The black car stood still at the intersection, having the street on its left side. There seemed to be no passengers in it, all lights were out. Suddenly, if you paid close attention, you could see the lenses of a camera lifting slightly over the edge of the window by the driver side. The objective closed and opened three times, silently. Again the camera vanished over the window's edge.

Peter was sat on the car floor, the passenger seat moved way back to give room for him. He looked as Howell brought the camera to her face and started to flip through the pictures. She was lying down on her seat, which was itself leaned almost horizontally. Peter wondered how she did not fell asleep being that way for so long. He did his part, of course, someone had to talk in that car.

"I think we got it." Howell spoke, finally.

"Really? Let me see it!" Peter picked the camera from her hands and looked at it. The fennec and the ocelot stood talking in front of a house in one picture. In the next the ocelot was getting in the small white house, the fennec waiting next to a wooden fence. In the next one the ocelot was getting out of the house with a big backpack. "Wow, it only took…" Peter glanced at his clock, it was 3AM. "Six hours. Well, we have a record... or something."

Howell lifted her sit a bit, enough for her to see something from the streets. "We should bust him. He's carrying a week's worth of drugs in that backpack."

Peter gave a look of doubt to her. "Howell, we might screw the whole investigation. Are you crazy?"

"Just… hear me out, ok? We can tail him to his home and then, when he is trying to open his door." Howell punched her hand. "Bam! We stop him, ask to inspect his backpack, he gets all nervous, we find the drugs, arrest him and the show is over."

"Yeah, the show is over for Mr Garras, but a different rat…" Started Peter.

"That's speciesist." Howell gave a coy smile.

"Screw you. Another scumbag will take his place. We have to take out the supplier or the chain will only keep on going. Besides, we got where the supplier seems to be, this might link to where he get's his drugs and so on." Peter gave the camera back to Howell. "Are they gone?"

"They are getting to the next corner, you can get back to your seat." Howell started to lift the seat to a regular position.

Peter slipped back to the passenger seat and pulled it forward. "The idea to tail him to his home, though, isn't a bad one. He might not actually go to his home, but to a safe-house where he store his merchandise."

Howell relaxed on her seat. The car moved slowly, keeping a distance from the two mammals. At one point the fennec waved and crossed the street. She drove around the block and parked in the opposing intersection. A few minutes by and the ocelot walked right next to their window, ignoring the car altogether. After he passed Peter turned in his seat to accompany him through the rear view mirror.

"Play it cool." Said Howell. She tapped her side window, pointing to her rear view mirror.

Peter turned forward, he felt anxious being stuck in that seat, all the stalking had triggered his instincts. He had forgot how much it messed with his focus to follow someone like that: his tail hanged low without touching the car floor; he could feel his clothes touching him, the texture of the car seat; he could even hear Howell's breath.

He snapped out of it when Howell opened her door, she signaled him to follow and Peter happily complied. He slipped through his door and walked up to her side, she pointed to a small apartment building and then to her ears. Peter focused on the task and paid attention to their surroundings. With an almost silent click the door opened behind him and the sound of Howell sniffing picked his attention.

She advanced following the ocelot's smell and Peter tagged behind her, closing the complex's door. They entered a corridor with old moldy wallpaper themed with green leaves and branches and, over each door, a small pot of long leaved brackens hanged, their leaves brushing the floor. As they walked forward, the air got more and more damp, Howell seemed tense, Peter felt it was just like his home.

Howell knelt and sniffed a door handle, Peter picked up his cellphone and took a picture of the number at the side of the door. They glanced at each other and started to walk back through the corridor, the only noise being the ruffling of leaves on their clothes. Suddenly Peter heard a door being cautiously unlocked: a spin in the key; a pause; another spin. He froze into place, his hand slipping inside his right pocket and touching his pellet gun. Howell noticed his behavior and leaned her back against the wall, gun in hand. The door handle cracked and the door in front to the one they stood just moments ago opened. They both pointed their guns, fingers away from their triggers, ready to fire at whatever threat came out.

A lynx walked out of the door, she wore a light blue robe and had tired eyes semi opened. She glanced at one side of the corridor and then the other and then looked forward. She blinked once. Twice. The lynx then stared at both Howell and Clawson and gasped.

Peter and Howell lowered their pistols and looked at each other. Howell simply shrugged and signaled to the lynx to be silent. Peter saw the lynx nod and walk back inside, her light gray eyes wide as plates.

Peter shoved his gun back in his pocket and took a deep breath, calming himself. Howell started walking back to the door and he followed her lead. They climbed into the car and, once inside, stood in silent, unmoving, for a few moments.

Howell threw her piston on the back seat. "Fuck!" she shouted, breaking the silence.

"My heart almost came out of my mouth…" Peter unbuttoned the first button of his shirt and massaged his chest."You sure we got it?"

Howell nodded, staring blankly at the car wheel. "A…" She started to say, her mouth hanging open, but no words coming out. For a moment he saw her eyes become full of fear, but at the blink of an eye it gave place to sternness . She frowned, grabbed her seat belt and fastened it. The car came alive with a low growl and she started to drive along the street.

Peter gazed outside his window, the night lights passing fast by his right. He felt like he should make a remark about the car speed, but it was late and he was very tired. At the horizon, towards the bay, orange started to conquer the dark blue. He didn't realize when the car turned or when they got to the precinct, but there they were, parking the car and all.

"You dozed." Said Howell in a dry tone. She reached for her pistol and inserted it into the holster on her waist.

Peter shook his confusion away. He stretched his arms, his claws and every fiber that he could in that enclosed space and then looked at her. "Dany, are you ok?"

She seemed startled, but not disturbed. "We overreacted back there, that's all." Howell unclipped her seat belt and leaned on the car wheel.

"Yeah, shit happens and all…" Peter gave a light slap on her shoulder. "But hey, we got more work done in one night than those blokes at IB in a whole month. We didn't even had to drink all that stuff we bought."

Her ears lifted. "Oh, yeah." She reached for the center console and picked the energy drinks. "Think Clawhauser like these?"

"That slob likes anything that is sweet, I think." Peter picked the pack of biscuits but glanced at her. "I know, not in the car. Yakety yak." He opened the door and opened the pack, small crumbs falling the garage floor. "Oh no! Cookie crumbs on the ground! Call the police!" He glanced back and saw her smile. "You want a cookie?"

"Nope, still ok from dinner. We should give our report." She stepped out of the car and stretched her back.

Peter climbed out of the car and closed the door. As soon as the door was shut the car beeped and all the doors were locked. They walked along into the precinct and then to its back. On their way Howell left the two cans that she carried on the receptions table, which was still empty this early in the morning. They reached a glass wall written "Intelligence Bureau" in black ink on it, a big plastic door shutting off the small office.

Inside there was no one still. Each pulled a chair and sat beside the Lieutenant's personal office. Slowly sunlight started to come into the office and tinge the creamy desks with gold, with it a red fox with sunglasses stepped in through the door. He looked at them both and smiled.

"If it ain't Cranky and Kawky, you two look like crap." Wilde folded his sunglasses inside his clean white shirt front pocket.

"Oh… if it ain't... " Peter pressed his temple. "Screw you Wilde, we didn't catch any sleep this night…"

"You haven't." The fox pointed at Howell. Her head hanged over her chest, her arms crossed holding her in a sat position.

"Oh…" Peter slowly blinked and then yawned, his fangs stretching way out.

"Wow, be careful with those Inspector Clouseau. And why don't you two sleep in your car or something?" Wilde pulled a chair and sat in front of them.

"Lieutenant Noggum always gets here soon… so we can deliver our report and…" Peter yawned again. "Head home."

"Well, good luck with Lieutenant No-fun, you'll get him at his worst time of the day." Wilde stood up and pushed his chair out of the way. "Enjoy yourselves in our luxurious office and at least try to get a coffee." The tod walked off, leaving the two to their thoughts and the rising sun.

"Yeah… not a bad idea…" Peter nudged Howell's shoulder. "Howell. Coffee."

"Hrump…" She opened her eyes and looked around. "Yeah. Coffee sounds good."