The Cradle Will Fall

Highley had said the phone was being repaired. She pushed the bell for the nurse. The nurse would help her. But there was no click to indicate that the light was on outside her door. She was sure the signal wasn't lighting the nurse's panel either.

She had to get out of here before Highley came back. Fighting waves of dizziness, she stood up. She'd go down to the second floor. There were people there-other patients, nurses.

From nearby, a door closed. He was coming back. Frantically Katie looked at the open door to the corridor. He'd see her if she went out there. Stumbling to the living-room door, she opened it, got inside, closed it before he came into the bedroom.

Where could she go? She couldn't stay here. She heard a door open inside. He was in the bathroom looking for her. Hide under the drop cloth? No. He'd find her, drag her out. Dizziness clawed at the space behind her eyes. Her legs were rubbery.

She stumbled to the door that led to the hall. There was a fire exit there. She'd seen it when she was wheeled in. She'd go down that way to the second floor. She'd get help.

The door to the fire stairs was heavy. She tugged at it… tugged again. Reluctantly it gave way. She stepped inside. It closed so slowly. Would he see it closing? The stairs. It was so dark here, terribly dark. She grabbed the banister. The stairs were steep. There was a landing after eight steps. Another short flight, then she was at the door. She tried the handle. It was locked. It could be opened only from the other side.

Then she heard the third-floor door open and heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

CHRIS refused to call a lawyer. He sat opposite the prosecutor; he looked at the two detectives who had met him at the airport. 'I have nothing to hide,' he said.

Scott was unimpressed. A young man carrying a stenographer's pad came into the room, sat down and took out a pen. Scott looked directly at Chris. 'Captain Lewis, it is my duty to inform you that you are a suspect in the deaths of Vangie Lewis, Edna Burns and Dr. Emmet Salem. You may remain silent. You are not required to answer any questions. You are entitled to the services of a lawyer. Any statement that you make can be used against you. Is that perfectly clear?'

'Yes.'

Scott shoved a paper across the desk. 'This is a copy of the Miranda warning you have just heard. Please read it carefully. Be sure you understand it. If you are so disposed, sign it.'

Chris read the statement, signed it and handed it back. He braced himself for Scott's question. 'Did you murder your wife, Vangie Lewis?'

Chris looked directly at him. 'I did not murder my wife. I do not know if she was murdered. But I do know this. If she died before midnight Monday, she did not kill herself in our home.'

Scott, Charley and Phil were astonished as Chris calmly said, 'I was there a short time after midnight Monday. Vangie was not home. I returned to New York. At eleven the next morning I found her on the bed. It wasn't until the funeral director told me the time of death that I realized her body must have been returned to our house. But even before that I knew something was wrong. My wife would never have worn the shoes she was wearing when she was found. Her right leg and foot were badly swollen, and the only shoes she could wear were a pair of battered moccasins.'

It was easier than he had expected. The questions came at him. 'You left the motel at eight Monday night and returned at ten. Where did you go?'

'To a movie in Greenwich Village. After I got back to the motel, I couldn't sleep. I decided to drive home and talk to Vangie. That was shortly before midnight.'

Then the hammerblow. 'Did you know your wife was carrying an Oriental fetus?'

'Oh, my God!' Horror mingled with a sense of release flooded over Chris. It hadn't been his baby. An Oriental fetus. That psychiatrist. Oh, the poor kid. That must have been why she had called Dr. Salem. She wanted to hide.

'You didn't know she was involved with another man?'

'No. No.'

'Why did you go to Edna Burns's apartment Tuesday night?'

'Wait, please-can we take this just the way it happened?' Coffee was brought in, and he began to sip it. It helped. 'Edna Burns called me Tuesday night, just after I realized that Vangie must have died before she was brought home. Miss Burns was almost incoherent. She rambled on about Cinderella and Prince Charming, said she had something for me and that she had a story for the police. I thought she might know who Vangie had been with. I drove to her apartment complex. Some kid pointed out where she lived. I rang the bell and knocked. The television was on, the light was on, but she didn't answer. I figured she'd passed out and there was no use trying to talk to her. I went home.'

'What time was that?'

'About nine thirty.'

'All right. What did you do then?'

More questions, one after another; he drank more coffee. Truth. The simple truth. It was so much easier than evasion. He took a deep breath. They were asking about Dr. Salem.

RICHARD sat at Katie's desk as he waited for the head of personnel of Christ Hospital in Devon, England, to answer his phone. Only by emphasizing his need to talk to someone who had been in authority at the hospital for more than ten years had he been given the man's private number.

'Yes.' An angry, sleepy voice had answered.

Richard introduced himself and went directly to the point. 'Sir, I apologize for calling you at this hour, but the matter is vital. This is a transatlantic call. I must have information about Dr. Edgar Highley.'

The man's voice became wary. 'What do you want to know?'

'I have just spoken with Queen Mary Clinic in Liverpool and was surprised to learn that Dr. Highley had been on staff there a relatively short time. We had been led to believe otherwise. However, I was told that Dr. Highley was a member of the Christ Hospital staff for at least nine years. Is that accurate?'

'Edgar Highley interned with us after his graduation from Cambridge, then became staff. He is a brilliant doctor.'

'Why did he leave?'

'After his wife's death, he relocated in Liverpool. Then we heard that he had emigrated to the United States.'

'Sir, I can't waste time being discreet. I believe that Dr. Highley may be experimenting with his pregnant patients. Is there any information you can offer to support that possibility?'

The words that came next were slow and deliberate. 'While he was with us, Dr. Highley was deeply involved in prenatal research. He did quite brilliant experiments on embryos of frogs and mammals. Then a fellow doctor began to suspect that he was experimenting with aborted human fetuses-which is, of course, illegal.'

'What was done about it?'

'He was watched very carefully. Then a tragedy occurred. Dr. Highley's wife died suddenly. There was the suspicion that he had implanted her with an aborted fetus. Dr. Highley was asked to resign. This is absolutely confidential. There is no proof.'

Richard absorbed what he had heard. His hunch had been right. A question came into his mind-a long shot. 'Sir, do you by any chance know a Dr. Emmet Salem?'

The voice warmed. 'Of course. A good friend. Dr. Salem was visiting staff here at the time of the Highley scandal.'

SILENTLY KATIE RAN DOWN THE STATUS to the main floor. Desperately she grasped the knob, tried to open the door. But it was locked. Upstairs the footsteps had paused. He was trying the second-floor knob, making sure that she had not escaped him. The footsteps started again. He was coming down. Through these heavy doors no one would hear her if she screamed.

She felt dull pain in her pelvic area. Whatever he had given her had started the hemorrhaging. She was dizzy. But she had to get away. Wildly she began rushing down the staircase. One more flight. It probably led to the basement. He'd have to explain how and why she'd gotten there. The farther she got, the more questions would be asked. She stumbled on the last stair. Don't fall. Don't make it look like an accident.

But she'd be trapped down here. Another door. This one would be locked too. She tried the knob. He was coming. Dark as it was, she could sense a presence rushing down at her.