Chapter Text
Nick’s POV
My apartment actually looked good when I woke up that morning. A rare occurrence. Honestly? I didn’t think the place had ever been clean. I’d pretty much moved in while it was dirty. Cheapest rent I could find, decent location, those had been my only real criteria.
After I woke up to Judy having left, I kinda assumed she didn’t want to stay in my dirty apartment. It felt pretty bad honestly, and especially after the night we’d had… well I wanted to get my shit together. So Sunday I spent the whole day cleaning and paying overdue bills, which seemed like a good start.
I hadn’t even slept in today. Go me.
Still, there was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I was forgetting something.
It followed me through my semi-consistent morning routine, all the way until I grabbed my bag to head out for work, on time for once. That’s when it hit me.
“Oh shoot. Pawbert’s journal.”
I pulled it from my bag and sank down onto the couch, flipping it open.
A few pages in, I’d already made several observations.
One: Pawbert had surprisingly nice handwriting.
Two: Pawbert was absolutely unhinged.
Three: (and this one mattered the most) he was obsessed with Judy in a way that set every alarm bell in my head ringing.
I didn’t have time to read much more than a handful of random entries. The journal started off almost normal, measured, reflective. But, it didn’t take long to spiral into the ramblings of someone trying, and failing, to cope with loss. The honesty was unsettling from someone who was so rarely honest with others.
I snapped the book shut.
Yeah. This was bad.
Gathering my things, I bolted out the door and headed for the ZPD as fast as I could.
“Please be there, Judy. Be safe. Be okay.”
I muttered the words under my breath, hating the way my mind kept stitching together every time she’d been in danger, every time I’d been the one there to pull her back from the edge. What had Pawbert been planning? Were the details in the journal still sitting in my bag?
It would have to wait. I needed to find her first.
After what felt like both minutes and hours, I burst through the precinct doors and made a beeline for the meeting room where Judy’s rehabilitation program was based.
“Hey, Nick! If you’re looking for Judy, she had to head out. Pawbert was a no-show today, and it’s only day two. Guess the rich aren’t used to things being difficult, huh?”
Clawhauser walked up to me smiling. He seemed happier than usual, probably riding the high from a blissful weekend with our boss.
“So where is she?” Actually, don’t bother. She went to get him herself, didn’t she. Alone.”
“Yup!” Clawhauser said cheerfully. “She’s super capable. No wonder she’s practically famous. Oh, and Bogo wants to talk to you. He said first thing you got here. No buts.”
“But—”
Clawhauser was already walking off, replying over his shoulder,
“He said no buts, go on. You can grab a donut after. Judy brought them.”
I watched the cheetah saunter back to his desk.
Every instinct in me screamed to run after Judy, but there was no way to know how early she’d arrived, or how far ahead she was. I’d missed her.
I forced myself to breathe.
She was strong. I had to trust that. She was my partner, my equal. And if I was being honest with myself? She was probably my better.
Tail drooping, I dragged myself to Bogo’s office and walked straight through the open door without knocking. He knew I was supposed to be here.
“Wilde, while I’d normally reprimand you for that, let’s skip it today. You need to head out with the Zebros for a check-in on the Lynxley siblings this morning. I’ve received reports of some… irregular activity, and I don’t like it.”
He slid a file onto his desk.
“You have insider knowledge, to a degree, and while I trust the Zebros, I think we both know they aren’t exactly the sharpest claws in the drawer.”
“Well, Chief, I’m flattered, but that doesn’t give me much to go on. And Judy’s at Pawbert’s place right now, alone, trying to get him to his session. I think I could be more useful helping her—”
He cut me off.
Of course he did. No wonder he and Clawhauser got along so well, they both had a talent for interrupting me right when I was getting to the important part.
“Hopps will be fine, she knows what she’s doing. We need you here, right now. I’m sure she’d understand. You’ll need to as well.”
I huffed but sat down, opening the file he’d placed in front of me. Everything the department had so far, neatly organized and waiting.
Didn’t mean I liked it. But it was my job, after all.
___
After meeting up with the Zebros, they drove us about an hour outside of Zootopia. The area was all quiet wilderness, with lavish cabins scattered throughout. There were rumors that some of the wealthier carnivores built vacation homes this far out so they could indulge their more predatory sides, but I was pretty sure that was just gossip spread by the city’s more anxious prey population.
…Though I’ll admit, listening to the Zebros’ nonstop bro chatter was really starting to make me feel a little predatory myself.
Zebraxton turned his attention to me, from the driver’s seat
“Alright, we’ll go in and talk to the cats, and you’ll sneak around back.”
I glanced over at him, noting that he was the only actual zebra of the two.
“And do what?” I asked.
Zebrowski answered, and it finally clicked that he was, in fact, a horse. Not a zebra. No idea how I’d missed that until now.
“Well, look for clues, or, you know, anything suspicious.”
Right. Clues. Didn’t really know what I was supposed to magically uncover, considering I’d only just figured out the difference between a horse and a zebra. But hey, worth a shot.
I was dropped off a short walk from where the siblings were staying. While the Zeebros knocked on the front door and were welcomed inside with far too much warmth by Cattrick and Kitty, I circled around back, picked the lock, and slipped inside.
The cabin had two levels and was surprisingly spacious, every room easily bigger than my apartment. It was decorated in a rustic sort of way that made the place feel almost cozy. Almost. That illusion died the second I noticed the painted family portraits lining the walls.
Most of them featured Milton Lynxley alone. In the few that included other family members, they were positioned firmly in the background. Even then, it was usually just the two older siblings.
Pawbert was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe if my childhood had been easier, I would’ve felt a twinge of sympathy over the whole clearly unwanted child thing. But Pawbert had been given more than enough chances to turn himself around, and he’d burned every last one of them.
No pity points from me.
I checked drawers and sifted through trash bins, careful to track where the siblings were in the house and how much noise I was making. Not that it mattered much, the Zeebros were so loud I probably could’ve tap-danced through the place without being noticed.
Nothing.
I’d worked my way through the back mudroom, kitchen, bathroom, and hallway with no luck. I was just about ready to call it when I stepped onto a rug and my footfall sounded… hollow.
Slowly, I peeled the rug back and found a small hatch set into the floor. It was locked, but I still had the tools I’d used on the back door. A few seconds later, the latch clicked open.
I took a breath and climbed down, relieved when my feet hit solid, if cold, ground.
I flicked on my phone’s flashlight.
The space below was a small cellar, stocked with aged wines and neatly jarred foods. Expensive, sure, but nothing immediately suspicious. I scanned the shelves, traced my paw along the stone walls, and then my claws brushed against something recessed. A small hole in the wall.
I leaned closer, shining my light inside, and saw a keypad. Instead of numbers, each button was marked with a letter, seemingly randomly arranged.
Yeahhhhh, That definitely wasn’t normal.
Staring at the letters, I tried to make sense of what they could spell when arranged correctly. R. A. N. I. C. T. M. P. W.
Nothing that matched the siblings’ names. Nothing for Milton, either… no L for Lynxley. So what was it?
I pulled Pawbert’s journal from my bag and flipped through the pages, awkwardly holding my phone in my mouth to use the flashlight. The whole operation was clumsy, and I ended up dropping the journal onto the cellar floor.
Great.
I crouched down, muttering a silent curse I was glad Judy wasn’t there to hear, as I picked it up, and that’s when I noticed the inside cover.
Scrawled there, in uneven handwriting:
I wouldn’t be writing this journal if it weren’t for you. I miss you so much, Mom. Rest in peace, Catrina Lynxley, the Great Lady of the House. So many names. So much absence.
“And Bingo was his name-o”
Cringing internally at my line, I typed CATRINA into the keypad with my claws.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. I dreaded the Lynxleys being alerted to my snooping (even if they were under house arrest so they were still in the wrong not me.)
Then the wall shuddered, and the stone wall slowly lowered into the ground, revealing a much larger room beyond.
Well, this seemed rather bad. But hey, plenty of rich animals have secret rooms… I think.