Cradle and All Read online

  Copyright © 2000 by James Patterson

  All rights reserved.

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com.

  First eBook Edition: October 2007

  ISBN: 978-0-446-40932-2

  The Warner Books name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue: The Women's Medical Center

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Book One: The Investigators

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Book Two: Kathleen And Collen

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Book Three: Nativity

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Epilogue: Noelle, Noelle

  Chapter 112

  Prologue

  Book One: David And Melanie

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  PRAISE FOR THE

  THRILLERS OF JAMES PATTERSON

  CRADLE AND ALL

  “GIVE JAMES PATTERSON POINTS . . . THE STORY BUILDS IN MOMENTUM RIGHT UP TO THE SHOCKER ENDING. . . . Chills along the way.”

  —San Francisco Chronicle

  “GRABS THE READER BY THE PROVERBIAL THROAT.”

  —Ft. Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel

  “AN EXTREMELY WELL-WRITTEN THRILLER FOR THE NEW MILLENNIUM. . . . A fast-paced tale driven by well-defined characters, sharp dialogue, and a well-developed plot.”

  —San Francisco Examiner

  “SUSPENSEFUL, FAST-PACED, AND IDEAL FOR A QUICK READ.”

  —Cincinnati Enquirer

  “ADVENTURE YARN WITH HEART. . . . [HE] KEEPS YOU ENGAGED AND GUESSING.”

  —Twin Cities Star-Tribune

  “ROCKS ALONG AT A SNAPPY PACE. . . . Creepy scenes reminiscent of The Exorcist.”

  —Atlanta Journal-Constitution

  “PATTERSON’S USUAL CLEAN, FAST-PACED PROSE, A CREEPY PLOT, AND A TWISTED ENDING MAKE THIS ONE HARD TO PUT DOWN. RECOMMENDED . . . a good, spooky tale.”

  —Library Journal

  “HIS TRADEMARK RAPID-FIRE CHAPTERS . . . A SURPRISE.”

  —BookPage

  “A TENSE THRILLER . . . LACED WITH THRILLS, CHILLS, TWISTS, AND TURNS. . . . It’ll keep you awake, attentive, and on edge.”

  —Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

  “EXCITING AND MOVING . . . TACKLES ISSUES OF FAITH WITH ADMIRABLE GUSTO.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “FUN, QUICK . . . A FINE READ.”

  —Calgary Sun

  “PATTERSON’S LEGION OF FANS WILL QUEUE UP FOR THIS ONE.”

  —Booklist

  POP GOES THE WEASEL

  “CROSS IS ONE OF THE BEST PROTAGONISTS OF THE MODERN THRILLER GENRE, AND ONE OF THE MOST LIKABLE. Patterson has a unique gift of making the reader feel Cross’s joys and pains.”

  —San Francisco Examiner

  “PATTERSON DOES IT AGAIN. THE MAN IS THE MASTER OF THIS GENRE. We fans all have one wish for him: Write even faster.”

  —Larry King, USA Today

  “FAST AND FURIOUS. . . . IN THE PATTERSON PANTHEON OF VILLAINS, SHAFER IS QUITE POSSIBLY THE WORST. Best of all, from the perspective of Alex Cross fans, Patterson leaves plenty of room for a sequel.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “HE GIVES CROSS A WORTHY OPPONENT—PROBABLY THE SMARTEST KILLER SPAWNED BY PATTERSON’S WICKED IMAGINATION . . . a worthy addition to the Cross saga.”

  —San Francisco Examiner

  “PATTERSON MAINTAINS A FAST PACE THROUGH A COMPLEX PLOT.”

  —San Antonio Express-News

  “THE BOOK’S SAVAGE TWISTS WILL KEEP YOU ENTHRALLED.”

  —Woman’s Own

  WHEN THE WIND BLOWS

  “WHIPS THE PAGES RIGHT BY. . . . It has been more than a decade since I was captivated by a book like I was captivated by this one.”

  —Denver Rocky Mountain News

  “MEMORABLE . . . A WINNER.”

  —The Tennessean

  “BRILLIANTLY DRAWN CHARACTERS . . . SKILLED DIALOGUE . . . big, warm feelings . . . reads like a dream.”

  —Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

  “ROMANCE, SUSPENSE, ACTION . . . SWIFTLY TOLD. . . . There’s magic here, too, leaving readers more than once struck deep in wonder.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “FINE WRITING . . . A GREAT STORY . . . WONDERFUL CHARACTERIZATIONS.”

  —Naples Daily News

  CAT & MOUSE

  “A PROTAGONIST WORTHY OF ADMIRATION. ALEX CROSS IS A HERO.”

  —Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

  “PATTERSON IS A MASTER AT CREATING SCARY MURDERERS, BUT HIS HERO HAS WHAT IT TAKES TO PURSUE THEM.”

  —Newark Star-Ledger

  “I’VE JUST STARTED JAMES PATTERSON’S CAT & MOUSE AND I CAN’T STOP TURNING PAGES.”
/>   —Larry King, USA Today

  “FAST-PACED . . . THE PROTOTYPE THRILLER FOR TODAY.”

  —San Diego Union-Tribune

  “A RIDE ON A ROLLER-COASTER WHOSE BRAKES HAVE GONE OUT.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “CAT & MOUSE IS A PULSATING GAME. . . . THE ACTION IS FAST AND FURIOUS. . . . The pages turn in a blur. . . . You might just finish this in one sitting. It’s that kind of book.”

  —Denver Rocky Mountain News

  JACK & JILL

  “CROSS, A BRILLIANT HOMICIDE COP, IS ONE OF THE GREAT CREATIONS OF THRILLER FICTION.”

  —Dallas Morning News

  “FLAWLESS. . . . PATTERSON, AMONG THE BEST NOVELISTS OF CRIME STORIES EVER, HAS REACHED HIS PINNACLE WITH THIS ONE.”

  —Larry King, USA Today

  “FORTUNATELY PATTERSON HAS BROUGHT BACK HOMICIDE DETECTIVE ALEX CROSS. . . . He’s the kind of multilayered character that makes any plot twist seem believable.”

  —People

  “Captivating. . . . a fast-paced thriller full of surprising but realistic plot twists. . . . CROSS IS ONE OF THE BEST AND MOST LIKABLE CHARACTERS IN THE MODERN THRILLER GENRE.”

  —San Francisco Examiner

  “HE’S UNBEATABLE. . . . [PATTERSON] AGAIN PROVES HIMSELF MASTER OF THE HAIR-RAISING THRILLER WITH A CLIMACTIC, DOUBLE-TWIST ENDING.”

  —Buffalo News

  “QUICK AND SCARY.”

  —New York Daily News

  “CHILLING. . . . THIS BOOK IS HARD TO PUT DOWN.”

  —Associated Press

  ALONG CAME A SPIDER

  “A FIRST-RATE THRILLER—FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS AND KEEP THE LIGHTS ON!”

  —Sidney Sheldon

  “THIS READER LOST A GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP.”

  —Ann Rule

  “JAMES PATTERSON DOES EVERYTHING BUT STICK OUR FINGER IN A LIGHT SOCKET TO GIVE US A BUZZ.”

  —New York Times

  “WHEN IT COMES TO CONSTRUCTING A HARROWING PLOT, AUTHOR JAMES PATTERSON CAN TURN A SCREW ALL RIGHT. . . . James Patterson is to suspense what Danielle Steel is to romance.”

  —New York Daily News

  “HAS TO BE ONE OF THE BEST THRILLERS OF THE YEAR.”

  —Clive Cussler

  “TERROR AND SUSPENSE THAT GRAB THE READER AND WON’T LET GO. Just try running away from this one.”

  —Ed McBain

  Also by James Patterson

  The Thomas Berryman Number

  Season of the Machete

  See How They Run

  The Midnight Club

  Along Came a Spider

  Kiss the Girls

  Hide & Seek

  Jack & Jill

  Miracle on the 17th Green

  (with Peter de Jonge)

  Cat & Mouse

  When the Wind Blows

  Black Friday (formerly Black Market)

  Pop Goes the Weasel

  For Charles and Isabelle Patterson

  Special thanks to Maxine Paetro, who helped me to remodel and to restore this scary old beach cottage of a story.

  Prologue

  THE WOMEN’S MEDICAL CENTER

  Chapter 1

  SUNDOWN HAD BLOODIED the horizon over the uneven rooftops of South Boston. Birds were perched on every roof and seemed to be watching the girl walking slowly below.

  Kathleen Beavier made her way down a shadowy side street that was as alien to her as the faraway surface of the moon. Actually, she was here in Southie because it was so frozen, so obscure to her. She had on a fatigue jacket, long patterned skirt, and black combat-style boots — the urban streetwear look. The boots rubbed raw circles into her heels, but she welcomed the pain. It was a distraction from the unthinkable thing she had come to do.

  This is so spooky, so unreal, so impossible, she thought.

  The sixteen-year-old girl paused to catch her breath at the sparsely trafficked intersection of Dorchester and Broadway. She didn’t look as if she belonged here. She was too preppy, maybe too pretty. That was her plan, though. She’d never bump into anyone she knew in South Boston.

  With badly shaking hands, she pushed her gold wire-rimmed glasses back into her blond hair. She’d washed it earlier with Aveda shampoo and rinsed it with conditioner. It seemed so absurd and ridiculous to have worried about how her damn hair would look.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and uttered a long, hopeless cry of confusion and despair.

  Kathleen finally forced open her eyes. She blinked into the slashing red rays of the setting sun. Then she scanned her Rolex Lady Datejust wristwatch for the millionth time in the past hour.

  God, no. It was already past six. She was late for her doctor’s appointment.

  She pushed forward into the ruins of Southie. Ahern’s funeral parlor loomed in her peripheral vision, then slipped away. She hurried past the crumbling St. Augustine’s parish church, past hole-in-the-wall bars, a boarded-up strip of two-storied row houses, a street person peeing against a wall covered with graffiti. She thought of an old rock song, “Aqualung,” by Jethro Tull.

  She whipped herself forward, as she often did to protect herself against the New England cold. Tears ran from her eyes and dribbled down over her chin.

  Hurry, hurry. You have to do this terrible thing. You’ve come this far.

  It was already twenty after the hour when she finally turned the corner onto West Broadway. She instantly recognized the gray brick building wedged in between a twenty-four-hour Laundromat and a pawnshop.

  This is the place. This . . . hellhole.

  The walls were smeared with lipstick-red and black graffiti: Abortion = Murder. Abortion is the Unforgivable Sin. There was a glass door and beside it a tarnished brass plaque: women’s medical center, it read.

  Sorrow washed over her and she felt faint. She didn’t want to go through with it. She wasn’t sure that she could. It was all terribly, horribly unfair.

  Kathleen pressed her hand to the doorplate. The door opened into a reassuring reception room. Pastel-colored plastic chairs ringed the perimeter. Posters of sweet-faced mothers and chubby babies hung on the walls. Best of all, no one was here at this late hour.

  Kathleen took a clipboard left out on a countertop. A sign instructed her to fill out the form as best she could.

  Ensconced in a baby blue chair, she printed her medical history in block letters. Her hands were shaking harder now. Her foot, trapped in her trendy combat boot, wouldn’t stop tapping.

  Kathleen probed her memory for something, anything, that would make sense of this. Nothing did! This can’t be happening to me! I shouldn’t be in the Women’s Medical Center.

  She had made out with boys, but damn it, damn it, damn it, she knew the difference between kissing and . . . fucking.

  She’d never gone all the way with anyone. Never even wanted to. She was too old-fashioned about sex — or maybe just a prude, or maybe just a good girl — but she hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d never been touched down there by a boy. Wouldn’t she know it if she had? Of course she would.

  So how could she be pregnant?

  She couldn’t. It wasn’t physically possible. She was a good kid, the best. Everybody’s friend at school.

  Kathleen Beavier was a virgin. She’d never had sexual intercourse.

  But she was pregnant.

  Chapter 2

  A SUDDEN WAVE of nausea came over Kathleen and nearly knocked her to the floor. She felt dizzy and thought she might throw up in the waiting room.

  “Get yourself together,” she muttered softly. You’re not the first one to go through this kind of thing. You won’t be the last, kiddo.

  She glanced at the clock over the reception desk with no receptionist. It was nearly six-thirty. Where was the receptionist? More important, where was the doctor?

  Kathleen wanted to run out of the women’s clinic, but she fought off the powerful instinct. She couldn’t sit here any longer! She couldn’t stand the waiting. Where was everybody?

  “Let’s do this,” she
said between clenched teeth. “No time like the present.”

  She stood and walked to a pinewood door directly behind the reception desk. Kathleen took a deep breath, possibly the deepest of her life. She turned the metal handle, and the door opened.

  She heard a soft, mellow voice coming from down the hall. Thank God someone is here after all.

  She followed the sound.

  “Hello,” Kathleen called out tentatively. “Hello? Anybody? I’m a patient. I’m Kathleen Beavier. Hello?”

  The door at the far end of the hall was partially open, and Kathleen heard the pleasing voice inside. She slowly pushed the door open all the way.

  “Hello?”

  Something was wrong. It didn’t feel right to Kathleen. She felt she should leave, but it had taken her so much courage to come here in the first place.

  The air was thick, almost viscous. There was a smell of alcohol. But something else, too? Kathleen put her hand to her mouth.

  It took her a few seconds to take in the full, horrifying effect of what she saw.

  A young, dark-haired woman was hanging from a hook high up on the wall. She wore a white medical coat. Her name tag read DR. HIGGINS. A cord was slipknotted crudely around her neck, which seemed stretched to at least twice its normal length.

  The neck and face were congested a brutal dark red. There was petechial hemorrhaging in the eyes, which were frozen in fear. The woman’s brown hair cascaded over her shoulders.

  Trembling, Kathleen reached out and touched the woman’s hand. It was still warm, and damp. Dr. Higgins. Her doctor.

  This woman had just died!

  In a panic, Kathleen jerked her hand away. She wanted to run, but some force held her there. Something so powerful. So awful.

  She saw a stethoscope coiled beside a pad of paper. On the pad was written Kathleen’s name.

  “Oh, nooooooo!” she screamed. There was a gathering in her stomach as fear and guilt and shame overpowered her in one sickening, wrenching movement.

  At that instant, she realized she couldn’t stand being in this world anymore. The thought was so strange, so overwhelming, it was almost as if it weren’t her own.

  A tray of instruments glittered near the pad of paper. Kathleen took up a sharp blade. It was ice-cold and menacing in her hand.

  She heard a voice — but no one was there. The Voice was deep, commanding. You know what you have to do, Kathleen. We’ve talked about it. Go ahead, now. It’s the right thing.

  In the space between the pink cuff of her Ralph Lauren oxford cloth shirt and the crease of her left wrist, she sliced. The skin parted.

  See how easy it is, Kathleen? It’s nothing, really. Just the natural order of things.