Chapter Text
"Do you know what ghosts are? They're sad, evicted things: memories without homes."
-Paul Prospero, The Vanishing of Ethan Carter
Storm clouds streaked across the sky in bars of black and gray amid the distant, fading light of a September evening. Under the turbid sky, the rain had been lashing the city for two days and nights without reprieve, and it certainly did nothing to alleviate Nick's already dark mood.
The drumming of the rain on the rag-top, the rhythmic thump of the wipers and the throaty drone of the Manta's engine were the only music he could tolerate as he cruised out over the Centennial Bridge toward the suburbs. Judy was out of town, the key note speaker at a crime prevention conference in a neighboring state, and being without her for any length of time always made him melancholic and irritable.
In the past, he might have simply gone with her, but her recent promotion meant that while Sergeant Wilde was off discussing the latest crime prevention and anti-gang strategies, Corporal Wilde had no choice but to assume the role of acting squad leader. As proud of her as he was, he couldn't help but think about how her promotion brought them one step closer to an ending: the end of being able to work together on a daily basis – it would be hard to justify putting two Sergeants in a patrol car together.
Two years had passed since their wedding, years filled with joy, love, tenderness, and a certain degree of tranquility. Of course, their work sometimes demanded that they face the ugly side of life, but their partnership, both on the streets and behind closed doors, had managed to soften many of police work's hard edges. It had enabled them to endure those dark and gritty moments with their tranquility intact.
Now, the tranquility in Nick Wilde's life was being threatened again, first by Judy's success on the Sergeant's board; then by the relentless pounding of the rain that so easily reminded him of that night when he was fifteen, and all the horror that proceeded from it; and finally, by the desperate and chilling phone call he had received earlier that day.
His grip on the wheel tightened as the strange conversation surfaced again in his mind. He had received a call at his desk late in the shift, and was surprised to hear Jennifer Gray's voice on the end of the line.
“Nick...it's Jenny,” she said, her voice hesitant, faltering, as if merely speaking was an effort, “I'm sorry to bother you at work, but I need help...”
“What's wrong, Jenny?” Nick said, furrowing his brow and pushing himself back from his desk.
“It's Gid,” she said, “He's...he's gone. He hasn't been gone long enough for the Sheriffs to do anything, but I just know something's wrong, Nick.” Her voice was breaking, as if she was on the verge of tears. In the past two years, he and Judy had visited Bunnyburrow several times, usually for holidays, and had gotten to know the Grays quite well. Normally, Jenny was possessed of a quiet, even-tempered spirit and wasn't easily ruffled.
“All right, I'll come right away. It's my Friday and I can get off a bit early and drive straight there,” he said, checking his watch.
“Oh thank you, Nick...thank you!” she had said, and hung up the phone without waiting to hear another word from him. There had been something unsettling in that call, an undertone of something sinister he couldn't quite put his finger on.
He had hung up the phone and departed almost immediately, pausing only to name Stagford the Officer in Charge for the few hours left in the shift and tell Clawhauser as much. Without even stopping at home first, he had driven out of the city, headed for the highway that would lead him to Bunnyburrow.
As the well groomed homes and tree lined streets of the suburbs faded among the gray curtains of rain behind him and the open fields, ramshackle barns and tumbledown fences of the countryside replaced them, he picked up his phone and hit the speed dial for Stu Hopps.
Stu, always eager to hear from his daughter and son-in-law, answered with a bright tone in his voice, “Hey, Nick! What can I do for ya?”
“Hey dad, I'm on my way to Bunnyburrow,” he said, his voice far more somber than Stu's, “I was hoping you could leave the guest house unlocked for me. I have to make some stops before I get to the farm, and I don't want to disturb you guys if I arrive late.”
“Wow, that's great! Sure, I'll leave the cottage open for you...but I thought Jude was out of town this week...” Stu said, sounding confused.
“She is. This isn't a social visit...” Nick said, hesitating for a moment before adding, “Jenny Gray called me. She told me Gideon is missing...did you know anything about this? Have you maybe heard anything from him?”
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the phone as Stu processed Nick's ominous news. “Wh...he's missing? I saw him yesterday...” Stu said hesitantly, “I don't understand...”
“Neither do I, to be honest,” Nick said, flicking on his blinker to take the exit off the highway toward flame streaked skies over Bunnyburrow, where the storm had yet to reach, “But Jenny sounded really shaken up – said she was certain Gideon was missing – you know she's pretty even keeled.”
“Yeah...” Stu said slowly, pausing before he added, “Well, hopefully it's nothing...maybe he did a delivery out of town and had engine trouble or something…?”
“Maybe,” Nick said, “You noticed anything unusual about him lately?”
“No...well, actually, now that you mention it, he's been kinda down the last week or so,” Stu said, speaking slowly, as if mulling over his thoughts as he spoke them, “But he gets that way every now and then, you know? Usually it just goes away after a while and he's back to his usual cheerful self. I asked him about it once, but he didn't seem keen to tell me anything, so I just let it be.”
“Hmmm,” Nick said, furrowing his brow and mulling over what Stu and Jenny had told him, which didn't amount to much, “Okay, dad, thanks for letting me use the cottage. I'll probably see you tomorrow sometime.”
“Breakfast at seven, as always!” Stu said, resuming his pleasant, light-hearted tone, “I'll have Bon whip up something nice for you!”
“See ya,” Nick said, ending the call and tucking his phone back into the pocket of his jacket.
Within a half an hour, the Manta rolled to a stop on the gravel drive of the Gray house. Nick opened the door and stepped out, resting his paw over edge of the driver's side window for a moment as he looked up at the clouds. He thought he might have outrun the storm, but a fitful wind had driven it along, dogging his path, until it caught up with him at last. It would only be a matter of time before the rain began to fall.
Turning his attention to the house, he examined the aged, but well loved exterior. A small non-rabbit farmhouse built at the turn of the last century, it featured a wraparound front porch, clapboard siding and three gabled windows jutting from the slanted roof. Its outer cladding was painted in a vibrant yellow with the window frames, railings and other decorative details picked out in white. In the light of day, it was cheerful and full of life. Now, bathed in the sickly, dying light of a fading sunset veiled in storm clouds, its windows dark save for the fragile light glowing in the parlor, it took on a sinister appearance.
Shutting the door of his car, Nick thrust his paws into the pockets of his black bomber jacket, the wind ruffling the fleece collar as he strode up the drive to the well worn steps. The boards creaked under his footpaws as he approached the door. He reached out to knock, but to his surprise it swung wide, revealing the haggard, weary eyed form of Jenny Gray.
She was dressed in jeans and a sage green button up shirt with a knitted Afghan clutched around her shoulders. The fingertips of her left paw played over a gold locket she wore around her neck. The tips of her long, elegant prick ears drooped slightly, and there was tension in her jaw.
“Nick! Thank goodness...” she said, “I'd been waiting for you...thank you so much for coming. Please, come in.” She stepped back, inviting him inside.
“Of course, Jenny, but what makes you so sure Gideon's missing?” Nick said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. She led him to the front parlor where a small fire crackled in the hearth. Taking up the rocking chair on one side, she gestured to a plush arm chair opposite. He had been about to sit down when the pattering of little footpaws on the polished hardwood floor accompanied by a lilting giggle announced the arrival of a very excited Ashley.
“Uncle Nick!” she shouted, throwing her pajama clad arms around his middle and hugging him tightly, “Where's Auntie Judy?”
“She's out of town for work, sweetheart,” Nick said, kneeling and patting her between the ears with a warm smile, “Just old Uncle Nick this time.”
“Ashley, now you are supposed to be in bed, young lady,” Jenny said, trying to sound stern, but unable to keep the smile from curling across her muzzle at the sight of her sweet daughter.
“I know, sorry, Mama, but I couldn't help it! I couldn't sleep because Daddy's not home yet,” she cast a worried look at Nick, then back at her mother, “Do you think he's okay?”
“I'm sure he's just fine, Ash,” Nick said, not really convinced even as he said it, “He probably just had car trouble or something. I'm gonna see if I can't go find him and give him a ride home. You'd better get to bed, now.”
The golden eyed kit looked up at him, clasping her paws behind her back and regarding him with a demure smile that could have melted the coldest heart. “Okay, Uncle Nick,” she said, “As long as you promise to stay and visit once you help Daddy.”
“Sure, sweetheart,” Nick said, “Now head on up to bed and get some sleep.”
Ashley giggled and darted away. The sound of her soft steps proceeded up the stairs and faded away. Nick lingered, listening and watching for a moment with the traces of his wistful smile still on his lips, before turning back to the offered chair and sinking into it.
“She sure took a shine to you and Judy,” Jenny commented, watching him with a faint smile on her muzzle, “You'll make a fine daddy some day.”
“That seems a very unlikely scenario,” Nick said with a wry smirk, casting his gaze over the flickering embers of the fire and leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees, “At least in the natural way...but then again, miracles happen I guess.”
“Miracles happen,” Jenny said with a pensive nod, “And then there's always adoption. By the way, I have the kettle on, would you care for some tea?”
“Chamomile, if you have it, thanks,” Nick said, “So, tell me what's been going on lately.” He turned his emerald gaze back to the tawny vixen, unconsciously pressing his fingertips together between his knees.
“Well, every now and then, Gid gets into these moods...real gloomy and quiet. He's been like that for a week or so now,” she said, casting her gaze to the flames as she spoke, “I've asked him about it, of course, and he just tells me it's on account of his family. This isn't something we speak of much; I don't think he's ever told a soul but me. His father was a real mean drunk...he used to whup on Gid and his momma somethin' fierce when he was on the booze, which was a lot of the time.”
A look of surprise washed over Nick's features, “I'm...I'm so sorry to hear that...”
“It's hard for me to imagine, because the Gid I know has always been the kindest, gentlest, sweetest mammal I've ever met, but when he was a boy, he had a mean streak a mile wide.”
A faint chuckle escaped Nick's throat as he too had a hard time picturing the soft spoken baker as a bully. “Speaking of streaks, I hear he even left some on Judy's face once,” Nick remarked absently, watching the flames dance.
A frown came over Jenny's features, her voice lowering slightly as she spoke, “Gid always frets that you hold that against him...”
Nick looked up with a start; he had been lost in thought as he watched the fire. “What? Of course not! Gideon was only a child when he did that...” he said, a pained look washing over his face, “Besides, I'd be an awful hypocrite if I held that against him. When Judy and I first met, I said some things to her that cut deeper than any child's claws ever could...she never held it against me.”
The shrill, insistent whistle of the kettle interjected itself into their conversation, so Jenny rose to attend to it. She returned several minutes later carrying two saucers with cups of tea. She set one down on the small side table next to Nick's chair, then resumed her seat in the rocking chair. She began to rock slowly, sipping her tea and looking expectantly at Nick.
“So, tell me, when was the last time you saw Gideon?” Nick said, fishing his notebook and pen from inside his jacket.
“Well, he left this morning at the usual time, about eight thirty. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except, like I said, he's been in a mood the last while,” Jenny began, setting her tea aside and folding her paws in her lap, “Often I bring him a hot lunch and spend a bit of time with him at the shop. When I went there around twelve thirty, the shop was shut. Sometimes he goes on unexpected deliveries, so it wasn't so strange a thing. Also, his car was still parked out back and the delivery van was gone, so I naturally assumed that must be what happened.”
Nick scribbled furiously, interspersing his note taking with sips of tea. He nodded to her, “Okay, so then at what point did you start to think something was wrong?”
“When he didn't arrive home for supper, I was worried, but another hour after that with no call, I was certain,” she said, “He never misses Ashley's bedtime...he always reads her a story and tucks her in. No chance he would miss that without at least calling.”
Nick paused a moment, tapping his pen on his chin. “Nothing unusual at the shop, as far as you saw?” he said, sitting back and setting aside his notepad and pen. He took up his teacup and saucer, sipping and regarding her over the rim.
“No, nothing I saw,” she said.
“I assume you called around to make sure he wasn't just visiting friends or something?”
“Of course.”
Nick set his cup and saucer down, having polished off most of the tea. He stared with a furrowed brow into the dying embers in the fireplace for a moment. “You have a set of keys for the shop here?” he said, casting a glance at her.
She nodded in response.
“Mind if I go poke around a bit and see what I can see?” he said.
“The alarm is to the left of the back door,” Jenny said, “The password is ‘berrypie.’”
“That's hilarious,” Nick said with a chuckle, rising from his seat, “And painfully obvious.”
She shrugged and smiled faintly, “Ehh. This is Bunnyburrow.”
He thrust his paws into his pockets and regarded her for a moment. “Hey, before I go, let me grab some more wood for you,” he said, “Out back?”
“Yep. The axe is in the stump if you can't find any pieces small enough. Thanks, Nick.”
He strolled out the back door, pausing to regard the grassy expanse of the yard. The sky was a roiling, rapidly darkening sea of gray clouds. At the end of the yard stood a large oak tree, it's branches bare, the swing hanging from one of its limbs swaying in the stiff wind. There was a stump not far from the door, its top chewed up from repeated blows of the axe that produced the large woodpile stacked nearby. There was, however, no axe as Jenny had said there would be. Nick gathered an armload of smallish logs, casting a few more glances around to see if the axe had fallen or been misplaced, but there was no sign of it. The rain began to fall just as he ducked back inside the house.
He moved to the side of the hearth, setting down the pile and tossing a couple of fresh logs on the embers and weak flames. Arranging the logs and embers with the poker encouraged the fire to burst back to life again. “It's a nasty storm brewing up out there,” Nick said, not particularly addressing her, “Didn't want to leave you without a fire.”
Straightening himself to his full height, he turned his gaze from the fire to her. Noticing his attention, she raised her eyes from their absent stare to fix on his.
“I'll let you know if I find anything out,” he said, “If not...I'll file a missing mammal report with the Sheriffs tomorrow. Until then, try to get some sleep if you can, okay?”
She nodded and smiled warmly at him, “Thank you, Nick...I feel better already knowing you're looking for him.”
He nodded and turned on his heel, heading out the front door. Dashing down the steps, he jumped into the car and fired up the engine, turning and heading rapidly out of the driveway and down the road to town.
Nick arrived a short while later at the back lot of Gideon's bakery. Apart from the light cast by a few street lights and shop windows, the darkness was heavy, as if it had a substance of its own. He stepped out of his car into the steady rain, quickly shutting the door and pulling his coat tight around him. Gideon's green Coyota Excel was still parked in the spot reserved for it. He pulled out his flashlight and examined the doors and interior; nothing seemed amiss. He tried the door handle and found it securely locked.
Turning, he approached the back door of the shop, its blank metal surface illuminated by a small porch light set into the wall above it. Fishing the keys from his pocket, he unlocked it and stepped inside. The shop was dimly lit, the lights left partially on to deter burglars, but there was more than enough illumination to find and deactivate the alarm system. The light switch was beside it, so Nick flicked it on to get a full view of the interior.
Nothing looked immediately wrong or out of place, but three years on the beat had taught Nick to see past the surface and look for the tiny details, the little things that whispered of the hidden and unseen. A bag of flour stood open on the counter, along with a pie pan and a small paring knife laid on a wood cutting board. Something glistened on the blade, interrupting the smooth metallic surface.
Nick examined it closer and found it to be blood – two tiny drops smeared on the blade, and a couple more on the counter. It couldn't have been serious – the first aid cabinet attached to the wall nearby appeared undisturbed, and there was no blood anywhere else save those few minuscule drops. Everything else in the kitchen appeared orderly.
Moving to the front of the shop, Nick passed out from behind the counter into the seating area. All the tables and chairs were arranged quite neatly, though they hadn't been put up on the tables for the night, which would have been typical for most cafes and restaurants. The windows at the front of the shop were pristine and Nick could see the door was locked from the inside, the neon 'open' sign in the window shut off.
Turning on his heel, he paused a moment, looking over the room. A ledger book stood open on the counter beside the register. He moved to it and examined the pages – there were no out of town deliveries scheduled for that day or the following one, and no other entry that might offer a clue to Gideon's whereabouts. Nick tapped his index finger on the page of the book a few times, wracking his brain.
Glancing around, he noticed the baseball sized black dome of a security camera in the corner of the ceiling behind the counter. It appeared to be positioned so as to be able to see the both the register and at least part of the front window and door.
Immediately, Nick strode to the back of the shop again, locating a small office attached to the kitchen. Trying the door, he found it locked; he pulled out the keys and checked them, finding one marked 'office.' He turned the key and opened the door.
The office was a smallish one with a simple wooden desk in the center and a ragged rolling chair behind it. The walls on either side of the narrow window were flanked with filing cabinets. The top of the desk bristled with photo frames as well as a phone, computer monitor, and an old coffee tin with pencils and pens sticking out.
Behind the desk, tucked into a corner, was the monitor and console for the security camera system. Being such a small shop, there were only five cameras, their views displayed on the monitor – the one Nick had seen, one aimed directly at the back door, one in the corner of the office, one outside the front door and one outside the back.
Taking a seat in the chair, Nick found that the frames contained not less than four pictures of Ashley, two of Jenny, and two of the three of them together. He quickly checked the drawers and flipped through a notepad laying by the phone. Nothing.
Turning the chair around, Nick typed rapidly on the console and selected the camera showing the front counter, eating area and front window. Setting the time stamp to 08:30, he fast forwarded it to about a quarter to nine and found Gideon appearing from the kitchen. Running through the footage from that point, everything seemed normal, with customers coming and going and Gideon warmly greeting each in turn. He would go back and forth to the kitchen periodically, baking fresh pies, presumably, returning each time a customer entered.
It wasn't until the time stamp read 11:16 that something unusual happened: Gideon had been sitting quietly on his stool behind the counter when he started violently, standing up and nearly knocking over his stool in the process. He ran to the front door and stepped outside into the street. About a minute and a half went by before he re-entered, but his face was very different than it had been all morning: his ears were tucked back behind his head, his brow knitted and his muzzle drawn into a tight lipped frown. He stroked his right thumb over his left paw in an unconscious self-soothing gesture. Everything about his form spoke of deep agitation being suppressed under tremendous effort.
Something in the back of Nick's mind told him he had missed something, so he rewound the footage and watched it again. It wasn't until the third viewing that he caught it; just before Gideon was startled, a shadow passed by the front window. It was very brief and indistinct, barely visible in the frame, but it was there. It appeared that someone had passed by the shop window, possibly someone that Gideon recognized, and he had run to catch them before they departed.
With a furrowed brow, Nick continued to trace Gideon’s movements through the shop. He seemed to linger indecisively at the front counter for several minutes, his tail twitching with sharp, jerky movements, his fingers drumming the counter, his ears flicking at intervals. Finally, a decision seemed to grip him and he disappeared into the kitchen. Nick checked the other cameras, but he was outside their viewing range, presumably working in the prep area. It wasn’t until 12:10 that Gideon reappeared in the front of the shop, rushing to lock the door and turn off the open sign. Nick noticed that he had a small scrap of something white wrapped around his index finger of his left paw – paper towel, maybe?
Gideon’s final appearance on surveillance was at 12:12 as he rushed out the back door with a pie box clutched in his paws, and disappeared. Nick sat back in his chair with a deep frown, a subtle chill running down his spine as he realized that Jenny had missed Gideon by a matter of minutes. Nick couldn’t help but wonder, if she had arrived only a bit sooner, or he had left only a bit later, might Gideon be at home with his family at that very moment?
His mind swirling with troubling questions and a sense of sinister dread rising in the back of his mind, Nick stepped back into the kitchen. He paused, glancing around for a few moments until his eyes fell on the knife again. He approached the counter and bowed to sniff the cutting board’s surface. A quick glance at the compost can nearby confirmed what his nose had already told him; a small pile of bits of apple core lay at the top of the mound of scraps in the bin.
All of it was suggestive; the knife with drops of blood left out with its cutting board and dirty pie pan, the flour bag left open, the compost scraps left on the counter, the paper towel wrapped around his finger. It seemed that Gideon had hastily baked an apple pie during his interval hidden from the cameras’ watchful gaze, and had been so distracted by whatever he saw outside the shop window that he cut his finger while slicing the apples.
So great was his haste that he didn’t bother with a bandage, merely wrapping a paper towel around it, and rushed out of the shop without putting away his utensils or his flour, and without disposing of the day’s scraps in the compost bin out back. For a professional pastry chef, especially one as dedicated and passionate about his work as Gideon Gray, such oversights were very unlikely except under the most severe emotional disturbance. Whatever he saw outside the window, it shook him to his core.
With a sigh, Nick turned and headed for the back door. He activated the alarm, flicked out the lights, shut the door behind him, and locked it. He dashed to his car and jumped in, glancing at his watch; it was getting late and he hadn’t had a bite since lunch. He fired up the engine, deciding to head to Charlie’s Surf and Turf to get some food and think things over.
As he cruised through the darkened, rain slicked streets of Bunnyburrow, he turned the facts over and over in his mind. It seemed as though Gideon had intended to return some time that day from whatever errand he had gone on, because he had taken the van rather than his car. Apparently he had either changed his mind, or something had happened to actually prevent him from returning. Both options were unsettling in their own way.
He brooded over the matter as he hastily devoured his bowl of clam chowder at Charlie’s, unable to come to any definite conclusions from what he knew thus far. The theory that Gideon had seen someone he knew outside the window fit with his actions afterward – baking a pie, presumably for the animal or animals he had seen – except for one detail. In a small town like Bunnyburrow where, as Judy had once observed, everyone knows everyone else, who could Gideon have possibly seen that could have shaken him up that badly? Why the extreme haste to bake the pie and leave with it? Why, knowing that Jenny and Ashley often dropped by at lunch time, would he not call and tell his wife he’d be out?
Everything Nick had come to know about Gideon Gray over the past two years showed that he was a devoted, attentive, and loving husband and father. The forest of picture frames that littered his desk confirmed as much. Yet the fact of the matter was that he had dropped everything and vanished from his shop at lunch time, and still was nowhere to be found at nearly ten at night, never having breathed a word about it to his wife. No violence was evident, and yet still he stayed away. It was, of course, possible that some foul play had occurred after his departure from the shop, but something in the back of Nick’s mind was telling him that Gideon’s actions could only mean one thing: he was hiding something.
As he drove slowly through the deserted streets toward the farm, having puzzled and fretted over the strange situation for an hour at Charlie’s to no avail, another, rather distasteful thought crossed his mind. Was it possible that Gideon was having an illicit affair? Could the figure outside the window have been his mistress, or perhaps an old flame whose sudden appearance awakened latent passions in the unassuming fox? Could he at that moment be in the arms of a secret lover? It seemed impossible given Gideon’s apparent devotion to his family, and if he was a cheating husband, he had to be the dumbest in history; staying away so long made it almost certain he’d be caught, when he could have very easily returned sooner and given the excuse that he was making a delivery.
Nick tightened his grip on the wheel, his scowl deepening. As a police officer, he had to keep his mind open to any possibility, but he hated even entertaining the thought. He despised it especially because he knew there were some who assumed the same was true of him, just because he was a fox married to a bunny. Of course anyone who really knew them understood that he would sooner die than be unfaithful to his Judy, that indeed he had once taken a bullet for her and would again in an instant. However, once or twice during the past two years, he’d heard whispers from onlookers as they passed by together.
One such incident surfaced in his mind as he carved the turn onto the back road that led to the Hopps farm. He and Judy had been strolling through the park together, paw in paw, on a warm, sun dappled spring morning. Nick’s ear happened to be inclined in just the right direction to catch a snippet of the whispered conversation of two mountain goats standing off the side of the path.
“—bunny, married to a fox...freakish...plus, you just know he’s gettin’ some on the sly—”
Nick had been absolutely livid. He had fixed them with a stare as cold as death and had been about to march over and tear a strip up one side of them and down the other, when he felt Judy suddenly grasp his arm. When he looked back at her, she had the most beautiful, placid smile on her face, and gave a faint shake of her head. To her, such comments were meaningless ignorance not even worth noticing.
If the genesis of the thought caused him annoyance, the image in his minds eye of Judy’s knowing, magnificent, unflappable smile washed it all away and replaced it with a feeling of warmth and yearning. It was just one of millions of ways she constantly made him fall in love with her over and over again.
He focused on the memory of that smile as he turned into the driveway at the farm, using it as a kind of mental talisman to ward off the dark, sinister thoughts that threatened to converge again on his mind. He would sleep on it, he decided, and pay a visit to Sheriff Grounderson in the morning to file an official report of Gideon’s disappearance.
As he rounded the farmhouse on the extension of the driveway that Stu and his older sons had built, he came in sight of the cottage. Its porch light gleamed through the now drizzling rain like a lighthouse in a churning sea. He pulled the car up directly in front of the door, killing the engine. Jumping out, he locked the door and slammed it shut, dashing to the entrance of the cottage.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he entered and shut out the turbulent night. He was glad to be enveloped in the atmosphere of fond memories the cottage exuded. While it was true that not every memory attached to it was pleasant, the fact of the matter was that it was in this little house that he and Judy had confessed their love to one another for the first time. He let that thought drown out all others as he stripped off his wet clothes and headed for the shower.
Nick’s mood had much improved as he flopped into the bed, clad only in his boxers, after a long, hot shower. He sighed deeply, feeling the fatigue of the arduous day clinging at all his limbs, seeming to press him deeper into the plush comforter that covered the bed. A faint, slightly roguish smile curled his lips as he mused over how much better the bed would feel if Judy’s voluptuous form were curled up in it beside him.
Just then, his phone rang, buzzing loudly on the night stand where he had left it. His smile broadened considerably as he picked it up to see who was calling; it was a muzzletime call from Judy. He eagerly accepted the call, slipping one arm behind his head as he held the phone up with the other paw.
“Well, well, Sergeant Fluff,” he said, unable to suppress his wide grin, “You are a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you.”
She responded with a quiet, melodious chuckle and a broad smile of her own. “You too, sweetheart,” she said, “Been missing me, huh? But I only left yesterday afternoon.”
“Mmmm you have no idea...but you know you’ve been missing me too,” he replied, stretching his legs, crossing his ankles and getting comfortable.
“Mmmmayybe...” she said with a wry smile. It never failed to please him knowing that for all the intense feelings of love and desire she aroused in him, he had an equally powerful effect on her.
“How’s your conference going?” he said, hoping to steer the conversation away from any mention of his evening’s activities.
“Oh, not bad. Been feeling a little green the last little bit, but I’m thinking it might be the catering,” she said, knitting her brow slightly as a pained expression crossed her face, “It’s not the best quality, I’m afraid. We only just had the meet and greets today, but it was cool to meet law enforcement from all over. I didn’t realize that some cities are very segregated between prey and predator...just seems to be the way it is in some places. Makes you realize how special Zootopia is.”
“Did you get a chance to do much sightseeing around Zoo York yet?” he asked.
“Only a little bit,” she said with a slight shake of her head, “It’s a cool city. It’s a lot like Zootopia, actually...lots of predators and prey intermingling. I was chatting with a coyote detective from ZYPD about it, how the two cities were similar, saying it was nice to see how tensions between predator and prey animals seem to be diminishing, and he says, ‘I hear things are real progressive in Zootopia...even some inter-species relationships and whatnot.’ So I said, ‘It happens all over, it just maybe isn’t as out in the open as in Zootopia. My husband is a fox, as a matter of fact.’ He just about spit his coffee all over himself.”
She punctuated her story with a hearty laugh, no doubt recalling the look of shock on the coyote’s face. Nick frowned, imagining what kind of nasty comments might follow the detective’s spit take.
“So, what did he have to say about that?” Nick asked, his voice slightly subdued.
“Oh, he was really interested once he recovered from the initial shock. He apologized for his reaction, saying he didn’t mean anything bad, he was just really surprised. Asked me a bit about how we met and stuff. In the end, he said it was really cool that we got together in spite of all our differences.”
Nick relaxed considerably, giving a nod, “Sounds like a nice guy.”
“So, you’re in Bunnyburrow?” she said with a knowing smile, “Got so lonely you had to surround yourself with bunnies to stave off depression?”
Nick was taken aback, although he recovered a beat later; he should have known his wife’s keen observation skills would have immediately picked out the bedspread that formed his background and recognized it as belonging to the cottage.
“Heh, that’s one interpretation...” he said, avoiding discussion of the real purpose of his visit. He had long ago resolved never to lie to her, but there were times he chose to remain silent on a matter. She didn’t need any distraction from her conference; after all, there was nothing she could do about it from few hundred miles away anyhow. “You’re right about one thing, though…,” he added with a wistful smile, “I really miss you.”
“Me too...” she said softly, seeming to study the image of his eyes through the phone, a subtle expression of longing coming over her features. “That’s why I thought I’d give you a little show...”
She grinned mischievously and seemed to set the phone down on the desk, perhaps on some kind of stand. She tapped something on the desk just outside the frame and a slow, sultry piece of music began to waft through the speakers. Previously, the muzzletime shot had shown only her head and shoulders, but now she stepped back from the desk and he could see that she was clad only in a silky black set of lingerie trimmed in lace. Slowly, with an alluring smile on her muzzle, she began to sway her shapely hips in time with the music.
“Oh, Mrs Wilde,” Nick said, his voice a breathy, needful whisper, “You are trying to seduce me...and it is absolutely working.”