Falling For Him. Morgan Hayes

the image of Claudia in the shower before it could take root in his mind.

      However, it wasn’t the Baltimore Sun that managed to divert his imagination. It was the unmistakable orange cover of a case file. Only a corner of it peeked out from under the sofa, but it was enough for Gavin to know immediately what it was. With the steady thrum of the shower in the background, he slid the thick file out and understood why Claudia had attempted to hide it.

      It was the Owens case. Gavin recognized the incident number instantly.

      Had she taken the file out of the office this morning, after going to Evidence Control? Had she felt the need to study it again, believing there to be a connection to Silver’s murder? If so, why would she take the risk?

      Gavin thought of the case files at his house. IAD files. The most recent one being on Claudia. But then, he had to take files home, especially when working a case undercover, so that his comings and goings from the IAD offices were kept to a minimum.

      The Homicide unit, however, like others in the Criminal Investigations Bureau, worked under a completely different set of regulations. There were strict rules and penalties for removing a case file.

      Gavin opened the binder and his shock doubled. This wasn’t even the official file. Claudia had copied the entire contents: case notes, reports, investigative entries, even a complete set of the crime-scene and autopsy photos.

      Understandably, Claudia would have a vested interest in the investigation into her partner’s death, but surely not to the extent of compromising her career by pulling such a stunt. Unless, of course, she had something at stake in Owens’s death. Unless she needed to protect herself with information in the event she was questioned.

      “Claudia Parrish was the secondary detective on all three of Owens’s bad cases,” Lieutenant Randolph had told him five weeks ago. “It could have just as easily been her taking payoffs…it could have been her implicating him.”

      Again, the niggling suspicion mounted. Gavin leafed through the file. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen many times before—the reports, the photos of Frank Owens dead in his bedroom.

      Ten months ago, Gavin had been shocked to learn of the detective’s death. Randolph had called him the second the news had hit the police radios that night, and Gavin had demanded to go to the scene. He’d wanted to head the investigation himself. But Randolph wouldn’t allow it. He’d been adamant Gavin not reveal himself as the man behind the probe. At that point, though, Gavin hadn’t cared if the entire unit found out. He’d wanted to be there. He’d felt responsible.