Free Deadly Fall by Ann Bruce Page A

all-out tickle fights. Most of the recollections were good. They were memories of times with her best friend. Try as hard as she could, she couldn’t think of Drew as more than that. He’d been her lover and her husband, but it had been friendship that she wanted from him. At one point, she’d thought differently, but she’d been young. And needy and vulnerable. She could admit it now. She had needed someone, anyone, and wanted that someone to need her in return.
     
    The air shuddered from her lungs as Augusta forced herself to move before she grew roots.
     
    She eased the death grip she had on the ring of keys in her fist and did another visual sweep. Now that she was here, she was at a loss. Why was she even here? Why had she given in to that compulsion to look over the place she had once called home? And why was burning emotion still threatening to choke her as she stood there in the foyer?
     
    Sucking in a deep breath in hopes that it would push everything rising in her throat down, she crossed the foyer and stepped into the sunken living room she and Drew had decorated with a bent towards mindless entertainment.
     
    If she closed her eyes and tried really hard, she could see Drew stretched out on the L-shaped sofa in his navy track pants and bare feet, engrossed in a hockey game on the big screen television. Of course, the Rangers would have to be playing. It would be even better if they were in the lead, but they didn’t have to be. Drew was a die-hard fan.
     
    Augusta smiled even as fresh tears prickled the backs of her eyes. Wouldn’t the readers of Forbes be surprised to discover that it took very little to please one of the most prominent businessmen in the United States.
     
    Oh, God, Augusta. Not here. Not now.
     
    She hurried up the stairs and into a converted storage room. After the conversion, she’d dubbed it the attic. She wouldn’t bother with the rest of the penthouse. Drew kept everything that was important in the attic.
     
    Dim, yellow light illuminated the space, revealing the stacks and stacks of neatly labeled brown boxes against the walls. Leaving the door ajar, she went to the boxes against the left wall and began moving them out of the way. The boxes nearly reached the ceiling so she used a straight-back chair to bring down the top ones and stacked them randomly in the middle of the room. The bottom ones she merely pushed aside.
     
    By the time she shoved the last box out of her way, her jacket was draped on the chair and a light film of perspiration coated her face. But she didn’t stop to rest. The specter of getting caught, no matter what excuse she had ready, lent her an urgency.
     
    With both hands, she pushed her hair back from her face and got down on her knees. Bottom lip captured between her teeth, she carefully but swiftly felt along the bottom edge of the wall with her fingertips.
     
    She felt the tiny break in the wood and pulled on the lever. A four foot-square section of the wood-paneled wall three feet above her bent head silently slid back, revealing the fireproof, stainless steel combination safe. Drew had said that very few people would think to crawl around on their hands and knees to find the key to open a safe.
     
    Inordinately triumphant, Augusta made quick work of the combination lock. She pulled down on the handle, swung open the door and peered inside.
     
    Her brows slammed together. The triumph she felt moments ago dissipated.
     
    The safe where Drew had kept everything from a copy of his will to a bit of extra cash was empty. Even their platinum wedding bands and her matching engagement ring were missing.
     

Chapter Six
     
    Nick placed a mug of lethal-looking brew down in front of his partner, said, “Here you go. No sugar, lots of cream,” and sat.
     
    “Thanks,” Ethan mumbled, not even glancing at the coffee. “Where’ve you been all afternoon?”
     
    Nick’s gaze narrowed. He and Ethan have been partners long enough for him to recognize