Deadly Fall (25 page)

“But Drew is—” She broke off at the stab of pain in her chest. “Drew was your brother. He loved you. I love you.”

“I know and I love you too.” Adam scrubbed his face with his hands. “But…but—” He broke off and walked away from her, his body one long, tense line.

Augusta hurried after him into the living room. He was standing by the big windows, looking outside. He looked so alone, she wanted to come up behind him and wrap her arms around him, offer him what comfort she could. Once, she would’ve done just that and not thought anything of it. This new Adam, however, had her second-guessing herself.

“You sound like you were jealous of Drew.”

“I had reason to be.”

“You’ve always be in love with Jana, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But Drew was always there.”

Still looking at the outside world with his back presented to her, he nodded. “Then you came along, and he took the one person who I thought understood me better than anyone else away from me too.”

The lump in her throat was burning. “Adam—”

“But that was okay, because I thought then I would have a chance with Jana, that she would see me as someone other than Drew’s younger brother.” He shook his head. “But I was only a stand-in for him.”

She couldn’t address his last statement and didn’t even want to try.

His shoulder and biceps muscles rippled and clenched. “I wanted you to be there for me.”

“You didn’t give me a chance. After I married Drew, you became distant and so damned polite there were times when I wanted to smack you.”

“I don’t think my brother would’ve appreciated you spending too much alone time with another man.”

“You’re not just any other man.” She took a few steps toward him until she was within touching distance. She laid her fingers on his shoulder, afraid he would shrug her off. However, he only tensed for an instant. Something tight eased inside her chest. “You don’t know it, but you were there for me when I was at one of the lowest points in my life. You kept me sane and in control so many times when I just wanted to give up and let it all go. You should’ve given me the chance to return the favor.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time, and Augusta feared he would ignore her until she left. Then a warm hand with long, elegant fingers covered hers, and relief rushed through her system. Before she could rethink her actions, Augusta slipped an arm about his waist and hugged him, her cheek pressed into his warm back. She felt a hot wetness land on her hand even as her own tears wet her lashes.

* * * * *

The east side of the Chief Medical Examiner’s building on First Avenue was windowless and sterile. The dead, after all, didn’t need fresh air or a view.

Nick and Ethan had signed in at the desk and been directed to an autopsy room, where Dr. Laura Woo was using the holiday to try to clear up a backlog of work. A tall, slender Asian woman came out of one of the autopsy rooms. Her hair was smoothed back into a gleaming black braid that reached the middle of her back, and a white lab coat covered her from shoulders to mid-thigh. Nick could see she wore her signature blue jeans and tennis shoes.

A genuine smile spread across her pale face. “Detectives, I didn’t think to see the two of you again so soon.”

Ethan flashed her a grin. “You know we can’t stay away from you for too long, Doc. It’s in the job description.”

“Well, in this job, I welcome walking, talking, living, breathing company, even if they are NYPD.” She peeled off one latex glove and, with her naked hand, pushed back the short strands of hair that escaped her braid. “Here for an update on Andrew Langan?”

“If you have anything new.”

She turned around, pushed open the heavy steel door behind her and walked back into the autopsy room. She tossed the latex glove into the trash bin beside the door, then peeled off the remaining glove and disposed of it too. “I can tell you he had sex recently before his death.”

Nick stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“You heard me,” Laura said.

“So?” Nick said when they were standing around a corpse lying on a stainless steel table and covered with a white sheet.

“I found two pubic hairs that were definitely not Andrew Langan’s tangled in his,” the ME said, as she folded back the top portion of the sheet to display the back of Andrew Langan’s head and back.

“What color?”

“Black and belonging to a female, and that’s all I can tell you unless you have DNA for me to compare against.”

Nick felt the muscles in his face tighten. He told himself Augusta wasn’t the only woman in the city with black hair. Augusta and Langan had been in the midst of obtaining a divorce, after all. And Langan had cheated on her in the past. However, the less logical part of his brain plagued him with images of Augusta in Langan’s arms, in the king-sized bed in the penthouse master bedroom he could see only too clearly in his mind.

“That was fast work,” Ethan remarked. It usually took at least a week to get back test results, especially DNA test results.

Laura shrugged. “This is a very high-profile case. My boss received a call from your boss’s boss and the DA within the same hour.”

Ethan gave a low whistle. “Anything else?”

She shook her head.

“When can the body be released to the family?” Nick asked.

“The body’s already washed and ready to go. I just need the name of the funeral parlor.”

“I’ll find out and tell you tomorrow. Thanks, Doc.”

“No problem.”

Ethan added his thanks and said, “We’ll see ourselves out.”

Nick’s steps as he walked through the maze that was the Chief Medical Examiner’s building were faster and heavier than before. When they exited the building through the heavy glass doors, he withdrew a pair of sunglasses from his inside pocket and put them on. Ethan did the same.

“At least it’s one for two now,” said Ethan. They had questioned Richmond Lamb, Andrew Langan’s executive assistant, earlier and learned nothing new. “Where to?” The logical thing to do would be to track down Augusta Langan and confront her with this new information.

“We go back to Brooklyn and see if Charlie Medina is up to having visitors.”

Wisely, Ethan only nodded.

* * * * *

“I was going to propose to her on her birthday.”

The hand lightly stroking his hair halted in mid-motion, then continued. Augusta wanted to ask Adam whether the decision to keep his and Jana’s relationship a secret had been his idea or Jana’s. There was a tiny ache in her chest for her friend. He hadn’t wanted familial pressure to compel Jana to marry him. He only wanted her to be with him by her choice. Augusta blinked rapidly for a few seconds. She hoped to God Jana wanted to be with him.

“When’s her birthday?”

“In three weeks.”

“Where were you going to do it?”

“I planned on driving to the observatory in Rochester for the weekend and getting down on one knee beneath the stars.”

A smile tipped at the corners of her mouth. Sweet and romantic.

“Are you still going to?”

Now it was his turn to hesitate. “I don’t know.”

“You still love her.”

“Yes.”

She heard the lingering note. “But?”

“I don’t want her to say yes because she’s grieving for Drew and vulnerable.”

She paused mid-stroke again. Something about his answer didn’t ring quite true. It could’ve been the pause that was a shade too long. It could’ve been her suspicious nature working overtime. However, she didn’t call him on it. Their truce was too new, too fragile.

“How long have you and Jana been involved?”

“Just after you asked Drew for a divorce.”

After Drew had cheated on her with Jana. “That’s good.”

The head in her lap turned to look up at her. Adam’s understanding of her thoughts was in his eyes. “I love her so much I’d forgive her just about anything to be with her.”

“I hope she can make you happy.”

Something Augusta couldn’t quite identify flashed in Adam’s eyes and then was gone. Before she could question it, he was sitting up. He gathered the empty tumblers on the coffee table. “I think we both need refills.”

Augusta watched him retreat figuratively and literally. The open concept of his unit allowed her to watch as he topped up their drinks in his kitchen. Once again, she kept her silence. And hushed the niggling voice in the back of her mind.

“Are you hungry?” Adam asked, his back turned to her as he opened his fridge and studied its contents.

“A little.”

“Sandwich good?”

“Great. Do you want a hand?”

“I have it covered.”

Needing something to do, she got up and walked over to straighten a framed charcoal sketch. She adjusted the frame and drew back her hands. It shifted again. Frowning, she lightly ran her fingers down the sides and back edge of the simple black frame, eyes focused on the curving road in the sketch. The curving road was the only thing in the sketch that was focused. The surroundings were all blurred. The picture was from the perspective of a runner. She had sketched it after the first time she ran through Central Park.

The sketch was untitled, as all her random sketches were. However, looking at it now, the word
escape
came to mind.

Her fingertips brushed something protruding from the frame. Brows drawn, Augusta moved her fingers over the back edge of the frame again. Something was definitely there. She lifted the frame up and off its hook and flipped it over to take a look at the back.

She stared blankly at the tiny black dot roughly the size of a shirt button sticking to the back of the frame for several seconds. Then it clicked. Incredulous, she studied it more closely, still not quite believing what her logical brain was telling her.

“Augusta?”

It took her a moment to realize the domestic sounds of Adam preparing sandwiches for the both of them had stopped. Then she made a split-second decision. Heart pounding, she casually put the framed sketch back in its place and said, “I’m just a little dazed and confused today.” She returned to the far end of the sofa, sitting cross-legged. “It’s not even noon yet, and I feel like the day should be wrapping up already.”

He finished slicing the club sandwiches, transferred them from the cutting board to black, square plates. Skillfully grabbing both tumblers with his one free hand, he walked over to the sofa.

“Early morning?” he asked, setting down the plate and tumblers and seating himself next to her.

“Yes. I’ve started painting again,” she told him, and then went into the same explanation she had given to Nick earlier that morning.

* * * * *

Nick and Ethan once again got inside Charlie Medina’s apartment building because the building superintendent still hadn’t replaced the busted lock on the front door. They walked up the three flights of narrow stairs because it was faster than taking the elevator.

They saw the bright yellow police tape as soon as they were on the third floor.

“Fuck,” Nick muttered, his scowl deepening. Ethan repeated the sentiment. “Which precinct would handle this one?”

“Eighty-fourth,” answered Ethan. He pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll get their number.”

Nick tried the doorknob, found it locked and forced the open with his shoulder. He disappeared inside the apartment, Ethan following him. Nick heard his partner connect with someone while he inspected the cramped apartment. It didn’t take long.

“Well?” asked Nick when Ethan disconnected.

“Medina’s girlfriend, a Sandra Munter, reported the death. She went over Sunday afternoon and found his body. He was killed execution style—two shots to the back of the head. It wasn’t pretty. He was beaten pretty badly before he was put out of his misery. Also, there was some fancy knife work done on him. The girlfriend almost couldn’t identify him.”

“Suspects? Arrests?”

Ethan shook his head.

“Any of the neighbors hear or see anything?”

“No.”

“What did you find?”

“The window was jimmied open without a lot of finesse. Bed covered in blood, place thoroughly tossed. One guess as to what the perps were looking for.”

“The surveillance tapes.”

Nick nodded. “Did you get Charlie’s girlfriend’s address?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s talk to Sandra Munter.”

* * * * *

The apartment Sandra Munter shared with her widowed mother and younger sister was much cleaner and larger than her deceased boyfriend’s apartment. It actually boasted two enclosed bedrooms. Nick and Ethan found her alone in the apartment after she forced them both to hold up their badges in front of the peephole. Neither of them pointed out that badges could look very much like real ones, especially through peepholes.