Mary Clark - The Cradle Will Fall

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 changed. "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.