Clark, Mary Higgins 03 - The Cradle Will Fall Read online

  was dining there."

  He'd make it seem that he was cooperating.

  "What was in your bag?" The question seemed perfunctory.

  "A basic emergency kit, a few drugs. Hardly worth a thief's

  effort." Should he mention that it contained files? No.

  The prosecutor beckoned to the younger investigator. "Get that

  package out of the car."

  What package? Highley gripped the glass.

  They sat in silence, waiting. The detective returned and handed

  Scott a small parcel. He pulled off the wrapping paper. "Do you

  recognize this moccasin, Doctor?"

  Careful. Careful. He leaned over, examined it. The left shoe, the

  one from Edna's apartment. They had not found his bag.

  "Certainly not. Should I recognize it?"

  "Your patient Vangie Lewis wore this shoe for weeks. Didn't you

  ever notice?"

  "Mrs. Lewis wore a pair of rather shabby shoes. I certainly

  would not recognize one particular shoe."

  "Did you ever hear of a Dr. Emmet Salem?"

  "The name seems familiar. I'd have to check my records."

  "Wasn't he on staff with you at Christ Hospital in Devon?"

  "Of course. Yes. He was visiting staff. Indeed, I do remember

  him." How much did they know about Christ Hospital?

  "Were you aware Mrs. Lewis was carrying an Oriental baby?"

  So that was it. He said, "That explains why Mrs. Lewis was becoming

  terrified of giving birth. She knew that she could never

  make anyone believe her husband was the father."

  Now they were asking about Anna Horan and Maureen Crowley.

  They were coming close, too close.

  "Those two young women are typical of many who demand

  abortions and then blame the physician when they experience

  emotional reactions."

  Richard listened bleakly. Highley was so composed, so sure.

  Unless they could prove wrongful death in the maternity cases, it

  would be impossible to charge him with anything and make it

  stick. He felt certain they'd never find anything incriminating in

  Highley's records. He was far too clever for that.

  Scott was asking about the Berkeley baby. "Doctor, you are

  aware that Elizabeth Berkeley gave birth to a baby who has green

  eyes. Isn't that a medical improbability when both parents and

  all four grandparents have brown eyes?"

  "Clearly Mr. Berkeley is not the baby's father," Highley said.

  Neither Scott nor Richard had expected the admission. "I don't

  know who the father is," Highley continued smoothly, "but it is

  hardly the obstetrician's business to delve into such matters."

  A shame, he thought. He would have to defer fame a little

  longer. He'd never be able to admit the success of the Berkeley

  baby now.

  Scott looked at Richard, sighed and stood up. "Dr. Highley,

  when you go to your office, you will learn that we have seized

  your records. We are concerned at the number of maternity deaths

  at Westlake, and that matter is under intensive investigation."

  He was on safe ground. "I invite minute scrutiny of my patients'

  records. I can assure you that the death ratio is remarkably low in

  consideration of the kinds of cases we handle."

  The smell of the fondue was filling the house. Unless it was

  stirred, it would surely burn. Just a few minutes more.

  The phone rang. Undoubtedly it would be the hospital saying

  that Mrs. DeMaio had not yet returned home and her sister was

  frantic. He picked up the phone. "Dr. Highley here."

  "Doctor, this is Lieutenant Weingarden of the Seventeenth Precinct

  in New York. We've just arrested a man who answers the description

  of the person who stole a bag from the trunk of your car

  last night."

  The bag. "Has it been recovered?" Something in his voice was

  giving him away. Scott Myerson stalked over to the desk and

  reached for the extension.

  "Yes. And several items in it may lead to far more serious charges

  than theft Doctor, will you describe the contents of your bag?"

  "Some medicine—a few basic drugs. An emergency kit."

  "What about a patient's file from the office of a Dr. Emmet

  Salem, a bloodstained paperweight and an old shoe?"

  Highley closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was remarkably

  controlled. "Are you joking?"

  "I thought you'd say that, sir. We're cooperating with the Valley

  County prosecutor's office concerning the suspicious death of

  Dr. Salem. I'll call the prosecutor now. It looks as though the

  suspect might have killed Dr. Salem during a theft. Thank you, sir."

  He heard Scott Myerson say on the extension, "Don't hang up!"

  Slowly Highley replaced the receiver. It was all over.

  Dr. Carroll was looking at him curiously. Somehow Edgar High-

  ley was sure that Richard Carroll was the man who had become

  suspicious of him. But he had his revenge. Katie DeMaio's death

  was his revenge on Richard Carroll. Highley smiled. "I have just

  remembered that I do have some medical records that might interest

  you," he said. He walked over to the bookcase, released the

  spring. The panel swung out. Mechanically he opened the wall

  safe. Let them know his genius. Let them mourn it.

  He lifted out the files, stacked them on the desk. The prosecutor

  had hung up the phone. They were all staring at him now.

  "Oh, there is another case you'll want to have." He reached for

  his drink and sipped it casually as he walked over to the safe. The

  vial was there, right in the back. He'd put it away Monday night

  for possible future use. The future was now.

  At the safe, he quickly flipped the vial open and dumped the

  cyanide crystals into his glass. As understanding swept over

  Richard's face, Highley held up the glass in a mocking toast.

  Richard leaped across the room as Highley raised the glass to

  his lips and gulped down the contents. Richard knocked the glass

  away as Highley fell, but it was too late. The four men watched

  helplessly as Highley's screams and groans died into silence.

  The younger detective bolted from the room, his face green.

  Richard bent over the body. Highley's face was contorted; the

  protruding gray eyes were open and staring.

  "Why'd he do it?" the other detective asked.

  "He knew he couldn't murder his way out anymore," Scott said.

  Straightening up, Richard went over to the desk and scanned

  the names on the files. Berkeley. Lewis. "These are the records

  we're looking for." He opened the Berkeley file. The first page

  began, "Elizabeth Berkeley, age 39, became my patient today. She

  will never conceive her own child. I have decided that she will be

  the next extraordinary patient."

  "There's medical history here," Richard said quietly, and

  thought, He could have done so much good.

  Scott was standing over the body. "And when you think that

  this nut was Katie's doctor," he muttered.

  Richard looked up. "What? Highley was treating Katie?"

  "She happened to mention it when—" The phone interrupted

  him. Scott picked it up. "Yes," he said, then, Tm sorry, this is not

  Dr. Highley. Who is calling?" His expression cha
nged. "Molly!

  This is Scott Myerson. What's the matter?" He listened, then covered

  the mouthpiece with his hand. "Highley admitted Katie to

  Westlake tonight and she's missing."

  Richard yanked the phone from him. "Molly, what do you mean

  she's missing?" He listened. "Come on, Molly. Katie would never

  walk out of a hospital. You know that. Wait."

  Dropping the phone, he frantically scattered the files on the

  desk. Near the bottom of the pile he found the one he dreaded:

  DeMaio, Kathleen. He raced through it, his face paling as he

  read. He came to the last paragraph. He picked up the phone.

  "Molly, put Bill on," he ordered. "Bill, Katie is hemorrhaging

  somewhere in Westlake Hospital. Call the lab. We'll need to hang

  a bottle of O negative the minute we find her. Have them ready

  to analyze a blood sample and cross-match for four units of whole

  blood. Tell them to have an operating room ready. I'll meet you

  there." He broke the connection and turned to the detective at

  the desk. "Call the hospital and have them start looking for Katie.

  Tell them to look everywhere—every room, every closet. Get all

  available hospital personnel to help. Every second counts."

  "Come on, Richard," Scott snapped.

  Richard grabbed Katie's file. "We have to know what he's done

  to her." They'd been seconds too late preventing Edgar Highley's

  death. Would they be too late for Katie?

  With Scott, he hunched in the back of the squad car as it raced

  through the night. Katie, he thought, why didn't you tell me? If

  you'd only trusted me, told me you were seeing Highley. I'd

  never have let you go near him. Katie, don't die. Let me find you.

  Katie, hang on. . . .

  They were at the hospital. Squad cars were roaring into the

  parking lot. Scott and Richard dashed up the stairs into the lobby.

  Phil, his face drawn, was commanding the search.

  Bill and Molly came running in. Molly was sobbing. Bill was

  deadly calm. "They've got a reasonable supply of whole blood on

  hand here. Have you found her?"

  "Not yet," Phil answered.

  The door to the fire stairs, partly ajar, burst open. A young

  policeman ran out. "She's on the floor in the morgue. I think she's

  gone."

  Seconds later Richard was cradling her in his arms. Her skin

  and lips were ashen. He could not get a pulse. "Katie. Katie."

  Bill gripped his shoulder. "Let's get her upstairs. We'll have to

  work fast if there's any chance at all."

  SHE was in a tunnel. At the end there was a light. It was warm

  at the end of the tunnel. It would be so easy to drift there.

  But someone was keeping her from going. Someone was holding

  her. A voice. Richard's voice. "Hang on, Katie, hang on."

  She wanted so not to turn back. It was so hard, so dark. It

  would be so much easier to slip away.

  "Hang on, Katie."

  Sighing, she turned and began to make her way back.

  ON MONDAY evening Richard tiptoed into Katie's room, a dozen

  roses in his hand. She'd been out of danger since Sunday morning,

  but hadn't stayed awake long enough to say anything. Her eyes

  were closed. He decided to go out and ask the nurse for a vase.

  "Just lay them across my chest."

  He spun around. "Katie. How do you feel?"

  She grimaced at the transfusion apparatus. "I hear the vampires

  are picketing. I'm putting them out of business."

  "You're better." He pulled up a chair. He hoped the sudden

  moisture in his eyes wasn't noticeable.

  She had noticed. She gently reached up and brushed a finger

  across his eyelids. "Before I fall asleep again, please tell me what

  happened. Why did Dr. Highley kill Vangie?"

  "He was experimenting on his patients, taking fetuses from

  women who had abortions and implanting them in the wombs of

  sterile women. In these past eight years he learned how to immunize

  a host mother to prevent her from rejecting an alien fetus,

  at least for a few months. Most cases eventually ended in spontaneous

  abortion, but he did have one complete success.

  "After that one success, he wanted to break more new ground.

  An Oriental woman named Anna Horan, who's married to a Caucasian,

  claims he knocked her out and took her fetus when she

  was unconscious. She was right. He had Vangie Lewis in the next

  room waiting for the implant. Vangie thought she was simply

  having some treatment to help her become pregnant. Highley

  never expected Vangie to retain the Oriental fetus so long. When

  her body did not reject the developing fetus, he decided to bring

  it to term. Who would blame him if Vangie had a partly Oriental

  child?"

  "He was able to suppress the immune system?"

  "Yes, and without harm to the developing fetus. But the danger

  to the mother was great. He's killed sixteen women. Vangie was

  getting terribly sick. Unfortunately for her, she ran into Highley

  last Monday evening just as she left Fukhito. She told him she was

  going to consult her former doctor in Minneapolis. That would

  have been a risk because her gynecologist would know that a

  natural pregnancy for Vangie was a million-to-one shot. And when

  she mentioned Emmet Salem's name, she was finished. Highley

  knew that Dr. Salem would guess what had happened. Salem was

  in England when Highley's first wife died. He knew about the

  scandal.

  "And now," Richard said, "that's enough of that. All the rest

  can wait. Your eyes are closing again."

  "No ... You said Highley had one success."

  "Yes. And if you had stayed five minutes longer at Molly's last

  www.read.forumsplace.com

  Thursday night and seen the Berkeley baby, you could guess who

  it is. Liz Berkeley carried Maureen Crowley's baby to term."

  "Maureen's baby." Katie tried to pull herself up.

  "Easy, you'll pull that needle out." Gently he touched her

  shoulder, holding her until she leaned back.

  "Does Maureen know?" she asked.

  "It was only right to tell her and the Berkeleys. Jim has been

  living with the belief that his wife lied to him about artificial insemination.

  You know how Maureen felt about that abortion. It's

  been destroying her. She went to see her baby. She's one happy

  girl, Katie. She would have given it out for adoption if she had

  delivered it naturally. Now that she's seen Maryanne, sees how

  crazy the Berkeleys are about her, she's in seventh heaven."

  "What about the mother of Vangie's baby?"

  "Anna Horan is heartbroken enough about the abortion. We

  saw no point in telling her what Highley did with her baby. She'll

  have other children."

  Katie bit her lip. "Richard, tell me the truth. When they found

  me, how far did they have to go to stop the bleeding?"

  "You're okay. You can still have a dozen kids if you want them."

  His hand reached over to cover hers. That hand had been there,

  had pulled her back when she was so near to death. That voice had

  made her want to come back.

  For a long, quiet moment she looked up at Richard. Oh, how

  I l
ove you, she thought. How very much I love you.

  His troubled expression changed suddenly into a broad smile.

  Obviously he was satisfied at what he saw in her face.

  Katie grinned back at him. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you,

  Doctor?" she asked him crisply.