Disclaimer: Zootopia stories, characters, settings, and properties belong to the Walt Disney Co. This story is written under Fair Use Copyright laws.
The Fire Triangle
Part Two:
Oxidizer
Chapter 10
All Together Now...(Part 1)
Judy Hopps was feeling remarkably better.
The ache in her paw had almost completely subsided, and her injured diaphragm was healing nicely. At last, she was able to breathe again; no assistance required to ascend the concourse up to Chief Bogo's office. Yes-s-s, she did have to stop for a break on the way, but her second wind arrived in less than a half a minute.
Because of all this, the newly minted bunny-detective was in an upbeat mood on this fine, Zootopia morning.
She should have known it wouldn't last.
The first inkling that her best course of action might have been to call in sick came when she was approximately ten feet away from Bogo's door. Sweet cheez n' crackers, what the heck was going on in there? Even for him, this was one monster of a tirade.
"Oh, you didn't, eh?" she heard him thunder. "Then explain THIS!" It was followed by the sound of something impacting against the top of his desk—so hard, it made the doe-bunny wonder if he was going to need a new one. The next thing she heard was a muffled response, followed by an even louder yell.
"Lie to me if you must, but DON'T INSULT MY INTELLIGENCE! D'you think I wouldn't have sent this to forensics before…?"
Ooohhh, Judy had no idea who Bogo had with him in his office—or why they'd been called there—but she couldn't help feeling a little sympathy. She too had known the big cape buffalo's wrath, and on more than on occasion. But never, not even one, single, solitary time, had she found herself facing such a furious harangue as the one she was hearing right now. If it had been her in there, she wasn't sure if she could have stood up to it. Awww, who the heck was she kidding? She knew she couldn't…
These thoughts were cut off as her phone buzzed.
"This is Judy Hopps," she said…and then her ears were reaching for the ceiling. Why would…?
"Hopps," came the gruff, scratchy—and slightly hoarse—voice of Chief Bogo, "Have you arrived at the precinct yet?"
"Y-Yes Chief," she answered, feeling her nose starting to twitch in confusion. "I…was just on my way up to your office to…."
"Good," he snorted, "Come right in when you get here. This concerns you as well."
He disconnected without another word.
All at once, the specter of Judy's injuries came back to haunt her—or that was the impression she gave, taking small hesitant steps in the direction of Chief Bogo's door. As of right now, there was no way she could manage the jump to the handle. But no sooner was she in front of it than it swung open from the other side.
It wasn't the Chief who opened it, but someone only vaguely familiar to the gray-furred doe-bunny; a black panther wearing the dark gray coveralls of the ZPD's Marine Unit…and also an expression that was half confused, and half antagonistic. What was her name again? Cazanova? Casablanca? Something like that.
"Do you need some help, Detective?" the big cat asked her stiffly, indicating the smaller of the two chairs in front of Bogo's desk, still too large for a bunny to ascend without making a leap. Ordinarily, Judy would have declined the offer…but not in her current state. Was the Chief about to let loose on her, too?
"Please," she said, allowing the feline to give her a leg up. Bogo waited until the panther had taken her own seat before he began speaking again.
"In case you're wondering why I've asked Detective Hopps to join us, Officer Cazador, it's because one of the occupants of the boat you were shooting at the other night was her younger sister, Erin."
It seemed to take hours for his words to register with the doe-bunny. But when they did, the effects of her injuries were gone in a flash—along with any sort of sympathy she might have felt for the feline occupying the other chair. Said feline, meanwhile, looked as if she'd just taken a sledgehammer to her midsection.
"You did WHAT?" Judy almost screamed, and leapt to the floor in a high arc, landing in a three-point stance. It hurt like heck, but she barely noticed. "How could you?"
"I…I'm so sorry, Detective Hopps," Olivia Cazador's frostbitten demeanor seemed to have undergone a paradigm shift, wilting ears and a tail curling up beneath her legs. She was studying the floor and her voice had dissolved to a dry near-whisper. "I had no idea that was your sister…"
She was interrupted by the crash of Bogo's hoof against his desktop.
"Hopps's sister or no…you discharged your weapon in anger against not only an unarmed suspect, but an unarmed juvenile—and THEN you tried to cover it up!"
Judy knew that wasn't entirely true, but at the moment, she couldn't have cared less. And besides, no one had fired a tranq-dart at any of the ZPD boats; those projectiles had been reserved strictly for the Privateers.
"Why?" she demanded, paws going straight to her hips, "Why would you do a thing like that? And look at me when I'm talking to you, Officer Cazador!"
The panther-cop was able to comply only by way of a herculean effort. When she spoke, her voice was the mewl of a frightened cub.
"M-Mi socio…Uhm, my partner. He…"
"…Walked away with barely a scorch-mark," Bogo cut her off again, "as I've already told you. Oh, and Officer Blake also says that the crash was an accident—and that it was the young mammals you were shooting at who put out the fire; probably saved his life."
"They…did?" Olivia Cazador's eyes were open wide, and her jaw was halfway to the floor. So were Judy's; this was news to her as well.
"Too right they did!" Bogo half bellowed again, looming over the desktop, "And it's just a good thing for you—and the department—that none of those youngsters were hurt." And then before the panther had time to respond, he was thrusting a hoof in her face, "Badge!"
Even in the present circumstances, Judy couldn't help but feel a twinge of empathy. After all, she'd been here, done this herself, once. But then, that feeling was gone, too. Good Lord, this hotheaded kitty could have killed her little sister!
In the meantime, Olivia Cazador was meekly passing over her badge to Chief Bogo. "D-Don't you want my gun, too?"
"I've already got that, haven't I?" he snorted, pointing to something nestled in a translucent plastic tray on his desktop. "And now that will be all, Cazador. Dismissed."
Upset as she was, Judy couldn't help noticing the lack of the word, 'Officer.'
"Am I…Am I fired, Chief?" the panther asked, wringing her paws. To Judy, it seemed like the silliest question, ever.
Or…maybe not.
"No," the big cape buffalo responded curtly, "You're suspended, pending a weapons-discharge board of enquiry and a disciplinary review." He leaned across his desk again, "But if I were you, I'd start updating my resume. Now, go and clean out your locker, Cazador. Dis-missed!"
When she was gone, Chief Bogo seemed to deflate, plopping down into his office chair with a rumbling sigh.
"Sorry for having to bring you in on that Detective, but if I hadn't done, she'd be running to the Police Union even as we speak. Up until your arrival, I wasn't getting through to her."
"I understand, sir," Judy nodded. She could feel her own anger starting to dissipate as well. "And, to tell the truth, I'd rather have learned about it like this than any other way."
The big cape buffalo didn't seem to hear her.
"Such a waste," he grumbled, picking up a folder from his desktop and slapping it down again, glancing sideways at the bunny-detective. "D'you know that before this incident, her record was exemplary? Not one, but two commendations and now…" He shook his head and sighed. "Such a waste."
Judy felt her teeth come together Oooo…that was unnerving. If an officer with an impeccable service history was capable of such a massive rage-blunder, then NOBODY on the force was immune. She found herself thinking of her own near-fall from grace; that train-wreck of a press conference, three years ago.
And then she shook it off and got down to business.
"Chief? When you called me, I was on my way up here to deliver a report."
"Ah, yes," Bogo reached for his spectacles and affixed them to the bridge of his nose, "About the Guilford boy, I presume. Have you made any progress, then?"
"Some," Judy answered, standing on tiptoes and proffering a Manila folder, "But not as much as we'd like. Two days ago, we had a noise complaint come in about a young coyote who was keeping a retired couple awake with his howling. With everything else that was happening, we didn't have time to respond. On a hunch, I went to go to talk to the woodchucks who called it in. After they finally calmed down, they told me they were certain it had been coming from the other side of a fence, behind their apartment building. I checked it out and found a big sink-hole back there, with a dumpster wedged into it. No one was down inside of it, but someone had been there earlier. I found another, smaller hole. around the other side, where they'd been dug out."
Bogo put his hooves together on the desktop, forming a triangle.
"So, if I'm hearing you correctly, whoever was trapped in that sinkhole, they did not dig themselves out—at least not without some assistance, is that correct?"
"It is, sir." The doe-bunny nodded, briskly. "There were claw-marks all around the edge of that exit hole, and chunks of pavement with more marks. About the only animal I know that's capable of digging through asphalt with bare paws is a member of the badger family. I had the fragments sent over to forensics, but I'm about 80% certain that a badger was our excavator."
"And badgers are known to associate closely with coyotes." The Chief grunted, having guessed where she was going with this.
"An association that goes back to even before we evolved," the doe-bunny reminded him, probably needlessly.
"And," Bogo was leaning over his desk again, "was there evidence of a coyote in that dig?"
"I found two pawprints only inside of the exit hole," she said, "badly smeared, but definitely canine."
"But were they coyote tracks?" The Chief inquired, an edge beginning to creep into his voice.
Judy took a deep breath before answering him, the better to be able to speak quickly. "Couldn't tell, sir…so I called in Officer Howell to give it once over with his nose." She pointed at the folder, "He confirmed that the scent of the animal trapped in that hole was not only from a coyote, it was definitely left by Craig Guilford. He said he's 100% certain."
"Better," Bogo leaned back in his chair again, arching an eyebrow. "But do me a favour in future, will you Detective? Next time you've got a point to make, MAKE it. Don't hold me in suspense while you work your way up to it."
"Yes, Chief," Judy nodded, making a mental note, "I mean, no Chief, I won't."
"And was Officer Howell able to identify our helpful badger, by any chance?" He asked her, moving on.
"I'm afraid not," the doe-bunny sighed, shaking her head and thumping her foot in frustration, "According to what he told me, Craig Guilford's rescuer had at least half a dozen other mammals with him. Between that, the rain, and the 48-hour delay, he wasn't able to get a lock on any those other animals' species."
"Which means that our badger—if it was a badger—wasn't just some well-meaning Good Samaritan," Bogo grunted, speaking to nobody before looking at her again, "But Howell's certain that our coyote was the Guilford boy?"
His burst of sudden skepticism caught Judy by surprise, although it shouldn't have. If the wolf-cop had been unable to identify any of the other mammals who'd been gathered at the sinkhole that night, then how could he have been certain Craig Guilford had been the animal trapped inside of it?
Fortunately, she had a ready answer.
"Yes, Chief. The Guilford kid was the only one there who was actually down inside of that sinkhole. According to Officer Howell, he was there for at least a couple of hours before he was pulled out." She was about to end it there, but then remembered something. "And Howell's a red wolf, don't forget—which means he has a few coyote genes himself."
"Ah yes, forgot about that," Bogo admitted, without the slightest trace of chagrin, and then his eyebrow lifted again, telling Judy that he knew she'd come to the end of the good news.
…Which she had.
"And—sorry Chief—but that's all we were able to get. Howell tried to track the Guilford boy's scent, but it was a hopeless effort after that much rain and that much time."
"Only to be expected, Detective," Bogo waved his hoof as if batting away a fly, "And don't apologize, you did well—as well as could be expected, under the circumstances. Better, in fact."
"Thank you, sir." Judy smiled but she was wary. It wasn't like him to be this magnanimous. Something was coming—something she WASN'T going to like.
It didn't take long for her prediction to come true.
"Right then," Bogo patted his desktop with both hooves. Judy couldn't help noticing that he was having trouble meeting her gaze.
Ohhh carrot-stix; it was worse than she thought.
"I've got some new information regarding young Mr. Lewis," he finally rumbled.
"Good or bad?" Judy asked, unable to stifle the question before it was out.
"Sort of both," was Bogo's answer, delivered in an uncertain tone. "It seems our fugitive young silver fox has once again been able to secure the services of the honourable—and I use the term very loosely—the honourable Vernon J. Rodenberg, attorney at law.
"Oh, sweet cheez n' crackers!" Judy groaned—not so much at what the Cape Buffalo had just said as the knowledge that while the news was bad, it wasn't nearly bad enough to get him this flustered. There had to be more.
And there was…
"And Mr. Rodenberg had also informed us," Bogo was forcing himself to look at her. "That…that your sister Erin Hopps has also retained him to represent her."
"What? NO!" Judy screamed so loudly she again forgot about her injuries again…until a red-hot, invisible lance seemed to thrust into her side. For a moment she thought her lung might have collapsed.
Again, she didn't care. It couldn't be. Her younger sister had been absolutely right to find a lawyer to help her, no fault to be found there. But Vernon J. Rodenberg, the mobsters' attorney of choice? Ohhhhh, no…not HIM! Poor Mom was going to have a coronary when she heard. And did Erin retaining the same attorney as Conor Lewis mean…that she and that malicious young silver fox were together? "Dangit, sis…what's WRONG with you?"
Somehow, she had to get Erin away from that messed-up fox kid. What if she unknowingly grabbed him from behind? It was almost too terrible to contemplate.
It was then that the answer struck her. Judy knew what she had to do…or maybe she'd already known. It wasn't a solution, but maybe it was the beginning of one. She looked up at Bogo, giving him her best, big, soulful bunny-eyes.
"Chief, I know this isn't my case. But with your permission, I want to go talk to Vern Rodenberg."
He made a sound that was either a snort, or a sigh. "He won't tell you anything; you know that don't you?"
Well…that wasn't the response Judy had been expecting; more like a flat 'No', and his fist coming down on the desk again. True, he hadn't in any way consented to her request, but it was an opening and she'd be foolish not to take it.
"Probably not, sir," she said, "but what have we got to lose by trying? And don't forget, Mr. Rodenberg was a lot more forthcoming during the Red Pig business than anyone would have expected."
That, the doe-bunny knew, was the grandest of understatements. If Rodenberg's enemies in the Attorney General's Office ever found out what he'd done…well, there wouldn't be a whole lot they could do about it. The rat attorney had wisely avoided any sort of direct involvement.
But if The Red Pig ever got wind of it…
"Hmmmm," Bogo was stroking his chin, looking thoughtful, "You do make a point there, Detective."
Yes, she did. And now it was time to deliver the clincher.
"But what I really hope to accomplish, Chief, is…I'm hoping he'll agree to deliver a message to Erin for me."
"Mmmmnnn," Bogo rumbled, lost in thought for a moment. And then he sat up with a no-nonsense look in his eye. "Very well, Hopps. Go ahead and talk to him. D'you have his number then?"
Oops, she knew she'd forgotten something.
"Uh, no sir," she admitted, praying hard that it wouldn't be a dealbreaker.
But Bogo only waved a dismissive hoof.
"Right Detective, I'll ring him up meself, then. See Clawhauser when you get downstairs; he'll let you know if Rodenberg's willing to see you."
"Yes, sir," She answered, pleased. Without thinking, she went to the door and tried to jump for the handle—forgetting that she wasn't yet up to it. She missed the mark and landed with a wince; a fact that did not escape her Chief's notice.
"Right, you'd best have a driver. I'll see who's available and have them meet you out front.
Judy felt her foot trying to thump.
"Sir, I already drove myself to…"
"You'll HAVE a driver, Hopps." The big cape buffalo cut her off, using his patented, 'No Argument' voice.
"Yes, sir," she answered quickly, knowing better than to dispute such a minor point, especially in the present circumstances.
"Right then," Bogo got up and opened the door for her. Judy was one step outside, when she stopped and turned to look up at him, "Thanks, Chief."
His right eyebrow arced up so high, it seemed to disappear beneath his horn. "Don't thank me, Detective. The only reason I'm allowing this is because I know you're determined to go and see Mr. Rodenberg, whether or not you're given permission." His expression mellowed slightly, "As would I, if it were my sister in jeopardy. Off you go, then."
Barklyn, Zoo York
Nick paced up and down the sidewalk in front of his rented Hare BNB, occasionally glancing at his watch. It wasn't like Martin Pennanti to be running so late. For every single one of their previous meetings, he'd been as punctual as Old Faithful. What made it doubly frustrating was that there'd been no text, no phone calls, no message left with the ZPD, nothing. And when he'd tried to contact the fisher-detective, the call had gone straight to voicemail.
He growled and looked across the street—to where a ZYPD cruiser was parked against the curb. Leaning on the windowsill was a big white tiger, wearing mirrored sunglasses and a toothy smirk, looking straight in his direction. Holy foxtrot, Zoo York's Finest weren't even trying to pretend they weren't watching him—or maybe that was the general idea.
As if to confirm this, the tiger pointed at his shades with a pair of fingers, and then aimed them at Nick.
The fox immediately donned his own sunglasses—so the big cat wouldn't notice his eyes rolling. "Oh, puh-LEEZE, if I wanted to, I could ditch you sooo easily…"
It was then that Martin Pennanti's big, black, Coltsmobile came angling around the corner.
"About stinking TIME!"
Pulling up to the curb, almost directly in front of Nick, the fisher pushed open the passenger door, motioning to the seat beside him, "Hop in, Nicky!"
"Not a word of apology," the red fox grumbled to himself as he slid inside and closed the door behind him.
Actually, there was, but it didn't come until five minutes later, when they hit the Cowanus Expressway.
"Sorry, I'm late Nick, but I got news." Pennanti turned and flashed a toothy grin, "I am now officially a part of this investigation."
"Wha-What?" Nick reeled back in his seat, too staggered to be angry any longer. How the heck…?
Before he could get even halfway through the thought, the fisher was giving him the answer.
"Seems your silver-fox kid made contact with Vern Rodenberg again." He shook his head, and hissed, "I dunno how he did it, but somehow the little piantagrane managed to talk the rat into taking him back as a client."
"Okay," Nick's ears were pointing at the roof of the car, "But what does that have to do with you becoming part of the Lewis Investigation?"
"I'm getting to that, I'm getting to that," Pennanti assured him, patting the steering wheel with his paw. "What happened is, the Lewis kid told Rodenberg his back-story, and now he needs somebody to check it out. So, he called his PI, and his PI called the Minkertons, and the Minkertons called me, telling me I'd been asked for, specifically."
"Ah," Nick nodded, at last understanding. He had wrongly assumed that it had been the ZPD who'd brought the fisher into the case, "And of course you accepted."
"Well-l-l-l, yes," his host admitted, "But not without haggling over my compensation you understand." His expression became a mixture of the mournful and the crafty, "having to interrupt my vacation and all—after I'd been promised the time off, boo-hoo-hoo. That's why I was late meeting up with you."
Nick felt his own expression becoming sly. If that was the reason for the fisher's tardiness…say no more. "And how'd you make out?"
"Double overtime," Pennanti responded, offering a high four, which the red fox readily returned.
But then things got serious.
"Listen Nicky, now I gotta tell you something you're not gonna like. When I agreed to take this case, it made me technically an employee of Vernon J. Rodenberg, attorney at law…which makes me bound by the same rule of attorney-client privilege as him. What that means is, I can't divulge any of what the Lewis kid said to the rat, or anything I learn on my own, separate from you; not unless Rodenberg gives me the okay."
"Aggggh, grrrr," Nick slapped the windowsill in disgust, looking out at the passing cars.
"I know, right?" the fisher nodded sympathetically, and then slumped in his seat, muttering almost to himself, "Che infame, if anyone had ever told me that one day, I'd be doing work for that guy…" he straightened up and shook it off. "Never mind; it is what it is." The corners of his mouth began to turn upwards, "But the good part is, there's nothing that says I can't continue to work with you—and anything you pick up for yourself while we're together is yours to keep, of course."
"Okay, yes…that's good news," Nick conceded, doing his best to conceal his relief. He'd have learned practically nothing so far, if it wasn't for this fisher.
It was a moment before either one of them spoke again. Glancing sideways at Martin Pennanti, the red fox could see his brows working, as if he was carefully mulling his next words. And then the fisher looked at him again, "I can't give you all the details Nicky, but I was able to confirm, right out of the gate, that nearly everything the Lewis kid said about his time with The Company was true. I don't know the whole story of course, but everything he gave up that I was familiar with was 100% accurate."
Nick felt his own brow furrowing. How should he put his next question? "I'm assuming that doesn't include the time after he was…supposedly killed by that street gang?"
Pennanti nodded over the steering wheel.
"You would be correct in that assumption, Nick. While I always suspected that the whole thing might have been a scam, I never had anything to go on except my instincts." He glanced briefly in the fox's direction. "Suffice it to say, that when you informed me that the McLeod boy—now the Lewis boy—was still alive, it didn't come as all that much of a shock."
He frowned deeply for a second.
"You're gonna hear this from the ZYPD anyway, sooner or later, so I don't think it's a problem if I talk about it now." He rapped with his knuckles on the steering-wheel. "I never tried to recruit your Lewis kid as an informant, Nicky; anyone who tells you that is lying. My interest in that boy was strictly in trying to get him the heck away from The Mister, nothing else."
"I…see," Nick answered, cautiously. He didn't, but he knew better than to sidetrack his host's train of thought at a time like this.
"I knew how that sea-jerk worked," the fisher went on, "And I knew the McLeod boy was an alumnus of Granite Point, though I could never prove it." He rapped the steering wheel again. "Feccia sporca! I always knew McCrodon was a first-class slimeball, but I never thought he'd stoop to blackmailing a kid into doing his dirty-work."
Nick almost missed the latter half of what his host had just told him. The first part had left him thoroughly nonplussed. "But, how did you know the Lewis boy had been locked up in Granite point…if you couldn't prove it?"
Pennanti sighed and almost grimaced. "Because The Mister was always threatening to send the kid back there. I never heard him say it—not on a wire, or any place else—but his guys used to talk about it all the stinkin' time!"
"Ah, I get it," Nick nodded his understanding, "All you had was a rumor." THAT was what he'd meant by having no proof.
"Right," the fisher grumbled, "and that wasn't good enough for my bosses. Plus, when we tried to contact Granite Point about the kid, we got stonewalled; they said they had no records of any silver-fox kid being held there…ever."
It was on the tip of Nick's tongue to ask Pennanti if he thought…Who was it that ran Granite Point again? …if they'd been lying when they told him that. But then he realized it was a silly question, and asked another one instead.
"Was that place really as bad as they say?"
"Worse," his host answered with a grim nod. "Honestly, I wasn't at all surprised that the outfit in charge of that place, AKER Correctional, refused to cooperate with us." To Nick's mild bewilderment, he flashed a toothy smirk, "However, times have changed Nicky…and now I know a guy." The smirk opened into a sardonic grin as he pointed up ahead. "And that's why we're headed to Zoo Jersey."
Nick looked, and saw up ahead in the distance, the looming, teal-green towers of the Ferretzano Narrows Bridge. At once, he experienced the sinking feeling of being about to step into enemy territory—though for the life of him, he couldn't say why.
It came as no surprise that Pennanti made him cover the bridge toll. By now, he was used to it, and anyway…it was the ZPD's money, not his.
They were about a third of the way across, when the fisher pointed through the windshield again.
"There," he said, "That's the place where Junior McCrodon made his big leap of faith." He concluded by crossing himself in what was almost a throwaway gesture.
"Mmmm," Nick responded, not particularly interested. It looked like any other spot on this bridge, and besides…James McCrodon Jr. was someone he knew only by way of anecdotes—something for which he was sincerely grateful. "So, where, exactly, are we headed?" he asked.
"Tom's River," Pennanti replied, as if his guest should know exactly where that was and why it was their destination. "We'll stop to get some gas first, and then it's about an hour and a half drive."
Nick felt a sour smile unwinding across his face
"Don't tell me, let me guess; you're going to let ME take care of the fuel costs, right?"
Pennanti winked and raised a thumb, "You're learning, Nicky, you're learning."
Zootopia—ZPD. Precinct One
"You're back already, Detective Hopps?" Chief Bogo looked as if he'd been caught playing with the Gazelle app again.
"Yes, Chief," she answered breathily. Crawling up into her chair again, she patted her knees and pursed her lips, "Like you said, there wasn't much that Mr. Rodenberg was willing to tell me, and…" she looked away for a second, "And honestly, I had to get out of there before I did something I'd be sorry for later."
"Vernon J. Rodenberg does have that effect on our officers," Bogo answered with a knowing nod, "Can't begin to count the number of times I've wanted to pound that rat into the floor." His look became semi-sympathetic. "Was he at least willing to deliver a message to your sister then?"
Judy let out another sigh, "He promised to try—but said he has no way to reach her at the present time."
Bogo folded his arms and scowled.
"And, of course, he wouldn't tell you where she is."
"I think that goes without saying, sir." The doe bunny answered with her jaw tightening, "As a matter of fact, I didn't even ask." Her foot began to thump; she didn't try to stop it. "Just the same, he made me write out my message in his presence and insisted on reading it before he'd agree to take it." She looked away with her ears laid back. "But at least he didn't insist that I make any changes."
"Well," the Chief replied, trying to offer an upbeat note—a rarity for him, "Let us hope then, that he's able to get that note to your sister…and that she'll pay attention to what you've got to tell her."
He let out a grunt and then it was back down to business, "But were you able to learn anything of value, Detective?"
Judy looked uncomfortable for a second. She was going to have to present this very carefully.
"Rodenberg did say one thing, sir—in fact, he insisted. He said that Erin only broke out of jail with those other kids because Craig Guilford was after her and it was the only way to get away from him."
"What, then?" Bogo's ears were up and so were his eyebrows, "Why the Devil would HE have been chasing her?"
Judy had known the answer to that question even before he asked it. "Well Chief, as I'm sure you're already aware, that coyote kid's had it in for me ever since I arrested him—and he also knows that Erin's my younger sister."
"Huh?" the big cape buffalo's brows seemed locked in an elevated position, "How could he possibly…?" He winced and snapped his fingers; it sounded like a pistol shot. "Ohhh, right…you're all from Bunnyburrow, aren't you?"
"Where everyone knows everyone," the doe-bunny nodded, "that's exactly right, sir." The scowl returned to her face, even deeper than before, "And if Craig is anything like his father, it'd be perfectly in character for him to try to get to me through my little sister. It's exactly how that family rolls."
She had more to say, but abruptly stopped herself. Bogo was stroking his chin with one hoof, and drumming fingers on his desk with the other. Ohhhh, sweet cheez n' crackers, she had let herself get carried away after all.
Looking up at the ZPD Chief, she knew what he was thinking. If Craig Guilford had a grudge that big against Erin—and if her sister was in company with Conor Lewis—it meant the Guilford and Lewis cases overlapped. Finding one fugitive might very well lead to apprehending the other.
And that meant Judy would be perfectly within her rights to join in the search for her missing sister.
UNLESS Bogo pulled her off the Craig Guilford investigation—and that was far from an unlikely scenario. He was known to be a stickler when it came to officers becoming fursonally involved in a case.
Finally, after a short, sharp moment, he looked her way again, clearing his throat with a sound not unlike a wood chipper.
"Detective Hopps, can you honestly say that you won't let your feelings for your sister interfere with your investigation? As a matter of fact," he grunted, looking her square in the eye, "I need you to promise that it won't happen."
"It won't, Chief," Judy answered him, her gaze never wavering for an instant. "I didn't let my emotions get the better of me when I interviewed Vern Rodenberg—and I won't let them get in the way going forward." She raised a paw as if being sworn in on the witness stand. "You have my word, sir."
"Very well, Detective," Bogo was nodding gravely, "You'll stay where you are…for the moment." He lifted a thick finger, then lowered it in her direction. "But listen to me now, I'm going to hold you to your word. Go off script, even one time, and you'll be right off the Guilford investigation. I mean it." He sat back, laying his hooves on the desktop. "Much as I value your contributions thus far, I can't afford anything less."
"I understand, sir," the bunny-detective answered, swallowing hard, and hoping he wouldn't notice. Could she stick to that promise? Could she honestly keep her own feelings out of it? It was easy enough to say so, sitting here in Bogo's office—but what about when she was out there in the trenches?
Well…there was only one way to find out…