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The Fire Triangle
Part Two:
Oxidizer
Chapter 10
All Together Now - Cont'd…Part 2
Zoo Jersey State Police Barracks, Toms River, Zoo Jersey
"Where's my hundred, you chiselin' tree-weasel?"
To Martin Pennanti's credit, he didn't so much as flinch at the rejoinder; only looked up calmly at the rhino towering over him, his musteline face suffused with a mixture of innocence and insouciance.
"For crying out loud, Spike," he said, spreading his arms, "We haven't seen each other in what, eight months, and those are the first words outta your mouth?"
Ronald, Spike' Bush, former Zoo York City Police Detective first grade, only laced up his arms and snorted.
"Cry me a river an' drown in it…and it's NINE months, Pennanti!"
Watching from the sidelines, Nick Wilde was more amused than discouraged. For all his bluster, Spike Bush wasn't about to turn them away. If that had been the case, he'd have slammed the door on the fisher and his guest the moment they'd shown up on his doorstep.
However, that didn't mean he was prepared to welcome them with open arms.
"You waltz in here, unannounced, no phone call, no warnin', no nothin'…and just expect me to drop everything and make time for you. I gotta say homes, you got you some serious…"
It was at this point that Nick's detective side came into play. Two things were obvious here, and there was something else at least worthy of conjecture.
In the first two places, Nick had no doubt that Martin Pennanti and Spike Bush went back a long way—and that the rhino's current position was several steps down from where he'd been back when they'd worked together. For instance, he was clad in the black pants and sky-blue shirt of the Zoo Jersey State PD—and you don't go from plainclothes to a uniform as part of a promotion. It was then he spotted something else worthy of note—a shield-shaped patch on the rhino's right sleeve, the emblem of the Zoo Jersey Juvenile Justice Commission.
Ohhh-kay, at least now he knew what he and his guide were doing here.
The thing he wasn't so sure about was…Spike was genuinely angry at Martin Pennanti, no doubt about it. And yet somehow, Nick doubted that it had anything to do with a piddly, little hundred-dollar bet—or even the rhino's reduced status. Noooo, the big mammal's fury sprang for another, deeper source—a source he wasn't going to talk about in front of any stranger; that was another thing of which Nick was 100% certain.
Pennanti, meanwhile, had adopted the wheedling tone of a high-school kid, pleading to be allowed to go to a party.
"Come on Spike, we drove all the way from Zoo York to see you. And you know me; I'd never do that unless it was important. Don't you at least want to know what we're here for?"
The rhino's shoulder rose and fell and he let out a grumbling snort.
"You got five minutes, bubba….and you already used up four of 'em." His finger shot out in the direction of the door, "That leaves 60 seconds…an' then you clear your tail outta here."
Nick expected a sigh of resignation from Pennanti, but instead his face split open in a feral grin.
"Nah, I only need five seconds," he said, and then his face turned icy-hard. "The McCleod kid's still alive, Spike…and he's wanted in Zootopia for assaulting a cop and starting a riot."
The effect of his words was as if a plug of hurricane wind had blown suddenly through the police station. Spike Bush was bowled back a few steps, and when he came to rest, his lower jaw was on his knees and hid ire had given way to astonishment.
"What…seriously?"
"Yep," the fisher nodded gravely and looked at his watch. "But…I can see our times up, so…take care, paisan." He turned to go, beckoning for Nick to follow.
He only managed about three steps, before the rhino grabbed him by the shoulder.
"All right, all riiiight!" He rumbled and then lowered his voice to a murmur, "But not here."
A half hour later, they were standing at the end of a long unvarnished pier in Cattus Island County Park, overlooking a maze of emerald wetlands. It reminded Nick of the Marsh Market back in Zootopia, but with one crucial difference. The water here was completely deserted and a nearby sign explained the reason why:
NO SWIMMING
NO FIRES
NO ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES
ALL WATERCRAFT PROHIBITED
Hm, no wonder they had the place all to themselves—which wasn't a bad thing, when you considered that this was supposed to be a private meeting. Not only that, they'd be able to see anyone else coming long before they came within earshot—and also smell them; they were downwind from the pier entrance and a light offshore breeze was blowing.
All in all, Nick had to admit, this Spike Bush had some smarts to go with his size.
And now, finally, Martin Pennanti got around to making a proper introduction.
"Spike, this is Detective Nick Wilde of the Zootopia Police Department, one of the animals charged with bringing in the McLeod kid."
"Nice to meet you," the fox said, offering a paw, and then a minor correction, "But I actually came to Zoo York on the trail of a diamond smuggler—whom we only just found out is also the Lewis kid…." Oops, he'd forgotten to mention something. "Er, that's what the McLeod boy calls himself now, Conor Lewis. But they're the same animal; we have the DNA test results to prove it."
He went on to tell the rhino the full story, beginning with the Rafaj Brothers jewelry sting—although he wisely left out the part where he kissed Judy. The rest of the tale, however, came as no surprise to Spike Bush.
"So…The Mister finally found him a place to unload those lavender diamonds."
It was only when Nick got to the part about the Amphitheater uproar and Conor's fight with Judy that the rhino showed anything more than a passing interest.
"Rotten little punk," he snorted, "we should've busted him when we had the chance."
"We thought he was dead, remember?" Pennanti reminded him sardonically.
"YOU didn't," the rhino rejoined, with an oddly uncomfortable expression. Nick had to wonder why, but Spike had already shifted gears. "Anyway, that telescoping baton you described? Sounds to me like your boy must have picked up some of his fightin' skills from the Danaconda."
"And also from Kieran McCrodon," Pennanti added, making a slashing motion with one paw. "Going after Detective Hopps every time she tried to talk to him? That's something straight outta that sea-mink's playbook."
"I heard that," the rhino agreed, and then grunted. "Ohhh-kay…I get why you're here. Martin." It was the first time he'd called Pennanti by his first name. "But what do you want from me?"
The fisher leaned in close and lowered his voice.
"We need access to Granite Point."
When he straightened up again, his shoulders were braced, as if he was expecting a flat-out refusal.
But Spike only shrugged. "That's all you want? Yeah, I can manage dat, no problem." And now his voice dropped a meter. "Only…don't expect to learn much. The Point ain't what it used to be."
The fisher's muzzle rippled in irritation.
"Noooo kidding. Tell me something I don't know, why don't cha?"
"All right," the rhino folded his arms again, this time looking almost smug. "What ya'll don't know is how much that place has changed since the bad, old days. In a speech last month, the governor called it 'a model for youth corrections.' And it is. Not one escape since the McLeod…uh, the Lewis Kid broke outta there, practically no fights, and the lowest recidivism rate of any comparable juvenile jail in the country. They got it crushed so good, officials from other states keep comin' in to see how they get it done." He snorted and bobbed his head, "That answer your question, huh?"
"Wait a minute." Nick was raising his paw like a kit in class, "Sorry to interrupt," He wasn't sorry, but… "But there's something I just can't wrap my head around. If Granite Point was really such an awful place, back in the day…why the heck didn't the state order it closed down?"
Pennanti started to answer, but seemed to think better of it, deferring instead to his former subordinate. "You want to tell him, Spike? Jersey's your turf, not mine."
The rhino let out a sound that could have meant anything,
"You know who AKER Correctional is, right? Yeah, they're the outfit that runs the Jersey juvenile facilities—and the adult prisons too, by the way. Anyway, they came to us with the news about the conditions at Granite Point; told us it was the result of an internal investigation, done strictly on their own. We might never have found out anything, if they hadn't come clean with what they discovered." He let out a puff of air through his nostrils, looking out towards the wetlands for a second, "And I do mean clean, they held NOTHIN' back."
"Allll right," Nick huffed, "but even admitting to their responsibility, why were they allowed to remain in business?"
Spike shut his eyes and pinched at his horn; the air around seemed to be darkening a little.
And then he opened them again.
"Nobody knows for sure, uh…Detective Wilde, is it? But the grapevine says a few paws got greased, and a few other animals got levered. The Mister wasn't the only animal, knew how to play dat game." He said this while looking hard at Martin Pennanti. The fisher didn't so much as bat an eye.
"I hear what you're saying, paisan…but we still wanna pay them a visit."
"Suit yourself," the rhino said, shrugging and stretching his arms. "We'll go back to the barracks; I have to file the request from there."
To Nick that seemed like an odd condition, but he wasn't going to say anything. They were going to get access to Granite Point and that was all that mattered.
Once they were back at the Toms River police barracks, it took all of twenty minutes to process the request, and even less time for the approval to come back. Detective Nicholas Wilde and Detective Martin Pennanti were welcome to pay a visit to The Granite Point Youth Correctional Facility at any time, either today or tomorrow.
Okay, that did it, as far as a certain red fox was concerned.
"Why the heck did we have to come back here to do this?" he demanded, unable to stifle his annoyance.
In response Spike Bush's dark eyes seemed to frost over. He clearly wasn't any happier with this situation than his visitor.
"Coz that's how AKER wants it, Detective…an' what they say goes, and goes big." He waved a hoof in a sweeping arc. "We—by which I mean the Juvenile Justice Commission—we got all the power in the world when it comes to enforcing the laws of this state, where kids are concerned. But when it comes to the incarceration side of things, the words of the day are 'back' and 'off'. That's strictly AKER's turf…and you won't find nobody over in Trenton that has a problem with it. not with a record like they got."
"Ah, I see," Nick said, and he did. This was yet another veiled warning—directed more at Martin Pennanti than at him—do not step on any toes during your visit to Granite Point. It seemed to irritate the fisher to no end, and he waved a paw in the direction of the door.
"Nicky, can you do me a favor and go wait in the car? I got a little private business to discuss over here."
"Sure Martin, no problem." The fox replied, more than happy not to have to bear witness to the argument he knew was coming.
But the moment he was gone, Pennanti lowered his voice, beckoning his former subordinate closer.
"Power, or no power—you still got access to the Juvie incarceration records, right?"
Spike's ears went up in surprise. "Yeah, that's right…you want me to look up the McLeod kid—the Lewis kid—the Whatever kid's Juvie records?"
"No," the fisher shook his head, "not him." He reached into his jacket and drew out a pair of photographs which he passed over to his former subordinate. "The first one, the leopard kid, is Derek Cuthbert, originally from Jamaica. Used to go by the name of Cutty while he was locked up in the Point. The grasshopper mice are gonna be tougher. All I have on them is an alias, Ben and Bob Mearns; no idea about their real names. I know that they're brothers, but that's about it."
"Awww, Martin," Spike snorted and his shoulders snagged, "Yeah, I can get their Juvie records—but they won't tell you nothin' you don't already know. Every record 'bout what went down inside The Point in the bad, old days is either lost or 'redacted', mostly the first one."
But Pennanti would not be put off.
"I don't want to know what happened to those kids while they were locked up; I want to know what happened to them after they got out." His gaze sharpened to a fine point, "And THAT information is something I know you have access to."
"Okay, yeah, that I can get," the rhino admitted, ears working in confusion, "But what do you want to track down those kids for, anyway?"
Pennanti barely stopped himself from biting his tongue. That, in fact, was exactly what he was planning to do…and he shouldn't have been surprised that Spike had figured it out. He had once been a member of the fisher's elite detective squad after all.
Allllll right…in for a penny, in for pound, as the saying goes.
"Coz they were members of the Lewis kid's crew while he was inside…and we hope that they can verify the story he gave his lawyer. That's right," he added quickly, before the rhino could react, "I'm not just in this for fits and giggles, I'm working on behalf of the Minkerton's. They've been retained by the fox-kid's lawyer to check out his story."
"Whoa!" Spike Bush had pulled himself up to his full height and his eyes were twice their normal size. "So THAT'S why you didn't want to bring this up while Detective Wilde was in here." D'ahhh he had figured that out, too.
But at least he wasn't asking about how the Lewis kid had managed to find an attorney to represent him or, more importantly, who that attorney was.
…Yet!
"That's about the size of it," the fisher nodded tightly and then looked at his watch again, "Okay, gotta go."
He turned and laid for the door, trying hard not to look like he was hurrying.
It was only when he reached his car that he finally let his breath go.
Somehow, he'd gotten out of there without having to mention Vern Rodenberg's name...and thank God for that.
If Spike Bush ever learned that his former boss was doing investigative work for 'The Rat', he'd be outraged beyond belief.
…or, even worse, razz the fisher unmercifully from now until forever.
St. Bartholomeow's Hospital, Savanna Central, Zootopia
"Ohhhh, sweet cheez n' crackers…why didn't I THINK?"
Judy Hopps could have kicked herself right through the nearest window.
The call from Precinct-1 had come in while she'd been picking up a few groceries at the Riverside Farmer's Market. The produce here was always head and shoulders above store bought, and for a country girl like Judy, it always felt like a little slice of home. She had just finished picking out a lovely bundle of asparagus, when her cell phone buzzed. And the instant she connected, Chief Bogo's face had appeared on the screen.
"Detective Hopps? Sorry to bring you back to work on such short notice, but we've just had a call from Dr. Walters at St. Barts Hospital. Deputy Cannon's awake and he's asking to see you ASAP."
"Right, sir," the doe-bunny answered at once. As much as she wanted to get home and slip into a nice, hot bath, no way was she going to ask this bobcat to take a rain-check…not after the injuries he'd suffered in the line of duty.
Even so…
"Did he say what he wanted to talk about, Chief?"
"No," the big cape buffalo had answered, tugging on an ear, "But I think we can reasonably determine that it's got something to do with Craig Guilford."
"Yes sir," Judy had replied, almost snapping to attention, "I'll head over there right away. If that was why Mac wanted to see her, she couldn't get to Saint Bart's fast enough.
That is, except for one, very small delay…on the way out, she had passed by a flower stall, and stopped to buy a 'get-well' bouquet, thinking it would be a nice gesture,
Now, the flowers she'd bought seemed to be wilting in her paw. The door to Mac Cannon's room was open…and he wasn't alone. Seated next to his bed were the unmistakable outlines of Judy's mom and her sister Violet.
Ohhhh dangit…she was in no way ready to break the news about Erin to her mother—-especially not if Violet was with her. But it was already too late to duck out of sight. Vi had spotted her, and was tapping their mother on the shoulder.
Making a mental note to herself—to not keep her cell-phone charged at all times—Judy sighed, and then smiled and waved.
"There she is," Bonnie greeted her daughter with a hug and a kiss, which Judy somehow managed to return, and then accepted the same from Violet. Ohhhh, this was going to put the 'awk' in awkward.
But then…God bless Mac Cannon.
"Hi Judy," he said, offering a feeble wave, and rolled over slightly to focus on the other two bunnies in the room, "Bonnie? Violet? Could you excuse Detective Hopps and me for just a bit? I have something important to discuss with her in private—police business," His voice was rough but surprisingly strong, "And we need to get it done before visiting hours are over."
"Of course, Mac," Bonnie answered with a brisk nod, ushering Violet out the door and closing it behind them.
As soon as they were gone, Judy felt her chest loosen.
"Thanks Mac," she said, though she wasn't quite certain what for.
He responded with something that might have passed for a shrug. "I know how these things are, Judy. My wife and daughter were here earlier. When I said hello to Susie, she ran out of the room crying, and Meg couldn't get her to come back." He looked like he was ready to burst into tears himself.
But then, as if swept away by a windshield wiper, the bobcat's wretchedness was gone, replaced by a rockbound determination. Judy couldn't help but be impressed.
"I asked you to come here, Detective…"
"'Judy' is fine, Mac." The doe bunny interrupted. She wasn't merely being friendly; she sensed he'd be more open with her if they dropped the formality.
"All right, Judy then," he said, and there was that semi-shrug again, after which he met her gaze as best he could. "I hear-tell that you've been put in charge of recapturing Craig Guilford." He spit out the name like a bad taste. "Is that so?"
"Yes, that's right," she informed the bobcat, looking properly solemn. "I'm the one who arrested him the first time, after all."
At once, she felt her ears go up. Now why had she felt the need to justify her new assignment?
It was Mac who provided the answer.
"By jumping off a barn roof onto an airplane." he reminded her, attempting a shake of his head. "Sweet cheez' n' crackers, bunny. I hope that was only a fluke."
"It was, Mac," she answered, raising a paw and putting the other one over her heart, "My Chief already gave me a good talking to, and I'm also seeing a counselor." Wait, had she already mentioned that to him? Well...perhaps, but who could blame him for forgetting, after all he'd been through.
"Good to hear," the bobcat answered, with what might have been a nod. "But the reason I asked you to come here is…uh, did you bring a recorder with you? You'll want to save this."
"Ummm, lemme see," Judy rummaged in a pocket and felt her fingers touch hard plastic. When she pulled it out, yes, it was a voice recorder. She didn't remember putting it there, but was glad she had it, just the same. Setting it on the bedside table, she hit the 'record' button, "Go ahead Mac."
At once, his lips pulled back, revealing not just his fangs but every single one of his teeth. "That dirt-bag coyote-punk's the one who put me here, Judy. HE sicced those other kids on me."
Judy gasped and almost said something. The ZPD had long suspected that Craig Guilford had been involved in the attack on Mac Cannon—but never once had anyone imagined that he'd been the one behind it.
And the bobcat wasn't finished with his tirade—not even close. "He told 'em I was the one who threw that poor sand-cat kid over the balcony—me, ME! And of course they believed him, because he was a kid and I was a sheriff's deputy!"
"Mac, take it easy." Judy cautioned, nearly able to taste the bitterness in his voice. She hastily reached to grab his paw, but the bobcat was ignoring her.
"As if I'd ever do a thing like that to another feli…!"
That was as far as he got before his words were cut off by a cicada buzz, coming from the bedside monitor array. Judy quickly hit the pause button on her recorder…just as the door slapped open and a wallaby-nurse came bounding into the room.
"Mr. Cannon, is everything all right?"
"Fine, leave us be," he snapped, glaring daggers in her direction, "And that's DEPUTY Cannon to you."
The wallaby did not leave him alone, but proceeded to check his vitals, pausing once to give Judy a nasty look—as if the whole thing were entirely her fault.
And indeed, as soon as she was finished, she turned to the bunny with her paws on her hips. "All right…but if you get him worked up like that again, Officer Hopps…"
"She's DETECTIVE Hopps, nursie; can't you get anything right?"
"…Then I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she concluded, ignoring the voice from the bed behind her.
…A voice that would not be denied, "She stays until I say otherwise…I have things she needs to hear, and she's going to hear them, whether you like it, or…"
"Mac? Let me." Judy spoke up quickly, figuring she'd better move fast before the nurse decided to expel her, simply out of spite. "Deputy Cannon was just telling me that he knows who was behind the attack that put him here. It's a dangerous individual, who needs to be apprehended as soon as possible…before he hurts someone else." She was laying it on a little thick, she knew, but anything went, if it was to make sure she'd be allowed to finish her interview. Not only had she been unaware, until now, that Craig Guilford was the animal most responsible for Mac's condition—neither had anyone else knew,.
"All right then," the nurse answered with a reluctant nod, before angling her gaze in the direction of the monitor, "But that alarm goes off a second time Detective, you'll have to be on your way, is that clear?"
"Perfectly," Judy answered, hurriedly, before Mac could toss off another snide one.
It was only after the wallaby was gone that Judy was able to take full register of the bobcat's condition; something she should have done when she'd first come in here.
Not to put too fine a point on it, Mac Cannon was a feline train-wreck. His right leg was encased in plaster and held aloft by something that looked like a…a skewer through his ankle! His left arm was similarly immobilized and, somewhere beneath the sheets, Judy thought she could see the outline of something resembling body armor…indicating the presence of either bruised or broken ribs. Most of the bobcat's head was swathed in bandages, and although the swelling in his face had largely subsided, enough of it still remained to tell you that this cat had taken some serious hits. About the only thing that seemed to have emerged unscathed from the beating was—remarkably enough—his teeth. The sight was so unnerving to Judy that she nearly forgot to start the voice recorder again.
In the meantime, Mac seemed to be working very hard to calm himself down again. After perhaps another two or three minutes, his breathing returned to normal and he looked in her direction.
"Sorry, I can't help thinking about that coyote kid, without my motor starting to crank." He cleared his throat and took a sip of water from a hose beside his head. "Feel like a dang-dong hamster, having to drink like that." he muttered, and then turned and looked again at the bunny sitting next to him. "Tell me, Detec…I-I mean Judy. How well do you know Craig Guilford…I mean really know him?"
"About as well as anyone, I suppose," the doe bunny answered, trying not to sound put off. What, was he serious? "Like I already said, I'm the one who busted him that first time."
"No Judy," Mac corrected her. He looked like he was trying to shake his head again. "Not the first time…or the second or third time either; that was me." He tapped at his chest with his good paw. "Craig Guilford and me go back a ways…to long before his old 'yote tried to dump that load of defoliant on the Carrot Days Festival. That's why the Burrow County Sheriff's office sent me here to interview him. And we've had several interesting, if not particularly pleasant, conversations since then."
"Mmm, I see," Judy nodded, wanting to give herself another kick. She'd completely forgotten the reason for Mac's presence in Zootopia.
"And between all of that," the bobcat went on, "I think I may have some insights to offer in regards to apprehending that coyote-kid, things you may not know."
"Yes, I see what you mean," Judy conceded. She was in no way too proud to accept some outside help; something she retained from her first adventure with Nick Wilde. She was about to encourage Mac to go ahead, when another thought crossed her mind. "But before we get into that, perhaps I should fill you in on where the investigation stands at the present time."
"Oh yes, good thought," Mac agreed, settling back as much as his injuries would allow.
For the next few minutes, he just sat quietly, offering only the occasional murr as Judy described the sinkhole and what she'd found there. Since her debriefing with Chief Bogo, however, she'd had a little time to think about it and had come to a few more conclusions.
"My feelings now are that Craig didn't fall into that hole by accident. Someone pushed him and then rolled that dumpster over the top to trap him inside. Then, later on, someone else came along and dug him out." She paused to rub a finger across her nose. "Or maybe—I doubt this happened, but I can't rule it out—maybe he talked whoever put him down there into helping him escape."
"I'd say you CAN rule that out, Judy." What was left of Mac's whiskers were bobbing up and down. "Craig Guilford is just about the opposite of your wily coyote stereotype. And believe me, he's nobody's sweet-talker."
"What if he pretended to be injured?" Judy countered. Faking injuries was a standard tactic among coyotes. "That would explain all the howling."
"Well, yes," the bobcat admitted, "But that doesn't necessarily mean the animals who pulled him out of that hole are the ones who put him in there. And honestly…I can't see a badger having pushed him into that thing. You know how tight their species are."
"True enough," Judy answered, nodding. And then, deciding that their conversation was getting a little too far off track, she decided to turn back the clock a little. "Did Craig have any badger-friends back in Bunnyburrow?"
Mac's ear turned backwards, as far as was possible under the circumstances
"He doesn't have any friends in the Burrow, period. Maybe once, but not anymore…except for Amanda Hill, and she was more of a tool than a girlfriend. Nope, Craig's strictly a loner these days."
"What, seriously?" Judy's own ears were standing rigidly. That was unusual for any young mammal—but especially for a social species like a coyote.
"Well, keep in mind," the bobcat said, pausing briefly for another sip of water, "He's a member of the Guilford Clan…a family most folks in the Burrow want their kids to steer clear of. Sheriff Sauer tells me that Amanda Hill's folks are threatening to send her off to boarding school for having run with that little jerk. They probably won't but you get the idea. That's only part of why Craig doesn't have any friends, but it's a big part." He took another sip and then added. "And that's why I believe he most likely ditched those kids who rescued him, the first chance he got."
Judy's foot tried to thump, but she stopped it after only a single beat.
"That's, uh… As much as I hope you're right, Mac, I'm afraid I have to disagree." She swept a paw around the room, "If we were back in Bunnyburrow, yes, but this is Zootopia. Before Craig Guilford landed here, he'd never been to the big city in his life, much less this one. Without somebody to show him the ropes, he'll be completely lost in this environment." She patted the base of her neck, "Believe me, I know what I'm talking about; been there, done that. If I hadn't had someone to help me get acclimated, when I first moved here, I'd probably still be on parking duty." The face of Nick Wilde appeared in her mind; she hurriedly brushed it aside. "And also, from what I hear, Craig didn't keep to himself all that much while he was locked up in the Precinct-1 jail. He was seen, hanging out with some of the other kids not once, but several times."
Mac screwed his eyes shut, as if he was giving himself an invisible face-pawlm.
"Me-yurrr…riiiight. I saw that for myself a few times. Ahhh, you're probably right Judy, but I can tell you this much, anyway. You won't find Craig Guilford running with any other coyotes."
This time Judy's ears stayed where they were. For some reason, that didn't surprise her. Nonetheless, she had to ask, "How so?"
"Because," the bobcat answered, his expression a curious mixture of pity and loathing, "the only other 'yotes he's ever associated with are the members of his family. And as practically anyone back in The Burrow will tell you, it wasn't a happy relationship…especially with his dad. Jerry used to ride him so hard, I almost felt sorry for the kid…almost. And it wasn't much better with his uncles. They used to call him the idiot nephew behind his back—and sometimes to his face."
"I see," Judy nodded. All right, that made sense; Craig Guilford had never been noted for his intelligence. In fact, most of why he wasn't still locked up could be put down to sheer, dumb luck. He'd had nothing to do with the cyberattack that had allowed him to escape from the Precinct-1 Youth Jail; he'd simply been in the right place at the right time.
Or, in the case of her younger sister, the wrong place at the wrong time. And that brought up something else she needed to address…and right now.
"Mac? There's something else that I only just learned today. I don't know if you're aware, but my kid sister Erin was also one of the kids that escaped from Precinct-1 during the cyberattack."
"What, now?" His ears were trying to swivel forward, "Now what'd she want to go and do a fool thing like that for?"
"Because Craig Guilford was after her," Judy was trying not to grit her teeth, "And it was the only way to get away from him. Or…that's what the message I got from her said."
At once her inner voice rose up to contradict her.
"No, Jude…You KNOW that's what happened. Remember what Max March told you?"
Yes…she'd forgotten about that young buck-rabbit. But now, sitting in the hospital where she'd interviewed him. it was all coming back to her. Craig had mistakenly thought Max had snitched on him, not over his role in his father's crop-dusting attack, but over an earlier incident…and he'd been out for payback ever since. But during the riot, after throwing Max against the wall, he'd been jumped by the young sand-cat, Saad al-Zaqir. And then, after…afterwards, when he'd come upon the helpless young bunny a second time…
"When Craig finally showed up, he just kind of looked at me and then booked it on down the catwalk, the same way Erin went."
Ohhh…at the time Judy had assumed the young coyote had simply decided that escape was more important than revenge. The route he'd taken had eventually led him to the loading dock—and the freight door, let open by the cyberattack. Now, she knew different, but it led to an even bigger puzzle. Why would Craig have left the bunny who's snitched on him to pursue another that was only related to the rabbit who'd busted him?
"Ah, I see." Mac's ears had eased back to their normal position. "Don't tell me, let me guess; he went after your sister to try and get back at you for arresting him, am I right?
"Yes, exactly," Judy answered, feeling her own ears trying to stand up. Truth be told, she wasn't so sure about that any more. A dark suspicion was beginning to unfold in the back of her mind…
"Uh-huh, thought so," the bobcat replied, attempting a nod, "That's one thing he has in common with his old 'yote." He looked straight at her, offering a wry smile, "Where they're not the same is that unlike his dad, Craig's no schemer, strictly an opportunist. If he happens across your sister again by accident, there'll be trouble, all right. In fact, I'd hazard a guess, it's how he ended up chasing her in the first place. But he won't try to hunt her down; that's not in his nature, not one little bit. And he's nothing if not impulsive, that boy. If I know him, he's already got something new to hate."
"Thanks Mac." Something heavy seemed to lift off Judy's shoulders. In fact, that had been her biggest worry—that Craig Guilford might decide to finish what he'd started back in Precinct-1. Now, she could put that concern aside.
UNLESS… there was that suspicion again
"And that's only your SECOND-biggest worry," the doe-bunny's inner voice reminded her, "The biggest is Conor Lewis. Craig Guilford's only a possibility. That silver fox kid is a REALITY!"
Maybe so, but he had nothing to do with Mac Cannon, and so somehow, she made herself drop the thought—for now—and move on to something else.
"Mac, did you know that we lost the CCTV system during the cyberattack?"
"No…I didn't," He admitted, aghast but not surprised. "Was that because of the hackers or the rioters?"
"A little of both," Judy answered him, "but mostly because of the cyberattack. And so far, we haven't been able to recover any of the video footage—and it doesn't look like we're going to. Because of that, we have no idea who killed that poor sand-cat, Saad al-Zaqir." She took in a breath through her nose and exhaled by way of her mouth. "By…By any chance did you see what happened to him?"
Mac's mouth became a thin, flat line.
"No Judy…I didn't. I was too busy trying to grab that kid to see who tossed him over the railing…and honestly, my head's still fuzzy about a lot of what went on during the riot." He opened his mouth and let out an angry hiss. "But…from what I said so far, I think you can get a fair idea about who probably did it."
Ouch! Yes, she would, and it hit her like a smack to the solar plexus. Craig Guilford's attempt to blame the incident on Mac made him the prime suspect in the young sand-cat's death. And when you put that together with the part he'd played in the plot to spray-bomb the Carrot Days Festival, it meant he was looking straight down the barrel of life without parole—even without any further charges.
No one, she knew, is more dangerous than a perp with nothing left to lose, and if what she suspected might have happened…HAD happened…
"Oh, please…let Erin get my message." She silently beseeched whoever might be listening.
It was then that someone knocked on the door, and before either Judy or Mac could respond, it swung open on its own, and Nurse Wallaby came barging into the room.
"I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over," she said, sounding triumphant rather than apologetic.
At once, Mac started to bristle, but this time, Judy got there first.
"It's all right, I think we're done here anyway," she said, plucking her voice-recorder from the side table and switching it off.
"Are you sure?" the bobcat asked, but she waved a dismissive paw.
"Nooooo, we're good." She got up from her chair and stashed the recorder. "I think I got everything I need…for now, at least." Yes…and also and a lot more than she wanted to hear, although she was keeping that info under wraps.
When she exited the room, she saw Violet and her mother seated in the waiting area. And now, they were getting to their feet.
"Oh-kayyyy, now here comes the HARD part."
She turned to speak to the mammal in charge of the nurses' station.
"Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"
The impala consulted a chart.
"Room…uh, 627 is empty. You can talk there; it's just down the right-side hallway."
Judy's desire for privacy was not lost on her mother and sister, when she closed the door, both of their noses were twitching so hard, it looked like they were trying not to sneeze.
It didn't help when the first thing her mother said was, "Is this about Erin?" She was clasping her paws as if in prayer.
That told Judy there was only one thing to do—just come right out with it, no hemming and no hawing.
"Yes, Mom it is," she said, before adding quickly, "And she's all right. We haven't gotten her back yet…but she's all right."
"D-Do you know where she is?" It was Violet this time.
"And…how do you know she's okay?' her mother was asking.
Judy sighed, trying hard not to thump her own foot. As knotty problems went, this one was almost Gordian.
"If we knew where she was, Vi, I'd be on my way to bring her back right now. But we know she's okay because." She paused for a second, sucking air between her teeth, "No one knows how she pulled it off…but somehow, she managed to secure the services of a lawyer. He's the one who told us that she's safe." She had already decided not to mention which lawyer her kid sis had retained. Mom had worries enough, without learning the animal in question was Vernon J. Rodenberg, attorney to the mob.
"Wha…?" Her mother's ears were going every which way, "And he didn't bring her back? Why?"
"Yes, why?" Violet agreed.
That was good for a silent groan from Judy. "Ohhhh, I am SO not ready for this,"
"I spoke to him earlier today, Mom," She said, "He says he tried to talk Erin into turning herself in, but she refused,"—technically true—"And no, I don't know why she won't come in, but…" Here, she mentally crossed her fingers, "her attorney DID agree to relay a message to her for me." Whether or not Mr. Rodenberg would be able to pass it along was another thing she was keeping to herself.
"You did?" her mother's ears were up. "What did it say?"
Judy felt her own ears starting to relax. At last, an easy question.
"That we all love her and miss her…and to please come and turn herself in; she won't be in any more trouble if she gives herself up. We understand why she escaped with the other…kids…"
Ohhhh, no!
"D'ohhh, did I just say that was an EASY question? Dumb bunny…what if THEY want to know why Erin did what she did?"
She could just imagine Mom and Violet's reaction if she told them about Craig Guilford's role in her sister's escape. Thinking fast, she quickly added, "Oh, and I also said that if she doesn't want to come in, to please…please, at least tell us why."
She braced herself, waiting. That was hardly a strong deflection.
No…but good enough.
"Um, do you…think that…" Her mother was speaking as if negotiating a floor strewn with Lego pieces, "this lawyer might be…willing to…deliver a message to her from me?"
"Maybe," Judy replied, although she actually had no idea at all, "go ahead and write it out and I'll see what I can."
"Why does she need to do that?" Violet was frowning deeply.
"It's the only way Erin's lawyer will agree to pass it on to her." Judy answered, laying back her ears to show that she didn't like it any more than her older sibling.
Meanwhile her mother was rooting in her pocketbook, "Ohhhh, I don't have a pen."
They ended up having to borrow one from the nurses' station. And it was only after Judy finally took leave of her mother and that she was able to let go of her anxiety. Somehow, she'd managed to avoid having to mention Craig Guilford or Vernon Rodenberg.
…Or—worst of all—Conor Lewis.
But sometime soon, she knew she was going to have to come clean about those three…before Mom and Vi found out for themselves.