George Perry - The willing wife

The real test of her strength came during the long trip home with the F.B.I. agents. They wanted to know everything that had happened and the debriefing dragged on and on until she began to worry that she would tell them something she didn't want them to know; like how she really felt about the boys, or the details of their sexual relationship.

"Look, I'd prefer to just let it go at saying they molested me a little," she sighed, trying to put an end to that line of questioning.

"We'll be back tomorrow, Mrs. Latimer," an agent told her as they pulled into the driveway of her house. "You'll feel better after a good night's sleep. Perhaps you'll be able to tell us more then. It's important that we know the details of just how they treated you."

"Please don't make a big deal out of them molesting me a little," she sighed again, seeing Charles waiting at the front door for her. "You know how kids are… they're curious about… but I don't feel it would help anyone if I went into all the details of how these little kids… you know… tried to satisfy their curiosity."

As she got out of the car, Charles started down the walk to meet her. "Are you all right?" he asked before putting his arms around her and kissing her cheek.

"Yes. I'm fine," she sighed. "Just a little hungry."

"Great. I have a frozen chicken dinner in the oven," he said, leading her to the house. "I'll just pop another one in for myself and you can tell me everything that happened while you eat."

Jan was jolted to a halt and gave out a gasp at the sight of the graffiti on the living room walls. She had forgotten about that, and it came as a shock to her system to see it again.

"Did they… err… abuse you, Janice?" Charles asked feebly.

"Huh? Oh… no… er they were kids."

She fumbled for the right words. She knew that would be the first thing Charles would want to know, but she wasn't expecting it so soon. "Just little boys… the oldest wasn't more than eighteen…"

"Are you sure they didn't… well, you know… violate you?"

"Oh, Charles," she said, brushing off the question. "They were only young boys from an orphanage. They were tickled just to see a girl…"

His relief was apparent in his expression, she noted. Charles would never be able to adjust to the idea that his wife had been "violated", she told herself. And as she told him the rest of the details over dinner, he became more relieved to discover the couple in charge were very old and strict… forced into this crime out of desperation, and really nice people. "…Why they almost decided not to go through with it because Pa, that's what they called the old man, didn't want to lie to you about killing me if you didn't get the money."

Charles somehow seemed changed, she thought to herself, wondering if the experience hadn't been good for him too. He was very attentive for a change, trying to do everything he could for her, even rushing off to draw her bath when she casually mentioned it was the one thing she needed most.

Then he did something he hadn't done since their honeymoon. He remained in the bathroom as she undressed! He was chatting away, telling her his side of the story and not paying any attention to the fact that the room was brightly lit and she was undressing. She remembered how she had to practically beg him to take a shower with her on their honeymoon, and here he was staying in the bathroom without any coaxing. Very strange, she decided as she slipped into the bathtub and felt the warm water lick luxuriously around her body. And Charles watched every move she made, until the phone rang and he had to leave to answer it.

Once she was alone, Jan slithered deeper into the tub until the water covered her up to the neck. The warm soapy water was so sensuous, she told herself, she could almost feel it arousing her sexually. And the thought grew stronger as the warm water licked at her breasts and up between her legs like a tantalizing tongue. Her hands glided softly over her breasts, and then down to tease her clit.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Charles returning from the phone call and she quickly eased her hands away from their chores. She got a twinge of a thrill from the thought that Charles had almost caught her with her fingers in the cookie jar.

"Who was it?" she asked softly.

"The F.B.I. wanted to know if you were feeling any better," he answered as he approached the tub and eyed her body in the soapy water. "They called their report in to Washington and it seems you weren't the first victim of this sweet old couple."

"You're kidding!" Jan gulped, sitting up straight in the tub, suddenly alert. "What did they say?"

"Washington says your description fits a couple they call the 'Ma and Pa Kettle Gang'. They've pulled the same routine six times before, in various parts of the country."

"I don't believe it!" Jan gasped.

"It's true. The other women gave practically identical stories as yours. Seems the old man and woman played on the victims' sympathies to get their cooperation. And since no one wanted the kids to get in trouble, they withheld information until it was too late for the F.B.I. to do anything."

"I still can't believe it," she said, her mind racing back over the events and hearing Al say something about her being an accessory. But she wanted most of all not to think it was a hoax.

"As soon as they get the money," Charles went on, "they leave the region. But the F.B.I. thought you gave them the break they needed when you described the car and the approximate location of the house. The other victims withheld those details at first."

"Will it help?" Jan asked, remembering it was Pa who said she should tell everything but the part about her snatching the money on her own. She had imagined he had a getaway plan and she had done exactly what he told her to do. But now she wondered if he hadn't brought about his own undoing.

"Not at this point," Charles answered. "They found the car a few miles from where they dropped you off and it didn't seem to have any clues."

Jan was relieved to know Tom and Al weren't in it at the time. She didn't want to be responsible for their capture.

"It was quite a well-planned operation," Charles added. "The old Chevy was stolen from a junkyard in New York about an hour after the original owner brought it in as junk. It was never, even reported as stolen. They probably had another car ready to pick them up as soon as they set you free."

"I don't see how they can get very far with thirty kids though," Jan offered her thoughts.

"Well, the F.B.I. found the house. It was an old abandoned military academy," Charles said, noting the surprised look on Jan's face, and finding himself enjoying the presentation of the facts to her. "They almost knew what to look for, since the old couple followed the same routine each time. So it wasn't hard to find the house with the information you supplied. But there wasn't anything of value there either."

"Then they must be hiding in another abandoned house close by," Jan said. "It would be too risky to move that many kids without drawing attention to themselves. And they must know the police will be looking for them."

Charles just smiled, pausing to give her time to think of another way to solve the problem of moving all those children. When it was obvious that she was unable to come up with an answer, he said, "That's what I thought. And you probably heard the F.B.I. agents calling in your details as they drove you home, because that's what they thought too. In fact, an alert went out to the police in every state they could possibly have reached since this morning… or more precisely, last night when you last saw all the children at dinner."

Jan's heart was in her throat as she waited for him to explain what he knew. She knew by the smirk on his face that he was saving the best part of the story for last and the suspense was killing her. "Well?" she finally asked.