Thank you for the reviews. This story is back to being my main priority after the little detour I took to write Mr. Darcy's Ruthless Proposal. I've already even started on the chapter that comes after this one.

27.

I was all for jumping a plane to Scotland that day, but Mr. McMichaels and Rick talked me down. They pointed out that the private investigators could be there much quicker than us. In fact Mr. McMichaels explained he had a colleague in Edinburgh who could start looking around for them right away.

Mr. McMichaels said, "Give us a little time to see about narrowing the search area. While going to the press and circulating G.G.'s image was all well and good when she just might be a runaway and you hoped to get tips to find her, to make it more difficult for her to leave the country if that was her plan, things are different now."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, that email changed everything. Not only do we have an idea of where she is, now you know she's with George Wickham. I know you both always assumed that might be the case, but the police were skeptical of that, wanted to treat it as just her running away. But now, now it makes it more of a kidnapping situation.

"Right now subtlety is needed. If you just showed up, well if they spied you, they know you. They'd flee again or go deeper underground. The last thing that your sister needs is for Wickham to get desperate and do something that puts her in more danger."

"But I can't just stay here and do nothing."

Mr. McMichaels replied in a soothing (I tried to think of it as not being patronizing) voice, "You aren't doing nothing, you're going to work with law enforcement. They're going to take it more seriously now that they know an adult male is involved. They'll probably have you email your sister back at their direction, perhaps provide a gift card which can more easily be traced. Let them work their angle while we work ours. It would be bad form to completely bypass law enforcement as they're the ones who would have to make an arrest, prove a crime."

He promised to be in touch and then the phone call ended.

"Bill, I know it's hard, but try not to be frustrated," Rick advised. "Look at the progress that's been made. Out of everywhere on the globe, we now have a city and the private investigators are on the move."

I shrugged.

"Do you might if I change the subject for a minute?" Rick asked.

I shrugged again.

He took that as permission. "What's up with Jane and all the rest staying at your home? I know they didn't show up just for breakfast."

I wanted to answer, but having not been given permission to do so, I said "It's not really something I can discuss."

"Well, it's not exactly normal to have three women sleeping over at your place. Whose in trouble?"

"Again . . ."

"Yeah, you aren't going to tell me. When you can, let me know. You know I'd want to help."

We separated to leave in our separate cars after that, each of us annoyed.

I went off to work and had a horrible time concentrating. My mind kept going to back thinking about G.G. but as time went on, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to hear back from the FBI that day.

My mind also kept going back thinking about what was happening (or had already concluded) at the Meryton police station. Chief Forster was a smooth one when he wanted to be (as I had well learned), but I wasn't convinced he was actually going to make Jane got appropriate help.

I kept checking my phone, hoping I had missed an alert, because surely someone (hopefully Elizabeth) would tell me what all happened with the whole situation with Chuck. Best case scenario, he would get arrested, but I thought the odds were fairly low on that, but it might depend upon what else he ended up texting to Elizabeth's phone.

Finally, by 2 pm, I couldn't stand it anymore and texted Elizabeth.

Bill: Is everything okay?

The response was slow in coming, but I finally got one.

Elizabeth: Yes, can't talk right now.

I left work at four. I wasn't certain the women would be returning to my house that night to stay, although they had all traveled in one car, so they would at least need to come back for the others, eventually, but I wanted to be there, just in case. They had the code for the gate (I had changed it after the meeting with Chuck) and the house, so they were free to come when I was gone. Elizabeth had planned to go back home tonight, but as for the others, it was more indefinite.

My house was empty, quiet, still. I went into the kitchen and debated with myself about cooking a meal. A lot of times I just ate a frozen meal (a good one, an expensive one to be sure) because there wasn't much point in going to the trouble of cooking for one. It had been quite fortunate that I had the proper supplies to cook breakfast that morning, having bought the bacon and eggs on a whim the week before. I had potatoes because one of my other quick meals for one was a potato in the microwave with broccoli and cheese.

It had been different when G.G. lived at home with me. I had cooked at least three days a week then, usually making enough for a second meal.

I opened the refrigerator, the pantry, considering what I had if called upon to cook a meal. I spotted a couple of boxes of couscous on the pantry shelf. They were a favorite of G.G.'s, something she'd always had a second helping of. I personally only found couscous okay. For a quick cook meal, I preferred spaghetti for sure. I left the pantry shelves untouched. No one was there but me, and I wasn't particularly hungry.

I sat down on a bar stool at my elegant, spotless counter (someone had cleaned up while I was talking with Elizabeth outside earlier that day), and recalled my conversations with Elizabeth, here and outside. We had been flirting, I was almost certain of it. I'd never really thought of myself as someone who knew how to flirt, but she had made it easy.

I checked my phone. Nothing, still nothing. But a moment later there was an alert.

Elizabeth: If you get to your home before us, can you walk Charlotte's dog? She left him in the garage with his leash hung up by the garage door.

I hadn't remembered the wiener dog being there or I would have already done something for him. Of course I texted back right away.

Bill: Yes, of course. I'm actually home now. When do you think you'll get here?

I got no immediate response so decided I should attend to the dog right away, but first I took the time to take off my coat and tie, unbutton the top of my shirt and roll up my sleeves. Normally, if I wasn't going out again, I might change into some lounge pants and a t-shirt, but I didn't want to do that since the women would be back, even if I didn't know when. Those things were practically pajamas.

I went and attended to the dog, who was sleeping on the dog bed that Charlotte had apparently brought with her. There was a large puddle and some number twos in the spot where Charlotte's car had been parked. I was glad for Charlotte's foresight in putting him somewhere that cleaning up after him wouldn't be a big deal.

Even after waking him, he seemed to have no interest in getting up, even with me tugging on his leash, so I picked him up like a baby and talked to him like one, too. As I couldn't recall his name, if I'd ever been told it, I called him "Hot Dog," said silly things like "Does the Hot Dog puppy doggie need a walkie? You're a good Hot Dog doggie, diggity-doggie, yes you are." He seemed pleased at the attention, even licked my face.

When I got him out on my lawn, he staggered about like the elderly dog he was, and attended to his business right away. I used the attached bag to clean up after him, just dropping the leash to dash back inside and clean up the solids there, before making my way out to the trash can. I don't think that dog took more than a step or two in the interim.

I put the dog back in his bed (which I had moved closer to the door into the house) and then hosed off the garage floor. I thought about bringing Hot Dog into the house, but he seemed content where he was and I didn't really need him to mess inside.

I settled myself in front of the T.V., put on the latest series I was binge watching, Reservation Dogs. Usually the adventures of those teenagers was entertaining enough, but not tonight. I couldn't get absorbed in the plot.

I switched my viewing choice to the Shawshank Redemption. I'd seen it so many times, originally seeing it with my dad who named it one of his all-time favorite movies along with Forrest Gump, that I could probably recite the lines verbatim, but still enjoyed it. There are some great lines in that movie. One of my favorites is "Get busy living or get busy dying." I let myself get absorbed in Andy Dufresne's life. It was easier to see all the bad things that befell him, knowing that things would turn out okay for him and Red in the end.

I may be excused then, I think, from not hearing the first alert on my phone, but this was followed by it ringing. I hit the pause button and answered right away when I saw it was Elizabeth calling.

"Are you getting here soon?" I asked when I picked up. "I really want to know all that happened with the police."

"And I want to tell you and there's a lot to tell," she replied. "We're on our way over to get the other cars and then will get out of your hair, but Jane thought you might want to join us for a meal as a sort of thank you while we debrief so to speak, and Charlotte thought takeout at your place might be the easiest so that we could talk without anyone getting nosy."

"Sure, sure, I can go pick up something."

"No need, we are about to order Chinese and need to know, what's your favorite? That's why I called when you didn't reply to my text right away."

"Uh . . ."

I knew I must have a favorite Chinese food dish, but somehow I couldn't recall it. All I could think about was what I always ordered with G.G.: Pork Lo Mein and Sesame Chicken. I didn't really want to eat her favorites. But then I recalled that we got Sesame Chicken because General Tso's was too hot for her. "General Tso's please."

"Ooh, a man who likes some spice. Nice! We'll be there in forty-five minutes, more or less."

I hung up with what must have been a silly grin on my face.

It wasn't a date, I knew it wasn't a date (not with all three of them coming over, certainly not), but still, I had been cuddling the dog, probably had dog hairs on me, and for sure had dried dog spit on my face. I left my movie paused and decided to jump in the shower, change. I wanted to get busy living.

As I scrubbed myself, washed the day off of me, getting my hair and all the rest, I found myself humming. Normally I would have felt self-conscious doing that, even though I was alone in the shower, but not then. Wasn't there cause to be happy?

After I got out and looked in the mirror (I had to wipe away some steam to do it), I noticed that I certainly had a five o'clock shadow, so I set myself to shaving, still humming. I wasn't humming after I nicked myself, but fortunately it wasn't anything my styptic pencil couldn't fix.

I put on antiperspirant and then studied my chest and waist in the mirror. I had slimmed down some from all the running I had been doing before (when I hadn't needed to slim down at all), but with the enforced laziness of only being able to walk when my jaw was hurt so bad, I felt a little flabby. Now that things were so much better that I didn't need any support for my jaw, it was time to get back the the gym but maybe not running just yet.

I kept walking around in my towel, luxuriating in it, even. There was no need to hurry; I had plenty of time.

I left my en suite bathroom and considered what to wear. I finally decided on a nicer pair of jeans and had drawn those on but was still deciding on a shirt when I heard what sounded like someone else moving around downstairs. As I had given the ladies the pass code to get into the house, I knew it could be them, but a quick glance at my clock told me it was still far too early. Still, I quickly pulled a random t-shirt on and hurried downstairs.

I found Rick there instead of the women. Rick eyed me and my wet hair. "Date? Might want to pick a different shirt."

I glanced down, I had been in such a hurry that I didn't notice I had put on a joke t-shirt that Rick had given me a couple years back. It was fine for wearing with my lounge pants, but not for tonight. It had a large cartoon banana on the front, which was half peeled. The banana's "face" which was on the upper part of the peeled banana was winking. The banana had a cartoon speech bubble which read "Aren't I A-PEEL-ING?"

"No, I have some friends coming over. What are you doing here, anyway." I crossed my arms. I feared Rick would mess up everything, not because he meant to, but because he wasn't in the know, like I was. I felt again the privilege of somehow having Jane's trust.

Rick put up his hands as if in surrender. "Friends, huh? Let me guess, the three from this morning?"

"It's really none of your business. Now get. I've got to put on a better shirt."

"Aren't ya glad to see your cuz? Aren't you even curious as to why I'm here in the first place?"

I didn't want whatever this was drawn out. "Not really. Did you come to watch a movie or something? I'm okay; no need for a babysitter today. We'll talk later." I started heading toward the stairs to go up and change my shirt.

"I'm hurt." Rick gave me the fake puppy-dog eyes that G.G. had perfected, along with the quivering bottom lip. It was so ridiculous seeing him do that, I couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

I relented and paused. "Okay, tell me, but make it quick."

"You haven't heard from the FBI yet, right?"

"Nope."

"Then the Brits win."