Shout outs to tnet, guest, gabyhyatt, ODBODG, Levenez, and FineEyesPrettyWoman. As I haven't read everything that came before recently, it is possible I may make some continuity mistakes. Please let me know if you spot any.

40.

I could not believe that I slept in Sunday morning until around ten local time. I woke up stiff, for I think having slept in virtually the same position the entire night, and also from the mattress being a sad affair compared with what I was used to lying upon. I had not noticed previously, but it was one of those mattresses that has a decided dent to one side, and this was where I was cocooned the whole of the night. In some respect it was rather like being in the mattress's embrace, not that the embrace of a mattress was quite the kind of embrace I was wishing for. I had the sense that my dreams, such that they were, must have been pleasant enough, for nothing had roused me early with fear and sweat and confusion.

I realized that somehow, in the midst of the worst circumstances, I had something that I had hardly dared to find before. I had hope.

I checked my phone and noted a message that I received from Elizabeth the night before. I would have gladly taken any message, as it gave me the right to respond, even if it might be in the middle of the night for her. But it was a good message.

Elizabeth: I'm glad we got to talk. I'm still trying to think of a good nickname for you. I considered Fitz, for it would be for "fit" Fitz, but Fitz sounds too much like someone having fits, fits of rage, fits of laughter, epileptic fits, none of it is all that good. I hope you get a good night's sleep, that you are sleeping right now.

I like that she was taking the assignment to come up with a new name for me seriously. And it did not hurt that she thought me fit. I smiled, probably a goofy, lovesick smile, at my phone. My thumbs moved quickly and I responded before I could think it over too much, edit it endlessly and send something stilted.

Bill: It was great talking to you, too. I slept well, despite everything, probably because talking to you cheered me up. Thank you for that. I am still mulling over whether Lily-Beth is the right nickname for you. I want to give it as careful of consideration as you seem to be giving my name.

Expecting no response anytime soon, I treated myself to a long, hot shower. Whatever else this motel might have lacked, the water was nice and hot and with my eyes closed and lots of steam around me, I could forget the cracked and stained tile, the tub that was probably older than me. While I was showering, I considered what I might want to do with this day. Perhaps walk around the city, perhaps visit that cathedral I had seen, perhaps even go inside it and pray for my sister, for me. I wasn't here to be a tourist, but I felt like it might not be wrong to act like one for a single day.

When I got out, the thin and scratchy towel, which was much too short slung around my middle, I checked my phone, hoping for a reply, and saw that Rick had texted instead.

Rick: Are you up? It sounds like you are showering. Come over to my room when you are dressed, we've got a meeting at 11.

Bill: Okay, getting ready now.

I dressed in khaki pants with a button down shirt, a plaid of mostly blue that felt like a nod to Scotland. I took just a few moments to swipe with a brush through my messy hair before trotting over to Rick's room. I felt confused, for I had not thought we had anything scheduled today. Was it too much to ask for a day of peace?

Rick informed me that the investigator had responded and we were due at the station. There was just enough time for a greasy breakfast, but I could not stomach the eggs or the bacon that Rick dug into, just had some toast and water.

As we drove to the station, I asked "This lead investigator, is that someone we dealt with when they were questioning us? I just don't know if I can deal with any of them again. But that cop, Jimmy, who was at the meeting at the hospital, well I'm not sure I want him, either. He seemed so young and inexperienced."

"I don't think it is any of them," Rick replied. "The card I got for someone who I don't remember being one of the ones that questioned me, Rob McMichaels. Does that name sound familiar to you?"

"Nope," I shook my head. "So if he's is in charge of the case, why haven't we met him before."

Rick shrugged, "I dunno. Let's just hope that this Lieutenant McMichaels knows his stuff."

Going to the station made me recall everything that had happened last time and I could feel how tension settled in my back, my shoulders, my jaw. Sitting in the waiting room, I felt surly and defensive.

After about five minutes wait, which took us to 11am on the dot, a woman in uniform came to get us, gave us a brusque "Come with me." As we followed her, I noted that she was tall with her brown hair pulled back in a tight bun, but even her heavy weapon's belt and her stiff walk couldn't hide her slim waist. It wasn't until we all sat down that I noticed her name tag "Lieutenant R. McMichaels." I concluded she was the "Rob" we were supposed to meet. Lieutenant McMichaels wasn't wearing any makeup and had glasses with dark frames on, which had the effect of making her appear plain, but I had the feeling that she was or could be pretty when she wasn't dressed for work.

I thought she was in fact a bio woman despite her more masculine name, for I had never met someone who had transitioned female without that person going out of their way to exude feminity, while she was clearly going the other way. I had half a second to wonder if she was in fact trying to become a man when she spoke.

"Mr. Darcy, Mr. Fitzwilliams, please sit down." We did and she shut the door and settled behind her small desk. Her office was little bigger than a cubicle, but did have a window which gave light but faced a dull grey building. Her desk had clearly seen better days and there was a block of wood holding up a metal leg which was missing the swivel wheel the other side had. The top was piled high with files which were neatly stacked, reminding me of the forts I used to build with Rick when I was a child. Between the stacks was a space just big enough for an open file, which she quickly filled with a file that must have related to the case.

Rick did what he tries to do when he is uncomfortable. He made small talk. "So, Rob, is that short for something. Roberta, Robina?"

She gave him a withering look. "Would you ask that if I were a man?"

As intended, I suspect, this shut Rick up.

"Now, let me see this message."

I called up the message from George with its unfamiliar number and handed the phone to her. She said, "We already checked and that number seems to lead to an internet service that provides temporary use numbers, which was also confirmed when we called the number, at least that is what the man who answered said, he was using it to confirm some app he downloaded. Any phone Mr. Wickham bought in Scotland wouldn't have an American area code. If you had replied right away, you might have gotten him again but you won't now."

Rick found his voice again. "I installed an app to track any numbers if he texts again."

"That's unlikely to do any good," she responded, "but you are trying, I suppose." She turned to me and gestured with my phone in her hand still. "Mr. Darcy, if you don't mind, we can install some more effective software on your phone, and on your cousin's too."

"What would it do?" I asked. I wanted to find Wickham of course, but it didn't seem like anything they did would do that if he kept using services like he had. I also didn't like how it would invade my privacy, and was already pondering how hard it would be to get another phone and a new number, so this could just be my tracking of Wickham number. What a pain!

"It would basically be a wire tap, wouldn't it?" Rick asked, his face suddenly hard. "You'd get access to all our data, too; we'd be signing our lives away. It'd be a back door to get ahold of all the stuff we wouldn't disclose before."

Lieutenant McMichaels's face stiffened. She handed me my phone back. "Let me be clear about this. What happened when I was absent for an advanced training was not authorized by me. You are not suspected of any wrongdoing, and indeed if anyone thought so, let me assure you, that impression has been corrected."

She pressed her lips together firmly and for a moment I pitied the other cops for the dressing down I figured she had administered (but only for a moment, because they certainly deserved it.

In a softer tone, she continued, "The way in which Miss Darcy was located, the reports from her school, her subsequent behavior in her placement, in hospital, and so on, it has well established that you have simply been acting as responsible carers, and it is this Mr. Wickham who lies at the heart of all of this."

I sighed out a breath I did not know I was holding at the reassurance of her words. "I want you to catch Wickham," I replied. "I really do. But from what he wrote . . . well what if he doesn't contact me again for months, years? Would you really be spying on everyone I communicate with on my phone? That seems like a waste of everyone's time."

She steepled her fingers and considered the matter. "There is another option, but I would have to get permission from up above. There is some trace software that we use for undercover officers. It records, traces, everything, and puts a file with all the information on the phone, and then you choose what needs to be uploaded to us. It is proprietary and not supposed to be given out to civilians."

"That sounds great if you can get it approved," Rick responded and I voiced my agreement also.

"While that is getting sorted out, let's discuss how you should respond if and when Mr. Wickham contacts you again. We do want you to answer right away and let him think that you are seriously and reluctantly considering his offer. We want you to try to set up a meeting."

"But he said he's long gone." I protested.

"And you think he is honest and trustworthy 100% of the time?" Lieutenant McMichaels scoffed. "He may have left Edinburgh. He might even have gotten out of Scotland, although I doubt it, but he is going to find it to be difficult to take a flight anywhere without his passport being any good. Instant alerts if it is scanned anywhere and it is a lot harder to fake them these days. It seems he also has some outstanding warrants back in your country. Of course he is wanted here for trafficking your sister. Some of these guys are their own worst enemies because they can't plan anything out too long and need the instant gratification of attention from those they are trying to exploit."

My phone rang in my hand then and I almost dropped it. Rick chimed in, "That sounds like a Wickham ring to me."

It was another phone number that wasn't associated with any contacts on my phone or any listing. "Probably just a robo call," I replied.

"Well go ahead and answer it, just in case," Lieutenant McMichaels replied.

I swiped, brought the phone to my ear and said, "Hello."

I waited. A voice came on the phone that I never wanted to hear again. "Hi Billy-Boy."

I lifted the phone from my ear and mouthed, "It's him!"

Lieutenant McMichaels extended her hand for my phone. I handed it over and I saw her swipe the speaker phone symbol and then connect the phone with a long cord to her computer, before handing it back to me. My phone was asking for my permission to connect to her computer, I gave it as fast as I could, grateful that Wickham was talking and, thus, had not noticed my lack of concentration. She was typing something, but fortunately had a quiet keyboard. He was saying "Have you thought about my offer? G.G. loves me more than anything, and with that baby, well now we're family. What'll you do to make me go away? For a while, anyway. I'm thinking 10K might do for starters. Just, you know, until you can get into her trust fund and pay it out to me."

"George, this is extortion and you know it. I can't just get into her trust fund but maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement. The most important thing to me is that you leave G.G. alone and let her try to heal from what you've done to her. You've messed her up bad. Even now they are talking about committing her."

Lieutenant McMichaels scribbled something on a sheet of paper and handed it over to me. Can't trace, routed through a computer. Get a meeting.

"Oh, that's just gonna make her madder at you," Wickham replied, "and more desperate to get to me. Tell me, did she tell you how long we've been f'ing, how wet she gets for me every time? Oh she wanted my baby bad, begged and pleaded for me to put a baby in her." His voice was calm, conversational, as if we were just talking over the cost of eggs. I did not want to hear any of those things.

"Can we talk this over in person? Man to man?"

"Not a chance Bill, I'm not that stupid." I imagined him sneering at me and my hands trembled in response. Even though we were at a police station and I expected the whole phone call was being recorded, I couldn't feel comfortable that it would turn out as we wanted.

"What would $10,000 in cash buy me?" I asked.

There was a pause as Wickham seemed to consider the matter. "20K would buy you some time to arrange for the rest of it. What's she got, 250 big ones just waiting around for her majority?"

"Like I told you, I can't get to that. And being in a foreign country, it is hard to arrange things banking-wise." It really wasn't that much more difficult, but I hoped that Wickham wouldn't know that.

"Look Bill, don't play Mr. Stingy. Get if from her trust fund, get it from your business, I don't f*ing care. Just get it and I'll stay away."

"I can maybe get you $10,000 on Monday if I go into one of the banks then and arrange a money transfer, but I won't know for sure until I try it. But then how will I get it to you?"

Wickham didn't reply right away, and I thought he was pondering the matter. "I'll make arrangements on Monday for a drop spot. I'll want it in Euros. But Bill, you'd better not screw with me. No police, no Rick, no anything. No one else must know. Don't try my patience." He hung up then.

We were all silent for a few moments as we pondered what had taken place. Rick was the first to speak. "He knows we're here, in Scotland. I'm almost sure of it. He never asked where you were when you said said you were in a foreign country. I mean, you travel for business and such. How would he know you're here? And how else would you be able to make a drop off?"

"Where else would I be once G.G. was found? Maybe he just assumed it."

"Or maybe he's been spying on us," Rick replied. "But he must not have seen us go into the police station or he wouldn't have called now."

"Listen," Lieutenant McMichaels interjected, "I put the wiretapping software on your phone. The regular kind. If you want me to take it off now, I will, but I figured you were consenting for at least that conversation. It will record everything that comes into your phone. That will be important for making a case against him later, once we catch this S.O.B."

I nodded.

"We'll use your phone primarily as eyes and ears. I'll put on some audio recording software that will record both on your phone and into the cloud, also another little device. You'll turn both on before you go to whatever drop off spot he designates. Yeah, he probably won't be there, but you never know. If you'll agree to cover the cost if he gets away with them, we'll deliver marked Euros with a tracking device in the bag to your motel. Just in case he is spying on you, we'll make it look like you're getting take away. Hopefully he'll be stupid enough to take the bag, too, it'll be nice enough looking that he'll want to do it. On Monday, go ahead and go into a bank alone, do some kind of banking or something, spend some time there, make it look like you are getting the money just in case he really is spying on you."

"Do you think Bill could be in any danger, doing all of this?" Rick asked.

"I doubt it," she replied. "After all, why would he want to kill the golden goose?"

No one could disagree with that. It took some time to work everything out, but all that Lieutenant McMichaels did, she did with quiet efficiency. I felt that we were in good hands.

After we had everything done, Rick and I went out for some lunch, but really didn't talk about anything. We didn't feel like we could, not about anything that meant anything. I'll admit that my mind wandered between two things, imagining how wonderful it would be to see George Wickham get caught (I imagined it like those old-timey movies where ten cop cars suddenly appear, sirens wailing) and imagining my first real date with Elizabeth.

A/N: It can't really be that easy, can it? I have some future plans, but am willing to alter them if anyone has any good suggestions.