We were greeted by a raccoon from Forensic Analysis when we returned to the station.
"Hopps, Wilde," he said, tucking his paws into the pockets of his slacks. "Results for the tests on the evidence you submitted last week are on your desk." He didn't stick around for a confirmation on our part, his bluntness a trait I had noticed many of the mammals of the precinct who worked with stiffs, data, or analysis shared.
"We should head to Bogo first," I said. Judy seemed to wither slightly at the thought.
"You're sure we aren't in trouble?" she asked in a small voice. I shook my head.
"Well, aside from probably wanting to turn me into taxidermy every time I mouth off, no, Fluff, he didn't seem angry about us at all. Quite the opposite, in fact." I wished I could take her paw to reassure her, to reassure myself, but had to make do with a platonic bump of the elbow instead. "C'mon."
Bogo had two forms on his desk when we had sat down. He pushed them toward us with a hoof.
"Am I right in assuming this would be the correct time to submit these to mammal resources?" he asked, an eyebrow raised as if to say 'try and tell me I'm wrong'.
"What are they, Chief" Judy asked, taking the form in front of her and scanning it.
"These, Hopps, are Cover Your Ass forms," he said with a snort. "It's letting MR know that you and Wilde are officially in a relationship." Judy wilted.
"Do we really have to?" Bogo nodded quite seriously.
"It's for your benefit more than anything else, Hopps. It's a sign of good faith—if you and Wilde disclose the relationship from the beginning, MR can back you up in the event that someone takes issue with a decision of yours. Tries to put it down to favoritism or anything like that." He looked at us expectantly, before we realized we needed to sign the forms and return them to him. "It goes without saying," he continued once we'd both pulled out pens, "that neither of you can serve as direct superior to the other. That may mean waiting longer for promotions, Hopps. Are you prepared for that?" He peered down at her intently. Judy nodded vigorously.
"Absolutely, Chief." He snorted again.
"Good." He sat back in his chair as we finished filling out the forms. "Now then; I believe I promised Wilde a bit of advice for the two of you." He leaned forward over his desk, and we leaned in too, like he was sharing the secrets of the universe.
"Don't screw it up," he said slowly, taking care to enunciate each syllable carefully. A smirk that felt totally at odds with Bogo's heavy features accompanied the advice.
"Was that it?" I asked, flabbergasted. He nodded. "That was the personal advice that you couldn't have told me before?" He nodded again, a real tone of glee beginning to shimmer on his face.
"What I'm about to say will never leave this room, understood?" He waited for us to nod in the affirmative. "You two make an excellent pair—beyond that, the city looks up to. You represent the ideals Zootopia was founded on. If your professional partnership falters due to your personal relationship, there will be hell to pay. If your relationship falls apart—" He broke off, looking towards the door as if to make sure the whole precinct wasn't pressed against the glass eavesdropping. "If things don't work out between you two, and I have to split you up, I'll lose my two most promising officers at once." Judy's ears flushed a bright red as my own flung backwards.
"We won't let you down, Chief!" Judy exclaimed.
"Ditto that," I echoed weakly.
And I had just convinced myself there'd be a lot less stress in my life from this point on.
…
"Uh oh," I said, re-reading the report on Loxley's personal effects.
"What's up?" Judy asked, rolling her chair to butt up against mine.
"This isn't right," I said, gesturing to the report. "It says the wallet and the phone have both been carefully treated with bleach." I threw the report at my desk and leaned back, paws against my eyes. "It doesn't make any sense. Why would he hide them if they were clean? How would he have had time to clean them? He's not in the footage for long enough." Judy took the report and began looking through it herself.
"This isn't right at all," she said, echoing me now. "If he had bleached the phone and wallet before hiding them, they'd still have something on them by the time you found them. Rust particles, rain water, something. These are totally clean." She looked up. "Like, they had to have been cleaned after you brought them in." My blood ran cold.
"So you think someone at the precinct—"
She held up a finger and looked meaningfully around us.
"I have really good hearing, Nick, but I'm not the only one here who does." I nodded.
"You're right," I said. "What do we do now?" She slumped back into her chair.
"We need to find some connection between Loxley and the precinct." She sat back up, ears perked. "Did we ever find out the last job Loxley had?" I snapped my fingers, remembering the advice Lowell had given me.
"That's right," I said. "Lowell told me we needed to expand our pool of suspects." Judy's ears collapsed down against her back at my mention of the detective. "Hey," I said, drawing as close as I dared, a paw on her knee. "When were you going to tell me about what happened with Howlton and Lowell?" Her head dipped down, her eyes low to avoid mine.
"I don't know," she said, rubbing a foot against her leg nervously. "I was hoping you would forget about it." I gave her leg a little squeeze.
"They just wouldn't stop trashing you all day," she said, her voice shaking. "I couldn't take anymore of it." She finally raised her head to meet my gaze—she hadn't shed any tears yet, but her eyes were wet with them. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let them get to me."
"It's okay, you know?" I said, my voice low. "It's okay if they get to you. They're going to say a lot about me, about me and you. Just keep me in the loop, alright?" She nodded, sniffling slightly. "Let's head to the hospital, then. Make the world a better place."
She smiled at that, and after clearing her eyes, jumped from her chair, as ready as ever.
…
Judy had been right about Loxley, our victim. He was practically wasted away, to begin with—a male red fox of twenty-six shouldn't be nearly as skinny as he was. His fur was unkempt and lacked the luster of good nutrition.
All of this on top of the bruising, and cuts, and worst of all, the painful-looking metal brace that was keeping his mouth shut. I shuddered slightly, remembering the x-rays we'd been shown last week.
Now, maybe it was a sign that the city was getting a little better. Maybe it was Bogo steering myself and Judy clear of those cases. But I had yet to deal with a fellow fox as a police officer yet. At least I wasn't bringing Loxley in for a crime.
"Thomas Loxley?" I asked. The other fox had been dozing, likely heavily medicated considering the extent of his injuries; and he snapped awake at the sound of my voice.
"It's Todd," Judy whispered out of the side of her mouth.
"What?" I whispered back.
"He goes by Todd," she said. I nodded.
"Todd?" I asked. He raised his head slightly from his pillow and made an effort to focus on us. "My name is Officer Wilde, and I'm sure you remember my partner, Officer Hopps?" His eyes slid slowly from me to Judy, then back to me. Definitely on the good stuff right now. He reached a paw out to the counter next to the bed.
"Oh," Judy exclaimed, running up to pass him a whiteboard and marker that were just out of his reach.
What can I do for you?, wrote the younger fox. Judy took the lead now.
"Officer Wilde and I will be taking over your case from Officers Wolfard and Fangmeyer. We were hoping you could give us a bit more information about yourself?" He looked puzzled.
Like what?
"Your job," I started, listing off some of the things Lowell had told me. "Anywhere you go frequently, like a church, or a bar, or a…hmm…gentlemammal's club." Judy colored slightly at that but didn't comment.
Loxley seemed to sink despondently into his pillows before he answered.
Unemployed, was all he wrote.
"What about the last place you worked?" Judy chimed in, pen poised to take notes on anything he could give us. He shifted again, and turned back to the whiteboard.
Wolf Cola packing plant, in Tundratown.
I felt, more than saw, Judy's ears go completely straight. I knew the series of warehouses he was referring to—they were a relatively recent operation that had opened up practically on Mr. Big's front lawn. Their drinks were terrible, though.
"Anything else? Anyone you interact with frequently at your apartment complex?" Interestingly, Todd's ears took on a darker hue and folded backwards. He was…ashamed of something. He shook his head.
"All right, then," I said, clapping my paws together. "Thank you for your cooperation, Todd. We'll be in touch when we have more news, or whenever you get the brace off; whichever comes first."
Judy kept herself controlled until we had made it about halfway down the hallway.
"Nick!" she shouted, leaping slightly as we made our way out of Zootopia General. "Wolf Cola? I don't want to make unfair assumptions but there's got to be at least one or two wolves working there!"
"You might be right," I replied, blinking against the bright light of the midday sun as we exited the doors. I snagged my sunglasses from my pocket and flipped them over my eyes. "But how would anyone from a beverage manufacturer get access to the evidence lock-up?" Some of the hop went from Judy's step.
"I don't know yet," she said slowly. "Let's find out, huh?"