Diana Racine 02 - Goddess of the Moon

one side weren’t home, and the woman on the side of the nursery didn’t notice anything. Her young son has a desk by the window, but t he boy’s autistic . Wouldn’t even look at me.”
    “ I saw that window ,” Diana said. “ Was he at home during the time the baby was taken?”
    “The mother said yes , but like I said, he ’s autistic . She said he talks some. ”
    “ Hmm, I wonder if she’d let me try to talk to him.” Diana said , unable to keep the lilt of hope from her voice. “Sometimes autistics notice things others don’t. I know this because I did a reading once for a woman in Boston with an autistic child. She’d read a story about a young man who’d come out of his mental prison and wanted to know if I saw it happening to her son.”
    “Did you?” Lucier asked.
    “No. Not that it couldn’t, but I didn’t see it. It’s very rare. The interesting thing about my client’s son was that he could tell the day of any date, either past or future. I asked him what day February 7, 2021, would be, and he told me without hesitation. He was always right.”
    “That’s freaky,” Beecher said. “Gives me the willies.”
    “What makes you think the boy will talk to you?” Lucier asked.
    A smile curled her lips. “Maybe he won’t talk, but he might speak to me. With or without words.”

Chapter Four
    Clarity in All the Confusion

    L iz Shore, the mother of the autistic boy, agreed to Diana’s visit. The Shores ’ brick ranch boasted a neat lawn, two-car garage, and a generous backyard. Mrs. Shore greeted Diana and Lucier and led them into a large family room. A young boy about eight worked feverishly by the window at a table covered with white drawing paper and an array of crayons neatly organized in color range. Half a dozen vibrant sketches were tacked to a corkboard. An exhibit of his current work, Diana assumed.
    Jamie Shore looked like most boys his age, except for the obvious indifference toward his visitors. Sandy - colored hair framed an almost angelic face, and the one time he lifted his head, bright blue eyes show ed th rough a canopy of thick lashes.
    “Does Jamie have any special gifts? Anything we can focus on that might help us?” Diana asked Mrs. Shore.
    The woman cast an appreciative glance at her son and nodded. From the pride in her expression, she was one of those mothers who devoted time cultivating whatever special talents Jamie possessed.
    “He insists everything be neat and organized, and he remembers details. Things you and I wouldn’t even notice, Jamie absorbs everything like a sponge.”
    “Do you think he paid any attention to the house next door ?”
    “It’s possible, Ms. Racine. When he’s not drawing, he watches out the window. Like I told the detective who came over here after the kidnapping , I was busy in the kitchen making dinner. My husband was watching a ballgame. If Jamie had seen something next door , he’ll remember everything he saw. He specializes in minutia.”
    “What will happen if I take his hand?”
    “He might pitch a fit , might not . He doesn’t like being touched by strangers unless he wants them to or unless he wants to touch them. One never knows what his reaction will be.”
    “Does he have any special toys? A prized blanket? Something that makes him comfortable.”
    She offered a weak smile. “ H e doesn’t play with toys , just the crayons .”
    T he strain in Mrs. Shore’s voice prompted Diana to reach over and g i ve her a reassuring squeeze. “Will you allow me to touch him?”
    “If you think it might help.”
    Mrs. Shore and Lucier took a seat on the sofa nearby while Diana , armed with the stack of photos Halloran lifted off the hospital tapes, pulled a chair from the other side of Jamie’s table to sit by him and meet him at eye level. He continued to draw as if she weren’t there. She sat with her eyes closed, sending what she hoped would be positive vibes. S he spoke calmly in a soft , steady voice , unlike the exuberance she displayed at her visits to the hospital s’ children’s wards.
    “Hi, Jamie, my name is Diana. Do you mind if I sit here for a minute?” He didn’t react to the sound of her voice, but a slight hesitation in his drawing told her he acknowledged her presence.
    “Those are beautiful drawings.” She reached out for a finished one on the table. “May I have this one?”
    He kept coloring as if he didn’t hear her, but then he pushed the drawing toward her.
    Diana’s heart