Fangmeyer followed Chief Bogo into his office, taking a seat when told to and waiting patiently while he sorted through the small stack of files on his desk. A shimmer of nerves were running through the tiger, but their studiously focused and alert face let none of them show. When the buffalo located the file he wanted, and set his glasses on his nose, they sat up a little straighter, ears pointing attentively forwards.

"Fabienne Growley, co-anchor of ZNN," Bogo explained, "has recently received a number of threatening letters, all from the same person, all demanding she submit to the writer, or there will be consequences."

"A stalker," Fangmeyer surmised. "And a nasty one."

"Exactly." Bogo gave a sole, curt nod. "Given Ms Growley is currently on sabbatical to deal with some family matters – more fallout from the night-howler case – this is particularly poorly timed. The most recent missive is especially concerning, as the writer has somehow found out that Ms Growley intends on modelling for a life-drawing class" – one heavy brow rose at this – "something she apparently was fond of when younger and hopes will help her find some equilibrium again now."

Fangmeyer's eyes had widened a notch. "I see."

"The stalker doesn't approve of this at all, and is threatening trouble if it goes ahead. Ms Growley insists it will, and this is where you come in. We insisted an officer be present at the class, just in case, since the threat was quite severe, and she agreed. For some reason I'm hoping will become clear very soon, she asked for it to be you..."

"She remembers," Fangmeyer breathed, eyes even wider. Then they clicked back to attention. "We knew each other, Sir, briefly, back when I was a rookie, and she was a junior reporter. Art is a hobby of mine; at that time I attended a number of life-drawing classes, and Ms Growley was one of the models; the best, in my opinion. We talked after class, went for a few drinks together, and something seemed to be growing between us, but then...then the Clipper case happened."

"Unpleasant business, that." Bogo's tone had softened minutely. "My first case as Chief. I recall you got a commendation and a promotion out of it. Some fine work."

"Yes, and thank you, Sir, but..." Striped ears dipped slightly. "It meant I had so little time to myself I wasn't able to meet with Ms Growley." A faint sigh slipped free. "And then she was promoted – for her reporting on the same case, ironically enough – and that was that. I'm honestly surprised she remembers me; it's been a few years, after all."

"Well, isn't that interesting." Something twitched across Bogo's snout Fangmeyer was tempted to call a smirk. "All that considered, it seems to me you're the ideal choice for this, if you're willing..."

"Yes, Sir." The tiger's nod was little stronger than they'd intended.

The possible smirk briefly resurfaced. "Good. The class is scheduled for Saturday evening. Your task is to attend, observe, and if anything untoward should occur, respond as you see fit." The buffalo passed the file over. "You'll find everything you need to know in here, including the location. Tell no one, and report directly to me. Clear?"

"Crystal." Fangmeyer's mind was racing; they hoped it didn't show.

"Very good. Unless you have any questions..." Bogo let the sentence hang, to no response. "You're dismissed."

The tiger stood, crisply saluted, then turned and paced for the door.

"Oh, and Adelina..."

Fangmeyer cringed, and turned around. "Yes, Sir?"

The smirk was undeniable, this time. "Second chances don't show up very often. If I were you, I wouldn't let this one slip away."

The tiger smiled. "I intend to grasp it with both paws, Sir."