All hell broke loose the next day, of course, but little of it was at Anne's instigation, despite her rage at the events of the previous evening. She arrived at school early, intending to confront Rufus about Archie's attempted rape, because she felt that he was somehow behind it, and she was determined to have it out with him that morning before the faculty and students arrived for the day. She marched into his office even before the first light of day had hit the windows and discovered him hunched over the glowing screen of his computer monitor.
"Rufus, you son of a bitch, turn around and talk to me." She managed to control the volume of her voice enough to be intelligible, but she was too heated to heed the lesson she learned the night before about not commencing a statement with a pejorative.
"Not now, Anne," he panted in response without turning from the screen. "I know you're upset, but I had no options, and you'll just have to accept that for now, because I'm up to my ass in alligators at the moment, and I don't have time to discuss Archie Farber with you."
His office lights were off, and the terminal screen lit the room with a sickly glow. She flipped the switch to the overhead florescent lights and bright light filled the room.
"Turn around, I don't give a damn what you're doing, you're going to talk to me, you bastard. You sent me down there last night to be raped by that jerk kid, and you knew it, didn't you?"
"Yes, I knew it, and I can explain, but not now. I'll talk to you later."
He didn't turn around when speaking, and she looked over his shoulder at the screen. He was scrolling through lists of files, marking some for deletion. He was unfamiliar with the task and was struggling.
"What the hell is so important with that damn computer, that you can't turn around and explain that business with Archie last night to me? You owe me that much, you bastard."
"I know, I know, you're right, but they're coming, they'll be here any minute, I'm sure of it. I have to finish deleting these files before they come."
"What the hell are you talking about, Rufus?" She was suspicious of a rouse and sounded like it.
"Postal inspectors, Anne."
"Oh yeah, right, Rufus. What? Have you been cheating them out of postage on the school mail? You really are too cheap for words."
"I wish," he groaned. "It's not that simple." His fingers scuttled ineptly across the keys as he spoke, and he cursed and retraced his steps.
"Well, what then?" she demanded. Her eyes swept his desk for an object heavy enough to club him with. Finding nothing handy, she punched his shoulder aggressively with her fist and yelled, "Turn around you son of a bitch and talk to me."
The blow knocked him against the table, and he turned. "They're coming here, any minute, I know it. They came to the house last night with a search warrant and took Imogene's computer."
"Why'd they do that, Rufus?" She sounded skeptical.
"Search warrant said they could search for evidence I had been, er, ah, they said, `trafficking in child pornography.'"
That news surprised her some, and she tried to take her mind off of Archie to respond. "You are a piece of work, Rufus. I had no idea, well, except of course, that business with Cletus the other day, but I figured you were just buying that stuff to blackmail me with it. Guess I figured wrong, huh? Is that it, Rufus? You got a thing for little boys and girls? Is that it?"
"Yes, I mean, no, oh, dammit it Anne, get out of here and let me finish this before they get here, please." He sounded desperate.
"What put them on to you, Rufus?"
"I don't know, Anne, honestly, I don't."
He sounded sincere enough, she thought, but then again, he sounded pretty sincere last night setting her up to be raped like he did. She wasn't buying ignorance today, and leaned down bringing her face within inches of his.
"You are lying, you son of a bitch, you know exactly how they caught up with you, don't you."
"Oh alright, yeah, I got a pretty good guess," he confessed, recoiling in shock at her vehemence.
"Well," she demanded impatiently.
"The Internet," he sighed wearily. "The search warrant said something about using the mail or wire, including the Internet, so I figure that has to be it."
"Oh great, the Internet, and here I though you were computer illiterate. What? I guess you've got some huge network of pedophiles that you trade that shit with, you know, back and forth with the pictures. Or, maybe you're one of the really sicko ones who gets names and addresses, and you go off somewhere and meet little kids and do stuff to them. Is that what you are, some sick son of a bitch, Rufus?" Anne, of course, knew whereof she spoke, and she came by her indignation from experience.
"It's not like that, Anne," he protested weakly. "I don't do that."
"Oh yeah, right, Rufus, so what were you doin’ with that computer of yours on the Internet that's got the federal government breathing down your neck, then."
"Talking to Caruthers about his pictures, I expect."
"Oh, bull shit, Rufus, Cletus doesn't know a computer from a cow's teat or the Internet from an intestine. Peddling that crap out of his pickup to truckers at rest areas on the interstate is more his speed."
"You're behind the times, Anne. Been gone too long; things change."
"Cletus Caruthers does not change, Rufus. I don't think he's even literate, and besides, you just bought $1300 worth of pictures off him a couple of weeks ago. You expect me to believe you're going back for more? Already? What more could you hope to get out of that?"
"Before he came here, Anne, that's when I contacted their web site."
"Oh for Pete's sake, Rufus, don't insult me like that. What do you take me for, a complete idiot? Finding Cletus with his own website on the Internet is about as likely as finding a pig in the parlor under a parasol."
"It's the truth, Anne, I swear it. That's how I found him, on the web, a couple of months ago."
"Ok, you say he has a website, so what was Cletus calling himself on the web, huh?"
"I believe he called it, `HotTots.com,' Anne."
"You've got to be kidding,” she replied, shaking her head in disbelief and nearly laughing out loud, but it was do dumb and so direct, it had Cletus written all over it, and he convinced her. Can you believe the stupidity, she thought. He probably tried to register it as dot `org,' too, thinking that `org' stood for orgasm, and he'd get more hits.
"What's stupid about it?" Rufus asked, puzzled and considerably concerned.
"God, Rufus, for a smart man you can be dense sometimes. It's too obvious. It's so obvious, I'm wondering why didn't he just call the feds and tell them to come pick him up, and you too, for that matter."
"Me?" He protested. "Why me? All I ever did was go there a few times, you know, and talk to him over the computer, email and stuff."
"Yeah, go on."
"Well, and look at his pictures."
"And, down load them to your computer."
"A few, I guess, but Caruthers didn't put that many on the web, just enough to generate interest. He said it was better for him to sell the real thing, in person and for cash, than to give them away to any asshole with a computer and a hard-on."
"That sounds like the good old Cletus I remember, alright, face to face, all cash, and no strings, but I guess neither of you ever heard of `cookies?'"
"No, well sure, of course, but not in connection with computers. What's that?"
"Trackers. You leave them where ever you go on the web, like a trail of cookies in the woods, and they can be followed right back to you."
"Shit! I didn't know that. I got to get to work. Right now."
