Mary Higgins Clark - Ill Walk Alone

Simon & Schuster 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2011 by Mary Higgins Clark

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Simon & Schuster Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition April 2011

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Designed by Jill Putorti

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Clark, Mary Higgins.

Ill walk alone / Mary Higgins Clark. 1st simon & schuster hardcover ed.

p. cm.

1. Identity theftFiction. 2. Women architectsFiction. 3. Manhattan (New York, N.Y.)Fiction. i. Title.

Ps3553.l287i5 2011

813.54dc22

2011003855

ISBN 978-1-4391-8096-9

ISBN 978-1-4391-8679-4 (ebook)

In memory of Reverend Joseph A. Kelly, S.J.
1931-2008

Always a twinkle in this Jesuits eye
Always a smile on his handsome face
Always faith and compassion overflowing his soul
He was the stuff of which saints are made
When all heaven protested his absence
His Creator called him home

Acknowledgments

I have often said, seemingly in jest, that my favorite two words are THE END.

They are my favorite two words. They mean that the tale has been told, the journey completed. They mean that the people who at this time last year were not even figments of my imagination have lived the life I chose for them, or to put it better, they chose for themselves.

My editor, Michael Korda, and I have made this same journey for thirty-six years, since that first day in March 1974 when I received the unbelievable call that Simon and Schuster had bought my first book, Where Are the Children?, for three thousand dollars. All this time, Michael has been the Captain of my literary ship, and I cannot be more joyful and honored than to have shared our collaboration. Last year at this time he suggested, I think a book about identity theft would make a good subject for you. Here it is.

Senior Editor Kathy Sagan has been my friend for many years. A decade ago, she was the editor of The Mary Higgins Clark Mystery Magazine, and for the first time has worked with me, in conjunction with Michael, on a suspense novel. Love you, Kathy, and thank you.

Thanks always to Associate Director of Copyediting Gypsy da Silva and my readers-in-progress Irene Clark, Agnes Newton, and Nadine Petry and to my retired publicist, Lisl Cade.

Once again Sgt. Steven Marron and Detective Richard Murphy, Ret., of the New York District Attorneys office have been my guides in presenting accurately the step-by-step law enforcement that occurs when a major crime is committed.

Of course, and always, love beyond measure to my spouse extraordinaire, John Conheeney and our combined family of nine children and seventeen grandchildren.

Finally, to you, my readers, thank you for all the years weve shared together. May the road rise to meet you...

F ather Aiden OBrien was hearing confessions in the lower church of St. Francis of Assisi on West Thirty-first Street in Manhattan. The seventy-eight-year-old Franciscan friar approved of the alternate way of administering the sacrament, that of having the penitent sit in the Reconciliation Room with him, rather than kneeling on the hard wood of the confessional with a screen hiding his or her identity.

The one time he felt the new way did not work was when, sitting face-to-face, he sensed that the penitents might not be able to allow themselves to say what might have been confided in darkness.

This was happening now on this chilly, windswept afternoon in March.

In the first hour he had sat in the room, only two women had shown up, regular parishioners, both in their mideighties, whose sins, if any had ever existed, were long behind them. Today one of them had confessed that when she was eight years old she remembered telling a lie to her mother. She had eaten two cupcakes and blamed her brother for the missing one.

As Fr. Aiden was praying his rosary until he was scheduled to leave the room, the door opened and a slender woman who looked to be in her early thirties came in. Her expression tentative, she moved slowly toward the chair facing him and hesitantly sat down on it. Her auburn hair was loose on her shoulders. Her fur-collared suit was clearly expensive, as were her high-heeled leather boots. Her only jewelry was silver earrings.

His expression serene, Fr. Aiden waited. Then when the young woman did not speak, he asked encouragingly, How can I help you?

I dont know how to begin. The womans voice was low and pleasant, with no hint of a geographical accent.

Theres nothing you can tell me that I havent already heard, Fr. Aiden said mildly.

I The woman paused, then the words came rushing out. I know about a murder that someone is planning to commit and I cant stop it.

Her expression horrified, she clasped her hand over her mouth and abruptly stood up. I should never have come here, she whispered. Then, her voice trembling with emotion, she said, Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I confess that I am an accessory to a crime that is ongoing and to a murder that is going to happen very soon. Youll probably read about it in the headlines. I dont want to be part of it, but its too late to stop.

She turned and in five steps had her hand on the door.