wore the same suit he’d seen on her earlier, only now the pants and turtleneck were creased. Her hair was a tousle of blond curls and she lifted a hand in an attempt to arrange them.

      “Did I wake you?”

      She rolled her eyes, puffy with sleep. “What do you think? I hardly slept in two nights.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “What are you doing here anyway?”

      “Can I come in?”

      She held his stare, as though debating the wisdom of allowing work into her home. Finally she stepped aside.

      The apartment had the same charm as the building’s facade, Gavin noted as he brushed past her into the tiled foyer. With the day’s light dying behind the half-drawn blinds, the living room beyond the arched portal lay in shadow. Even so, there