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HOW THE CHILDREN DIED WAS A SURPRISE.
As a doctor, Stuart Rice must deal with the private pain of others. When his neighbors' baby dies a crib death, Stuart and his wife spend the summer helping to soothe their friends' grief . . . and soon their horror.
WHEN THEY DIED WAS A SHOCK.
For their baby is only the most recent family tragedy: twenty-nine infants spanning two generations have all suffered the same, inexplicable fate. The search for the answer becomes Stuart's obsession . . . and his deepest nightmare.
WHY THEY DIED WAS SHEER TERROR.
For Stuart Rice is about to learn the harrowing truth of the crib. And life and death will never hold the same meaning again . . .
A searing novel in the classic tradition of Stephen King and John Saul.
Twenty years before "The Da Vinci Code" Paul Kent wrote a religious mystery thriller that questions the traditional teachings of Roman Catholicism. While it's not a very well known novel, it was one I always remembered and wanted to read again. Another reviewer said it's a hidden unknown gem, and I couldn't agree more.
As this is a scan I did, I'd appreciate any feedback if you find any errors at all, no matter how small, just leave a comment or PM me.
died, now that he had confirmed that they all had died while sleeping in the family crib. To presume a causal relationship between the crib and the deaths involved a quantum leap of logic. Yet it was there. The shapes behind the window, the faces once so blurred, so obscure . . . the past six weeks had given them form, substance. Irrational as it seemed, the crib was somehow involved. He had tried to argue that not all the children who had slept in the crib had died. In fact, not even most of
over, looking closer at the wider slats. The roughness was carved into the wood. Each of the slats was filled with names and dates. At the head of the crib, the wide slat held only four names. The last, the most recently carved, was TODD McEWEN. Beside it, one of the narrow slats on the headboard was different, lighter in colour, not as well finished. A patch job, he thought. It shows. Marnie interrupted his thoughts. “We’re ready, Stu.” He turned. Jill, more composed now, was holding the baby,
bond. Their adhesive. No foreign political or religious force could alter it. Religion was the glue holding together the essential fabric of Poland. When Helmut Leiter Maddering was born in 1901 in the German-dominated area of northern Poland, his Prussian father found himself trapped in that glue. As willful and domineering as he was, the staunch Lutheran could not change his Polish wife’s decision. Her son would be raised a Catholic. And much to his father’s continuing disappointment, as the
synopsis if you will, of the writings on the loose papyrus which was found in the jar with the bound books. That papyrus and the ink used were traced and dated with absolute certainty to within a ten-year span between A.D. 25 and 35. The script on the papyrus was different from the rest of the codices; the ink and parchment themselves were different; the grammatical construction was different. Those documents, those loose sheets of parchment, were the original writings of Christ Himself.” Stuart
sort of. But it was more than that. They were racing for the crib.” “The crib?” He was lost now. “Well, it’s pretty silly actually,” she explained. “Jamie and his cousin had agreed that whichever baby was born first would get to use the crib. It’s an old crib Brian’s uncle made during the war.” She looked over at Marnie. “The same uncle I was telling you about, Marnie, with all the vibes. Anyway, it’s kind of a tradition to pass it around within the family whenever a baby is born. But with