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Cradle Will Fall [Hardcover]

Mary Higgins Clark (Author)
4.7 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (55 customer reviews)


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Book Description

May 29, 1980
A minor road accident landed county prosecutor Katie DeMaio in Westlake Hospital. That night, from her window, she thought she saw a man load a woman's body into the trunk of a car...or was it just a sleeping pill induced nightmare? At work the next day, Katie began investigating a suicide that looked more like murder. Initial evidence pointed elsewhere, but medical examiner Richard Carroll saw a trail leading to Dr. Edgar Highley. He suspected that the famous doctor's work "curing" infertile women was more than controversial -- that it was deceitful, depraved, and often deadly. But before Richard could tell Katie his fears, she left the office for the weekend and an appointment for routine surgery...in Dr. Highley's operating room.
--This text refers to the Mass Market Paperback edition.

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Editorial Reviews

About the Author

Mary Higgins Clark's books are world-wide bestsellers. In the U.S. alone, her books have sold over one hundred million copies.

She is the author of thirty-one previous suspense novels. Her first book, a biographical novel about George Washington, was re-issued with the title, Mount Vernon Love Story, in June 2002. Her memoir, Kitchen Privileges, was published by Simon & Schuster in November 2002. Her first children's book, Ghost Ship, illustrated by Wendell Minor, was published in April 2007 as a Paula Wiseman Book/Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers.

She is co-author, with her daughter Carol Higgins Clark, of five holiday suspense novels Deck the Halls (2000), He Sees You When You're Sleeping (2001), The Christmas Thief (2004), Santa Cruise (2006), and Dashing through the Snow (2008).

Mary Higgins Clark was chosen by Mystery Writers of America as Grand Master of the 2000 Edgar Awards. An annual Mary Higgins Clark Award sponsored by Simon & Schuster, to be given to authors of suspense fiction writing in the Mary Higgins Clark tradition, was launched by Mystery Writers of America during Edgars week in April 2001. She was the 1987 president of Mystery Writers of America and, for many years, served on their Board of Directors. In May 1988, she was Chairman of the International Crime Congress.

Visit her on the web at www.maryhigginsclark.com. --This text refers to the Mass Market Paperback edition.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter One

If her mind had not been on the case she had won, Katie might not have taken the curve so fast, but the intense satisfaction of the guilty verdict was still absorbing her. It had been a close one. Roy O'Connor was one of the top defense attorneys in New Jersey. The defendant's confession had been suppressed by the court, a major blow for the prosecution. But still she had managed to convince the jury that Teddy Copeland was the man who had viciously murdered eighty-year-old Abigail Rawlings during a robbery.

Miss Rawlings' sister, Margaret, was in court to hear the verdict and afterward had come up to Katie. "You were wonderful, Mrs. DeMaio," she'd said. "You look like a young college girl. I never would have thought you could, but when you talked, you proved every point; you made them feel what he did to Abby. What will happen now?"

"With his record, let's hope the judge decides to send him to prison for the rest of his life," Katie answered.

"Thank God," Margaret Rawlings had said. Her eyes, already moist and faded with age, filled with tears. Quietly she brushed them away as she said, "I miss Abby so. There was just the two of us left. And I keep thinking how frightened she must have been. It would have been awful if he'd gotten away with it."

"He didn't get away with it!" The memory of that reassurance distracted Katie now, made her press her foot harder on the accelerator. The sudden increase in speed as she rounded the curve made the car fishtail on the sleet-covered road.

"Oh...no!" She gripped the wheel frantically. The county road was dark. The car raced across the divider and spun around. From the distance she saw headlights approaching.

She turned the wheel into the skid but could not control the car. It careened onto the shoulder of the road, but the shoulder too was a sheet of ice. Like a skier about to jump, the car poised for an instant at the edge of the shoulder, its wheels lifting as it slammed down the steep embankment into the wooded fields.

A dark shape loomed ahead: a tree. Katie felt the sickening crunch as metal tore into bark. The car shuddered. Her body was flung forward against the wheel, then slammed backward. She raised her arms in front of her face, trying to protect it from the splinters of flying glass that exploded from the windshield. Sharp, biting pain attacked her wrists and knees. The headlights and panel lights went out. Dark, velvety blackness was closing over her as from somewhere off in the distance she heard a siren.

The sound of the car door opening; a blast of cold air. "My God, it's Katie DeMaio!"

A voice she knew. Tom Coughlin, that nice young cop. He testified at a trial last week.

"She's unconscious."

She tried to protest, but her lips wouldn't form words. She couldn't open her eyes.

"The blood's coming from her arm. Looks like she's cut an artery."

Her arm was being held; something tight was pressing against it.

A different voice: "She may have internal injuries, Tom Westlake's right down the road. I'll call for an ambulance. You stay with her."

Floating. Floating. I'm all right. It's just that I can't reach you.

Hands lifting her onto a stretcher; she felt a blanket covering her, sleet pelting her face.

She was being carried. A car was moving. No, it was an ambulance. Doors opening and closing. If only she could make them understand. I can hear you. I'm not unconscious.

Tom was giving her name. "Kathleen DeMaio, lives in Abbington. She's an assistant prosecutor. No, she's not married. She's a widow. Judge DeMaio's widow."

John's widow. A terrible sense of aloneness. The blackness was starting to recede. A light was shining in her eyes. "She's coming around. How old are you, Mrs. DeMaio?"

The question, so practical, so easy to answer. At last she could speak. "Twenty-eight."

The tourniquet Tom had wrapped around her arm was being removed. Her arm was being stitched. She tried not to wince at the needles of pain.

X-rays. The emergency-room doctor. "You're quite fortunate, Mrs. DeMaio. Some pretty severe bruises. No fractures. I've ordered a transfusion. Your blood count is pretty low. Don't be frightened. You'll be all right."

"It's just..." She bit her lip. She was coming back into focus and managed to stop herself before she blurted out that terrible, unreasoning, childish fear of hospitals.

Tom asking, "Do you want us to call your sister? They're going to keep you here overnight."

"No. Molly's just over the flu. They've all had it." Her voice sounded so weak. Tom had to bend over to hear her.

"All right, Katie. Don't worry about anything. I'll have your car hauled out."

She was wheeled into a curtained-off section of the emergency room. Blood began dripping through a tube inserted into her right arm. Her head was clearing now.

Her left arm and knees hurt so much. Everything hurt. She was in a hospital. She was alone.

A nurse was smoothing her hair back from her forehead. "You're going to be fine, Mrs. DeMaio. Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying." But she was.

She was wheeled into a room. The nurse handed her a paper cup of water and a pill. "This will help you rest, Mrs. DeMaio."

Katie was sure this must be a sleeping pill. She didn't want it. It would give her nightmares. But it was so much easier not to argue.

The nurse turned off the light. Her footsteps made soft padding sounds as she left the room. The room was cold. The sheets were cold and coarse. Did hospital sheets always feel like this? Katie slid into sleep knowing the nightmare was inevitable.

But this time it took a different form. She was on a roller coaster. It kept climbing higher and higher, steeper and steeper, and she couldn't get control of it. She was trying to get control. Then it went around a curve and off the tracks and it was falling. She woke up trembling just before it hit the ground.

Sleet rapped on the window. She pulled herself up unsteadily. The window was open a crack and making the shade rattle. That was why the room was so drafty. She'd close the window and raise the shade and then maybe she'd be able to sleep. In the morning she could go home. She hated hospitals.

Unsteadily she walked over to the window. The hospital gown they'd given her barely came to her knees. Her legs were cold. And that sleet. It was mixed with more rain now. She leaned against the windowsill, looked out.

The parking lot was turning into streams of gushing water.

Katie gripped the shade and stared down into the lot two stories below.

The trunk lid of a car was going up slowly. She was so dizzy now. She swayed, let go of the shade, and it snapped up. She grabbed the windowsill. She stared down into the trunk. Was something white floating down into it? A blanket? A large bundle?

She must be dreaming this, she thought, then Katie pushed her hand over her mouth to muffle the shriek that tore at her throat. She was staring down into the trunk of the car. The trunk light was on. Through the waves of sleet-filled rain that slapped against the window, she watched the white substance part. As the trunk closed she saw a face -- the face of a woman grotesque in the uncaring abandon of death.

Copyright © 1980 by Mary Higgins Clark --This text refers to the Mass Market Paperback edition.


Product Details

  • Hardcover: 314 pages
  • Publisher: Simon & Schuster (May 29, 1980)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 0671252682
  • ISBN-13: 978-0671252687
  • Product Dimensions: 8.3 x 5.7 x 1 inches
  • Shipping Weight: 14.4 ounces
  • Average Customer Review: 4.7 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (55 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #1,063,023 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

More About the Author

If I were to define myself in one sentence, I would say, "I'm a nice Irish Catholic girl from the Bronx."

I was a Christmas Eve baby all those years ago, the second of the three children of Nora and Luke Higgins. Mother was pushing forty when they married and my father was forty-two. My older brother was named Joseph. Nineteen months later I, Mary, was born. Three and a half years later, my little brother, John, came along.

We lived in a very nice section of the Bronx on a street off Pelham Parkway. I loved our house. I still love it. After my father died, when I was eleven, my mother had to sell it.

I went to Saint Francis Xavier Grammar School. Two years ago I went back and was Principal for a Day. Escorted by two of the tiniest children, I was led into the auditorium while the whole student body sang "Hello Mary. You're back where you belong." I still tear up thinking about it.

I was awarded a scholarship to Villa Maria Academy which is in the Pelham Bay section of the Bronx, otherwise I couldn't have afforded to set foot in it.

I went to Woods Secretarial School and at eighteen had my first full-time job as Secretary to the creative director of Remington Rand's in-house advertising agency. If I were making that choice now I would have gone to college even though God knows we needed the income. On the other hand the three years I spent in Remington Rand was a tutorial in advertising which served me well when I was widowed with five small children. Another plus was that I left Remington to be a flight stewardess with Pan American Airways and when my contemporaries were seniors in college, I was flying to Europe, Africa and Asia.

Warren Clark and I were married on December 26, 1949 and had five children in the next eight years; Marilyn, Warren, David, Carol and Patricia. Warren died of a heart attack in 1964. The highest compliment I can pay my kids are that they are like him.

I sold my first short story when I was twenty-eight. It was alled 'Stowaway'. It had been rejected forty times before a magazine in Chicago bought it for one hundred dollars.

My first book was about George Washington. It was published in 1969 and disappeared without a trace. Three years ago Simon and Schuster co-published it with the Mount Vernon Historical Society and retitled 'Mount Vernon Love Story', it became a bestseller.

My first suspense novel 'Where Are the Children' was bought in 1974 for three thousand dollars by Simon and Schuster. Thirty-three books later, I'm still with S&S.

Time to wind up - at least for the present. As soon as I sold 'Children' I enrolled in Fordham College. Went there for five years at night and earned a B.A. in Philosophy. Summa cum laude, if you please.

I never thought I'd marry again but ten years ago I threw a cocktail party on St. Patrick's day. My daughter, Pat, urged me to invite John Conheeney. Her opening words about him were, "Have I got a hunk for you!" He came to the party and we were married eight months later.

I'm Honorary Chairman of FraXa Research. My grandson, David, has the Fragile X syndrome, which is the second leading cause of retardation after Downs Syndrome. Basically the brain of the people who have it can't send out the proper signals because there's a kind of short circuit in the synapses that carry the signals. We raise money for research with the goal of finding a medication that will work around that short circuit. I go all over the country to the fund-raisers as new chapters of FraXa are opened.

I'm always asked to name my favorite book. They're ALL my favorites. If there is one book that is very special to me, it is my memoir 'Kitchen Privileges' because writing it made me relive my early life including those first struggles to become a writer. I think 'Kitchen Privileges' is both tender and funny and it's me.

 

Customer Reviews

55 Reviews
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Average Customer Review
4.7 out of 5 stars (55 customer reviews)
 
 
 
 
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews

37 of 40 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars A suspenseful thriller that will keep you hooked!!, October 27, 1999
By A Customer
The Mary Higgins Clark novel, "The Cradle Will Fall", is the suspenseful murder mystery about the death of a pregnant woman and the events that surround it. The book is about a brilliant O.G.B.Y.N. that has taken his proffesion to the next level, and will stop at nothing to do it; he will even go as far as murder. He somehow has devised a way to to take women who can't concieve, and make them pregnant. But when people start finding out about it, people start dying. Another character in the book is a lawyer that had been in an accident, and when in her room sees a man put a dead woman in his trunk. She can't remember whether it was a dream or reality but Dr. Highley(O.G.B.Y.N.) won't take any chances. We thought this book was your basic mystery thriller, a bit hokey in the sense that all the events somehow coincidentally fit together too easily. There weren't as many twists or turns as we thought there were going to be. Still, we thought this was fun, enjoyable reading. Once you started, it was hard to stop just because it was a fun book. All and all we gave this book 4 out of 5 stars. We would definetly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys mystery thrillers, or Mary Higgins Clark.
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11 of 11 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars a Thrilling and Suspenseful Read, March 16, 2000
By 
James A. White (Cookeville, TN United States) - See all my reviews
Unlike many of Clark's other books, in this one she gives the murderer away right from the start. The rest of the book is spent with the main character totally oblivious to the murderer, although she doesn't believe main suspect did it. This book can be compared to an Inspector Columbo mystery, where the identity of the murderer is known in the first five minutes, or in this case the first 50 pages, and the rest of the book is spend with the protagonist trying to figure out "whodunit." Like all of Clark's books, however, this book is high on suspense and thrills. It is sure to deliver a quick, enjoyable read!
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8 of 8 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars Not your average "Who Dunnit" mystery!, November 27, 2000
By 
Bernard R. Assaf (Johns Creek, GA USA) - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)   
When I think of "mystery novel," I think of a book which reveals "who dunnit" at or toward the end of the novel. Readers are left clues given by the author to help them figure it out. This novel by a proven master (mistress?) of the mystery genre takes a different approach. The sole witness at the scene believes what she saw was a dream, but her later encounter with the murderer draws her into the investigation without her even knowing it. Soon, readers discover who the murderer is, but the race is on for the other characters to make the same discovery, using clues left by the murderer. Do the "good guys" find all the clues in time? You'll have to read it to find out!

Not only did I enjoy this mystery novel as a departure from my regular roster of science fiction and fantasy novels, but I also liked the novel as the characters were believable, loveable, and or course, in the case of the "bad guys," easy to hate.

This book is a fast enough and enjoyable enough read for any adult reader, but is also another solid performance by Clark to satisfy her fans and fans of the mystery/suspense drama. Five stars! ** Word to the wary: some themes (abortion, murder, attempted murder) in this book are inappropriate for younger readers, but aren't gory or distastefully presented. **

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First Sentence:
If her mind had not been on the case she had won, Katie might not have taken the curve so fast, but the intense satisfaction of the guilty verdict was still absorbing her. Read the first page
Key Phrases - Statistically Improbable Phrases (SIPs): (learn more)
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Vangie Lewis, Chris Lewis, Edgar Highley, New York, Emmet Salem, Captain Lewis, Edna Burns, Valley County, Essex House, Prince Charming, New Jersey, Westlake Maternity Concept, Nurse Renge, Miss Burns, Westlake Hospital, Richard Carroll, Anna Horan, Edna Bums, Gana Krupshak, Gertrude Fitzgerald, Jim Berkeley, Christ Hospital, Jiro Fukhito, Chapin River, Charley Nugent
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