I know I intended to post this chapter last week, but real life got in the way. I still fully intend to update this on a weekly basis.
Standard disclaimers apply: The Mouse owns it. This fic is just for fun.
Chapter 3
Chief Bogo was not having a good evening. The day had gone by relatively uneventfully, which should have been his first clue that something would come along to muck it all up. Aside from the fact that the media had been camped outside the precinct's doors all day hoping for an interview with Wilde, and aside from dealing with the usual paperwork and headaches (some literal, some figurative), and occasionally putting out fires (again, some literal, some figurative), it had been a quiet day. The highlight, if he could have called it that, was having the one-on-one with Wilde just before the fox's shift ended.
Nicholas Wilde was, well, a wild card; he could be anything or anyone he wanted the world to see. No matter how hard he tried, the buffalo just could not get a read on the fox. He hid his emotions extremely well, but it didn't take long for the Chief to recognize the smugness and the sarcasm for what they really were: coping mechanisms. Every officer had one, or several, some better than others, but nothing was more grating and irritating than sarcasm. Especially from a fox.
Bogo had told himself that he was over it, he had told himself that he wouldn't have hired the fox if he still held onto that prejudice. But if he was being perfectly honest with himself (and right now, he was), there were only two reasons he hired Wilde: his scores at the academy were just that damn good...and Hopps would never forgive him if he didn't.
Bogo sighed, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he looked into the open doorway to the ICU. He'd had plans that night: for once, there were no emergencies needing his immediate attention, so he could go home at a reasonable hour, cook a nice dinner, kick back with a beverage of choice and finally get to some of the books he had accumulated over the years yet never had any time to actually read.
Then he got the call. Redd Wilde had collapsed in his cell.
And now, a couple hours later, the buffalo was looking through the glass door to Redd's private room in the ICU, which wasn't very private with no less than four officers on guard at once. It didn't take a criminal profiler to know Redd Wilde was a flight risk...even if he was currently so heavily sedated he may as well have been in a coma. An oxygen mask was fixed tightly around the sleeping fox's muzzle, and he looked pale as death.
Just what I need, another dead body. Bloody brilliant.
Then he got another call.
The call he dreaded more than any other.
He had barged into the ER enough times over the years that the doctors and nurses didn't give him a second glance. One of the nurses, a vixen with green eyes and dressed in green scrubs, caught his attention and led him straight to the correct bed.
Wolford looked like hell. He was barely conscious, an oxygen mask covering his muzzle, the heart monitor slowly beeping...it was Bogo's worst nightmare.
And it only got worse. The bed next to Wolford's held a nearly unconscious Lupez, who weakly held an oxygen mask to her own muzzle as a doctor checked her lungs and heartbeat with a stethoscope. The vixen who had showed Bogo in gently tugged on his pant leg to get his attention.
"The first one, Elliot Wolford, came in about forty-five minutes ago," she said, glancing at the chart. "Lost consciousness at a friend's house - fortunately those friends were fellow police officers. They said he had been having headaches, fatigue, blurred vision, slurred speech, for at least the last twenty-four hours.
"The second patient, Olivia Lupez, only arrived fifteen minutes ago. She was complaining of similar symptoms, including chest pains and shortness of breath. We're running tests now."
He barely heard her, his eyes glued to his officers, but he had the presence of mind to thank her. "Thank you, Nurse…"
"Wilde."
Bogo looked down sharply. There was no way anything could be that coincidental. But sure enough, this vixen had the same russet fur, the same green eyes…
"You're not related to Officer Nicholas Wilde, are you?" he asked.
She nodded, as if this was a common enough question that didn't warrant more of a response. "Yes, yes, he's my son. He arrived-"
He immediately assumed the worst. "Him too?! Bloody hell… Who else is going to show up?"
She cleared her throat and calmly pointed down the hall. "He's fine. He's in the waiting room with the others."
"Others?"
He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. McHorn, Higgins, and Wilde sat in chairs opposite Trunkaby, Fangmeyer, and Hopps. A quick glance at the respective groups told him that it had been McHorn's weekly poker game, and Trunkaby's weekly Girls' Night Out, that had been interrupted by twin medical emergencies. The officers all looked up when he entered, and Fangmeyer was the first to stand.
"Any news?" the tigress asked.
Bogo glanced down at the vulpine nurse, who nodded in encouragement. He said, "They're stable, but until test results come back, we don't know much else. Now, I have two excellent officers that both admitted to hospital with the exact same symptoms within minutes of each other, and I would like to know what the hell happened." There was no accusation in his tone, just a desire to know. Hopps quickly explained that since Lupez hadn't been feeling well, they decided to bring Girls' Night Out to her apartment (which had been Hopps's idea, and that didn't surprise the buffalo at all). Lupez's condition swiftly deteriorated, but, true to the she-wolf's grit, she had denied needing medical attention until it was clear she couldn't breathe on her own.
Then McHorn quickly explained what had happened at his home, everything from when Wolford arrived to when he collapsed. Wilde and Higgins collaborated the statement. Bogo turned to Wilde and asked,
"Were you aware your father was admitted here a few hours ago?"
Wilde's ears perked up and his eyes widened. So did Hopps's.
"So you didn't know," the buffalo said.
"I-No, no one told me," Nick said, sharing a shocked look with Judy. "I knew he wasn't feeling well back at the station but...is it serious?"
"He's seriously lucky it got worse while he was here," the Chief said. "He collapsed in his cell a couple hours ago. Got him here just before it could get any worse. Tests should be coming back any minute now. Seeing as you're next of kin," he said to the fox, "They should be coming to get you first."
Bogo looked up and saw four wolves enter the ER, looking around frantically for any help. He recognized worried parents when he saw them. Wolford was the spitting image of his father, and Lupez's parents were both snowy white...and both sets of parents were this close to losing their composure, whether that meant bursting into tears or threatening any passing medical professional to show them to their respective offspring. The buffalo excused himself and greeted the parents and quickly explained the situation. Wolford's mother was in tears by the end, his father standing tall and stoic; it was clear where the younger Wolford got it from. Lupez's parents on the other hand were the exact opposite: the father looked crestfallen and heartbroken to think his little girl was dangerously sick, and her mother was desperately trying to maintain her self-control.
Without another word, Bogo escorted them to the ICU. He hated calls like this, he absolutely loathed them. When he was still a beat cop, the worst part of his job had always been informing families when their loved ones were hurt or worse, and every single one of those grieving families was ingrained in his memory for the rest of his days. If there was any justice, these two families wouldn't be torn apart as well. If the universe was fair, this would be the absolute last bad thing he would have to do tonight.
He frowned when he saw who was waiting for him outside the entrance to the ICU: a male bighorn sheep wearing a smart suit and a stern look.
The universe can sod off, Bogo internally grumbled. "Mr. and Mrs. Wolford, Mr. and Mrs. Lupez," he said to the parents, "I'm afraid I need to take care of this. Nurse Wilde here will escort you in."
Helen Wilde had noticed the bighorn sheep as well, and shared Bogo's frown. She focused her attention on the four wolves instead, and led them through the swinging double doors.
The bighorn sheep turned away to watch the wolves enter, then turned back to the police chief. "Did you say their names were Wolford and Lupez?" the ram asked.
"That's correct," Bogo said quietly.
"The same officers investigating the Wilde case?"
"Also correct."
The ram turned back to look at the buffalo. "I hope you have a backup plan."
"Don't worry about it. I have it under control."
The ram raised a brow. "Not from where I'm standing. Two of your officers are gravely ill, as is my client, all complaining of the same symptoms…Chief Bogo, you can't set this case aside. The DA is chomping at the bit to go to trial—"
"Then Ovis will have to wait, won't he?" Bogo snapped.
The ram shook his horned head. "He's going to find a way around this. He'll go to trial, evidence or no evidence, with or without the defendant present."
"Ovis isn't that stupid."
"No, but he's desperate," the bighorn continued. "It's an election year, and he wants one more conviction under his belt to prove that he's 'tough on crime'." The smaller ungulate snorted. "I don't know what Lionheart was thinking…"
"He wasn't," Bogo said sharply. Then he sighed and softened his glare, just a little. "Russ, why are you here?"
F. Russell Burnram was probably the only animal in the city government that Bogo actually trusted, and that said something. It was one thing to like someone – Councilman Elkton, for example – but it was another to trust them. And Bogo trusted Burnram. The bighorn sheep had followed what Bogo thought was the oddest career path: family law, to defense attorney, to prosecutor. And now the ram was seeking to unseat District Attorney Lambert Ovis, a sheep that was twice as ruthless as any wolf Bogo had ever known, with enough convictions under his woolly belt to ensure his reelection. Burnram, on the other hand, had the one thing Ovis lacked: integrity.
Although right now, the bighorn was positively puzzled. "Beg pardon?"
"Why are you here?" the buffalo repeated.
"My client is here, and I have—"
"That's not what I meant. You're a prosecutor, not a defense attorney. They told me you're doing this pro bono…why?"
Burnram just smiled. "I owed Helen Wilde a favor."
"Must be a hell of a favor."
"It was. But I can never pay her back for everything she's done for me and my family. If she wants me to represent her ex-husband in his time of need, I'll do it, no questions asked." He fell silent and looked through the doors at the busy ICU. "Ovis has gone on record saying that he'll hold the trial without my client's presence if it comes to it."
This was troubling. It wouldn't be the first time DA Ovis had pulled a move like this and it wouldn't be the last as long as he still held office. Bogo knew that voters only seemed to care that the sheep District Attorney got convictions…not that a good half of those convictions were overturned on appeal. And that most of those convictions involved predators. Maybe my neighbor was right about that sheep conspiracy, he mused, thinking of his crackpot honey badger neighbor. He shook his head. He must be tired if he was thinking that Honey, of all mammals, was right about something. Instead, he asked, "He's really skirting the bounds of the law, isn't he?"
The ram shrugged and sighed. "It's what he's good at. It's how he keeps getting reelected. Zootopia easily forgives its leaders."
"Too easily," Bogo ground out, recalling Leodore Lionheart's role in the Night Howler case, and how easily he got off. "Lionheart should still be in prison."
The bighorn shrugged. "Politics, what can you do? But you're ignoring the elephant in the room."
"What's that?"
Burnram pointed over his shoulder and the buffalo turned. "Oh, Francine, didn't see you there. All right?"
Francine Trunkaby pointed back at the waiting room. "Wilde's been asking if he can go in and visit. Not sure if he means Wolford or..."
"Tell him yes," the Chief said. "I'd like a word with him and Hopps anyway. If she's still here, tell her to come along." Not like there's a chance he'll come alone, he thought as Francine walked back into the waiting room. When he turned back around, Burnram was staring at him."What?" he asked at the ram's quizzical look.
"Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing."
"Russell, if I gave a damn about your opinion, I'd ask for it. You wanted officers to investigate Redd Wilde's case, and you'll get them. If Ovis isn't going to wait—"
"John, that's not the issue!" Burnram snapped. "The ethical ramifications—"
"—will fall on my head, not theirs, and not yours," the buffalo interrupted. "I accept full responsibility for their actions, and if they bugger it up, I will resign in disgrace. Happy?"
"What? No! How could that…" he trailed off, then shook his head in disbelief. He was a lawyer, but he knew that no one, not even Clarence Burro, could win an argument against Chief John Bogo of the ZPD. "As your friend, and an attorney with over two decades of experience, I'm telling you that you are making a huge mistake. Any defense attorney will see an officer running the investigation of his own father and immediately throw the prosecution's case back in their faces. This is a liability, a serious conflict of interest, and the officer's bias and impartiality will come into question when this goes to trial."
"There's nothing stopping him, or me," Bogo reminded.
"Legally, no, you're right. There are no laws saying he can't…but that doesn't mean he should." Burnram shook his horned head. "This isn't a game, John, this is life or death, and my client's life is on the line here. And if we want justice for those five victims…"
"Russ, I'm perfectly aware of the potential conflict of interest," Bogo said seriously, "And believe me, I didn't make this decision lightly. You have nothing to worry about, and neither does Ovis. Besides, this isn't the first time a case like this has come up, and it's never been a problem."
"Yet." The ram looked between the doors to the ICU and the doors to the waiting room. The corridor was empty, save the two of them. "Fine," he said in defeat. "I just hope you know what you're doing."
The buffalo was inwardly relieved, but hid that relief behind his usual glare. "I know what I'm doing. But you need to promise me something."
"Name it."
Bogo looked him in the eye and made his position very clear: "Win that election."
This was the worst night of his life by far. Nick's hands had been shaking since Elliot Wolford hit the floor in Keith McHorn's house. That was how he knew they had gotten to him: seeing the wolf's motionless body on the floor of that kitchen and the shouts and sirens…
Nick had frozen.
They had warned him about that at the academy, that there would come a time where in the heat of the moment, all the training would be forgotten and all a creature could do was just…stand there…frozen. Unable to move, unable to think, unable to act. Veteran officers like McHorn and Higgins were able to help their friend, and it made Nick feel sick that the one moment when he needed to help his fellow officer, he had been completely useless.
Nick felt Judy climb up into the seat he occupied and wordlessly wrapped her arms around him. He gratefully returned the hug. He now understood why police officers got so upset when one of their own was hurt or sick. Seeing Wolford completely collapse on McHorn's kitchen floor and being utterly powerless to stop it or do anything else had been absolute torture. It was nothing compared to what the wolf had gone through, of course, but it still bothered the fox. Thankfully, tonight, he had Judy by his side to make it all feel better...at least a little.
"Thanks, Carrots," he said as he squeezed a little harder.
She hugged him back, a little tighter, then let go. "We were actually at Ollie's place, when we got the call saying what had happened to Wolford," she explained. "We were originally going to happy hour, but she wasn't feeling well, so we brought happy hour to her. My idea."
Nick smiled fondly. "Of course it was."
Judy gently jabbed him with her elbow. "When we got the call, there was nothing stopping her, she was a wolf on a mission."
"So safe to say they're really a thing, huh?"
"She loves him, Nick, I don't doubt that for a second." She fell silent and looked up into McHorn and Higgins' stony faces. "Have there been any updates?"
"Nurse Wilde has been by a couple times," Higgins said, "And she said they're both responding well to the oxygen, but they're waiting for lab results to come back."
"That was over an hour ago," McHorn snorted. "What's taking so damn long?"
"Lab work takes time," the hippo assured him. "I'm sure they're working on it as fast as they can. I'd rather they get it right than rush through it and get it wrong."
"And Mom's an excellent nurse," Nick said with conviction. "Wol—Elliot's in good paws." It felt strange, now, referring to him by his last name. After an experience like that, calling the wolf anything but his given name seemed...disrespectful.
After a few more minutes, the door to the waiting room opened and Bogo emerged, with Francine in tow. The buffalo pointed at the fox and bunny and barked out his orders. "You two, with me. The rest of you, go home."
Judy hopped down off the chair first and Nick clambered after. He waved goodbye to the other officers and followed the buffalo into the ICU.
"Robert Wilde's test results came back," Bogo said as soon as they were alone. "They found something very interesting, and you two are going to finish what Wolford and Lupez started."
Nick stopped in his tracks. "Sorry, what?"
"I said—"
"Yeah, I heard what you said, but are you insane?"
"Nick!" Judy hissed.
"Chief, you can't be suggesting—"
"I'm not suggesting," Bogo cut him off, "I'm ordering. I am ordering you to take over the case."
"But regulations—" Nick would normally have kicked himself; he was starting to sound like his partner, always caring too much about regulations and following the rules. But here was his boss, who had put the fear of God into him concerning following said rules, telling him to effectively say "screw it" and ignore the rules altogether.
"Any ethical fallout will be on me, not you," Bogo said as he turned to look at them. "I trust you can remain professional?"
"None of this is professional," Nick snapped. "You want me to investigate my own father, while convincing him to take a deal? None of this is ethical, none of this is…is right!" Just as he had that night in the Rainforest District, Nick stood as tall as he could and called out the much larger mammal. "I should refuse. I should—"
"It's carbon monoxide poisoning."
The buffalo's statement quickly took the wind out of his sails. Nick blinked. Then he blinked again. "What?"
Bogo repeated, "Your father – and I suspect Wolford and Lupez – has carbon monoxide poisoning."
"But…how is that possible?" Judy asked in bewilderment. "For each of them to still be exhibiting symptoms, and this badly, they would have to have been exposed all day."
"That's what you're going to figure out," Bogo said, leading them towards the guarded room. "As of now, you're not investigating a murder, as much as the DA wants it." The buffalo sounded a little too pleased to say that. "You're investigating why two of your fellow officers and the suspect they arrested are all hospitalized with carbon monoxide poisoning more than twenty-four hours after the arrest." He nodded to the uniformed guards surrounding Redd Wilde's room. "And now, you get to catch up with Dear Old Dad."
"Swell," Nick muttered under his breath.
The door swung open and the two smaller mammals stepped inside. Redd Wilde was awake, though still groggy from the sedation. One wrist was handcuffed to the bed, entangled with an IV tube and wires monitoring his pulse and lungs. An oxygen mask was fitted over his muzzle, and he still looked to be in rough shape. The older fox raised his free hand up to take the mask off long enough to croak out a greeting.
"Hey, kids."
"Mr. Wilde," Judy said civilly.
Nick didn't say a word. The younger fox climbed up into a chair next to the hospital bed and looked into his father's pale face. After a long moment, he finally said something. "You got some of your color back."
Redd took in a deep, labored breath, and exhaled heavily. "That makes me feel a little bit better. Think I scared those cops back at the station."
"You shouldn't be talking," Nick said. "Doc says you have carbon monoxide poisoning."
Redd's eyes suddenly widened and he sat up quickly. "What?! How—" he cut off into a severe coughing fit. Nick hurriedly grabbed the oxygen mask and fitted it over his father's muzzle again. He waited until Redd had taken enough oxygen and calmed down enough to sink back into the pillows. "How is that possible?" Redd finally asked. "There wasn't any gas in that place, all electric."
"You're sure about that?" Nick asked.
"I was the handy-mammal there, I would know what kind of power Larry used."
Judy hopped up into the chair to stand next to Nick. "So you saw an electric meter during your work there?"
Redd shrugged. "Larry just needed someone to fix leaky faucets and make minor repairs. I'm no good with electrical stuff, but I can do plumbing pretty damn well. He hired another guy for the other stuff."
"Who was the other guy?" Judy asked.
Redd fell silent, frowned, and took another quick hit of the oxygen before saying with an exhale, "Bill Shanks."
Nick stared at him, horrorstruck. "Hogsden trusted Bill Shanks to do electrical work?"
"Yeah, I know, he's – was – a high-functioning alcoholic," Redd admitted. "But he was high-functioning, see? That skunk could still do the work. Whether he was any good…well, I dunno. But he was the guy Larry trusted."
Nick turned to Judy and gave her a quick look, which she interpreted to mean that while he was horrified by these facts, he wasn't surprised at all. Turning back to his father, he asked, "So you have no idea how carbon monoxide got into that apartment?"
The older fox shook his head, looking puzzled as well as pale. "Not a clue. 'Course, I guess maybe it was that heater we used…but it was some tiny little thing Larry got on clearance. Barely strong enough to heat up a half-bath. So maybe not that…"
"Did it plug into the wall?"
"Don't all space heaters?"
Nick sighed and shook his head. "Redd, it's an electric space heater. Those aren't likely to kill you with gas."
Redd shrugged again. "Don't look at me, I'm no expert."
"You worked in a factory—"
"A candy factory," Redd corrected. "Assembly line, quality checker. Remember I used to bring home some of the rejects that didn't quite make the cut? All the misshaped gummies, kooky-looking chocolate bunnies or Santa Claws chocolates, remember those?" The older fox chuckled, "Your mom used to give me hell for giving you so much candy. But I never gave you anything I wouldn't eat myself."
Something seemed to click in Nick's eyes. "That one Halloween…I had the flu, and was too sick to go trick or treating…"
"…So I brought some candy home from the factory and told you the Great Pumpkin made sure all the kids got candy on Halloween," Redd said with a small smile, fondly remembering. He sighed softly and gave Nick a sad yet hopeful smile. "We had some good times, didn't we?"
"Those didn't last," Nick said harshly.
Redd lowered his gaze, staring at the hospital bedsheets. "No, they didn't. Damn outsourcing…" he shook his head. "I worked at that factory since I was sixteen, never did finish high school, and once that factory closed down…who would hire a fox with no skills and no diploma? Did you finish high school?"
"Yes. Even had a semester of college before I dropped out. Ran out of money."
Judy looked sharply at her partner. How did I not know that? Why didn't he tell me? she wondered.
Redd nodded. "Good. Well, at least you tried. Shame about the college though. You would've been the first Wilde to get a degree."
"Mom's a registered nurse."
"She's a Greene, not a Wilde. She had that education and a few years of nursing under her belt before she married my scruffy 'ole hide." He fell silent a moment, then asked, "You got a girlfriend?"
"Why do you ask?" Nick testily responded.
Redd rolled his eyes and took in more oxygen. "Just askin'. When you do get a nice vixen, take some advice from your old fox: if you're gonna marry her, wait longer than your mother and I did."
"How long did you…?"
"Six weeks."
"Sorry, six what?" Now Nick was absolutely horrified.
Redd ruefully smiled. "We were in love. We thought we'd show 'em all. Heh, we were too young and naïve to really think it through. Or I was, anyway. Your mom was always much more mature. Old soul, even when she was young. Must be why she looked so sad all the time, in her eyes. Like she's got the weight of the world on her shoulders…"
"We're getting off-topic," Judy said after clearing her throat. "Forgetting how the carbon monoxide got into the apartment, can you tell us why all those mammals were there?"
Redd frowned at her. "I nearly died tonight, and now you're interrogating me? This is ridiculous…"
"Dad," Nick soothed, putting a hand on his father's shoulder. "Judy just wants to help you, just like me. And besides, you're not the only one in the hospital tonight. The two officers who brought you in, they're here too, and probably also have what you have. We don't know yet, their tests haven't come back yet."
Redd started to look pale again, and took several deep breaths from the oxygen mask again before he was ready to talk. When he did, his throat seemed dry. "Will they live?"
Judy spoke up, "If the tests come back positive for carbon monoxide, and we treat them in time...well, I'm not a doctor," she smiled hopefully, "But they should make a full recovery."
Nick gave her a sharp look. There was no way she could know that for sure. She returned his look. She knew that she couldn't be sure, but she was saying it for Redd's benefit.
The fox was shaking his head, "If anything happens to those cops, I'm dead. I'm a dead fox walking...they'll blame me, y'know," Redd said, starting to panic. "The only survivor. They'll blame me, and this city will string me up from the nearest light pole-"
"None of that is going to happen," Judy interrupted. "We won't let that happen. Nick and I will talk to Chief Bogo and make sure you're safe. Everyone deserves a fair trial. You just focus on getting better, don't worry about the case, we'll take it from here."
"They're going to let you investigate a case your old fox is involved in?" Redd asked his son. "I thought that was against the rules?"
"We'll be in touch," Nick said without giving him an answer, and hopped down off the chair. Judy followed, but paused at the door to look back at Redd. The older fox still looked worried, but laid back and sank deep into the pillows. He looked even more worn and scruffier than before. Judy recognized the look in his sharp eyes as he looked back at her: defeat. She flashed him what she hoped looked like an optimistic smile before she left the room.
She didn't want to think that she couldn't deliver on her promises.
Wolford was finally awake, but he was barely listening as his doctor talked to him about his lab results and his subsequent treatment. The lupine officer's eyes rested on his partner, who was sleeping in the hospital bed next to his. Lupez looked ghostly behind her oxygen mask, her already pale face looking even more ashen, and her chest rising and falling with labored breathing. If not for the machines tracking her heartbeat and breathing, anyone would have taken her for dead. And Wolford looked ready to cry.
There was no longer any doubt in Nick's mind as he and his partner stood watching through the open doorway. Watching the two wolves together, it was obvious they liked each other. But it still came as a shock just how dedicated they were; certainly the fox never expected the stoic, often stern wolf to be so openly...in love. Nick knew that look. He was sure he looked at Judy the same way that Elliot Wolford was looking at Olivia Lupez. Like there would be no point in living if he ever lost her.
Judy gently nudged him and tugged on his sleeve. "Your mom's waiting outside, she wants to talk to us," she whispered. The bunny looked up to the lupine patients and sighed. "We can visit with them later."
"Yeah, sure," he replied noncommittally. He felt like he was intruding on something, but at the same time...he wanted to be there, even if there was nothing he could do. But you can do something, he suddenly remembered, You can figure out just what happened to them.
Helen was waiting for them outside the room, standing by the nurses' station. The vixen brushed off her green scrubs and looked up from her clipboard as the two small officers joined her. "How are you two doing?" she asked.
"Fine," Nick said a little too quickly. "Are those the test results?"
His mother pursed her lips but didn't push it. "Chief Bogo told me you were taking over the case for them."
"We are. Is he still here?"
"He left not too long ago. He waited until we got the results back from the lab."
"And let me guess: carbon monoxide poisoning?"
Helen tapped her nose and read off the paperwork. "Their carboxyhaemoglobin levels were dangerously high, over 25 percent, 30 percent indicates severe exposure. I shudder to think how bad it was just a couple hours ago. They're both very lucky. If they'd waited even another hour, they'd probably be dead." Helen paused and shook her head. "They are very, very lucky."
"What about CSI?" Judy asked. "Were any of them admitted? Or anyone else who was at the crime scene?"
"Chief Bogo just sent out the order that all personnel who were at the scene for any length of time are to come here, get tested, and if necessary, get treatment." The vixen looked over the clipboard again. "Carbon monoxide exposure isn't something to kid around with, even if you were only exposed for five minutes. It's always better to be safe than sorry."
"One thing that doesn't make any sense," Nick said, hands on his hips. "Is how Redd is still alive? He was in that apartment for at least six, seven hours, tops. By all rights, he should be dead."
Helen sighed and set the clipboard aside. "I don't know. As far as the doctors are concerned, it's a medical miracle. The fact he not only survived a night trapped in an apartment with a gas leak, then just got up and walked out with no obvious side effects, only to be affected hours later? None of this makes sense; I've never seen anything like this, and I've been a nurse for over thirty years."
"Redd also said that the building didn't use gas, that it was all electric," Nick continued. "Though I guess as a handy-mammal, he would know."
Helen stared at him like he had grown two heads. "Redd...a handy-mammal? Redd?"
"Is that surprising?" Judy asked.
"Are you kidding?" Helen laughed. "He barely knows how to use a hammer!"
Judy frowned. "He said he did a lot of plumbing work and general repairs…"
The vixen snorted. "My eye…" She paused. "Although I suppose it is possible he may have picked up those skills at some point over the last two decades, though I doubt it. Your father never was one to apply himself. He can be frustratingly lazy."
Nick and Judy shared a look, and Judy saw something in her partner's eyes that bothered her. When they had left Redd's room, Nick looked like he had believed him, trusted him, and now this new information was shaking the already perilous foundation of that belief. Nick sighed and asked his mother, "He never worked in a candy factory, did he?"
Helen had turned away for a moment, but froze. Judy didn't recognize it right away, but Nick did. He lowered his ears. "I thought so."
"Nick," Helen said as she turned back to him and took his hand in hers. "Your father is many things - a liar, most certainly - but he still cared about you."
"Did he love me?"
Helen hesitated, looking lost in her own thoughts. From Judy's perspective, the vixen was answering for the both of them: "He loved you as much as he knew how. He may have loved us both at some point...as much as he knew how to love." She looked into her son's eyes. "But you understand that no matter what has happened or will happen, I love you, and I will never stop loving you."
Nick gave her a half-hearted smile and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Thanks, Mom." He paused again, then asked, "Where did he work? What kind of factory?"
"Engine parts, I believe. They manufactured some kind of parts. And there was a candy factory...Mr. Swift worked there. Of course, the poor weasel had to travel all the way to the Rainforest District for work after they moved the factory to be closer to the cacao farms…"
"Richard Swift?" Judy asked, taking out her notepad and pen. "And you said the Swifts were your neighbors?"
"Yes, Rich and Molly, both very, very sweet," Helen said, "And they had their faults and flaws, but they were always so kind to us."
"As kind as weasels can be, anyway," Nick said.
His mother frowned at him. "Now I know I taught you better than that."
"So did Rich."
Helen closed her eyes and shook her head. "Of course, they used to babysit, so of course you picked up something from him… The sarcasm," she explained to Judy. "Bless his soul, that weasel could throw sarcasm like a curveball."
"Did he and Redd ever work together?" Judy asked.
"Dad mentioned coming home with candy…" Nick said.
Helen closed her eyes again, a pained look crossing her face. Clearly she was not happy having to deliver bad news and a dose of reality. "That candy came from Rich. Redd...just took the credit. Rich and Molly never did have kids - it tore Molly apart, poor thing - so I think they always thought of you as their own."
Nick was visibly thinking back to that time, and a few things clicked into place. "Rich kept bringing candy after Redd left...but he said it came from Redd."
"I don't know why he did that," Helen said. "At this point, I don't know if I wish he didn't lie to you, or if I should be grateful he did. All I know is that, whatever his reasons, Richard Swift cared a great deal for you. And Molly loved you, too."
Nick didn't say anything right away. Judy decided to break up the uncomfortable silence by clearing her throat and asking her,
"Is it true that Zootopia doesn't use natural gas anymore?"
Helen glanced at her, momentarily confused, then realized, "Oh, that's right, you're from the Burrows...they must still use natural gas out there."
"Yeah," Judy said uncertainly, not sure why the foxes were giving her such strange looks, "We use it for heating and electric, and for the farm equipment. But are there really no buildings run on gas here?"
"There shouldn't be, not after the fuss they made back when I was a kit myself," Helen said. "Maybe a few historic buildings still have it, but almost every single building in Zootopia was retrofitted for electric power, supplied by renewable energy. There was a big push for reliable renewable energy sources...well, around the time Nick was born, actually." She glanced at her son while Judy was scribbling down notes. "I recall a lot of mammals fought the change; electric is much more expensive than gas is, as I understand, but money talks...including generous tax breaks."
"So the city relies entirely on renewable energy?" Judy asked with amazement. The idea that a huge metropolis like Zootopia could shine so brightly without the use of fossil fuels, like she was used to back home, was astounding. Helen could clearly see what the rabbit was thinking. Nick, however, couldn't help but get in a little ribbing:
"What, the expert on all things Zootopia didn't know that?" he teased, earning himself a quick jab to the ribs. "Ow! Police brutality!"
"If you're able to joke around," Judy said shortly, "Then you're just fine."
Rubbing his side, Nick sucked in a breath and coughed. "All ribbing aside-" (Judy rolled her eyes at the pun) "-each district has its own energy source. Sahara Square uses solar, Rainforest District is hydroelectric, and Tundra Town uses thermal-"
"Thermal?"
Helen nodded. "Oh yes, they're known for their hot springs. Of course, they're also incredibly exclusive - most have been…'borrowed'...by the city to provide energy, and what's left is all in private hands."
"Mr. Big owns most of them," Nick whispered to Judy. She wasn't at all surprised. But she pondered aloud,
"I wonder if Mr. Hogsden still used gas? If I remember correctly...yes, here it is," she said as she flipped through her notes. "It was cold that night, so they had a space heater and...propped open the oven for heat."
Helen shrugged. "I've done that before, but I have an electric range. I didn't think anyone would be foolish enough to do that with a gas range, assuming one exists in city limits..."
"Redd did say they had been drinking," Nick said.
"That could explain it, too," Helen said, crossing her arms. "Alcohol can exacerbate carbon monoxide poisoning. And stupid decisions."
Judy stopped scribbling notes and perked her ears up as an idea came to her. The foxes faded into the background as her mind went into overdrive. Things were starting to fit together, like puzzle pieces without a reference picture. But she was getting a very good idea…
"Don't you two have work tomorrow?" Helen asked, looking at her watch. "It's after midnight."
Judy looked up at Nick and both sighed. "I guess we can get in a couple hours of sleep before our shift starts…" Nick said tiredly. Now that the adrenaline and fear had subsided, he was finally beginning to feel the fatigue brought on by stress and restless sleep. Exhaustion was quickly catching up to him.
But Judy was a rabbit on a mission; once she had a lead, she was not one to just let it go. She had survived on very little sleep during the Night Howler case, surely she could handle it again. She was already planning the next step: "First thing I want to do in the morning is-"
"Get a ton of coffee," Nick cut her off, starting to push her to the door. "We can crash at my place. You take the bed, no arguments, cotton tail, I mean it…"
Judy huffed in defeat and let him lead her out. She looked over her shoulder at Helen, who looked just as worried and long-suffering as Judy felt. Still, the vixen offered her a smile and watched them leave just as she had done the first time she met Judy: like a protective mother watching over her children.
Weariness finally caught up with Judy by the time they got back to the Pangolin Arms. Nick's apartment was in the basement, which suited both of them; by now, Judy's energy had depleted, and she didn't have the fortitude to climb three flights of stairs and deal with her loud neighbors at one in the morning. It said something to their combined exhaustion that Nick completely forgot about his prior belief that she should take his bed, and she alone. They both fell onto his bed, and were both asleep as soon as their heads hit the mattress.
Just a few short hours later, Judy groaned when Nick's alarm went off. She was wrapped up inside a warm blanket, hugging something equally warm and soft. It took several minutes before her sleep-addled mind realized she was hugging Nick.
She was now wide awake. She remembered the circumstances of how they got there, however innocent they were: they were both still fully clothed, in the same clothes they had been wearing the night before, but Nick was still fast asleep, and lightly snoring. He looked...adorable, and Judy marveled at how much younger and peaceful he looked when he was asleep. It wasn't the first time she had thought this. Twenty-four hours earlier, she was the first to wake up, in the bed they had shared in Helen's apartment, and she had watched him sleep in the dim half-light of the early morning, just as she was watching him now. At some point in the night, just as the previous night, he had wrapped both of them up inside a cocoon of blankets and pillows, subconsciously making a fox den to sleep in.
Now, however, the alarm was blaring loud enough to wake him. He stirred, groaning like a B-movie monster rising from deep slumber, and reached his arm out for his phone to hit snooze. He flopped back over, draped his arm over her and let out a tired sigh.
As much as she wanted to stay like this, nice and warm in his arms...in his bed...Judy knew they had a job to do, sleep deprivation be damned. She gently shook his shoulder. "Nick…"
"Mmph…" he grumbled sleepily. "Five more minutes…"
"Uh-uh," she said, still sleepy herself. "We both know how this ends. You say five minutes, and I come back five minutes later, you say five minutes again, and I come back...and then it's ten minutes. And I drag you out of bed by your tail. We need to get up."
"Murfphm…" he grumbled again.
Judy sighed theatrically, rolled her eyes, and played her trump card. "I'll make you blueberry pancakes."
His ears perked up and he opened his eyes. That sly, sleepy smile spread across his lips. "You had me at pancakes."
The bullpen was subdued for the second time in as many days, but each officer had a different reason. Those that had been visiting at the hospital the night before looked dead on their feet, and the dark circles under their eyes bore testament to their respective sleepless nights. The other officers had heard through the grapevine (and Clawhauser) that two of their own were hospitalized and very sick. It was never easy knowing one of your brethren was hurt, even worse not knowing what was wrong with them to begin with.
Like the rest of them, Chief Bogo looked like he hadn't slept a wink. He looked too tired to even bark orders at them. He solemnly gave out their assignments and stifled yawns as best as he could...though that was a losing battle.
"And for the love of all that is holy," he remarked before dismissing them, "brew more coffee before you leave."
"I think Clawhauser is on it," Snarlov said from the back of the room.
Bogo managed to crack a smile. "Bless that cheetah and all of his ancestors. Dismissed - and get some coffee, the lot of you. You look like hell."
This earned him a few half-hearted chuckles as the officers dispersed, but first formed a caravan towards the coffee makers dotted throughout the precinct. Bogo happened to share the same one Nick and Judy were using. The pair had eaten breakfast at the diner (Nick got his pancakes, Judy her favorite waffles), and downed a full pot of coffee between them. It still wasn't enough.
"How many cups does that make so far?" Nick asked.
"Four," Judy said tiredly, not bothering to hold back a yawn. "Not including this one."
Bogo just poured the dark roast into a mug and downed it, not bothering with cream or sugar. "Once you two are sufficiently caffeinated, go meet Clawhauser, he'll give you the case file and you can go from there."
"Is there such a thing as 'sufficiently caffeinated'?" Nick asked.
"Not today there isn't," the buffalo dryly said. "So suck it up and get to work. Oh, and Wilde?" he added as an afterthought as he walked away, "Take the cruiser, but go out through the garage. The circus is back in town."
Nick groaned, then Judy asked, "What circus?"
"The media," the fox grumbled. "They've been hounding me for an interview because of Redd. Now with him and Wolford and Lupez all hospitalized, they'll be hunting me down."
"Well we can't have that," said the rabbit as she chugged her fifth cup of coffee. She crushed the paper cup in her paws and tossed it in the recycle bin. "Come on, let's get to our first stop…"
"Well, here we are," Judy said as she parked the cruiser. It was only her second trip to the city morgue and medical examiner's office. Nick had been there before, too, several times in fact; he'd had to identify too many friends over the years. Nick took out the case file Clawhauser had given them earlier that morning and reviewed the notes, and Wolford and Lupez's reports. He shared the reports with Judy while he took another look at the crime scene photos.
"Aside from dead bodies lying everywhere, nothing seems out of the ordinary," he said, now slightly more alert.
"Wolford's report says otherwise," Judy said. She frowned. "But this is really sloppy. Lupez's too. Normally her handwriting is much better."
"What about Wolford's?"
"It's his usual scrawl. But it looks...shaky." She looked up at her partner. "They must have already been feeling the effects of the carbon monoxide since early yesterday morning."
"Higgins did say that they looked like hell most of the day. Did Lupez say anything to you last night before you took her to the hospital?"
Judy shook her head, "Just that she wasn't feeling well, and hadn't been from the night before."
"When they had the hot date," Nick said with a smirk.
Judy rolled her eyes. "Really? Now, of all times…?"
"Hey, that was the easiest fifty bucks I've ever made," the fox protested, patting his wallet. Clawhauser had been both annoyed to pay out, and yet characteristically overjoyed when he learned that the wolves' date had evidently gone exceedingly well.
Nick looked up at the low brick building again and sighed through his nose. "So...here we go…"
"Yup. Let's get this over with."
They stepped out of the vehicle and plodded to the front door. Flashing their badges at the front desk, they were led down into the basement, where the autopsies were performed. Given the diversity in Zootopia, different departments within the Medical Examiner's office served different sizes of mammals. There was only one official M.E., who oversaw all the others: one for large mammals, one for medium mammals, one for small mammals, and one that primarily served Little Rodentia. The two officers were led to the wing for the small mammals.
The room was frigid, and the walls were lined with sterile white tiles and stainless steel refrigerators, each slot numbered and labeled with the name of the deceased occupant. There were currently five bodies on five gurneys covered with white sheets, toe tags clearly visible. Nick barely suppressed a shudder, but Judy caught it. She briefly took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.
"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," she whispered.
"It's my job, Carrots," he replied. "I promised I would do my job, and be professional about it." He took a deep breath. "Let's get this over with."
The medical examiner that was waiting for them was a raccoon, dressed head to toe in scrubs. She removed her muzzle mask and greeted them: "Officers Hopps and Wilde?"
"That's us," Judy said, showing her ID. Nick mirrored her, and chose to ignore the look on the raccoon's face when she saw him. The raccoon still regarded him carefully, but offered her hand to shake.
"Dr. Ranger, nice to meet you."
"We've met," Nick said.
"We have?"
"Last year, guy named Sean Todd, I came in to ID the body…"
Recognition dawned on her face. "Oh, that's right...I'm still very sorry for your loss. He was a childhood friend of yours, wasn't he?"
"Are the autopsy results in for the victims at 703 Oasis Drive?" he asked, deftly deflecting and keeping his face a perfect mask. He wouldn't look at Judy. The medical examiner blinked a couple times, then remembered where they were.
"Oh, uh, yes...but I thought there were two other officers on this case…"
"Officers Wolford and Lupez, who were originally assigned the case, were both hospitalized last night," Judy explained. "Carbon monoxide poisoning."
Dr. Ranger's eyes widened. "My god...are they alright?"
"They will be," the bunny said. "Doctors said they were lucky they caught it in time. Last we heard they were responding well to treatment, and not expected to suffer any lasting effects."
She sighed. "Well, that's good. And a very odd coincidence. I already called the DA's office and told them my results," she picked up a folder and started reading it off. "This was no murder: accidental deaths due to asphyxia by carbon monoxide. The charges against the suspect should be officially dropped later today.
"What's surprising is the state the bodies came in. All five victims showed high blood alcohol, one of them dangerously high…"
"The skunk, Bill Shanks?" Nick guessed.
"How did you know?" Ranger asked, mystified.
"Another old friend, if you could call him that."
The raccoon set the folder down and said flat-out, "Officer, if you'd rather not be here for this, I'd understand. No one would hold it against you…"
"I'm here to do my job," he said tersely.
Judy cleared her throat and tried to dissuade the tense atmosphere. "Could we get the full report, please? Just the rundown before it's officially filed?"
The raccoon nodded, giving Nick one last concerned look, before beginning. "Of course. Judging from the rigor mortis, I estimated time of death to be between 12:00 and 1:00 AM yesterday morning…"
"So soon?" Judy asked. "The notes here say they got together for drinks at the apartment sometime around 11:00 the night before."
"Yes, that's true, but there was such a concentration of carbon monoxide and alcohol in their bodies that it's likely, given their sizes, that it didn't take very long to succumb. All five were also immunocompromised."
Nick and Judy shared a look. "In what way?" Nick asked.
Dr. Ranger sighed. "I hope you have strong stomachs...let's start with Mr. Shanks, 68." She led them to a table with a sheet-draped body. "If you'll look at the photos of his liver…"
Judy gasped and Nick held a hand over his mouth. "What the hell is…?"
"That," the doctor said, "Is advanced cirrhosis of the liver. His kidneys were also in terrible shape. Not unusual for a long-time alcoholic. I wager if the carbon monoxide didn't kill him, the alcohol he consumed that night would have.
"Ms. Reed, 59," she continued onto the next victim, "also showed signs of liver damage, but nowhere near as bad as Mr. Shanks," she continued to the next table. "Some signs of alcohol abuse, but I'm told she was a recovering alcoholic. What I didn't expect to find," she showed them another picture, "was lung cancer."
Nick looked stricken, and grabbed hold of the table. "That…can't be possible," he said. "She never smoked."
The raccoon said solemnly, "Lung cancer is more common in smokers, but it can happen in nonsmokers as well. Air pollution is typically the culprit."
Judy's ears drooped; she remembered how Nick had first reacted to the news that his old teacher was dead. She couldn't imagine how he must be feeling knowing that the deceased had been sick, and likely for a long time. "That's...that's horrible," was all she could say.
Dr. Ranger nodded sadly. "She's not the first I've seen, and won't be the last, I'm afraid." She paused and again looked at Nick. "Are you sure you're alright?"
He nodded and swallowed hard. "Who's next?"
"Mrs. Swift, 62." She handed him the weasel's autopsy photo, and watched him carefully.
Nick's jaw dropped. "She's...so thin. What happened?"
"Pancreatic cancer."
Both officers looked at her in surprise. The raccoon sighed. "End stages. She had maybe weeks to live, if that."
Nick pointed at the table she was standing next to. "Is that her?"
"Yes," Ranger answered after a pause. Before she could stop him, Nick stepped over and lifted the sheet to look into the weasel's face. He froze. Judy peeked around him and couldn't disguise her gasp. The poor creature would have been a walking skeleton while still alive. The fact she had been sick was obvious. But what was also obvious was just how...kind she looked. It was odd, Judy thought, that even in death, even though she had never met Molly Swift, she could see that this weasel was, as Helen had said, a very sweet person. It showed on her face.
And Nick likely thought the same. He stared into her face for a long, painful moment before replacing the sheet and walking to the door. "I need some air," was all he said before he walked out.
Sometime later, Judy came back outside and found him sitting in the passenger seat of the cruiser, holding his head in his hand. Her ears drooped. Even though her sight wasn't as good as his, she could still see his shoulders shaking. She wordlessly got into the driver's seat and closed the door behind her. Without even looking at him, she filled him in on the rest of Dr. Ranger's findings:
"Mr. Swift was 70, and relatively healthy compared to the others, but his advanced age made him more susceptible to the gas. Mr. Hogsden, 74, was like Mr. Shanks, a life-long alcoholic; but aside from the expected cirrhosis, there were also indications of black mold affecting his respiratory function. Probably not surprising if his properties were infested with mold. His medical history showed he also suffered from sleep apnea, so that, coupled with the alcohol, would have made him doubly vulnerable, despite his size. Dr. Ranger believes he was the first to succumb."
She stared at the wheel before looking over at him.
"Are you okay?"
"No."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Okay." She sat back in the seat, still looking at him. "Who was Sean Todd?"
He finally looked up at her. His eyes were red. "What?"
"When we first went in there, you mentioned someone named Sean Todd. Who was he?"
He hesitated. She sighed and buckled her seatbelt. "You don't have to tell me," she said. "I've long accepted that you won't tell me everything about your past, and I won't push you. You know everything there is to know about me, and sure, it's not fair that I barely know you at all-"
"I don't want you to know me."
Judy stared at him, incredulous. "What? Why?"
He took a deep breath and stared straight ahead, out the windshield. "I don't...I don't want to tell you about my past, because I don't want to think about it. I don't want you to know how bad I was before you came along. I know I'm not that fox anymore, and that's because of you. But I don't want you to know what a monster I was before."
"Nick, you're not a monster," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "I would never think that. You've always been good-"
"How would you know that?" he challenged. "You said so yourself, you don't know me at all."
"It's not for lack of trying," she shot back. "Has it occurred to you that your past doesn't matter to me? That I like you just as you are?"
"That's exactly my point. You like me now...but if you knew the real me, you wouldn't. If you knew what I was back then, you would have never suggested I become a cop."
Judy fell silent, but didn't remove her hand from his shoulder. "You know, you're right. The me from a year ago probably wouldn't. But I'm not the same person I was a year ago, and neither are you. You said yourself, you've changed. At least one part of you has. The other part hasn't."
"What other part?"
"The part that proves you're not as heartless as you think you are. The part I saw on the gondola in the Rainforest District, the part I saw when you stood up for me...the part I saw when you forgave me for being a colossal idiot." She smiled a little when the corners of his lips twitched upwards, just for a moment. "I know that," she continued, "the bad part of you - the part that scammed me and treated me like crap - that's not there anymore."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because of something Lupez told me, an old story her family's passed down for generations. Would you like to hear it?"
"Not really."
"Too bad." She began, "A grandfather was telling his grandson that deep inside us are two wolves who are constantly at war with each other…"
"Of course a wolf would tell this story."
"Oh shush. One wolf is evil: it represents darkness, despair, anger, fear, lies, and hatred. The other wolf is good: it represents light, hope, joy, kindness, truth, and love. The same fight is going on in every person. The grandson asked, 'Which wolf wins?' And his grandfather said, 'The one you feed.'"
Nick fell silent. He still stared out the window, but Judy could see how hard he was thinking. She finished: "So...which wolf have you been feeding?"
"We should get going to our next stop," he said quickly.
Judy sighed, took her hand off his shoulder, and started the car.
A/N: Couple things: Redd's defense attorney, the bighorn sheep F. Russell Burnram, was named for the famed conservationist and "Father of American Scouting" Frederick Russell Burnham; since the bighorn sheep is a noble, sacred animal in many Native American cultures, it felt only fitting to make this one an Atticus-Finch-type figure. Also, "Clarence Burro" is a reference to attorney Clarence Darrow, who is perhaps most famous for the defense at the Scopes Evolution Trial, and the Leopold and Loeb trial in Chicago; both of these cases are absolutely fascinating, and I highly recommend reading up on them.
District Attorney Lambert Ovis' name comes from the Latin word for Sheep (Latin name Ovis aries). And fun fact that I learned while researching names: a "Bellwether" is a sheep, typically the only one in the flock wearing a bell, that leads the rest of the flock; I found it pretty cool, and the animators totally had to know about that, considering how much care and detail they put into the film.
Also, as my readers from the KFP fandom know, I like doing my research (like, a lot) so everything written in here (and in future chapters) about natural gas vs. electric is as accurate as I understand it to be.
I also had to include one of my favorite stories: the "Two Wolves", supposed to be based on an old Cherokee legend. A lot like the Serenity Prayer, it seemed to fit this story - and Nick's story - pretty well.
As always, please read and review!
