I’m sure that Jake missed my sharp intake of breath at his pronouncement.  I’m equally sure that only a second or two passed before I spoke, although the number of thoughts and fears that flashed across and through my brain should have taken days.

My voice trembling, assuredly due to the fact that there was no question in my mind of the seriousness and yes, truthfulness of Jake’s tearful comment; I said, “Jake, that’s a very serious thing to say.  Why do you believe that I…I will be dead by Monday?”

Jake continued to stare at the table.  His tears continued to slowly flow across his cheeks to drip off his chin and splash against the table top.  Shaking his head and in a whisper, he said, “I overheard some men talking.  I…I think I’ll be in big trouble if they find out I told you.  I …”

I knelt down beside Jake and took his chin in my hand.  Tenderly and slowly, I turned his face toward me.  “Jake, if you heard something…if you really care about me, you have to tell me exactly where and what you heard.  In return, I promise, ‘cross my heart and hope to die’, never to tell anyone….anyone at all that I learned this from you.  No one…no one will ever know.  You’ll be safe, Jake….but, you have to tell me what you know.  Please, Jake.”

“My Dad, he’s…..he’s not part of it, Mrs. B.  He’s not…I know he’s not, but….he….”

If ever I doubted the extent and strength of emotions possible in young children; if ever I doubted the misery that children could feel; I never will again.  Jake’s eyes, swimming in tears, were drowning in sadness; anguish for his father, so profound that my heart double tripped, and I felt a wave of love and immediate sympathy for this little boy.

Holding his eyes with mine, I waited.  Finally, he began again, still in a whisper, “They didn’t know I was in the house.  My Dad and two other men…”

“Who were the other men?”  I interrupted him and immediately wished I hadn’t.  Jake stopped talking and gazed off.  I forced myself not to say another word.  After several minutes, his eyes returned to mine.

“I don’t know, Mrs. B.  I didn’t see ‘em.  I didn’t know their voices, but they were very mad.  I don’t know if they were mad at my dad…I don’t think so, but, boy, they were sure mad about something.  I wanted to get away but…I was scared….for my dad and….”

I held my breath.  He was close to the point of his story and I didn’t want to break his concentration or his resolve again.

“They said your name Mrs. B…and…and then they said, ‘she’s a fed, John, she’s a fu…. I’m sorry Mrs. B but they said a bad word.  I can’t say that word.  I don’t know what it means, ‘cept that I know it’s a bad word…”

“I know the word you mean, Jake and yes, it’s a bad word and I’m glad you understand that.”  I grabbed both his little hands in mine and said, “Go on, Jake, please tell me the rest.”

Instead, he asked, “What’s a “fed”, Mrs. B?”

I wanted to return Jake’s honesty and I couldn’t think of a reason not to tell him, “A “fed” Jake is usually  used to describe a Federal Agent; someone who works for the government, the U.S. government.”

Instantly, his eyes lighted up and he blurted, “You mean like a spy, Mrs. B?  Are you a spy like James Bond?”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  At the same time I was mentally kicking myself for getting him off track.  Why didn’t I simply pretend ignorance?  Well, there was nothing to do but continue; satisfy his curiosity and get him back to the story.

“No, no, Jake; not like that.  Well, not necessarily.  Sometimes federal agents are like policemen or sometimes they are lawyers or judges or…..”

“School teachers, too?”

“Oh, no….well, I suppose that some teachers work for the federal government but, no, Jake…I’m not a “fed”….just a school teacher.  OK?  So, Jake, what else did the men say?”

His tears had stopped.  His sadness had disappeared.  With the mercurial emotional rollercoaster that only children are capable of riding, his emotion was now that of excitement and conspiracy.  He leaned toward me, eyes big and whispered, “After they called you a fed, one of the men said that you got Martin put in jail.  I don't know who Martin is.  How did you do that, Mrs. B?”

Martin Warren was a despicable man; a complete macho that dominated his wife and eight year old daughter.  I’d seen bruises on Molly’s calves and made an anonymous call to the county social services department.  They’d begun an investigation that resulted in Mr. Warren’s conviction for child abuse.  I’d completely forgotten about it and had only peripherally included it in my weekly report to the Bureau.  There was no way anyone could have intercepted that report…was there?

“Mrs. B?”

I cleared my thoughts and squeezed Jake’s hand.  “I didn’t put Mr. Warren in jail, Jake.  He went to jail because he was abusing his wife and child, Molly.  You know Molly, don’t you?  Well, he was beating Molly and someone….not me, must have reported him.”  I hated lying to him, but there it was.  Surely, though, my “death sentence” was not due to this….

“Well, the man said that you did and then he said….”  Jake paused and I could see the gears working in his mind.  He wanted to get it right and I was damned grateful for that. “He said… ‘She ratted…I know what that means…it means you told on him….right?”

Patience, Kate…patience, I reminded myself.  I nodded and added, “But, I didn’t.”

Jake seemed not to hear me, but acknowledged my nod and continued, “and if she knew about Martin, it’s only a matter of time before she uncovers the…..por.. porno ring.  What’s a porno ring, Mrs. B?”

I hid it well, I'm sure...but, my shock was profound and my first thought was, "Amy!".  My second thought was, "not just a porn ring....a children's porn ring!"

John Kellerman returned home to find the house empty.  He was upset with himself for being late and Jake not being able to get into the house.  Finding Jake missing from the front yard or porch where he usually waited; John checked the back yard before recalling that his teacher, Mrs. B, lived just down the block and that, on at least one other occasion, had taken Jake to her house when she saw him waiting in the cold.

Mrs B., he thought.  Damn, what was he going to do about her?  He’d been shocked, to say the least, when Billy Dole and Jim Parker had come to his house with the story about her being a federal agent.  But, when they’d gone on about the porno ring and the fact that Mrs B needed to be “taken out”; well, John was scared out of his wits.  There was no way he’d have anything to do with murder.  No way.

“****, why did I ever get involved in this crap, anyway,” he thought for the hundredth time since Billy and Jim’s visit.  He knew the answer to that, of course, but still hated himself for his weakness.

John Kellerman was a first class computer programmer but because he didn’t have “that fancy piece of paper” that informed the world of his graduation from college, and therefore, was fully qualified to work and get paid a six digit salary; he struggled to make a living designing websites.  

After his divorce from Jake’s mother, two years ago, his income had been cut in half so when Billy and Jim approached him about the porno site, well….they offered a lot of money; and money was something that John was dearly short of…all the time.

John agreed to do the website but only on the condition that once designed and set up on the web, he would have nothing more to do with it.  He’d teach Billy and Jim how to manage the site and that would be the end of it.

John walked out the door of his house and headed toward Mrs. B’s house.  He walked slowly, trying to gather his thoughts before he came face to face with Mrs. B.  But, his thoughts were a jumbled mix that failed to provide him a solution.  He couldn’t allow anything to happen to Mrs. B regardless of whether she actually was a Fed, or not; neither could he allow his part in the website come to light.  He’d end up in jail for years and what would become of Jake?

Still three houses away from Mrs. B, a separate thought came to John from left field, somewhere.  Porno sites are not necessarily illegal.  So, why would Billy and Jim want to kill Mrs. B?  Unless….. “Oh, my God! It’s not just a porn site; it’s a child porn site!” John thought.

Now, completely in a daze, his feet carried him to the door of Mrs. B’s house.  His hand knocked.  The door opened and John’s eyes met those of Mrs. B.

Instantly, he knew.  “She knows!”