After a long day of fishing, he began the walk back to his house, the familiar trees shadowing the moonlight on his path home. On his right shoulder, six sardines were tied together; his family would have a good dinner tonight.

Along the path stood a row of shack houses, his being the last. There should be music, moonshining, laughing and lights by this time of autumn; the town's harvest festival had always been his favorite time of the year.

But there was none of that now, he and his family were the last otters there. The others had fled to the big city, and lived in squalor with no job and no proper way to support their families. "That ain't no way for an otter to live. We fish, our fathers fished, and our sons will fish. What sort of life is worth living without a good and honest job?" he used to say, but there was no one around now to listen, was there? At least there were more fish.

As he was getting to his house, he saw a large shadow standing by his small fence. It was fiddling with the small gate, much to John's surprise.

"SILVIA! LOCK THE DOOR! THERE'S A STRANGE FELLA' GETTIN' IN!" John screamed to his house.

Silvia needed only to take a glance from the window to know that it was trouble. She ran to the door to bar it, and shushed their son.

"Now listen here mister," John said while putting the fish down the ground, "I don't want any trouble with you. We are poor and simple folk, but I ain't letting you get inside my house." John grinned, exposing his sharp and strong teeth. "Now, you get the hell away from here or I'll bite your ass outta town."

The shadow turned, its steel blade shining blue under the low light that was able to make it through the tree leaves. John backed away.

"We ain't got nothing to steal mister, just leave us alone or you will…!" He felt a heavy impact on his back and was thrown to the ground. He spun his body to face the assailer; a smaller shadow, its face concealed under a hood.

John felt a sting on his back and screamed. A punch to the gut soon came, making him lose his breath. He tried to bite the mammal at his front, but the knife now found its way to his neck. Once. Twice. Trice. The moon was no more, only darkness. I have to lay a bit, he thought as he crumbled to the ground, his red blood pulsing as his body convulsed.

The camera light blinked. Silvia took a pause, she needed a moment to catch her breath before she could continue.

"Mrs. Bevyton, I think that's enough." Nick got up from his chair and extended her a glass of water.

"That ain't all, Officer," said Silvia with a hoarse voice. She took a sip, her first glass of clean water in 3 days. "They didn't stop there, no, they cut John… they cut off his tongue and threw at the window." She heaved, "So much blood… my dear John..." Silvia sobbed quietly, with no more strength to bear the pain.

"Mrs. Bevyton, thank you very much, this information will help us a lot." Wilde guided her to a waiting room, where her son waited, his blank stare aimed at an unpowered TV set. Silvia sat beside her son and hugged him. The boy had no reaction.

Wilde moved silently down the corridors and pushed open the observation door to the interrogation room, where Bogo was waiting.

"Chief, I…" Bogo held a hoof up, asking for a moment. Nick closed the door behind him and waited.

"I want a report on my desk in thirty minutes, Detective." Bogo sighed and went to the door, Wilde shuffling aside to give him room to pass.

"Chief!" Wilde grabbed his shirt, the buffalo towering at his side, "What about Mrs. Bevyton?"

"Call OVS, they are priority number one." Bogo began heading to his office. He stopped and turned around. "Wilde!."

"Yes sir?"

"She was from Beavertown, right?"

"That's correct sir, yes."

Bogo walked to his office and slammed the door. He grabbed his graduation photo and looked at his old class.

"What the hell happened, Kane?"