Free In Dark Corners by Gene O'Neill

stifle her excitement and blurted, "Got a job today."
    "You did?" he said, surprised.
    "That's right," she replied and nodded. "At the cafe for Mr. Papadopolos. Breakfast and lunch. Actually worked lunch today."
    "Hey, that's great, Ellie," he said, realizing that this might be developing into a little more than a ride and a one night stand.
    "Yeah, and Papa—that's what everyone calls him—says a bigger cabin will be available this weekend. Number one."
    He smiled, thinking, Yeah, I guess it's already developed. Then he remembered Billy-boy. "What about the boy?"
    She looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled again. "Oh, he'll be okay here in the cabin in front of the TV. I'll check in after breakfast, and I'll be done by two. Hey, everything is going to work out fine, cowboy. Don't look so worried."
    They laughed together.

    ***

    For the next two days they all got up at five, dressed, Ellie and Rowdy off to work, Billy-boy set up in front of the TV, watching the channel from Mountain Home…
    Then, that night after their lovemaking, Rowdy suggested that he take Billy-boy along on his job. He worked alone and Billy-boy would be good company. Besides it would be better for the boy out in the fresh air all day.
    "That sounds real good, cowboy," she whispered, hugging him gratefully.
    Then, sitting up, Rowdy asked the question that had been on his mind ever since they met at Coney Island: "Okay, gal, what's going on with you and the boy—why are you running and hiding?"
    At first the violet glitter flared as if she were angry that he'd reminded her. Then the fire banked, a frown crept on her face, and for a few moments Rowdy didn't think she was going to answer at all.
    Finally, Ellie sighed deeply and said, "It's a long story and kind of weird. You sure you want to hear it?"
    He kissed her wrinkled forehead, "Sure do, gal. Maybe I can help."
    She nodded, but continued frowning slightly. "Well, after I gave up singing, I returned home to my folks in San Francisco to discover they had put Billy-boy in an institution, Sonoma State Hospital, about forty miles north of the city. He was in some kind of a special unit that was doing research on idiot savants. Have you heard of them?"
    Rowdy shook his head.
    "They're mentally retarded," Ellie explained slowly in her husky voice, "usually profoundly, unable to even care for themselves, but with a special ability, most often in an area the psychologists refer to as talent . Like in math, art, or music. Some can repeat a piece on the piano they've heard only once, despite the fact they've had no musical training. Some can capture slight nuances of anatomy and movement in painting. Others can figure instantly and tell you the exact day of the week your birthday may be on in seventeen years, and so forth. Some are amazing mimics, repeating sounds and speeches they don't even understand. In one highly specific area an idiot savant has uncanny ability, its origin unexplained."
    "I have heard of them," Rowdy said thoughtfully. "I just didn't know the technical name. Idiot savant."
    "Well, somehow they determined Billy-boy might have some special talent and pressured my folks to allow them to take him to Sonoma. The folks even signed over a power of conservatorship…" She sighed deeply, before continuing, her eyes taking on that distant look as she concentrated.
    Rowdy wondered who they were, and what was Billy-boy's ability, but he didn't interrupt.

    ***

    "Anyway," Ellie continued, sitting up in bed and drawing her knees to her chest, "my folks were killed shortly after that in a strange hit and run accident. After the funeral I went up to see Billy-boy, staying in a local motel in Glen Ellen for several days. He seemed happy, and everything fine in the small unit—there were only six other subjects— except for the number of men in suits and short haircuts. They didn't look like researchers to me, instead they reminded me of Secret Service agents around a president—you know, that