13
"Is everything okay?"
Judy looked up from where she had been staring at her darkened cell phone screen. Cottontail stood several feet away, more for courtesy than actual privacy; bunny hearing required much greater distance for that.
She pocketed her phone and turned to him. "No, actually. My partner and a kit he was visiting were just attacked."
"Oh my goodness. Are they all right?"
"Fortunately, they're both fine. But it was a close call."
"Do you need to go see them?"
Was that hopefulness she heard in Cottontail's voice? Judy couldn't tell.
"No. Nick has it all under control," she told him, and as she said it, she made herself believe it. Nick would be okay. "Let's continue."
Cottontail led her across the empty lobby and through a door that put them in a long, winding corridor, with cement floors and washed out green walls that reminded Judy of overboiled cabbage. But even the hideous paint job couldn't disguise the truth reason for the tunnel. The smell of dirt surrounded them, the odor made even stronger by all the rain. A few scratches here, a few more there, and a bunny could break through these walls and be burrowing into the soil faster than the ZPD could say carrots.
"Maintenance tunnel," explained Cottontail. "And an escape route in case of emergency. It connects the office building to the factory. There's a footbridge we could take, too. But while the scenery might be more picturesque, this weather would make it less than ideal."
Judy breathed in the smell of damp earth and tried not to imagine the whole thing collapsing in on top of her in a wave of mud and water. She had played in burrows all her life. She wouldn't let one bad experience ruin her.
"Are you all right, Officer Hopps?"
Deep breath in, deep breath out. You can do this.
"I'm fine," said Judy.
Cottontail eyed the tunnel as if finding it suddenly suspect. "You know, we could also take a car around. The bridges are probably closed, but we could cut through Downtown and get to Sahara Square that way."
"There's no time," said Judy.
Cottontail shot her a look.
"That is," she amended, "the tunnel is fine."
"If you say so. After you then."
It was quite a trek. Or maybe it was just Judy's anxiety that made it feel that way. Cottontail walked in silence beside her, his paws clasped behind his back, expression pensive. Judy had seen him earnest and she had seen him charming. This broodiness was new.
But despite his mood, his posture was as perfect as ever, and Judy found herself straightening her back in an attempt to gain some semblance of the same grace. Bearing aside, their pace and steps were a perfect match, and Judy tried to focus on that instead of the sharp smell of soil or the way the tunnel seemed to narrow the longer it stretched on. It had been a while since she had walked any distance with another bunny. She had forgotten how nice it felt to be so in sync with another of her kind. Even for a bunny like her, who strove to be different and break molds, she couldn't deny that there was something innately reassuring about being able to connect like this, without effort. It was the safety of sameness. The security of knowing she fit in, without doubt, regardless of what other differences they might have, which for Judy were varied and many.
She couldn't help but compare it to walking with Nick. Her smaller, springing steps with his longer stride and slower gate. And yet somehow they always managed to stay apace of each other. She couldn't say she found security in it, but maybe something better. Something more like harmony.
Judy shook her head. She was romanticizing their walking now? Nick was right. She was far too sentimental. Time to move this investigation along.
"I visited your company's website this morning," she told Cottontail.
"Did you?"
Judy nodded. "I saw that you have your new meals listed. They all look delicious."
"Thank you." Cottontail's tone was neutral. In fact, he sounded so much like Nick at his most distant that Judy's instinct was to back off. But this wasn't Nick. And distant meant that the bunny was being careful. A promising sign.
Judy persisted. "The Corsac's served similar meals at their restaurant. Back when they were still open."
Cottontail's mouth tipped downwards. "When you create meals for herbivores there's going to be some overlap. There's only so many ways to prepare a salad or a stew."
"Of course."
He cut her a look. "The first night we spoke, I was honest when I said this meal line could hurt their business."
"You were."
"And that it was most likely the reason they were so upset."
"You did say that."
"But I didn't steal their ideas."
The blunt statement had Judy cutting off the next blithe agreement she had been about to make. He wanted to be direct about this? Good. Directness she could handle. In fact, she preferred it.
"Have you ever been to their restaurant?" she asked him. "Just to check things out? Get a look at the competition?"
"They are not competition for me."
Judy raised an eyebrow. Cottontail cleared his throat and looked away. When he spoke again, his tone had returned to its former placid state. "I have never had the pleasure of visiting them, no."
"But you had heard of them. Before the break-ins started."
"Heard of them, yes. I'm in the same business, even if it is on a different scale."
"And by them you mean…"
Cottontail huffed. The first sign of impatience she'd seen from him. "Who else have we been talking about? The Corsacs, of course."
"So you never heard about Carol Hopson then?"
Cottontail fiddled with one of the cufflinks on his suit. "I can't say that I have. A lapse on my part, I'm sure. I hear about so many mammals day to day. You're about to enlighten me, of course."
"She ran the restaurant the Corsacs worked at. She was also the cook. And by all accounts, beloved by everyone in the burrow."
Cottontail's nose twitched. "Now that you say it, the name does ring a bell."
"Do you also recall that she was the actual owner of the restaurant, not the Corsacs?"
"That…" Cottontail shook his head. "I can't say that I do."
"How odd."
They turned a corner. The end of the tunnel finally came in view. Judy started breathing easier.
"Do you remember who told you that the Corsacs owned the restaurant?"
"Another name that has slipped my mind, sadly."
"That's too bad. I'm curious where they got their information. Now that Carol has passed—"
The cufflink hit the floor with a high-pitched ting that echoed down the tunnel.
Both bunnies stopped.
"My apologies," said Cottontail, bending to retrieve the shiny clip. "You were saying?"
"I was just going to say that now that Carol has passed, there's a possibility of the Corsacs inheriting the restaurant, but that has yet to be made official."
Instead of putting the cufflink back on, Cottontail stuffed it into his pocket. "Well there's your answer then. Assumption and rumor. They probably just assumed the Corsacs would get it and went with that."
"Or they had really good intel." Intel like a stolen will.
"Well if I recall their name you will be the first to know."
They finally reached the door. Cottontail held it open for her. Judy's gaze snagged on his undone cuff, and perhaps it was because he was usually so put together, but that one missing cufflink somehow made him look more disheveled than Nick as his most scruffy.
They entered the warehouse. The storm was deafening here. It pounded on the high domed ceiling, echoing like a thousand tiny drums. The air smelled like gas and metal, vegetables and rain, and a tease of spices Judy couldn't quite identify. Shiny white delivery trucks stretched the length of the warehouse in perfect rows, each one with it's own garage door, all of which were currently closed to keep out the storm.
The temperature was just above frigid here. Judy, still damp from her jaunt across the parking lot, shivered and rubbed her arms.
"I'm sorry about the cold," said Cottontail. "Our refrigerated storehouse is just across the way there." He pointed to a set of heavy metal doors off to their right. "It's the best money can buy, but it makes the surrounding buildings chilly. Nice when it's hot out, but less so any other time. I've been trying to get some arctic hares on board. But so far I haven't been able to tempt them into leaving Tundratown."
"Maybe if they didn't have to work in such bad weather?" suggested Judy.
"Have you ever met an arctic hare?" said Cottontail. "Those bunnies love bad weather. But that said, I would never make them work in it. What gave you that idea?"
Judy pointed to an extra large gap between two vehicles. "Because one of your trucks is missing."
"Oh, that." Cottontail waved a dismissive paw. "I loaned it out to someone."
Judy eyed the space. "Are you normally in the habit of loaning out company vehicles? I would think it would be a huge insurance issue. Not to mention the risk of whoever you gave the truck to damaging it and leaving you short a vehicle when you needed it."
"If you must know, I loaned it to a friend. Whom I trust. And who I owe more to than some piddling insurance fee," said Cottontail. "And I am nothing if not prepared. I wouldn't have given them the truck if I hadn't been absolutely sure I didn't need it."
He plucked at his remaining cufflink and seemed to be thinking over his next words. "Can I be honest with you, Officer Hopps?"
"Of course," said Judy.
Cottontail stuffed his paws into his pockets, away from temptation, and aimed a look at her that was part hurt, part reproachful. "I find myself very disappointed in you."
Judy's ears shot up. She must have misheard him over all the rain. "I'm sorry?"
"I understand that you want to support your partner. And with him being a fox, of course you're going to feel protective of the species as a whole. But that's no excuse to be doing this."
"Doing what?"
Cottontail cast his gaze skyward. "Coming out here like this, unannounced, and during such atrocious weather. Trying to dig up something you know isn't here just so you can keep defending the true guilty party."
"That's not what I'm doing," denied Judy.
"No? Because from where I'm standing it looks like you'd rather blame an innocent bunny than admit to a few rotten foxes. Species loyalty aside, it's bad police work. I expected better from the great Judy Hopps. The actions of the Corsacs might be surprising, but in the end we must accept that they happened."
"Why?"
"Because," said Cottontail. "Facts are facts."
"No," said Judy. "I mean why are their actions surprising to you? You said yourself that you didn't know the Corsacs personally. You hadn't even met them before all this started happening. So what would you know about what they are or aren't capable of? Most animals would take the fact that the Corsacs did these things as a given, because they're foxes. But you thought the opposite, and even tried to protect them. Why?"
Cottontail let out an incredulous laugh. "So you suspect me because I'm not a discriminating jackrabbit?" He shook his head. "Should I have been ruthless instead? Should I have told you to drop the book on them? Punish them to the full extent of the law? Would you have believed me then?"
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Did you not?"
"No," said Judy. "I didn't. I—"
A bunny appeared around the corner and Judy stopped. This one, too, wore a business suit, though it wasn't quite as fine as Cottontail's. The bunny handed him a clipboard with a stack of documents on it. Judy waited while Cottontail read over them, ignoring the appraising glances the employee kept giving her.
Once Cottontail had signed off on the last page, he handed to clipboard back and the bunny nodded and scampered off, all without a word.
"You really do have a lot of bunnies on staff," noted Judy. "That's the fifth one I've seen since arriving here."
Cottontail gestured for her to follow him. He led her around the rows of trucks to a small break room in the back. It was warmer here. The sound of rain a distant rumble. There was a round table big enough to seat a dozen, sized for medium to small animals, a neglected cork bulletin board, a fridge, a microwave, and an old tube television.
Judy took a seat at the table. Cottontail sat down next to her.
"I mentioned before, I think, that Cottontail Inc. considers itself a small family company?" he said. "It would be more accurate, perhaps, to say it's a small town company. The burrow I come from… it's all thanks to them that I've made it to where I am today. So I use their produce exclusively. And if any bunnies from that burrow come looking for work here, I find them a place. Hence, the disproportionate number of bunny staff."
"That's very generous of you," said Judy.
Cottontail brushed some crumbs from off the table. "It's the least I can do to pay them back. Loyalty, Officer Hopps. It's important to me. Perhaps the most important thing."
"An admirable quality to have," agreed Judy.
"And yet instead of being impressed by it, you are suspicious." He glanced up at her. "Perhaps the worst of Zootopia is getting to you."
Judy resisted the urge to start cleaning off her own table space. She wished Nick were here. He played this part of the game so much better than she did.
"I apologize if I've offended you, Mr. Cottontail. It comes with the territory. Working at the ZPD, you run into a lot of animals who hide bad intentions behind sweet smiles and kind words." She held up her paw in a gesture of peace. "Maybe we can reset a bit? Have a subject change?"
When he said nothing to that, she took it as acceptance and continued. "I also come from a burrow. Did you know? Bunnyburrow. It's a couple hours outside of Zootopia."
He acknowledged that with a wary nod. "I've heard good things."
"Really? I'm happy to hear that. Most animals don't even know where I'm talking about when I mention it."
"You must not talk to a lot of bunnies then."
"No. Not these days," said Judy, feeling a pang. Shaking it off, she asked him, "Which burrow do you come from? Maybe we grew up neighbors and don't even know it."
Cottontail smiled, but it was a sad smile. "You're trying to sweet-talk me into answers now. It won't work. If you want to dig into my history, you're going to have to find another source. I won't drag my burrow into this mess and make them victims too."
"Is that how you feel? That you've become a victim?"
Cottontail straightened in his chair, expression insulted. "Well, wouldn't you? I reported a crime and now somehow I'm the one being interrogated."
"So you consider yourself a victim of this investigation?"
"Yes."
"And a victim of these attacks?"
"Without a doubt."
"Probably you felt like a victim in your own house with Marian constantly about, stealing your mother's affection."
"Well how could I not—" Cottontail's mouth snapped shut. His eyes flew wide. "You—"
Judy smiled. "Do you remember any of those names now? Because I'm recalling another one you might know. Does Peter Hopson ring any of those bells for you?"
"How did you..."
Judy shrugged. "I grew up in a family of hundreds. I recognize sibling rivalry when I see it."
Cottontail's cheeks bunched in a snarl, revealing perfectly straight buck teeth. "Those foxes are not my siblings."
"Is that why you decided to get rid of them? Because you don't consider them family?" asked Judy. "But then why wait all this time? That's what I don't understand. Was it because of your mother dying? Was that the last straw for you? But then why protect them as much as you have? Why not ask me to 'throw the book at them,' like you said—"
Cottontail surged from his seat. Judy braced, ready to defend herself, but he only turned his back on her. His whole body shook. "I want you to leave."
Judy rose as well. "I'm not going anywhere. I've got all I need to arrest you on suspicion of fraud and kidnapping, and that's just for starters. I could take you in now if I wanted to, and probably should, but frankly I just don't have the time. The Corsacs could be dying even as we speak." Judy stepped up behind him. "Where is the generous and understanding bunny I've been talking to all this time? Benjamin Cottontail. The one who lectured me on being too cynical? Or was everything about him a lie? Are you really just the angry, petty, Peter Hopson—"
"Don't call me that!" He spun around to face her. "Peter Hopson is dead. And if Marian and the others are dead too, then as far as I'm concerned they brought it on themselves." He flung out his arms, holding his wrists up to her, one sleeve still perfectly folded and cuffed, the other loose and flopping over the pale fur of his inner arm.
"So arrest me," he said. "Or get out. But either way I'm done answering your questions."
