When Bogo had made the decision to investigate the derelict sawmill first, he'd been expecting something out of a psychological horror movie. An ominous structure built from warped wooden planks so dark and moldy it looked like a fire had taken place. The building he shone his flashlight on looked almost welcoming, built from wood as orange as sunset. Bogo had investigated enough crimes to know that looks could be deceiving.

He pulled out his gun, taking point as they approached the sawmill, striding up the slope alongside the sluice that long ago transported logs for building up the first buildings of Zootopia. Reaching the doors first, he noticed they were slightly ajar. He signaled for McHorn to seek out any other exits, just in case the place turned out to be occupied, and waited until the rhino disappeared around the corner before nudging the door fully open.

His first impression of the room was emptiness. Other than what was left of the conveyor belts in the center of the room, the interior of the sawmill was barren. Then his eyes got to work, taking in the details and so his brain could deduce their significance. There was a thin layer of dust covering most of the room, so thin he had to bend down, look closely and run his finger across the floorboards to see it. Unusual for a place that closed down decades ago at least. There were footprints of all sizes, formed from the dust and mud from outside, but no toe marks. Mammals had been here recently, and they all had been wearing some kind of footwear. Flat soles with little dots for traction, possibly designed for wintery conditions too harsh even for polar bears to endure comfortably. Zootopian stores sold them in all but the most tropical districts. Bogo remembered at least four cases in which a perp had worn boots to avoid leaving incriminating hairs or pawprints at a crime scene. He would leave it to Forensics to determine how many mammals had been in this room.

"Look at the floor." Higgins muttered, sweeping the room with his gun while Bogo investigated, but the sawmill appeared devoid of suspects.

"I am looking at the floor." Bogo replied touchily. Something in the air was making his throat itch.

"See where it's clean?" Higgins replied.

Bogo looked further up the floor, shone his flashlight, and saw what his sergeant was talking about. There were large clear patches on the dusty floor, dozens of them. "Looks like this place was recently used as some kind of storage area." Higgins said. "Smuggled cargo, maybe?"

Bogo straightened himself. "Or maybe this was where the terrorists stored all their collars and everything else for their attacks. Look how spotless the spaces are. Whatever was in here had to have been moved out within a day. We should look for tire tracks once we're sure this place this clear."

Even as he said this, he knew in his gut that Cunninghorn wasn't here. None of the prints had the massive rounded shape of a rhino that he'd learned to identify. So where had he taken Ben?

Calm down, Mansa. Don't let yourself get too frustrated. Remember what's on your wrist.

Bogo took a deep breath. This was just the first place they'd searched. The old lodge higher up was next.

"Guys! Over here!"

They turned their heads and saw McHorn's kneeling form on the other side of the conveyor belts. Taking care to avoid stepping on the prints and large square spaces, Bogo and Higgins joined their coworker.

"What is it?" Bogo asked.

Wise enough not to touch the faded brown stains he'd discovered, McHorn instead shone his light so they could see.

"It's all over the place."

Higgins' lips twisted in revulsion and he stepped away from the stains. "That's fucking disgusting."

McHorn glared up at the hippo. "What're you talking about? You saw worse when Woolton was eaten."

"Yeah, but at least Bug Burga had toilets. Didn't anything think to use a bush?"

McHorn stared at Higgins like he'd just asked a stupid question.

"You never read that Forensics book I got you, did you?"

"I specifically asked for the Book of Centerfire Rifles." Higgins said.

McHorn snorted in annoyance. "If you'd read it, you'd know that blood stains turn brown as they age. What did you think this is, diarrhea?"

Higgins didn't answer. Bogo snorted loudly. "Can we focus, please?"

They thankfully conceded to dropping the diarrhea subject, allowing the buffalo to point out one of the small stains. "See where it cuts off right next to that clear patch?"

"Yep. Looks like whoever took the crates took the bodies with them." McHorn said.

"We'll let Forensics decide what to make of it." Bogo said. "I'll call it in while you two finish securing the area."

Instead of taking out a radio he pulled out a satellite phone. He and Commissioner Elba had exchanged numbers while discussing the assignment, not wanting the buffalo's whereabouts to be public knowledge within the precinct. "Commissioner, it's Captain Bogo. No sign of Cunninghorn yet, but I think we're on the right track."

Elba's response was marred by the occasional static. "Signal's poo- What's the situa-"

Bogo grunted, annoyed with himself. He'd been warned that the phone wouldn't work as well indoors, yet he'd forgotten already. He stepped outside, sticking close to McHorn as he swept the grassy area beside the sluice. "That better, sir?"

"Much. I'll ask again, what's the situation?"

"We've searched the old sawmill, and I'm positive we've discovered a crime scene."

There was a pause. "Which sawmill?"

Bogo looked up, finding a convenient sign right above him. "There's only one, but it's called the Founder's Sawmill if that helps."

"Don't be smart, Captain. What did you find, a body?"

"Close. We've found blood. It's old, but there enough here to assume that something violent has happened here."

"I'll send a team up there as soon as possible."

A beam flashed across Bogo's eyes. He blinked and saw Higgins appear and the corner of a building and signal the all-clear. "Shall we stand by, sir?"

"No. No-one can know you're doing." Elba said. "I'll tell them it was an anonymous tip. You need to continue your assignment."

Bogo nodded. "Affirmative, sir. We'll search the lodge next." He paused. "Any word on Officer Hopps, sir?"

Elba's tone was apologetic. "Not yet, but we're still searching. Be careful up there, Bogo."

Bogo looked up the mountain. Beyond the treeline surrounding the sawmill there was nothing but darkness. "Copy that, sir."

He pocketed the phone and noticed Higgins standing right next to him, looking worried. "God, I hope she's okay."

"I just hope TUSK doesn't find her first, especially if she's telling the truth about what those razorbacks tried to do." McHorn said. "I'm even a little worried about Wilde. Crazy, huh?"

"Let the Commissioner take care of it for now. We need to keep moving." Bogo said.

Higgins snorted in confusion. "What about the crime scene?"

"Commissioner's orders. We're on a secret assignment, so we can't be here when the CID arrives." Bogo didn't feel comfortable about violating protocol like this either. Then again, he was committing an even worse violation by hiding the collar on his wrist. "The lodge is next, let's go."

Founder's Chasm Lodge was a two-hour drive from the sawmill, and by the time they got there the first orange slivers of dawn were creeping over the trees. After a quick refueling of both gas and coffee, they took a long look at the lodge through the windshield. The brightening sky gave just enough light to make out the overall shape; a classic mountain villa with two storeys and a porch as long as the bottom floor, grey brick foundation and thick log walls rugged with age, and large black windows. There were no tracks leading to or from the building. The place seemed deserted, but again looks were deceiving. Bogo's instincts were warning him to take extra care as he took point, approaching the front door of the lodge with McHorn and Higgins watching his back. He tugged the handle. Surprise, surprise, it was locked. He motioned for McHorn and Higgins to take a corner each and find another way in.

Bogo waited, keeping his eyes and gun on the door, noticing the chill creeping beneath his coat. Summer was almost over. He could see it in the hints of brown and gold appearing in any tree that wasn't evergreen. A stream ran quietly alongside the porch, untouched by city pollution, ferrying the occasional fallen leaf. It was this sort of natural beauty that had brought mammals up to this lodge in the past when they weren't hunting for birds. To think that Bogo would have missed it if not for Benjamin.

McHorn reappeared around the corner, motioning for Bogo to come with him. Bogo followed and saw the open window McHorn had discovered, more than big enough to enter. He radioed Higgins, who responded with the ladder he'd found leaning against the building beneath another open window, likely left behind by the builders hired to renovate the lodge before the owner was arrested for aggravated kidnapping. Chief Trunchbull had boasted about it after one too many brandies the night Bogo received his own promotion to captain; a senator's daughter, a wealthy zebra with a severe case of erotomania and an incriminating rag soaked in Chloroform had culminated in the biggest case of Trunchbull's career.

It had been the last case the elephant had solved, and the case that elevated him to Assistant Chief of Precinct One. The newspaper bearing the headline SENATOR'S DAUGHTER FOUND hung on a brass frame on Trunchbull's wall to this day. It was his pride and joy.

Bogo hesitated before the open window and wondered how the chief was faring. This was one case neither of them would want to remember.

Bogo made plans for the three of them to meet at the bottom of the stairs visible through the window and entered the main hall of the lodge first. The interior design was clearly intended to be rustic, but everything looked expensive. There was a seating area of plush emerald couches surrounding an ebony table in front of a fireplace built from smashed bricks. Three pool tables of different sizes sat close to a bar. The centerpiece was a giant display case that long ago would have housed a variety of stuffed birds. Bogo's alarm bells started ringing. The details were more apparent than they were in the sawmill. There was no dust to even rub his finger on. The tarps used to protect the furniture before the renovations were cut short had all been removed and now lay all over the floor. There were balls and a pair of cues atop the pool table. Most intriguing of all was the fireplace full of fresh logs waiting to be set alight.

Bogo locked eyes with McHorn. He gave a nod, indicating he'd seen the signs as well. They turned their backs on each other and split up to search the ground floor, McHorn going to search the door beside the bar, Bogo going to search the marked restroom doors beside the stairs. Perhaps out of instinctive preference he checked the male restroom first, and was surprised to see the small room warmly lit by candles sitting on a row of sinks. He looked behind to see McHorn disappear through the other door, and entered the restroom to start checking the cubicles. They reeked from recent use, but were all empty. The female restroom was even worse; when he discovered the inside of one cubicle soaked red with blood, he actually hoped to God that someone had been stabbed to death in there.

In any case, both restrooms were clear. Bogo quickly returned to the main hall and looked up the stairs. Seeing no sign of Higgins, Bogo called for him through the radio.

He exhaled when Higgins responded. "Code Four, Captain."

"Good to hear. Find anything yet?"

"Nothing yet, but someone's definitely been using the bedrooms. A few people from the looks of it. Hopefully just squatters."

At that moment McHorn reappeared in the other doorway. The sickened look on his face instantly had Bogo on edge. "I'm not so sure of that. Get your butt down here where I can see you."

"Got one more room to clear up here, Captain."

"Make it quick, but do not let your guard down." Bogo made his way over to McHorn. "What is it, Mac?"

McHorn swallowed and jerked his thumb behind him. "There's a trophy room back there. Someone's filled it full of- Jesus Christ-" He clamped a hoof over his mouth and heaved, though mercifully nothing came out. Bogo grabbed the rhino's shoulder and shook it.

"Mac, look at me! What did you find?"

McHorn only lowered his hoof when he was sure he wasn't going to puke. "Razorbacks." He said thickly. "The display cases are full of them. I only knew they were TUSK because of their uniforms… fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck… I'm telling you now, do not go in there."

Bogo's gut churned. McHorn rarely let murder scenes get under his skin. Not even the horrific sights of Lemming and Woolton's bodies had fazed him. Higgins' voice crackled through the radio. "TUSK? What was TUSK doing up here? Why the hell did no-one tell us about this?"

"I'm going to call this in." Bogo managed to keep his voice steady. "You almost done up there, Higgins?"

"Almost. Just got one more spot to lo-" BLAM.

Bogo heard the explosive sound of a gunshot from upstairs at the same time he heard it through the radio. Beneath his sleeve, the collar beeped. "Higgins!"

He raced toward the stairs, the thundering footsteps of McHorn not far behind, blind desperation making him oblivious to the blue tarp he passed over- CLANG!

Bogo shouted in more shock than pain, loud enough to drown out another beep of his collar, as the tarp clamped around his leg in the blink of an eye and nearly sent him sprawling to the floor. McHorn swore and dropped down to Bogo's side as the buffalo knelt down and grabbed at the tarp. Something underneath it, hard and curved, was holding his leg in place just beneath the knee. McHorn started pulling at the tarp himself, but Bogo batted his hooves away and pointing up the stairs. "Higgins!" He growled through gritted teeth. McHorn paused, then nodded and ran up the stairs to find the hippo.

Bogo pulled at the tarp until he exposed the bizarre device that entrapped him. It looked like a pair of slightly rusted steel jaws, fixed to the floorboards with thick bolts. A foothold trap. He'd heard stories of such devices being used in wars all over the world, intended to catch soldiers sneaking into enemy camps. It was a good thing the tarp had protected his flesh from the large triangular teeth; he hadn't had a tetanus shot in years. He tugged and pried at the jaws, his hardened muscles straining against the powerful spring, almost widening them enough to free himself.

Something black flared in the corner of his eye. He turned his head, and threw his arms up to catch the knife aiming for the eyeball that had spotted his attacker. He fell back and hit the floor, the wraith-like maniac propped on his torso as it forced the weapon down.

"You coppers brought this on us. You made us this way." The voice was feminine and harsh with hatred. "For that, I will find and gut every last one of you."

The blade gleamed like the slit of cat's eye as it shivered from the strain of keeping it at bay, beside the yellow light of Bogo's impromptu bracelet. Gripping the wrists of the attacker tight enough to bruise, Bogo looked beyond the knife to see their face. The collar beeped again when he saw the Ghostface mask. The other killer from the penthouse, just like Ben said. One gloved paw let go of the knife and tore free from Bogo's grip to grab another knife from their belt. Oh no, you don't! Bogo's fist shot past the knife and slugged the masked feline in the face. Their head shot to the side, their mask coming slightly loose, but the stunning blow only affected them for a moment. Then a knife plunged down toward his throat. Bogo brought an arm over his throat, catching the deadly tip of the blade with the metal strap of his watch, and the knife was deflected down his arm. Searing pain and warm wetness spread across his skin, dripping onto his face. Someone came thundering down the stairs, catching the attacker's attention. They leapt off Bogo's chest and threw one of their knives, knocking the gun from McHorn's hooves before he could aim. Ghostface and McHorn stopped moving, glaring daggers at each other while Bogo sat up between them.

"Where's Higgins?" He demanded.

"Shotgun blast." McHorn never took his eyes off the feline. A manic green eye glared at him from behind the tear between the white mask and its black hood. "That psycho rigged it to fire when Higgins opened the door. The vest took the worst of it."

The feline's entire body shivered as she laughed hideously. "The thing was full of rock salt, Horny. I'm not going to kill him that quickly."

"Shut it, bitch. You always have to leave your mark, don't you?" McHorn stepped sideways so Bogo was no longer between them and pulled out a dart gun.

The feline growled. "Bitch? You should have stuck with chomper." She shot forward like an arrow, ducking the dart McHorn fired at her. McHorn swung the empty weapon down, hitting her arm before she could plunge the knife into his knee. She leapt back and pulled out one more knife as McHorn ran after her.

Bogo didn't pay too much attention to the scuffle, but he could hear it as he again began to pry the metal jaws apart. He looked up momentarily to see the feline kick the dart gun from the rhino's grip and duck to avoid his fist. She slid between his legs and leapt onto his back, bringing the knife to his throat. McHorn grabbed her arm before she could deal the killing blow. Her other paw dug into his shoulder, trying to make him lose focus. Bogo could see how much it hurt in the way McHorn gritted his teeth. The rhino reached behind him, managing to grab the hood of the mask as his opponent somersaulted back, landing on the elegant coffee table.

Bogo tried to remember where he had seen the black jaguar's face before, but McHorn beat him to it. "Maria Manchas. The reports weren't wrong about you being a knife nut."

Maria scoffed. "Knife nut? I'm a knife fucking master!"

McHorn blew steam from his nostrils, tossed the knife he had managed to wrest from Maria's grip and unsheathed his baton. Bogo had witnessed the rhino's skills with the weapon firsthand, and hoped it was enough. The jaguar dropped down from the coffee table, picked up the knife she had thrown at McHorn earlier and stared at the rhino with eerie dead eyes as he advanced with the baton.

McHorn swung and thrust fiercely, intending to finish the fight with each blow, but in seconds it was apparent why Maria was so proficient in knife fighting. Even as his relentless left no openings for her knife, she blocked and deflected each blow with the speed of cobra and the strength of an ox, her expert footwork leading them past Bogo and his own struggle with the foothold trap. The buffalo saw the jaguar backing up towards a wall and realized that was McHorn's intention. Unfortunately, so did Maria. Right before her back hit the wall she strafed sideways, avoiding a vertical swing from the solid baton, and grabbed the weapon with both paws. She twisted viciously, tearing the baton from McHorn's fingers, and swung it at his head.

Bogo lifted his bruised leg free of the jaws just as he heard the crunch. He looked up, terrified to see McHorn staggering back and clutching his snout. Maria straightened from his stance, twirling the baton before resting it on her shoulder, grinning as she watching the rhino writhe in pain. When he finally lowered his hooves, there was a massive crack the length of his horn.

"You fucking bitch!" He bellowed.

"I always leave my mark, you said it yourself." Maria's grin diminished as she looked at Bogo. "But I'm not stopping there, I assure you."

Bogo stood up, staggering slightly, but he was sure the trap hadn't crippled him. "What did we do to you? Tell me!"

Maria cocked her head. "You seriously don't know? I suppose that's believable since you're not TUSK."

"What did they do, then?" Bogo held out an arm to stop McHorn from attacking again, hoping for some answers before more violence ensued. The hope was dashed when Higgins appeared at the top of the stairs and opened fire. Maria dashed for the open window, avoiding the darts that pierced the floor behind her as she disappeared through the frame.

"Damn it, Higgins!" Bogo yelled.

"WHAT?!" Higgins roared back, eyes blazing from the rock salt in his small wounds. "It'll be safer to question her once she's in cuffs!"

"He's right." McHorn said before Bogo could argue. "And after we interrogate her…" He grabbed Bogo's arm and pulled down the sleeve, exposing the collar. "I'll be asking you a few questions about this."

Seeing the angry disappointment in McHorn's face, Bogo simply nodded and guessed that the rhino had heard the collar beep at some point doing the attack. He was not looking forward to their conversation. "After we catch that jaguar!"

McHorn nodded. Bogo ordered Higgins to stay put while he and his old partner exited through the window and searched for Maria. Almost immediately they spotted footprints in the wet grass leading around the lodge.

The trail led them to the lodge's namesake: the famous chasm that nearly cleaved the mountain in two. The edge was ten feet from the lodge and protected by a wooden fence flimsy and weathered. While McHorn swept the area, Bogo spotted a wide gap in the fence. He stepped closer and realized that a small landslide had occurred some time in the past, forming a part of the cliff that wasn't as steep as the lethal sheer drop that made up the rest of the ravine. He shone his flashlight down, but didn't see any jaguars. He turned to see if McHorn had any luck- "Surprise, Motherfucker!" And once again found himself fighting to keep a knife from skewering his eyeball as Maria lunged at him out of nowhere. McHorn lay on the ground nearby, a dart protruding from his shoulder, unable to help Bogo a second time. Maria's leg hooked around Bogo's knee and pulled, dropping him to the grass with a hard thud that almost winded him. His head and shoulders hit nothing but air.

"Don't look down, Manny!" Maria taunted as she continued to force the knife down. In the midst of the violent struggle on the cliff edge Bogo managed to get one hoof down to his belt and grab his stun gun. He squeezed the button, heard the fizzle of the paralyzing spark, and jammed it into Maria's gut.

Maria shrieked in pain, spasmed for two seconds, and went completely berserk.

-Oh shit, she must be on drugs-

It was all Bogo could do to lash out with his arms and let them take the worst from Maria's claws as she flailed at his face, shrieking bloody murder. His body slid across the wet grass, inching further and further over the edge, and he was horrifically aware of both this and his complete helplessness to do anything but fend off the psychotic panther. "Mac, wake up!" He shouted right before he felt his weight start to take him the rest of the way over. Maria snapped out of her rage just in time to push herself off the buffalo and back to safety. He had no time for last thoughts before gravity took hold.