Chapter 8: Dad

Nick admires himself in the mirror. His fur is parallel, flowing down the side of his head like a stop-motion waterfall. He removes his badge from his smooth blue uniform and blows on the golden badge, quickly shining it with his sleeve and returning the badge to its proper location. Subconsciously, his eyes dart to the bookshelf, where a plastic wrapper glistens in the room's light from the third and highest accessible shelf. He strolls over to it and discovers the fortune cookie from the prior night's agreement to eat out. That night, something had told him to keep it untouched – an intuition. He picks up the object and mauls it with both paws, and after several attempts of ripping the package open finally achieves the treat. He displays it in one paw, then cracks it open to reveal the small piece of paper. As his taste buds contemplate the dull-tasting, he scans over the small font lazily printed onto the thin slip.

Again? Nick ponders, crumpling the now useless piece of paper into a tiny ball and retreating it to his pants pocket. The thing can't predict my future! Even though the fortune seems plausible, in retrospect, it is entirely too inauthentic to accept.

Shrugging off the useless fortune, Nick cracks open his bedroom door as the last couple crumbs make their way to his half-empty stomach. He prepares for his friend's presence in the hall, so he peeks out.

"Carrots?" Nick questions to the wall, quickly closing the door behind him as he steps into the empty hall. Deep down in his stomach, weight, like rocks dropping into his stomach, gives him a hint of uneasiness. Despite this uneasiness, he moves steadily down the stairs, his right paw running down the right handrail. With this same paw, he pivots on the lowest newel, at the foot of the staircase, and guides himself into the hall. He rushes to Judy's bedroom door and knocks. "Are you there, Carrots?"

No answer.

The weight in his stomach doubles. "Carrots?" he shouts, knocking hastily, placing his right ear on the body of the door. What's up with her?

Nothing.

He tests the doorknob, which turns and he lets it go. "I'm coming in, Judy. If you're changing, please stop me," he says, turning the doorknob again. He moves into the bedroom, prying open the door, slowly at first, and then swings it open after a few slow seconds.

Normally, a fully changed Judy would jump out from behind the king-size bed and scare him half to death. The only thing that jumps out now is Judy's absence. Replacing the bunny is her purple purse, laying down on the fluffy carpet. An ID card, a ten-dollar bill, and a stick of lipstick lay outside the opening of the handbag.

The weight in his stomach, already extreme, continues to enlarge. He kneels and examines the purse without touching it. "Someone was here," he says to himself, not thinking to call for backup.

Ten minutes later, Nick stops at a red light in front of the busiest intersection in Savannah Central. He looks up ahead through his windshield, trying to find someplace to retreat to allow himself to activate his sirens. Turning on my sirens would cause chaos. He assures himself, prohibiting himself to turn on his lights. Cars line up to continue across the intersecting road. The cars wait patiently, but unlike the cars, some drivers are not as patient. Some drivers pass the lingering time by quickly replying to that text from Grandma, applying yet another layer of lip balm, or taking a bite of a breakfast burrito from the local fast food joint. Other mammals proofread their memos for the day ahead, and others entertain themselves by breaking the ice with the person in the passenger's seat. The isolated drivers with nothing to do simply stare at the red light and patiently anticipate the change.

Nick, however, sits impatiently, the casual waiting removed from his priorities. Frustrated and afraid, he rapidly taps his fingers on the dashboard and rubs his forehead. He whips away the incoming tears and with a sigh of relief, the cars begin to continue through the intersection. As they do so, he turns on his sirens, and slowly, the cluster of traffic moves aside as he starts to speed the vehicle along. Nearing a hundred miles an hour, he just passes a yellow light and runs two reds – legally, of course. As he passes the second red light, he picks up his communicator. "Base, Wilde. I have an issue with Hopps."

Nothing.

"Base! Do you copy?"

Nothing, again.

Nick slams the communicator down into its proper place, then continues as he veers into the parking lot of the ZPD. He stops directly in front of the establishment, jumps out of the vehicle, keys in hand, and rushes in the door of the Zootopia Police Department. His urgency and red eyes attract Clawhauser, who sits with his nose in the morning's newspaper. "Nick! What's wrong?" He realizes the situation when Nick attempts to speak with exasperating gulps of air. Nick places his arm on the counter and finally catches his breath. "Is Judy here?" he gulps. "She wasn't at home. I tried calling in, but nobody responded," he says, taking a couple exhausted breaths before glancing down at his feet.

He shakes his head. "Not that I've seen," he handles the paper in his left paw, shakes it rapidly, and unfolds the folded portions of the paper with his right paw. "Is that an issue?"

"Yeah," Nick manages, his breath finally reverting to normal. "I woke up and couldn't find her. I thought she already went to work, but as you said, she's not here."

"I'd help you if I could," he bites his donut. "But I'm not fit to do that stuff. I just talk to people and refer them to the proper locations," he glances up at the blue, translucent door on the second floor overlooking the balcony. "I'll see if the Chief can help you," he says, pressing the red button on the wired landline. He speaks into the wired phone. "Yes... no, not her. Yes, it's Wilde. He says Judy's gone... yeah, thanks," he places the phone back into its holder and smiles ear-to-ear at his disappointed partner. "He says it's okay."

"Thanks for the help anyway," he has a clear disappointment in his voice. "I guess I better head off. Thanks for the help," he says, urgently strolling away, taking the steps two at a time up the stairs before Chief Bogo's office becomes visible. He turns a corner and arrives in front of the large door, knocking lightly on it with his knuckles facing it. After a moment, the handle outside the door turns, and the opening of the door yields Bogo's office.

Silently, Chief Bogo sits in his chair and motions to the wooden chair facing his desk. Nick takes a seat in it without delay. "Well, Wilde," he looks at him with a stern frown. "Is Hopps gone, or are you trying to waste your shift?"

"The former, sir," Nick replies, fighting to smile. "She really is gone."

"If she really is gone, tell me what happened."

A long story proceeds. When Nick finishes, Bogo fumbles his fingers - which are weaved in between one another - on the desk. The cold frown plastered on his face remains. "Go to roll call. I will prepare you for the investigation."

Nick nods and strolls from the room, dawdling down the stairs before arriving at the door of the large roll call room. The lingering scent of coffee lingers in the large room, filled with mammals of different sizes. Nick's eyes watch the small clock above the entrance, watching the little red hand make its way to the "12." As soon as the hand finishes its journey, Bogo opens the door at the anterior side of the room and raises his head as the red hand passes the "3."

"Quiet!" he yells, staring at the chattering mammals. He drops his clipboard onto the podium while a nimbus of silence encompasses the room. "We have recently received police report that Officer Hopps mysteriously disappeared a short while ago," he says, tracing his enormous finger on the clipboard and donning his glasses with his opposite paw. "According to Officer Wilde, Hopps left a variety of objects in her place of stay, and the objects in question appeared unorganized and strewn about the small portion of the room. From this moment on, this case has been officially labeled as a kidnapping until further notice."

Nervous chatter erupts and quiets after Bogo growls. "Furthermore, this case is number one priority. Officers Wilde, Wolfard, and Fangmeyer, go to the site, stabilize it, and investigate as necessary. Everyone else, regular. Dismissed."

The room remains still until the door, where Chief Bogo had exited, closes with a snap. The chatter begins again and mammals begin filing from the room, turning to one another in conversation. Nick slogs from the same door, then is isolated as the crowd of mammals dissipate. Fangmeyer watches Nick, standing alone in front of the door. "Wilde. You coming?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Just a sec," he replies, matching Fangmeyer and Wolfard's casual pace out the door.

"Push the emotions back, Wilde," Fangmeyer says from the driver's seat of the car, glancing in the rearview mirror. He pushes on the brake as they approach a red light. "We've got a case to crack."

Nick nods, rubbing his eyes. "You wouldn't understand," he says, taking in an oral breath, and exhaling quickly.

"I do," Wolfard begins, not facing Nick. "My father passed when I was 12."

Fangmeyer again glances into the rearview mirror. "I lost my best friend from high school when I was 15. Have you heard of the Greenview Shooting of 1989? He was one of fourteen victims."

"Well, I guess you both understand, don't you?" he takes another breath and looks out the window as they turn onto his street.

Fangmeyer pulls over at the house. "We're here."

Nick climbs out of the car and walks toward the house, and the three enter under Nick's ushering. He leads them to Judy's room, where the evidence from earlier remains. Nick handles Judy's small case with gloved paws, transferring it to the wolf officer's gloved paws. Wolfard silently nods, placing it into a specimen bag. Meanwhile, Fangmeyer secures the area outside the house and in front of Judy's room.

Wolfard breaks a two-minute period of silence. "Hey, look," he says, holding up a black tie, draping it over the top of his gloved index finger.

Nick looks over at Wolfard. "Looks like she was probably planning on wearing formal dress."

He nods. "That's not all of it," he points at a stack of neatly folded clothes. "Looks like she disappeared before she had a chance to dress in uniform."

After a few minutes of searching, the three come up with the neatly folded police uniform, the black tie, the ID, the empty case, a plastic glove, and a quite surprising find - a bag of white powder.

The three officers return to the police station. They deliver the evidence for examination and gravitate toward the break room. Once inside, Wolfard and Fangmeyer begin a game of ping-pong with one another. Nick dismisses the friendly invitation to play and instead resorts to the small chair in the corner of the room. He digs into his pocket and produces his mobile phone, groaning as a picture of a battery with a red line on the bottom of it appears on the screen. He returns his phone and watches the uninteresting game.

Wolfard immediately notices this and holds up his paw to Fangmeyer. "Are you okay, Wilde?" As Fangmeyer hits the ball back, Wolfard catches the ball with one paw, then looks back at Nick.

Nick barely shrugs and rubs his closed eyelids with his paws. "I don't know. I can't admit that she's gone."

Fangmeyer strolls over to him, bends down, and gazes into his eyes. "Hey," Nick looks up. "Remember when I told you about the Greenview Shooting of 1989?"

Nick nods in response. "Yeah."

"Well - I don't know how else I can word this," he pauses. "I went to that high school. I experienced the terror and fright through the moments - seeming like hours - of the shooter trying to kill us all."

Nick shakes his head. "Okay?"

He sighs. "The point is, I was the one who stood up for the entire school. Along with my friend. Long story short, the shooter only had one bullet left, and my friend decided to be the one standing in front."

He looks Nick in the eyes, putting his hand on his shoulder. "I am not only assuring you, but I am promising you that Officer Hopps will be back. And when I promise..." he looks at Wolfard.

"He never, ever breaks it," Wolfard finishes.

Fangmeyer stands up. "Can you trust me?"

Nick nods. "Okay."

"How about we get a snack from the cafe? My treat."

Nick follows Fangmeyer to the cafe in about a minute when Clawhauser walks up. "That white powder..." he coughs in between exasperating breaths.

Nick looks at his overweight friend. "What?" he asks questioningly.

"Remember that white powder you found at the crime scene?"

Nick nods. "Yeah."

"The lab tested it, and it was benzocaine powder. Y'know, the stuff that the dentist uses to prepare you for the oral shot? That stuff."

Nick curls his hands into fists. "Whoever did this to Judy is going to pay."

"Ah," Clawhauser scribbles onto a notepad, handing it to Nick. "Through our effort, we found security footage of a strange, masked mammal dragging Judy out of the house. We did get the license number for the car. It's on that notepad."

Nick looks down at the notepad. "I don't want to go through all the work of filing the license number. I'll go to the DMV and get it done."

Nick gives a short smile to the front of the DMV as he walks into the normally busy Department of Mammal Vehicles, which demonstrates its lack of idleness as Nick walks up to Flash, who sits in front of the counter labeled "COUNTER CLOSED." "Flash, flash, 100-yard dash!" Nick chants, looking at him, his face falling into a frown. "I'm in a hurry to get this done - and it does seem strange - but I actually don't have time to do th–"

"Goood - morning, Niiick," he responds, "whaat - can I do - for you - today?" Flash speaks in his normal, very slow voice.

Nick smiles. "I need another license number done."

"Okaay. What's - thuhh - playyt - nummmber?"

"Five, nine, T, G, C, nine, four."

Flash types in each number, chanting it out loud as he does so. Nick remains quiet, waiting for the job to be done. Finally, Flash rips off the sheet and hands it to his customer. "Here - you go."

Nick scans the sheet. "It's registered to 1955 Cypress Grove Lane," he reaches his hand over his chest. "This isn't happening."

Nick taps his fingers on the steering wheel, turning into Cypress Grove Lane. He stops at the all too familiar house, fearing for his life, afraid of what happened to Judy. The fear turns to anger as he walks up to the front door of the old house and bangs on it.

It stays there for a moment before the lock clicks and the door swings open, and a male fox, wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans, is hovering in the doorway. He is slightly shorter than Nick, and Nick takes advantage of this and considers his eyes, pure fury blasting through his eyes. "Where's Judy?" Nick snaps, a sharp, urgent tone in his voice.

The fox that opened the door looks at Nick, slowly examining his face. "Son?"

Nick scoffs, his eyes rolling. "Stop with the jokes, John. I'm a Zootopian Police Officer, and if you did something to Judy, I'm gonna beat the living daylight out of you. Now, get me the hostage."

John slowly raises his hand. "Stay calm, Nick. Your friend is completely fine, and she's resting modestly."

Nick forms his hand into a fist. "Where is she, then?" he says, silently threatening to pick up his communicator and call for backup.

"How about we play a little game?" he says, smiling. "You have thirty," he pauses, reevaluating his choice. "No, fifteen minutes to find her. You can go anywhere you'd like in the house, but as soon as you leave the boundaries of the lot, or your time is out," he considers Nick's eyes. "You will leave and never return."

He rolls his eyes. "But what if I don't want to play this little game of yours? Is there any other way? Heck, I'll pay you and go bankrupt to get her back!"

John shakes his head. "Either you play this little game, or," he pulls out a pistol and aims it at him. "You'll have to suffer this other way," he puts the gun back on his belt. "Or you can leave. It's your choice."

Nick pauses, his brain evaluating the choices. "Fine," he holds out his hand. "But if you do anything..." he motions to his communicator. "I don't have my toys anymore, John. These things here can communicate for miles. There are enough safety mechanisms on here to confuse the most experienced hackers."

John hesitates for a moment, ignoring the previous comment. He eventually clasps his paw to his son's. "Deal."

"Remember, 15 minutes," John says, holding up a stopwatch. "Go!"

Nick rushes up the stairs, looking through cabinets, closets, and bathrooms for Judy. He looks through the bedroom, and a faint scream from under the bed catches his ear. He silently tracks the sound with his ears and singles out the location of the sound. He quickly ducks under the bed and sighs, sighing as he holds up a tape recorder playing quiet weeps and faint yells. He looks through the other rooms, turning up empty. The fifteen minutes pass like no time whatsoever. He rushes down the staircase, and there, right in front of him, is John, holding a pistol in his right hand, pressing up against the head of his friend, the one who he had trusted since the beginning, the most loyal and trustworthy one he could have ever had. "Time's up."

The horror rushes down his spine, quickly substituting with anger as he instinctively pulls out his own pistol, which he had not practiced with very much, and the recoil of the firearm would shoot him to outer space. But it is the only one he carries. "I'm telling you, John, you've made the wrong choice. Imagine what you'd have to go through to forgive me. I'd never forgive you if you do this. And this isn't what you said. I thought you taught me about loyalty as a kid."

He shrugs. "She's your best friend, so what. I don't care, she's not mine. We're angry at you for choosing to have her as a friend and not informing us about it. There is really no other way. You both seem so close that there would be no other way except–"

"If I cut off the relationship?"

John looks at his son. "You don't make decisions from a drop of a hat."

"I do if I'm desperate enough. Tell you what - you let her go, and I'll cut it off."

John leaves the gun against the rabbit. Slowly, his finger eases away from the trigger and lays beside it. He drops the weapon to his side and quickly shoves Judy away from him. Nick grasps her shoulder and wraps his arm around her chest. "You know what's interesting?"

John looks up. "Shoot."

"How interesting the English language is," he hugs Judy tightly. "You see, I said I'd cut our relationship off. I didn't say when I'd do it."

John's eyes widen, and his eyebrows curl into the familiar anger. "I knew you'd do that!"

"Hey, it's–" he says, his speech stopping as soon as John places the barrel of his pistol on the tip of Nick's nose.

"Now I got you," John declares, holding the gun firmly in his paw.

Judy looks up at her friend, surprised at the quick rising of the situation. She glances down at her feet, where her and Nick's look toward each other. She leans her head against his abdomen and utters a barely intelligible phrase.

"I love you, Nick."

She lies her head on his stomach. An icy chill travels up his spine and meets at his neck. He can feel his fur stand on end. His breathing slows significantly and he closes his eyes. He glances at what he knows is his father's general vicinity and utters his supposed final words: "Time and eternity, I know I'll see you. Don't try and catch up; it's our timing that counts. Don't end it because you feel angry; don't try to end others because of your mistakes. Life is precious; don't take it away."

John's hands begin to shake. He blinks and his breathing escalates, then he drops his weapon to the ground with a clatter. "Don't end it by The Stars. Your favorite song."

Nick nods calmly and walks up to his father. He moves John's arm. "I want to show you a magic trick," Nick says kindly directing John's head away from Judy. "Stay still, or the magic won't work," he looks over John's shoulder, whispering a phrase into his ear, and quickly returns to look him in the eyes. "What I need you to do is slowly twist your head to face her."

He does so, and Judy faces the opposite direction of what she was before. Nick looks at his father. "She's all yours," he says, moving his hand across John's face, and he drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Judy stares at John, her eyes widening. "How'd you do that?"

Nick ignores Judy's question and picks up his communicator. Within seconds he sets it back in the holster and looks at his unconscious father. "Sorry I had to do that, Dad, but the law is the law."

Ten minutes and a revival later a squad of policemammals enter the house and drag John from the house.

"Sir, you are under arrest for suspected kidnapping, attempting homicide, and threatening and resisting law enforcement," the police officer says as she forcefully leads John into the police cruiser.

Judy stares at the car, thinking. Thinking about how things could have changed if Nick didn't do... whatever that was. She ponders about the words she said to him, the moments she assumed would be her last to see him.

Nick slowly walks over to the bunny, staring into her violet eyes. "Hey," he greets. Deep in his chest, a feeling sparks. One of hope - and another of relief. Staring at her perfectly formed face ignites the feeling inside him. She's cute, he admits to himself, again glancing at her. She really is. For some reason, he wants to pull her into a hug and celebrate her release. All he does is manage a smile and look at her. What should I say?

Normally, his articulateness would permit the perfect words to flow from his mouth and lighten the situation. But now, his sense of speaking of sweat form on his forehead under the silence placed upon them. Finally, he manages a sentence. The words seem to flow out of his mouth subconsciously as if he never says anything. "I just wanted to say something about what you said back there," he pauses. "I- I love you too," he manages, his face warming and he takes a big breath of relief.

She absorbs the moment, her legs feeling like jelly. She attempts to move, but her legs refuse to budge. Finally, her face floods red as if delayed. "Um... thanks," she looks at him, and his firm stature and confident pose impresses her. He's handsome, she admits to herself. He really is.

Nick leans over to her, planting his lips onto her cheek. Her face flushes even more red, like a tomato. Her legs turn to liquid, and she falls into the grass, unable to process what had just happened.

"Carrots?" he says, eyes widening with confusion as he stares down at his friend, lying on the grass. "Are you okay?"

She shrugs, giggling. "I don't know. I can't process information now."

He sighs and scoops her off the grass, planting her on her feet. She looks back up at him, astonishment in her eyes. "Do you mind picking me up again?"