"Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has (betrayed) me."

Psalm 41:9

Judy strode through the halls of Zootopia Central Hospital's psychiatric ward, past row after row of blank doors heavier than most in the hospital due to the greater need to isolate individual patients. As a younger bunny, she had been quite accustomed to hospitals; between her mom's frequent visits to the maternity ward and her own antics' tendency to get her injured on occasion, she'd practically been on a first-name basis with at least half the doctors at Saint Ninnian's Tri-Burrow Medical Center. The center, however, hadn't had a psychiatric ward, since rabbits as a rule tended to be pretty even-keeled. The sight of such heavy doors, along with some less-than-pleasant memories of visits to this hospital wing's Isolation Unit, made this walk feel rather like her trip down to the Nocturnal District the day before.

Fortunately, she reminded herself, there was one big difference: this time she was on her way to visit someone she'd already met; someone who, she was sure, would be more than glad to see her. According to the nurse at the front desk, Mr. Otterton was well on his way to a full recovery. The hospital had decided to extend his stay, along with those of the other patients, for observation purposes; the nighthowler serum was enough of a departure from ordinary cases that it had been deemed best to play it safe. So far, however, it looked like the worst damage done in the long term was some overtaxed adrenaline glands – hardly a surprising side effect, and nothing the right care couldn't handle.

At room 201, she pushed a button next to the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Otterton," she called. "You feel up for a visit?"

"Are you joking?" answered a voice through the speaker a moment later. "Come on in before I die of boredom!"

Laughing, Judy walked in the door. The room looked much nicer on the inside; almost homey, in fact. Soft blue walls, flowers on the table and bookshelf, a soft-glowing floor lamp, a chair near the bed, and even a few wall decorations made it feel more like a bedroom than a hospital room. For a personal touch, the Ottertons had brought framed photos, a hand-sewn pillow shaped like a fish, and even a fishing pole of Emmitt's which stood propped up in one corner next to the oldest son's lucky baseball bat. Indeed, aside from a few odd bits of equipment and the bed itself, Judy felt like she had stepped into someone's house.

"Well, well, Officer Judy Hopps," the grizzled-looking otter on the bed greeted, smiling with recognition. After cracking the case and finding Emitt, Judy had quickly become friends with the whole family – but at the moment, Emitt was the only one there. "What's the occasion?"

"Wanted to see how you're doing," she answered, "and ask a few questions if you're up for it."

"Of course, of course," he agreed, waving to the chair. "Ask away."

Judy sat and pulled out a notepad. Though her smartphone had its advantages (and she always set it to record interviews in case she missed something), she liked the old-school feeling of scrawling a pen across paper. It made her feel like a detective, which – together with getting Nick into a uniform – was her next big ambition now that she was a cop.

"Have you thought of any reason why you in particular might have been targeted?" she asked. They'd discussed the question before, since so far few of the afflicted mammals had any common threads to speak of. None of them knew each other or ran in the same circles, and the closest link any of them had to major circles Bellwether might have wanted to disrupt – save that Mr. Otterton had worked for Mr. Big in a strictly legal capacity – was that the second polar bear targeted was Koslov's second cousin twice removed. It was almost as if someone had stood in a room wallpapered with the names of Zootopia's predators, put on a blindfold, and thrown darts around.

Mr. Otterton shook his head. "Can't think of any," he confessed.

Judy tried a few more questions, most of which concerned business or political figures whom the ZPD's detectives had listed as perhaps being at odds with Bellwether. It turned out that for such an innocent-seeming ewe, she'd had a number of grudges with various predators. Unfortunately, aside from having voted for one or two of the officials, Mr. Otteron had no discernible links to any of them.

Finally, Judy tried her own hunch. "Do you happen to know Olivia Poisson?"

"No... wait, is she related to Arthur Poisson?"

Judy almost jumped out of her chair with excitement after such a long time of blank looks and empty answers. "Yes, that's the one."

Mr. Otteron shrugged. "Well, I knew her father after a fashion. He provided most of the initial investment to get my flower shop up and running."

Judy considered this. "So Mr. Poisson owned stock in your company?"

"Still owns some," Mr. Otterton admitted. "He advised me to buy back enough to get over fifty-one percent, which I did, but I saw no sense in worrying about the rest. Last I heard, he still owns it." To himself, he mused, "Wonder what he's up to these days anyway?"

That doesn't add up, Judy thought. If Olivia respects her father even half as much as she seemed to when I met her, she wouldn't want to hurt his stock holdings or a company he helped start.

She jotted down a note to look into the ramifications of that question later, then decided to try another train of thought. "So there's no hostility between you and the Poissons?'

"Not that I can see," he assured her. "Why would you..." he trailed off, and his face took on a stunned expression. "Great Scott!" he uttered in quiet shock. "You don't think I was targeted because of one of them, do you?"

"Just checking all leads," Judy assured him. She could see, however, that the insinuation had unsettled him, so she made the rest of the interview brief. "Thanks for all the help," she told him in parting. "I'll keep in touch."

Mr. Otterton looked worried as he thanked her in turn. "Judy," he told her, "whatever's going on here, Mr. Poisson has been a good skunk for as long as I've known him. I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for him."

That could be taken a couple of ways, thought Judy, considering her suspicion that Olivia might have been involved somehow in targeting the otter. "Actually, it's his daughter I've been asked to investigate," she admitted. "I realize it's a slim thread, but we're not leaving any stone unturned on this."

Mr. Otterton put a paw to his chin, thinking. "His daughter..." he mused. "Well, I never knew his family much, but from what I knew of him I can't believe any child of his could be a part of what's been going on."

Judy thanked him and left, hoping he was right and feeling somewhere deep in her bones that he wasn't. After all, who knew better than she did that sometimes the apple did fall far from the tree? Besides, with an attitude like Olivia's, something had to be up.

As she drove from the hospital to the next stop on her itinerary, Judy went over what she knew in her mind. The way Emmitt described Olivia's father, it sounded as if he considered the skunk more than an investor; an associate at the very least, and maybe a friend. That didn't necessarily eliminate any chance of a link between Miss Poisson and the Night Howlers, although it made it seem far less likely that she'd had a role in choosing the targets.

Unless of course Olivia didn't share in that connection, she mused. Besides, sometimes the ones you think are your best friends can be your worst enemies. There was no way she'd ever forget the striking switch between Bellweather's friendly words during the case, and the way the ewe had tried to murder her using her best friend as a weapon.

Then another thought came to her. I wonder if those shares left with her father fell into her paws along with Pwasson's Passion.

She reasoned that if Olivia did have stock in the flower shop, that would have prevented her from wanting to harm the business or anyone involved in it. Then she thought of something else. Finance and corporate affairs weren't her forte, but she was pretty sure she remembered seeing a show in which someone tried to arrange the deaths of a bunch of business tycoons, saying that her own shares in their companies would 'triple in value' when the owners died – or something like that, at least. Granted, the show had been a sci-fi show, but if such a stunt was possible in the real world...

As she was linking one thought to another, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. Is that Nick's car? She maneuvered closer. Sure enough, it was; she remembered him showing it off the previous week. He didn't make a habit of driving, but now that he was going on the up and up he wasn't so worried about keeping a low profile. The car was just his style; a classic convertible, red with a canvas roof, refurbished and outfitted with a 'big league' engine by some feline mechanics over on the outskirts of Sahara Square. True to form, Nick had managed to pass the bill off to an old associate who owed him a favor.

Of course all of this was peripheral. What really interested Judy was what happened when Nick pulled up to the curb. Conveniently the light ahead was red, so she stopped and watched through her rear-view mirror as a vixen stepped out and briefly talked with Nick. Judy had always been good at remembering faces (one advantage of coming from a big family), and she recognized the vixen as easily as an old friend.

Well gol-ly, she thought, mentally parodying the impression most tended to get that she was a young, naïve country girl. What are the chances of that?

Actually, being a math whiz, Judy realized that the chances of their three paths crossing like this – and without Nick knowing it at that – bordered on astronomical. Later, thinking back on it, she would get the distinct impression that someone upstairs was having a good, hard laugh.

I thought about taking my time with Judy finding out about Taelia, but why drag it out? I've already lost one reader by taking too long to get to the action (and I hate to say it, but it looks like that's a few chapters off). Don't worry; it's a-coming.

Now, just to mix things up a little I'm announcing an Easter Egg Hunt (okay, so Easter's over half a year away; sue me). PM me the answers to any of the following questions (and maybe how you got the answers), and I'll give you a shout-out in the next chapter. Guess them all, and I might include your requests or characters in later works. Don't guess them all... and I still might take your suggestions; they're always welcome.

First Easter Egg: Where did I get the name for the hospital Judy had known before?

Second Easter Egg: I've hidden an actor in some references pertaining to Mr. Otterton. The clues are one of his lines, one of the items placed in his room, and his first name. Who is the actor?

Third Easter Egg: What show did Judy think back on?

Fourth Easter Egg: Who are the mechanics who refurbished Nick's new car?

Happy hunting!

Concerning the feedback on Chapter Five:

My thanks to everyone. I was wondering what kind of reception Taelia would meet, and it's nice to know I managed to strike a good tone with her. Without getting too much into spoilers, I wanted to make her the sort of everyday character one would generally find around Zootopia - the ones (perhaps) most at the center of the ZPD's work despite being the least involved in it. It was also fun to show Nick in a more casual setting; you might have noticed this story deals a lot with him in particular (not to worry; Judy's parts are still to come), and bringing out an everyday angle on him (as winerp and RoboBoogie noted) as well as some of his trademark snark was a real treat.

Winerp: I agree, love triangles are very difficult to write correctly - and if you think Nick's connections are tangled now, just you wait. I'm just getting warmed up.