Three
Nick was stopped at a crosswalk when his phone rang.
Though he already knew who it would be, he couldn't stop himself from pulling it out and checking. A picture of his partner's face stared back at him, her cheeks stuffed with carrot cake, eyes wide with surprise at Nick's sneak attack with the camera. He had paid dearly for the shot, but it had been worth it just for the look on Judy's face when she realized she had been caught sneaking birthday cake during work hours. The hustle had been a simple one: Nick got her photo, she got Nick's silence.
A giraffe craned his neck to see over Nick's shoulder. "Hey, buddy, that sound is really annoying. Are you going to answer the call or not?"
"Police business. Stay out of it," said Nick.
"Police?" The giraffe took in Nick's uniform and badge and one eyebrow rose in surprise. But he immediately mumbled a quiet, "Sorry," and lifted his head a respectful distance away.
Nick turned back to his phone, and to his partner whose expression he was betting looked a lot less like the one currently on his screen and a lot more like the one she'd had ten seconds after he had taken her picture.
That was, thoroughly ticked off.
You can't avoid her forever.
I'm doing good so far.
Answer it. Apologize like a mature fox.
I never claimed to be mature. Cynical and clever? Sure. But not mature.
Just talk to her. You know she'll listen.
Like she listened last night?
But that wasn't entirely fair. Judy had made some good points. Didn't change the fact that she was wrong, but she was thinking like a proper cop should. Nick, on the other hand…
The crosswalk light turned green. Nick hit IGNORE and pocketed the phone, following the flow of pedestrians across the intersection.
Judy thought he was being emotional. Him. Nick Wilde. Ha. Foxes didn't get emotional. And even if they did, sometimes, rarely, this wasn't about emotions. It was about gut instinct. Nick had seen enough scams over the years to know when to follow his feelings even when his mind was being fooled. And if that made him a bad cop, then…
Then…
No one would be surprised.
A squad car drove by. Nick dove behind a nearby elephant before he could think better of it. But it was just Officer McHorn on his way back to the station. Nick breathed a sigh of relief.
"Do you mind?"
Nick looked up. The elephant was glaring down at him, trunk pulled back like she might smack him with it.
"Just because we elephants are some of the more larger animals does not give you the right to use us as hiding places," she trumpeted.
"Ah." Nick scrambled back and gestured for her to go ahead. "My apologies, Swee—Ma'am."
"Hmf." Trunk held high, she stomped off.
Nick waited until she was out of sight before continuing on.
Truth was, there were a lot of days when he felt less like a real officer and more like he was running his biggest hustle yet—and failing. He had been so happy and proud to join Judy on the force. Still was. But the constant looks, the snide comments… Animals disregarded him, even when he showed them his badge. Or they laughed at him. Nick didn't know why he had thought it would be any different, but he couldn't lie that it wasn't getting to him. Judy faced a lot of the same, he knew, but she was a good bunny, highly moral and competent, with the best intentions, always. She could keep on going confidently because of that.
Nick, on the other hand… He had spent so many years proving the other animals' suspicions of him right that it felt almost hypocritical to claim such a sterling title as officer now. Judy would disagree, of course. If she caught even a hint that he was having such thoughts, she would punish him with affection and a long-winded lecture about all his supposed good points. Her constant validation was incredibly frustrating.
And at the same time, so incredibly irresistible.
He passed by a dance studio. Through the plate glass windows, half a dozen hippos in pink tutus and tights were practicing the plié. Maybe it was because they reminded him of Henrietta, but the sight took him right back to last night and his dance with Judy.
Another dumb move on his part.
He should have taken Judy's out when she'd offered it and gone for drinks. But it had been obvious that she'd wanted to keep dancing, and after so many months of being restricted to only the briefest, teasing touches, it had been the perfect opportunity to finally hold her in his arms the way he'd been dying to, without fear of hurting her or giving himself away. He hadn't been strong enough or selfless enough to pass up the chance.
And it should have been fine. Nick had been happy. Satisfied. And most importantly, under control. But then he'd made the mistake of mentioning his uncle's dance studio, and Judy had had to go and do that thing. That comforting thing that drove him absolutely crazy in both the best and worst possible way.
Resisting her was starting to feel like a losing battle. From the start he had been drawn to her. Even when he hadn't trusted her. Even when she had exasperated him with her stubbornness and unfailing optimism, he couldn't help but be attracted to it, too. For a fox who had given up long ago, Judy's strength of spirit had made him hopeful again, and it was both painful and addicting.
But then he'd have a bad day, like yesterday. Because opinions didn't change overnight and he had just as many run-ins with closed-minded animals as he did before—more now, even. And then he'd see Judy, beautiful and strong and compassionate, trying so hard to cheer him up and keep him fighting, and he just wanted to pull her into his arms and absorb every wonderful inch of her into his cynical heart.
He'd slipped.
Thankfully, Judy hadn't seemed to notice. It might have frustrated him if he wasn't so relieved. If any relationship could be more impossible than a fox and a bunny, he couldn't think of one.
A mouse and an elephant, maybe.
Or a dog and a dolphin…
Regardless, it could never happen. So he would keep his distance—no more dancing. And he would work. He would get proof that the Corsacs were innocent, because he was an officer, deserving or not, and because Judy was right that they needed evidence in order to prove anything. And then he would throw it right into that stiff-eared Cottonbutt's face, because good cop or bad Nick was not above some petty payback when it came to greasy bunnies who got between him and his partner.
The Cottontail factory was located near Riverside, straddling the delta that separated Savanna Central from Sahara Square. Divided into two parts, the factory consisted of several domed-shaped buildings made from concrete and connected by breezeways, while the main office was a towering structure of black glass and steel. A unique choice for a bunny-owned company. Bunnies usually tended toward more humble architectural styles, modestly designed and low to the ground for quick escapes if need be. The height of Cottontail's factory told Nick that Cottontail was a bunny secure in his status who didn't mind drawing attention to himself or his company.
Well, he certainly had Nick's attention.
The main offices were located on the West side. Nick entered through a set of medium-sized doors and found himself in one of the most opulent reception rooms he had ever been in. The floor was made from dark wood polished to a high shine. Paintings of fields and meadows decorated the walls in a tasteful array. Plush chairs in various sizes had been spread around to create a sprawling lounge area, interspersed with leafy, potted plants to give the illusion of privacy. The reception desk sat along the back wall, manned by a sheep, a bunny, and a goat who were all quietly typing away at their computers.
Nick approached the sheep. To her credit, she didn't so much as bat an eye at finding a fox suddenly standing in front of her.
"How may I help you, sir?"
"Hi, yes. Officer Wilde, here to see Mr. Cottontail."
"Of course. We were told you might be dropping by. Is Officer Hopps with you as well?"
Nick made a show of looking around him. "Looks like it's just me today."
"Very good, sir. I'll let Mr. Cottontail know you're here." She typed something into her computer. Nick leaned against the counter, tapping a claw against the granite top as he waited.
There was a basket of carrots a little further down. Complimentary vegetables? Nick reached over to take one, thinking maybe he could use it as a peace offering when he finally saw Judy, but they were wax.
Figured.
He made sure the sheep wasn't looking, then pocketed one anyway.
"Mr. Cottontail says he'll be right down. In the meantime, if you would like to sign in?" A clipboard and pen were placed before him. Nick signed his name at the bottom. Who knew a produce factory got so many visitors? Out of curiosity, he read through some of the names: Frederick C. Wolff… Dominick Donkey… Marty Lop... Wilbur the Pig… Reynard Corsac... Todd Corsac…
Wait.
Nick reread the names. Was this a joke? But the spelling checked out. He pulled up the files he had loaded onto his phone and compared the signatures. He was no expert on graphology, but they looked identical to him.
A door behind the reception desk swung open and Cottontail stepped out. He hopped gracefully over the counter and beamed at Nick, holding out a paw.
"Officer Wilde. A pleasure to see you again so soon."
"I'm sure it is." Instead of taking the proffered paw, Nick handed him the sign-in sheet. "Care to explain this?"
"I'm not sure I know what I'm supposed to be—"
Nick tapped on the names. "Looks like you had some visitors last month that you failed to mention. Now, I'm curious. Why would your saboteurs being visiting you at your place of business? Any ideas?"
"Oh my," said Cottontail. He looked over at the sheep. "Tracy, I thought I told you to print out a new sheet?"
"I'm sorry, sir."
Nick raised an eyebrow. "Are you admitting that you wanted to cover this up?"
Cottontail made a face. "You misunderstand. I wasn't doing it for myself. I was trying to help them." He waved the clipboard.
"You were trying to help the animals that want to ruin you?"
Cottontail nodded, his expression so sympathetic it made Nick's teeth itch.
"How is hiding their visit here helping them?" demanded Nick. "Seems to me like it's helping you cover up the fact that you know more than you want to admit to."
"No! That's not it at all. I told you and officer Hopps everything I knew last night."
"Then why leave out this?"
Cottontail plucked at his tie. "Because while I need them stopped, I would still like to spare the Corsacs from any undo punishment. And I knew they would be in enough trouble without adding this… visit, to their list of crimes."
"How is them coming to see you a crime? Especially if it was before their first break in."
"Because things got a bit… out of hand, you could say."
"Out of hand how?"
When Cottontail hesitated, Tracy answered for him. "They were threatening Mr. Cottontail. Multiple animals witnessed it."
"I didn't think they would actually do anything," said Cottontail. "Not until the first break in. And even then, I didn't think they would hurt anyone, until Arnie…"
Nick smothered a growl. He had come here hoping to find a lead, anything to give reasonable doubt, and instead he had to find this.
Cottontail stood there, waiting. Even his patience annoyed Nick.
"Next time, you tell us everything," Nick told him. "It's not your call to decide what the ZPD does and doesn't need to know about a case. Got that?"
"Of course." Cottontail bowed his head. "My apologies."
"Forget it. Where is the security guard you mentioned? Arnie. I have some questions for him."
"Right this way."
Cottontail led him through a door that said AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY and down a long, twisting hallway that sloped downwards ever so slightly. There was no fancy woodwork or pastoral art scenes here. Just cement floors and paper thin walls that were painted a pale green and smelled like dirt.
Looks like Cottontail has some insecurities after all.
Eventually they stopped outside a door. It was gray, unmarked, and made of steel, if Nick wasn't mistaken.
"You can wait out here," he told Cottontail.
"As you wish."
Inside, the room was crammed with long plastic tables a far cry from the beaver-sculpted mahogany kept upstairs in the lobby. Shiny new big-screen monitors covered every available surface. Packaging was still piled into corners and instruction manuals were tucked here and there among the equipment. Clearly they had set this room up in a hurry.
Arnie sat alone near the wall, his leathery shell backlit by half a dozen glowing screens. His tiny eyes narrowed at the sight of Nick. "Criminy, not another one."
Nick ignored that. "Mr. Shellfield, I'm Officer Wilde. I was hoping you could answer some questions about what happened to you."
The armadillo harrumphed and folded his arms across his chest. "What's there to question? Those foxes attacked me. I'm lucky to be alive."
"And yet for such a close near-death experience, you're already back at work."
"I insisted. Someone's got to protect this place until those animals are caught. Mr. Cottontail took me off patrol duty until I healed up, but I can still watch the cameras well enough."
"So you were on patrol duty when the break in occurred?"
Arnie nodded. "My guys saw them coming in thanks to our new cameras. I found them over in shipping. They were running around, ripping up everything. Off their rockers, the lot of them."
"And then they came after you?"
Arnie grunted.
"Those wounds you have…" Nick pointed to the scratches along the armadillo's chest and arms. "They look like defensive wounds."
"Yeah. Because they were attacking me. What about this are you having trouble understanding?"
"But usually when an animal attacks, they go for a weak point," said Nick. "Or come at you from the back or sides, not straight on. And there were four of them. They should have been able to surround you, come at you all at once…"
"What are you saying?"
"Who started the physical altercation, Mr. Shellfield? Did the Corsacs really attack you, or did you make a move first?"
"I was trying to make them stop. That's my job, Officer."
"You're a security guard. You were outnumbered and, as you said, the suspects were acting irrationally. At that point your job was to retreat and call the ZPD. But you didn't. You confronted them instead. How many of them actually attacked you? Was it all of them, or maybe just one? The one you went after first?" Maybe the one who had been limping. Craven.
Arnie hunched in his chair and hissed. "Are you interrogating me right now? I'm going to be out for days because of what they did to me. And you dare to stand there and defend them just because they didn't go for my jugular?"
"I'm not defending any—"
"Who's your boss? Is it Chief Bogo? The buffalo must be getting senile in his old age, letting you investigate this case. You're kind can't help but stick together. It's always the same."
Don't let them see that they get to you…
"I'm just trying to get the facts straight, sir."
"I'll tell you a fact. Those foxes should be put down. And you should be fired."
"Mr. Shellfield—"
"I'm done being helpful. You want me to answer anything else, send your replacement."
Nick left.
"Please don't mind Arnie," said Cottontail after Nick had rejoined him in the hall. "He's been through a lot. It's tough for an old guy to admit he can't do everything."
Nick made no comment.
"Is there anything else I can do to help?"
"Yeah. Don't leave town," said Nick.
Cottontail actually laughed. "Isn't that what they usually say to the suspects?"
"That's right," said Nick, and at least had the satisfaction of finally wiping that condescending smile from the bunny's face as he strode off.
Sometimes, it was the little things that kept you going.
Judy shifted about on the cold stoop, antsy to be up and doing but determined to sit and wait.
The temperature had dropped even further tonight. She had bundled into her warmest coat, but the cement wouldn't warm no matter how long she sat on it and the chill was starting to seep through her pants and into her fur.
For the tenth time, she looked over her shoulder at the red brick structure with its flower-boxed windows and shiny security lights. Nick's apartment building was much nicer than hers. Nicer neighborhood, too. But she still didn't relish the thought of having to spend the night out here, waiting for him.
She would, though. If that's what it took to get her stubborn partner to talk to her.
Nick hadn't answered a single call all day. Nor had he checked in with anybody at work. At this point, Judy had gone past cheesed off and was hovering somewhere between hurt and concerned. Had she upset him that much? Even if she had, he still couldn't go radio silent like this. He was a police officer. What if something happened to him? How was she supposed to know so she could go help?
What if something had happened already?
She shook her head, making her ears swing. No, no, no. Distraction. She needed a distraction.
Reaching into her coat, she pulled out the files Clawhauser had been kind enough to put together at her request. It contained everything the ZPD could find on Carol Hopson and Robin Swift which, considering how thin the files were, didn't seem to have been much.
She opened Carol's first. There was a photo of her from her younger years, late twenties to early thirties, tops. She had been a smaller bunny with brown and white speckled fur and floppy ears. A picture of her son Peter had also been included. He looked around thirteen or fourteen, judging by his height and the mulish expression on his face. His fur was a darker brown with less white spots, but he had the same floppy ears as his mother.
There was actually more information in the file on Peter than on Carol. Peter had a whole laundry list of recorded fights, both in school and out of it. In contrast, Carol had nothing on record besides the passing of her husband—who had died in an accidental grease fire at their restaurant—and one small article in the paper for winning a vegetable pie cooking contest. That was it.
Judy flipped to Robin Swift's file. It was only one page long, and that page was mostly blank. Parents deceased. One younger sister, unnamed. No priors or records of anything at all, good or bad. Either he was a very good citizen or was very good at being secretly bad.
She looked at his picture. He was a good looking fox. Tall, with bright red fur and a clean white muzzle and throat. He needed a smile, though. And his eyes lacked the sharp focus and amusement that said he knew something that you didn't, and he was going to enjoy watching you try and figure it out. And then there was his tail, which was nice and all, but not quite as big and fluffy as Ni—
Judy slapped the file shut, face hot. Clearly, there was nothing helpful in there.
She set both files aside. Maybe she could rest while she waited for Nick? She tried leaning back against the steps, but they were too hard and cold and she gave up after only a few minutes.
She checked the clock on her phone. It was a little past twelve now. Surely Nick had to turn up soon?
A noise came from her left. It sounded almost like a mouse sneezing. Judy whipped her head around at the same time she felt a sharp sting in her neck. She slapped a paw over it, feeling something small and cylindrical with a fluffy end. She yanked it out, staring at it.
A… dart?
Adrenaline hit her system at the same time the drug did. Judy lurched to her feet, but a rush of vertigo sent her tumbling down the steps. She righted herself with difficulty, squinting into the shadows where she had heard the shot. Someone was moving around in the darkness, but they were well hidden and shapes were starting to take on an amorphous quality. She couldn't trust that what she was seeing was her assailant and not simply a garbage can gone liquidy.
Pulling out her walkie, she ran away as fast as her balance would allow without tripping. The world felt off-filter, like everything was trying to tip to the left, and her limbs were fast growing heavy; each step was an effort. But if she could just make it to a main street, the proximity of so many witnesses should deter whoever was after her. She just had to keep going... keep going... keep... going...
There was something else, too. Something she was forgetting...
Judy shook her head, trying to clear it of the drug fogging up her mind. It made her wobble, and when she threw out a paw she remembered—Ah! That's right. Her walkie.
It felt like lifting a brick.
"C-Clawhauser, come in. Clawhauser."
"What's hoppenin', li'l bunny?" came the cheetah's cheerful voice a moment later.
"Clawhauser, I've been… shot with a... a tranquilizer dart. I'm on Pack Street. I'm heading toward…" But she couldn't read the sign she staggered past. She couldn't see much of anything now besides blurry darkness. And she couldn't remember which way she had run. North? East?
Doesn't matter. Stay focused.
"Be-being pursu'… need backup…"
Shuffling came from behind her. Clawhauser said something, but it was little more than white noise to her now. The shuffling was gaining. Judy realized she wasn't going to make it. She was…
Someone pushed her from behind, just a little nudge between her shoulder blades. That was all it took to send her sprawling.
Judy hit the curb and rolled onto her back. She lay there, breathing hard and feeling too heavy to pick herself up. Even her terror of being caught by whoever was after her was draining away.
She was so tired.
She felt more than saw her pursuer lean over her. She curled up around the walkie, using every last sense remaining her to keep her paw on the call button, though for the life of her she could think of nothing to say. Someone was still yelling things at her in an a crackly, tinny voice and that was annoying.
Why was she bothering with this again?
The animal circled around her, sniffling. Judy blinked, struggling to focus on it. "Mo'l…"
They grabbed the walkie. Judy kicked out, but her foot did little more than twitch. "Le'go…"
One hard tug and Judy released it, too weak to keep hold, too tired to care. Already it was a lot quieter and that was nice. If they wanted the walkie so badly then they could have it. If it would get them to let her sleep…
It did.
Judy slept.
