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The Fire Triangle

Part Two:

Oxidizer

Chapter 5—Unintended Consequences
(Continued…Part 7)

"Hey, mind if I sit here?"

Before Erin Hopps had time to respond—or make a run for it—the coyote-girl had already taken the seat beside her.

That was the white-furred young bunny's first instinct; her second one was more reasoned…and not a little self-admonishing.

"Oh, sweet cheez n' crackers, what's the matter with me? I HUGGED this 'yote-girl yesterday!" She gave herself a mental slap.

Erin knew what was wrong of course, but it was something she didn't want to discuss, much less think about.

However, avoiding the subject might not be an option for her.

"Uh, s-sure, no problem," she stammered, trying and failing to meet Dana Alchesay's eyes.

A reaction like that was a hard thing to miss; nor was the young coyote about to pretend that she hadn't noticed.

"Okay," she said, leveling both her gaze and her voice, "Let's get this out of the way. Do you have a problem with my species, Hopps?"

"No, no!" Erin hurriedly raised her paws, "just with one coyote, a boy named Craig Guilford." She pointed away, towards the cellblock's entrance—and the hallway beyond, leading to the section reserved for young male offenders. "I heard he's locked up in the guys' jail."

Dana scratched at an ear with her foot.

"Mmmm, I don't know any Craig Guilford…but that last name sounds kinda familiar. Who is he?"

A moment of careful consideration on Erin's part followed. She needed to present her response without mentioning anyone's species. "Did you hear about those jerks who tried to dump a load of herbicide on the Carrot Days Festival, down in Bunnyburrow? That was the Guilford family; Craig was the lookout."

Dana's ear shot back and her lip curled upwards, exposing her teeth

"Oh, THOSE ma'ii! Yeah…I heard about them." She growled, and shook her head, muttering mostly to herself, "As if my species doesn't have a bad enough rep without some fool-dogs making it worse." She stopped, eyeing the bunny sitting next to her again, "What's his issue with you, though?"

Erin gave her the stripped down version. "My sister Judy's the officer who busted him. I…look, I know he can't get in here," she waved towards the entrance again, "but he's just the kind of jerk who'd take it out on ME if I ran into him."

"Ah, I get it," the coyote girl answered, her frosty expression thawing quickly into one of sympathy, "If you want I can have my boyfriend Jason go talk to him."

At the mention of 'the B-word', Erin's ears pricked up. For the moment, she let it pass, but she'd get back to it later—for sure.

"Noooo, I appreciate the offer, but that's okay." She had caused that Afurican Wild Dog trouble enough already…and his GF too, when you thought about it.

"Okay," Dana nodded. "But if you change your mind…you know where to find me."

"Thanks, I will," the young doe bunny replied, returning the nod. Privately though, she thought—she hoped—the coyote-girl's offer would soon become unnecessary.

It all came down to Monday when the courts opened up again. During their visit, earlier in the day Judy had seemed to think she was going to be let go with no charges filed—and both her mother and Violet had agreed wholeheartedly with that assessment.

"Ohhh, I wish I had their confidence," the young bunny sighed, realizing only too late that she had spoken the words aloud. She hurriedly amended them, "Oops, sorry Dana, I was thinking about my mom and my sisters. They're like, totally sure that I'm going to be released tomorrow." And then, realizing what she'd said, she sent forth a silent petition. "Oh please don't ask me if they said anything about you or Jason." She hadn't had time to even think about any of the other kids arrested along with her.

As it turned out, Dana didn't mention them; instead she looked away for a second, thoughtfully drumming her fingers.

And then she let out a short, edgy growl and turned back to the doe-bunny sitting next to her. "Erin…if you don't want to talk about this, I'll drop it, but…" Another growl and a wave of her paw at the surrounding cells; "there's been a story going around… about your sister and Conor. He didn't really beat her up…beat her up bad, did he?"

"NO!" the word burst out of the girl-bunny like a popped paper bag…perhaps a little too intensely, and she hastily backpedaled. "I mean…yeah, they got into a fight and all, but she wasn't hurt too badly. She'll need to keep her eye bandaged, and she can't run or do any heavy lifting for a while. But she'll be fine in a week or two, no worries."

If that was meant to pacify Dana it was only minimally successful; she sniffed and her voice began to fracture. "Ohhh God, no…Conor really did hurt a police officer—on purpose; they'll NEVER let him back into the Academy now."

Erin didn't see how he could ever have been re-admitted anyway, but wisely chose to keep that thought to herself.

"I still can't believe he DID that," the girl coyote sniffed, wiping her nose with a finger.

"Neither can I," Erin started to agree…before she remembered something and tacked on a postscript. "Except…According to my big sis, what really set him off was when she grabbed him from behind; said he just about went postal on her."

"Whoa, that's what happened?" Dana's head snapped around with a palpable look of relief. "Ohhhh, okay, that explains it," she said, prompting Erin to a swift decision; no way was she going to mention the fact that Conor had drawn first blood in that fight.

"Yes, that's right. Uhmmm, but can you tell me something; do you know why he loses it when someone grabs him like that?"

"No…and I wish I did." The coyote girl half growled, half sighed. "He kind of hinted at it once, but as far as I know, he's never told anyone the full story."

Erin's nose began to twitch. "Ohhh-kay, can you tell me what he said, or is that something…?"

"No, I can tell you," Dana interrupted, willing to talk, but at the same time, eager to get it over with. "Someone grabbed him from behind when he was little and hurt him real bad. He never came out and told anyone that's the reason he goes off like that, but, well…" She finished up the sentence with a shrug.

"Whoa, so he gets flashbacks when that happens?" Erin's nose was twitching harder than ever.

"Mmmm," the young canine sucked at a corner of her mouth, "He…never actually said so, but yeah, that's what I think happens." She shook as if attempting to dry herself, "Uhm…Erin, can we talk about something else?"

"Yeah, sure," the young doe-bunny replied, more than happy to move on to another subject—the one she'd been holding in reserve, "Sooo, Jason's your boyfriend, is that right?"

The coyote girl's answering smile told her that she'd made a wise choice of topic.

"Yeah, that's right," she said, and then winked, "and why not? We're warriors, y'know."

"Warriors?" Erin's nose was twitching all over again.

"Yup," the coyote girl declared proudly, thumbing herself in the chest, "I'm Apache, he's Zulu; darn good fit, if I do say so myself."

"Hee…Ohhhh-kay." The young bunny giggled. She had kind of liked Dana the first time they met; now, she was really beginning to like her. "But tell me, how did you and Conor ever meet?" Another safe enough question she figured, and in this she was correct.

"Oh, Saad introduced us," the coyote girl informed her.

"Saad?" One of Erin's ears lifted upwards, "Oh, was that the sand cat working the stage with you?" And also the one who'd been arrested with her and Jason—but there was no need to bring that up.

"That's him," Dana answered, nodding. "We used to jam together after class sometimes, him, me, and Jason. One day he brought Conor along, and later on HE brought in Mike Daehan."

"Mike…" the young bunny's ear went up even higher. "Oh wait, the rat in charge of the sound board yesterday."

"Right again," the young coyote cocked a finger, "GREAT keyboard player."

"Yep, that's what Conor told me," Ahhh, yes…she knew she'd heard that name somewhere before.

A cunning look came over her seat-mate, a small reminder that in the slyness department, foxes had nothing on coyotes, "Oh, really? Did he ever tell you the story about Mike's Academy audition?"

"He sure did," Erin giggled again. "Did Mike's parents really threaten to pull him out of the tryouts when the school wouldn't let him go on with a back-up band?

Dana flattened a paw and fanned it. "Mmmm, I wouldn't really call it a threat, more like venting. 'I've got half a mind to take my son and go,' that sort of thing. But you know what happened next, right? Mike went out on that stage and just owned it. And then, when he came off again, he walked right up to his folks and said…"

"'…See? I told you I could handle it myself,'" Erin finished the sentence for her. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if the young black rat had also spoken to Conor yesterday. She quickly decided against it; almost certainly he had, but there are a few things you're better off not knowing.

No problem; she had another question for the 'yote-girl anyway. "But if I remember right…you guys don't have a bass-player in your group yet. How've you been managing without one?"

"Oh, we used to trade off a lot." Dana's answer was like a cool breeze, "Sometimes Saad would play bass, sometimes Conor, sometimes me—sometimes Mike would play bass on one of his synths. Or if we were playing off campus, Conor knew this Deejay named Treo who used to fill in; hyena."

"Wait…CONOR played bass sometimes?" Now both of Erin's ears were standing at attention.

Her seatmate fanned a pawlm again. "Not very often, and he never really liked it; none of us did. We thought we'd found a bass guy once, 'roo kid named Scott Wallace. But then he went away for Christmas vacation and never came back, dropped out of school, no explanation."

"What a shame," the young bunny signed and shook her head, "You know Dana…I never did ask; what instruments do you play?"

"Oh, a few different things," the coyote girl responded waving a casual paw, "Rhythm guitar, flute—classical and Native American—I just started learning the sax. But my favorite instrument's a fiddle, both standard and Apache."

There went Erin's ears again…and this time her nose went, too.

"An Apache fiddle, what's that?"

"It's actually kind of a rhythm instrument," the young coyote explained with a smile, "made from a hollowed out agave stalk, about yea big," she held her paws a couple of feet apart, "Looks sort of like a giant plant bud with a single string attached. My grandfather taught me how to play one."

Whoa, this was fascinating. If they ever got out of here, the young bunny decided she was definitely going to have to hear what an Apache fiddle sounded like.

"WHEN we get out of here!" she corrected herself. In Dana Alchesay's presence, it was impossible to believe otherwise; there was something about this coyote girl that made your upper lip want to stiffen.

But now it was her turn to ask a question.

"So, you met Conor at the, uh…Carrot Days Fair, is that right?"

"Carrot Days Festival, but yes, that's right," Erin happily answered her. Ahhh, now here was a subject she could get into. "Did he tell you about the song we played together?"

"Tie Your Mother Down; yes he did, and mmmm, grrrr, I wish I could have been there." Dana growled in frustration at the memory, "Conor said you just killed iton that tune." She raised a paw for a high-five, which the young bunny happily returned, "And after watching your performance at the auditions gah'chi'kii. I have nooo trouble believing him."

A heat rose up in the young bunny's cheeks and into the base of her ears. That was one of the few things she hated about having white fur; when you blushed it was easy to tell. Only…why the heck was she blushing?

"Uhhh, guh-chee-key what's that?" she asked; she mispronounced it horribly, but flet she had to say something in response.

"Apache for 'bunny-girl'." Dana answered with another smile, this one slightly mischievous.

Erin felt the blush rise even higher in her face…and knew then that it was no use trying to fight it; she was going to tell her new friend everything.

"That was the first time…no, the THIRD time Conor helped me," she said, speaking in a small voice while regarding the floor.

"Whoa, what now…?" Dana's ears were standing up and pointing at each other; Conor had obviously never told her the story, or at least not all of it.

So—the young doe-bunny supposed—that left it up to her.

"Yep, hard to believe after what happened the first time we met." She went on from there to describe her first encounter with the fugitive young silver-fox. "...And then he said, 'So I guess that means a kiss is out of the question?' Oh go ahead Dana, it won't bother me."

The young coyote promptly followed her suggestion; resistance was useless anyway. Lifting her muzzle, she let loose a howl of laughter that had several of the other girls staring in confusion. "So what did you do?" she asked when she finally recovered.

Erin's eyes turned upwards and her mouth compressed into almost a pucker.

"I uh…laid my foot upside his face."

She expected more hilarity, but Dana's expression became as solemn as a shaman's. "He let you do that, you know."

"Yes, I know," the bunny-girl's expression was equally somber. "I think deep down he knew he'd gone too far."

"Yeah, that's him, all right," her seatmate agreed. "He's usually a fairly level-headed fox, but don't ever push him too far." There was nothing reproachful in her voice, but it stung like a hornet nonetheless…mostly because of what Erin knew had happened next.

She would have thought recalling the events that followed would be about as easy as pulling teeth, but instead the story came out quite easily; how she'd nearly destroyed her bass in a fit of rage and how Conor had stopped her, how he'd managed to get it fixed and then given her his slot at the talent show, insisting that she let him join her onstage. Dana seemed to know bits and pieces of the tale, but most of it was unknown to the young coyote-girl.

"Uh-huh, that's Conor too." She said, "He never could turn his back on someone who needs his help." Her expression turned wicked again. "Did you hear about how he got Saad's guitar back, after his dumb kid brother lost it in shred-off?"

"No, I didn't," Erin admitted, leaning in close with an eager look on her face. She'd actually heard bits and pieces of the story already from Judy—but how could she resist? The tone of the coyote-girl's voice was hinting at something very juicy.

In this, the young doe-bunny was not to be disappointed. When Dana finished, she was practically whooping with delight. "Ohhh, I wish I could have been THERE," she said, and then added with a half-wink. "But you did pretty good too, Dana…playing Conor's straight-mammal, or whatever."

The young coyote scratched at an ear again. "I-I-I think the word you're looking for is 'shill', Erin. But anyway it was no big deal. I've always been the practical one in our group."

"Really, what about the other guys?" the young rabbit asked her impulsively.

"Well…" Dana pondered for a moment, "Jason's always been our good timer, Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, typical drummer," She said it with affection rather than scorn; "pretty sure that's why I fell for him. Saad's always been the serious one in our group; you know, the kid that never lightens up. Mike's always been kind of bi-polar; panicky one minute and fearless the next."

"And Conor?" Erin asked, trying not to sound impatient. That was who she really wanted to know about.

Dana sucked in a hiss of air through her fangs and looked away again, crossing her arms and tapping a finger against her shoulder.

"Conor?" she said, finally looking back in the young doe-rabbit's direction, "He's always been our mystery mammal, the one you can never quite figure out. We always suspected he was living on his own, no family to speak of, but none of us ever said anything; 'fraid that if the word got around they'd pull him out of school and stick him in an orphanage."

"Uh-huh," Erin nodded—and then posed the question she'd wanted to ask all along. "Do you have any idea…how the heck did he ever get mixed up with somebody like The Phantom—or whatever that animal's called?"

"Don't have a clue," Dana growled in frustration a second time. "But that's exactly what I'm talking about, gah'chi'kii. If you'd told me back when classes let out that Conor was carrying money for a loan-shark, I'd of told you to go get some professional help. You just can't ever get a handle on that fox." Her mouth became a thin, flat line, and she waved a paw at the surrounding cells. "I can tell you this much though; if I know him, he's NOT going to give himself up in exchange for the ZPD letting us go." Her lip twitched upwards revealing a fang, a sign of nervousness rather than anger. "But at the same time you had better believe he's not just going to sit still and do nothing; no way, not that silver fox."

Erin felt her nose twitching and her foot beginning to thump—and this time it wasn't out of curiosity.

"Wha…What do you think he'll do?"

Dana regarded her for a long moment before answering.

"That's what worries me, gah'chi'kii; I don't have the slightest idea."

Although neither Erin nor her companion could possibly have known it, the animal at the center of their conversation was, at that moment, lying in bed and feeling equally clueless in that regard. Conor had no idea as to what he should do next…about his friends, about his own current situation; about anything really. He was even beginning to have second thoughts about the actions he'd taken so far.

That call he'd made to Tuff-Guy Tufts…he had jumped the gun on that one, big-time. He should have at least waited until tomorrow, when the courts opened up, before making his move; see if Erin and his friends were going walk without any outside help. Almost certainly that wouldn't have happened—not with that squirrel in charge—but you never knew. And besides, he could have afforded to wait. Even if the ZPD was already planning to let Erin and his friends go, it couldn't happen before then anyway.

Ordinarily, Conor would have held off on Tufts until then—except the Purrcocet he'd taken had started to wear off, leaving him at the mercy of his injuries. He could have popped some more, but he didn't want to get hooked again. And so he'd opted to ride it out until bedtime. A wise decision perhaps; except animals in pain have a tendency to lash out unreasonably. And Conor Lewis was no exception; he had chosen to lash out digitally—at the animal he deemed responsible for his friends' arrest, a decision he was now beginning to lament.

And that was only the first of many regrets that he had.

First of all, he should have written off that stinking drone and just gotten the heck OUT of there soon as Erin's performance was done. But no, he'd been just soooo sure that once he made it to the Lionheart Auditorium, he'd be home free. And so, he'd decided to move the little RC helicopter to a new and safer location before heading back to his loft.

And how had THAT worked out, huh? Erin and his buds were all in jail, he'd nearly been caught himself, he had been hurt, bad enough to go to the ER—and instead of being securely back in storage, where it belonged, his drone was sitting out on a construction site—just waiting to be discovered when the crew showed up for work tomorrow. Oh, he could still move it somewhere else, except—whoopsie-doozy—the remote-control signal couldn't reach it from inside his loft; thank you Furaday Cage. And he didn't dare go outside to try and bring it home, not in his current condition. If he hit the streets now and somebody fingered him, forget it, he'd be as good as busted; no way was he in any kind of state to make an artful dodge.

The only bright spot in his situation was that, except for that blankety-blank drone, he had no need to venture outside of his lair, not for at least the next two weeks. The one wise move he'd made over the past few days had been to lay in plenty of extra provisions before trotting off to catch Erin's audition performance. It was a decision he'd made early on in his plans. From the first, he'd known that if things didn't go as intended, he might have to lay low for a while.

And lo, his best laid plans had gone awry and so here he was…but even in his worst-case scenario he'd never dreamed that he might end up physically incapable of leaving his hidey-hole. Dang but that bunny cop knew how to handle herself in a fight. His head felt like it had been pumped full of compressed air, and he was only able to walk with the aid of a home-made crutch, fashioned from a cast-off rifle stock and a length of PVC pipe. Whenever he tried to walk without it, his leg threatened to give out at every third step.

That, or course, led him straight into another round of self-recrimination. Why the fox had he up and gone after Judy like that? The clever thing to do, he had only come to realize over breakfast, would have been to pretend to give himself up. And then, when the doe-bunny's guard was down…that would have been the time to make his move. By going to the attack when she was a good six feet away, he had given her just enough time to prepare; dumb fox!

Conor dwelled on that for less than a minute before moving on. He'd made plenty of other boneheaded mistakes besides that one. For instance, WHY had he allowed himself to become separated from his backpack? Even with nobody else around, he should have kept it within easy reach; dumb, DUMB, DUMB fox…the perfect cap-off to his brilliant day!

That is until he'd gone himself three steps worse. Holy foxtrot, had he really gone after Judy first? Had he really sent her to the ER?

Had he…really drawn down on her with a dart gun loaded up with Morningmew and Nighthowler—with pellets geared for a large-mammal species?

He had…

…and it was AWFUL.

"I'm reverting," the young fox told himself, sitting up and doubling halfway over, in a mixture of pain and shame, "I'm turning back into the fox-kid who was locked up in Granite Point." For the longest time, he thought he had put that part of his life behind him. Now here it was again, sitting beside him and hoping to catch up on current events.

On an impulse, he snatched up his laptop from the bedside table and flipped it open. For a moment he thought about trying to hook up with Guild again, but then immediately tossed the idea. His sometime-online partner had missed last night's appointed rendezvous, and hadn't acknowledged a single one of his pings—and there had been a lot of them.

Was Guild…ghosting him? Last night, he would have said, "No! Way!" Today he wasn't so sure.

So, instead he scrolled through his photo-files, easily finding the one he was looking for. Ahhh, there she was—but was she looking at him reproachfully, or…?

"Ohhh Mom; what the heck would you say to me now?"

The picture did not answer him, and so he moved on to another one.

"Judy, I'm so sorry…really. I'd take it all back if I could."

This time he seemed to get a reply…only not the one he wanted.

"But you WON'T turn yourself in, will you kid?"

No, he wouldn't…but what WAS he going to do?

He clicked off the photo files and shut down the laptop—laying back on the sheets with the image of Judy Hopps still lingering in his head.

At that moment, in fact, the bunny living rent-free in his memories was on her way back to Precinct-1.

The call had come in while she'd been preparing to pick up some groceries and a few other items before heading back to her flat.

"Hopps, this is Chief Bogo; I need you to come to my office right away; very important." No explanation and he'd disconnected before she'd had time to ask.

For a moment, Judy had stared at the phone with her nose twitching. While lengthy conversations had never been the big Cape buffalo's spice of life, cutting off a conversation without any reason given wasn't like him at all.

Luckily, she had just come from visiting with her mother and sister in the guest suite Gazelle had lent them. The popstar had insisted that Judy use her limo to get to the store and then home again and so, certain that it wouldn't be problem, she had directed the driver to take her to Precinct-1 first. Whatever was going on there, it shouldn't take up too much of her time, or so the doe bunny reasoned.

Arriving at her destination, she was told by Benjamin Clawhauser to report straight to Bogo's office, and sorry…he had no idea what the Big Chief wanted her for.

Ascending the concourse to the big Cape buffalo's private sanctum, Judy paused to look out through the precinct's front window. Just as Caudia Nizhang had predicted, the number of protesters gathered outside had increased exponentially since the previous night. A shudder rippled down her back, turning her tail into a puffball. Erin or no Erin, the ZPD had better start thinking ahead on this. Either they let those kids Tufts had busted go free, or else they needed to start calling in some serious back-up. The way things were going out there, the situation could turn very ugly, very quickly.

That made her think of Conor; did he know what was going on out in front of the precinct? And if he did, what did he think? Did he even care? HE was the one who'd invited all those 'Kids in the Hoodz' to the ZAPA auditions…although he'd never intended for them to start a riot. They'd been there to provide a distraction until he made his getaway, nothing more than that; even now she still believed it.

And yet…and yet…

He had made all that effort, taken all those steps—and all those risks—just to be present for Erin's audition performance. What in Frith's name had been going on inside that fox-kid's head?

Well, whatever the answer was, it would just have to wait. Here she was, at the door to Chief Bogo's office.

She knew something very serious was happening when he told her to enter on the first knock.

When Judy opened the door, she was unsurprised to find that Lt. Tufts was already there ahead of her; what did surprise her was where he was seated. Instead of his normal spot, beside Chief Bogo's desk, he was parked in front of it, looking up at the big Cape buffalo, with no other chairs close by.

In other words, he was sitting in the hot seat.

Had it been practically anyone else in that chair, Judy might have had some sympathy for them—but for not this squirrel. At the same time, however, she resolved not to allow herself any feelings of schadenfreude; nope, not her, not this bunny-scout.

Wel-l-l-ll maybe just a little…

"Detective Hopps, have a seat," Bogo waved a hoof to indicate she could take any other chair she wanted. Ohhh-kay, he definitely wasn't mad at her—or else it would have been just plain 'Hopps.'

But still, what the heck was going on here? Had Attorney General Sayanov gotten wind of yesterday's events at the ZAPA auditions—and then forwarded a rocket to the Chief's office? Hmmm, could be... Claudia had predicted that the ibex would be none too pleased when he heard about the happenings at the Performing Arts Academy yesterday.

Just then Bogo's intercom buzzed and the tinny voice of Benjamin Clawhauser came over the speaker.

"Sir, Lieutenants Leonard and Redding are here."

"Send them up straightaway."

Judy's ears did not rise up and her nose twitched only a little. Perry 'Spike' Redding, a roan antelope was the head of the ZPD Youth Crimes Division, while Serena Leonard, a lioness, ran the department's Anti-Gang Unit. Given the way Zootopia's young miscreants had hitched their collective wagons to the dark star of Conor Lewis, it was hardly surprising that they were coming, but still…

What the heck was going on here?

Well, she'd find out soon enough because just then the door to Bogo's office opened and the two Lieutenants entered the room.

One was a predator and the other was prey, a lioness and roan antelope; a pair of more divergent large-mammal species was hardly imaginable—but you'd never have known it from their mode of dress, dark shades atop flashy baseball caps, dark clothes and an abundance of gold. Both of them had roots deep in the city's youth-gangs. Spike's father had been an OG, an Original Gangsta who'd come out of prison determined to turn his life around. As for Serena, she was Straight Outta Happytown, growing up less than a block away from the house where Nick Wilde had lived as a kit.

As they passed by where Lieutenant Tufts was sitting, Spike offered a deferential nod to the squirrel, but Serena didn't even look at him. That too, was no surprise; she had reportedly once threatened to swat him off a tabletop, and always referred to him by his street-nick, 'Tuff-Guy', something she could get away with since she technically outranked him.

She had no such problems with Chief Bogo, offering him an over-and-under hoof-bump which he returned without enthusiasm. His lack of spark did not escape the notice of either her or her fellow Lieutenant. Their faces were unsmiling as they took their seats.

And then, as was his wont, Bogo skipped the preliminaries and got straight to the heart of the matter.

"Right then Tufts, tell them what you told me." He let out a short, hot snort, and leaned across his desk, "…everything you told me."

Tufts stiffened in his chair and lifted his muzzle.

"It's because of me that the Lewis boy found out the ZPD was onto him…on the day he was supposed to pick up the money from that beach locker. Either he or his partner hacked into my cell phone. When I called to speak to Detectives….er, Officers Hopps and Wilde, he was listening and…" He stopped and his tail began to flip; when he spoke again, his eyes were puckered shut. "He heard me saying how we had that locker staked out. That's how he knew we were tracking him, and…that's why he left the money instead of taking it." He stopped again, peering silently up at Bogo, who regarded him stone-faced for a second, and then leaned across his desk a second time.

"I said…everything, Lieutenant." His voice was almost a purr.

The squirrel gritted his teeth and shut his eyes again.

"I made that call on my fursonal phone…which wasn't secured; that's how he was able to hack into it so easily."

The reaction to this was varied; Judy and Spike both gasped, but Serena Leonard just kind of rolled her eyes, as if to say 'So what else is new?' Chief Bogo, who'd already heard the news, just sat there with his arms folded.

The first one to break the silence was Spike Redding.

"How'd you find out about this?" He was speaking to The Chief.

In response, Bogo held out a hoof in Albert Tuft's direction.

"From him; he just walked right in and told me."

"You did WHAT?" Okay, NOW Serena looked surprised—and she wasn't the only one. Judy's ears were sticking up and her nose was twitching wildly. Spike Redding looked like he was about to fall straight out of his chair, but once again was the first of the three to recover.

"Okay fine, but how did you find out?" This time, he directed the question to Lieutenant Tufts.

"I found out when he hacked my phone again, earlier today," the Kaibab squirrel responded, unflinchingly meeting the antelope's gaze. "He called me up and played back a recording he made of…er, that other conversation I was talking about just now."

"Tell them about the Lewis boy's demands." It was Bogo again, and the order probably wasn't necessary, at least not for Judy's sake. What else would that silver fox kid have wanted except…?

"That either we release his friends by 5 O'clock tomorrow afternoon…or else, he was going to post that recording of me, Hopps, and Wilde on the internet."

Tufts said this, putting special emphasis on the past tense—as if to remind everyone of what they already knew; Conor Lewis's blackmail scheme was now essentially dead in the water.

Perhaps…but it didn't mean HE was finished. If Judy knew that young silver fox, his threat against Lieutenant Tufts had been only the first of several cards he had to play. She raised her paw, speaking to Chief Bogo.

"Sir, may I ask a question?"

"You may," he said, sounding a little bit annoyed that she would feel the need to get his permission first.

And no, she didn't; what she needed was for Tufts to understand that the Chief was in her corner. It was the only way she was going to get a straight answer out of him.

"Lieutenant Tufts," she said; her tone both clipped and formal. "I'm getting a very strong vibe that promising to blow the whistle on you wasn't the end of Conor Lewis's threats. I-Is that correct?"

"Yes it is…and no, it wasn't," the Kaibab squirrel answered at once, surprising her with his forthrightness. "He never said so directly—heck he never said anything directly—but he hinted very strongly that if we don't play ball with him, errrr, how did he put it again?" His whiskers flipped up and down. "Oh yes, he said, that what happened to my cell phone will be nothing compared to what's coming."

"And…do you believe him?" It was Spike Redding.

"Honestly, I don't know," Tufts admitted with an apprehensive shrug. "He sounded like he was high on something…and you know how that is. He might have been serious, or he might have only been running his mouth."

"High…on something…?" Judy's brows flattened and her ears went back, "Are you sure about that? That fox-boy never showed the slightest sign of drug use when I saw him at the Carrot Days Festival…or really, at any time afterwards."

"Yes, but that was before he went to the ER," Chief Bogo reminded them both, "According to the attending physician, he was given Purrcocet for the pain."

"Purrcocet…otherwise known as Oxycodone; yeah, that'd do it," Serena Leonard was leaning forward with paws clasped and her elbows on her knees. "How many doses does he have, Chief?"

"Six doses, 10 Milligrams each" Bogo responded, "Which means he should have run out by now."

"Unless he's rationing them," Judy pointed out succinctly.

"Or unless he has access to more," Bogo countered, grim as a reaper, "and that might not be as unlikely as some of you may think." He straightened up, addressing the group as a whole. "For those of you who don't know, that dart-pistol we recovered from the amphitheater was loaded with a mixture of Nighthowler pellets—and Morningmew pellets."

Perhaps he only meant it as a bolster to his argument, an exercise in logic. Someone capable of obtaining a substance as strictly controlled as the Nighthowler antidote should have no trouble getting their paws on a supply of painkiller.

That may have been Bogo's intention—or perhaps he meant it as a wake-up call. In any case the effect was roughly the same as if he'd dropped a severed head on the floor. Spike and Serena both gasped out loud, while Lieutenant Tufts grimaced and pulled up into a furry ball. Judy's stomach felt as if someone was using it to tie a bowline; the news was no less devastating to her for being something that she already knew.

…Because a new element had been added to the mix; the unspoken part of the threat Conor had made to Lieutenant Tufts. If that fox kid really had access to Morningmew, then however ambiguous his promise of retribution might have been, it was anything but a hollow one.

Only…would he really go that far? Judy didn't believe it, not for a second—but then HE wasn't the one pulling the strings. The Phantom…it always came back to The Phantom. Who the heck WAS that animal? Her former partner, Detective Wilde, had peeled back some of the layers, but the elusive loanshark's full identity still remained a mystery.

Chief Bogo allowed them to dwell on his revelation for a moment and then cleared his throat, a sound not unlike a wood chipper getting revved up for business.

Then he focused his gaze on the Kaibab squirrel seated in front of him.

Chapter 5 will conclude this coming Thursday.