GODDESS OF THE MOON (A Diana Racine Psychic Suspense) (17 page)

“That’s not necessary. A tour of your lovely home would be fair exchange.”

Compton’s smile cracked, and he missed a beat, imperceptible to most, but not to Diana, who’d spent a good part of her life studying people’s nuances.

“
S
ettled
then
.
I’ll be in town for the next two weeks. Give me a day or two to check my schedule and I’ll call you, if that’s all right.”

Diana wrote her number on a card she pulled from her purse. “This is my
cell
phone, or you can always get Ernie at
his office
. Either way, I look forward to seeing you again.”

“And I you,” he said.

Compton saw them to the door, and the two men shook hands again. The doorman waited by the car and opened the passenger door. When they both got inside and closed the doors, Lucier as
ked, “Well, what do you think?”

Diana recalled the black handshake, and the memory made her queasy. “Drive out of here first.” She didn’t know why, but she wanted to get as far away from the house before revealing her experience. She spoke when they were into French Quarter traffic and out of sight of the house. “When we first got there and I shook his hand, did you notice anything strange?”

“No, why?”

“Because for a fraction of a second, my hand turned black and skeletal.”

Lucier started to laugh but stopped cold when he glanced at Diana. “That’s
―
”

“Go ahead. Say it.
Sounds
crazy, I know. But he offered his hand to see if I’d pick up any vibrations from him, and he must have seen I did. I tried not to react, but I couldn’t help it. It’s not every day I see my hand a charred mirage before my eyes.” She held her hand up in front of her face. “Silas Compton lives on the edge.”

“So you’re saying what?”

“I’m saying he’s evil.” Lucier didn’t say anything
. He probably thought that
stress had finally tipped her over the edge, and she needed a month in an ashram to restore her sanity.

He drove her home and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek before they got out of the car.
Yup.
He thinks I’m losing it.
At the door he picked up the newspaper. A slip of paper fell from its pages. On it w
ere
written five words: Diana, we still await you
.

Chapter Seventeen

A Question of Genes

R
alph Stallings knocked on Lucier’s office door. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, no. Come in. Good to see you again, Agent Stallings.”

“Call me Ralph. We’ve talked to each other on the phone and met enough times to dispense with formalities.”

“My experience with your coworkers hasn’t always been as pleasant,” Lucier said. Stallings frowned. “Sorry, but that’s been the case.”

“It happens. Can’t seem to get through to some of our guys that working with local law enforcement
has
advantages.”

“What’ve you got on the note?”

Stallings
scanned
the room
. “No coffee?”

“How do you take it?” Lucier asked.

“Black.”

“Be right back.”
Lucier left the office
and
return
ed a few minutes later
with a mug he set down b
efore the agent.

“What, no one to fetch?” Stallings said, blowing on the liquid before sipping.

“I wouldn’t
like
someone asking me to
fetch
, so I do
ubt
anyone else
would
either. Now if one of my men asks if I want a cup or if he brings me one, I won’t turn it down. But I don’t ask.”

“Nice boss.”

“Bad history.”

Stallings nodded, took a gulp, and placed the cup on the table.
“Note’s just like the last one.
The paper is common variety sold in almost every chain store, and the envelope is self-stick. No DNA. The message was typed on a computer and printed on a
laser
printer.
No prints, nothing traceable.
”

“What
I expected
.
”

“How’s Ms. Racine? I can’t imagine she spooks easily, considering her former profession.”

“She’s taking it in stride. This is nothing compared to what she went through recently.
At least I hope that’s the case

“Since I was sidetracked by the note, I never asked about your visit with Compton. Did Ms. Racine get any vibes?”

“She had an interesting experience when they shook hands, but nothing tangible. Call it psychic channeling or telepathy or clairvoyance
―
whatever
―
but when she gets those feelings, she’s usually right. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Man, I’d hate my wife to have that talent. How can you stand her knowing what’s in your mind all the time?”

“She only does it through touching someone she’s reading.”

Stallings stopped in mid-sip and
peeked
over the rim of his cup.

Lucier shrugged.
“
She says not
.
At least I hope not. I wouldn’t want her to know what I’m thinking during
―
hmm, better not. I don’t know you well enough.”

Stallings laughed. “
’
Nuff
said. She’s an attractive lady. I saw her show this year for the first time, before
the killings
. Now I wish I’d seen her every time she performed in New Orleans.
Very entertaining.”

“Compton asked for a private reading.”

“Is she going to do it?”

“Yes.”

“Gutsy.
And
Slater
?
”

“She’s clearer on him than I am. Something about the guy
irks the hell out of me
. Did the Bureau turn up anything on him that’s not out there for us mere mortals?”

“Nothing federal,
just
the drunk charges in Texas years ago.
H
e’s cleaned up his act since then.
As far as we can tell, Sunrise
Mission
is
the only association he has with Compton. They don’t exactly travel in the same circles.”

“Compton admires Slater’s work. Maybe Diana will find out more when she reads him.”

The two
cops
drank their coffee
s
and discussed the still unbelievable prospect that some of the richest men in the state
―
in the country
―
were involved in a satanic cult. After a lot of head
shaking, Stallings left.

Cash passed the agent as he barreled into the office. Beecher followed. “Lieutenant, I got an idea and did some checking.”

“
Go on.
”

“I wondered if the babies had anything in common.
Five babies.
W
hy
those particular ones? I checked their families’ backgrounds. Except for one, both parents of each kidnapped infant are
brainiacs
. They’re either scientists, mathematicians, or doctors, each renowned in his or her field.” Cash put his findings in front of Lucier. “
T
hose babies were chosen.”

Lucier flipped through the five histories.
“For their genetic makeup?”

“Yeah, that’s what I think,” Cash said. “Why else? Deems worked at each hospital on average of six weeks.
H
e was waiting for
the
perfect babies before he
snatched
them and disappeared, which means if I’m right, the babies are probably still alive.”

“And what about the fifth baby?”
Beecher asked.

“Working class parents.
Neither finished high school. The baby was returned with a
ten thousand dollar
check.”

“Sounds like someone made a mistake,” Lucier
said
. “Did you follow up with the other parents?”

“No, I wanted to see what you thought first.
”

“Do it. Damn good thinking, Willy. You might have something. Sam, catch Stallings before he leaves the building. We’ll check out the parents in New Orleans
; he
can check out the others. Now all we have to do is figure out if they really
are
targeting
these
babies. And if they are, why?”

* * * * *

L
ucier made an appointment to meet Dr. Jennifer Reese and her husband, Charles Seaver, at their home. Reese, a striking woman in her early forties, put off having children to pursue a career as a molecular biologist. She and her husband, a nuclear radiologist, were anxious to talk to Lucier and help in any way to aid in the return of their daughter. Lucier showed them a series of computer generated pictures of Deems in different disguises, from: bald and clean-shaven, red-haired and bearded, to combinations of bo
th with different colored hair.

“If he was on the floor of the
birthing center
, I don’t recall seeing him,” Dr. Reese said.

Her husband studied the photo. “Nor do
I
. Why would someone do this?”

“To be honest, we’re not sure, but your daughter is one of four babies, maybe more, taken from parents with superior intellectual credentials. We think that’s
why they were chosen.”

“Four babies and maybe more?
This is the first I’ve heard of that,” Jennifer Reese said.

“The abductions were in different states, spread apart in time. We just made the connection when we found the
work records
of the man we think took your daughter at the other hospitals. Unfortunately, the man is dead, so we can’t get any information to verify if we’re right.”

“Chosen.
That would mean they’re alive,” Seaver said. “Otherwise it wouldn’t matter who their parents were, would it?”

“We think so. Of course, it could be a coincidence. I wouldn’t want to get your hopes up. Whether or not they were chosen for a specific reason, we still have to find them. If our theory is correct, they’ll all be together.”

The two people clutched each other. Lucier sensed their desperate optimism.

“Do you have anything to go on?” Dr. Reese asked.

“We’re working on some ideas but nothing concrete. I wish I could tell you otherwise.”

“I understand Diana Racine is helping,” Dr. Seaver said. “Is that true?”

“She has offered impressions.”

“Impressions of what?”

“I’d rather not say right now. I assure you we’re doing everything possible to find your daughter.”

* * * * *

L
ucier walked through the tourist crowd o
n
Jackson Square
on his way to meet Ralph Stallings. The historic site teemed with artists and musicians
, creating
its unique flavor. On occasion he’d bought artwork that hung on the iron fence to support the talented artists,
some famous,
who had populated the square for generations. He’d seen plays at Le Petit Theatre
,
eaten
Creole cuisine
at the many
excellent
bistros dotting the area
, and even tipped back a few at one of the bars
in
the old
Jax
Brewery building, followed by sobering up with
café au
lait
and bei
g
nets at the Café du Monde
.
The electricity in the square was what he loved about New Orleans―a city like no other.

It was at one of those
small bistro
s
where he’d arranged to meet Stall
ings for lunch.
The air was thick and humid. He thought the exercise would do him good, but by the time he arrived, sweat glued his shirt to his back. He found Stallings at a table near the window, nursing a glass of iced tea.

“It’s like a sauna out there,” Lucier said, grateful for the air conditioning. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sides of his face.

“You walked?”

“Thought I needed to get off my ass.
Now I
not only
need a shower
,
but it’s clear I need to get back into a regular fitness routine
.” Lucier caught the waitress and ordered iced tea with extra lemon.
He turned to Stallings.
“What’ve you got?”