Chapter 5

Nick gripped the overhead handle as Judy swung the cruiser into a sharp left. His eyes narrowed at his laptop. “Update from the Nerd Herd. Hard drives are mostly toast, but they recovered some kind of insurance claim, it seems. It's too fried to really tell what exactly it’s a claim for, or who it’s for. Guess even bad guys get sick,” he snorted.

“They were able to recover a partial photo, which is way more interesting!”He tilted the screen toward Judy. The recovered half showed an arctic fox in a red gown, a paw resting on what looked like Jack Savage’s shoulder, if that black facial stripe was any hint.

“That's Jack, isn’t it?” Judy pointed out.

“Only stripey bunny I know,” Nick replied, tapping the image.

“I would have to agree. Let's ask him about it. Maybe it’ll shed light on a connection between him and the coyote we got earlier. If we’re really lucky, maybe there are additional clues at the break-in that will help us figure out what the heck is going on.”

“See, now why would you go and taunt Lady Luck like that? You know what we’ll find now?” Nick asked, pausing as the car door latched behind him. “Nothing. That’s what we'll find.”

Judy shook her head as she walked back up the now familiar path past the wrought-iron gate. “You know what? Nothing can still be a lead.”

Nick started to respond, stopping before any words could make it past his lips. His head tilted, then nodded as he silently conceded to her point. Judy’s pace slowed, surveying the driveway as she came across a pile of broken glass scattered across the cobblestone from an upstairs window. Nick followed her gaze, taking note.

“Judy Hopps! And…?” Jack paused in mock thought as he stepped out from the battered doorway. “Her partner. Sorry, I always forget you exist until you speak.” He ran his paws over his suit, flicking plaster from his shoulders with deliberate flair, before giving Nick a cheeky fistbump. “So glad you two could make it!”

Nick flicked his sunglasses back onto his nose, baring his teeth at Jack in a wide smile, and returned the bump. “That's Officer Partner to you, and don't you forget it.”

Judy rolled her eyes as she joined them at the entrance, ignoring both of their remarks. “Did you see anything suspicious before this happened?” she asked, glancing through the door at the chaos inside.

“Not a thing,” Jack shrugged, his brows furrowed as he slid his paws into his pockets. “I had some errands across town, and when I returned, my place was trashed.”

The moment Judy stepped inside, it was clear that this wasn’t a simple break-in. The living room looked like it had been torn apart by a storm. A bookshelf lay face down, its contents scattered like fallen leaves across the floor, and shards of glass glinted beneath the broken window, catching the sunlight in sharp, fractured lines.

A vase had seemingly exploded against the far wall, the flowers it once held trampled underpaw. Cushions were gutted, their stuffing trailing like snowdrifts across the rug. Papers were everywhere, twisting in the draft and fluttering through the air like startled birds. It didn’t feel like someone had searched the place. It felt like they had attacked it.

Nick let out a low whistle as he turned in a circle, surveying the damage, taking photos of the mess as Judy jotted down notes. “Have you noticed anything missing? Any jewelry or items of significant value?”

“No, that’s the odd thing. All of the easy-to-grab and sell stuff hasn’t been touched. I don’t collect a ton of art, but there are a few pieces that could probably be sold for a couple thousand, not to mention a few props from movies I’ve done that would probably gain someone a pretty penny on ePrey, and I’m not much for jewelry. Just this necklace, but that doesn’t come off very often…”Jack lifted the necklace from under his shirt. It was small, in the shape of a cloud, and made of silver.

Nick leaned forward as he inspected it. “It’s…nice, but not something worth stealing.”

Jack shook his head as he replaced the necklace. “Monetarily, it isn't worth much. It’s a sentimental thing. From…well, it's from my family. But it wouldn’t be relevant to anything here.”

Judy tapped her foot, her eyes drifting from the shattered lamp to the upturned sofa. The mess didn’t just scream chaos; it dared her to make sense of it. She exhaled sharply, digging her phone out of her pocket. “Our IT department was able to download a partial photo from the fried hard drive. I don’t know if it's connected to the break-in, but maybe you can shed some light on the photo, which will lead us to the next piece of this puzzle.” She turned the phone towards the other bunny to show him the photo.

Jack leaned in, his eyes scanning the image. His lower lip caught briefly between his teeth, and his ears twitched. “I…” he started, his ears drooping and his shoulders sagging as he looked away, the spark in his eyes dimming.“I wish I could help. I know she looks familiar, but I'm sorry, I don't know who she is.”

“But that is you in the photo… isn't it?” Nick asked.

“I don't know of any other bunny with black stripes like I have, although I could be wrong. If it is me, then this photo is over a decade old.”

Judy looked back down at the photo, studying it for a moment. “I don't see any indication of any kind of time frame. What would make you say that?”

Jack exhaled hard through his nose, arms folding tight across his chest. “This part doesn’t leave the room unless it absolutely has to, got it?”

Nick gave a slow nod. “Depends on what you say. If you have a bunch of bodies in the backyard, I can’t make any promises.”

Jack didn’t laugh. His eyes were fixed on something invisible outside the shattered window.

“It was… ten years ago. Car accident. My parents were driving back from the ski lifts and I was sitting in the back seat.” His voice was detached as his paw drifted to the necklace at his throat, thumb rubbing against the tiny silver charm.

He huffed, struggling with the words. “They died. I… didn’t. Spent four days in a coma, woke up in a white room full of machines and strangers, and no one I loved left to explain what happened.”

Judy opened her mouth, but he kept going. “They say head trauma can erase memories. My brain decided the last ten years of my life were optional, apparently. The doctors helped me rebuild the basics — reading, walking, and public appearances. But everything else? Faces, names, holidays, old friends? Blank.” His voice caught for a second. “It’s like trying to recall a dream I never had. What little I know came from a nurse who took pity on me, although even with that it was super minimal. Gave me the cliff notes over the course of an hour or so when her shift ended one night.”

Nick’s usual sharp edge was gone. “No one stuck around?”

“No. Well, a few tried. They visited me in the hospital. But I think they wanted the old me, and I had no idea who that even was. Eventually, I stopped pretending.” Jack’s voice flattened. “Took what inheritance I had gotten and started over here in the city. Built something from scratch and started my own production company and funded my own films. Reinvented myself and started over. Hollywood loves a good mysterious leading man. I know eventually it'll leak, but I want to keep that to myself for as long as I can.”

Nick tapped a card in his paw before showing it to Judy, a hopeful smile on his face. “Maybe we don’t need you to remember. We do have a friend with some serious facial recognition power,” he said, the name Max Stripewell printed in neat lettering on the card.

“It's worth a shot. I am curious to see how well his program works,” she murmured with a shrug.

Jack gave the two a confused look. “Who is that?”

“A possible resource. He's helping to develop facial recognition for the ZPD. The system isn't up and running yet, but maybe he can still help us figure out who's in the photo,” Judy replied.

“And if not,” Nick started, sliding his phone out of his pocket, “there is a fantastic Italian restaurant right around the corner.”

“Maria's? I've gone there a few times after wrapping on projects, but getting in without a reservation is insanely difficult.”

Nick smirked as his phone vibrated in response. “Yes, well,-”

“I know a guy,” Judy finished with an eye roll.

“Well, I do! And he got us in for dinner,” he shot back, turning to face the surprised bunny across from him. “I always know a guy. It's kind of my thing.”

“Well, you two enjoy dinner then. I'm going to get this mess cleaned up. Unless you need anything else from me about the break-in?”

Judy shook her head as she looked down at the paperwork in her paws. “No, we took photos of everything, and I pretty much finished all the paperwork and got your statement. Give us an update if you find anything else is missing.”

The cruiser hummed quietly as they pulled away from Jack’s house. “Can you imagine losing all your memories?” She asked finally, eyes fixed on the road.

“Yeah,” Nick replied, fidgeting with his sunglasses. “That’s a different kind of heavy.”

Judy shifted in her seat as they passed the edge of the Meadowlands. Her eyes flicked to the horizon, where the river wound out of view. She didn't say anything, but Nick saw the way her paw tightened on the steering wheel.

“Thinking about the orchid?” he asked quietly.

She gave a small nod. “It feels like we barely had time to plant it before something else went wrong.”

“That’s Zootopia,” he said, not unkindly. “You water the roots, and the next emergency’s already sprouting.”

“Still,” she murmured, “I hope it’s enough to remember her. And let's hope Stripewell’s got something for us.”

“Berry Lane is such a stupid name for the tech block of Zootopia.” Nick shook out his tail, closing the cruiser door behind him as he took a step onto the sidewalk. Berry Lane was a decent tech hub, with multiple high-rise buildings, filled with large glass windows. The late afternoon sun sent blinding orange rays of light scattered from the polished windows through Downtown. The sidewalks had very little foot traffic, just a pawful of mammals scurrying from buildings to their Zubers or parked cars.

The large automatic doors of 1205 Berry Lane slid open with a whoosh, the frigid air from the AC sending a shiver down Judy's back. She spotted a slim cheetah sitting at a security desk and walked over. “Hi, Judy Hopps, ZPD. We have a meeting with Max Stripewell?”

The cheetah smiled, pushing over a sign-in sheet to them as she picked up the phone. “Just sign in here while I verify, then I’ll buzz you through to the elevators.”

She quickly signed in for both of them, giving a polite wave as they stepped through the security gate and into the waiting elevator.

The elevator rose quickly, and the doors opened onto a cavern of silent blue light. A few tech drones were still hunched over glowing monitors, but otherwise, the place was a ghost town of ergonomic chairs and brushed steel. “Creepy,” Nick muttered, his footsteps swallowed by the plush carpet.

Max Stripewell’s office was at the far end, a glass cube of controlled chaos overlooking the glittering city. As they approached, Judy could make out two massive screens flickering, tangled wires spilling over circuit boards, and the lonely silhouette of a half-empty energy drink. Inside, his space was a controlled chaos of genius: the two monitors dominated the desk, flickering with rapid image scans and lines of raw code. The cool hum of the machines mixed with the soft whirring of fans, and the room smelled faintly of old coffee and compressed air.

It was a space built for function, not comfort, and looked more like a server room than an office. But it suited Max. It was analytical, efficient, and always running a dozen processes ahead of everyone else.

“Mr. Stripewell! Officer Judy Hopps. I called earlier? We met last week after that run-in with the coyote.”

Max looked up from his phone, pausing for a moment before pushing his glasses up and smiling. “Oh, right! You sent me the photo of the arctic vixen. I have the program running right now; it should be just about done. I've had the program running since you sent me the photo earlier. It should be finished processing soon. Once it's done, it should give us any matches that it's found, and hopefully then your mystery vixen will no longer be a mystery.”

Nick squinted at the swirling stream of photos flashing by. His head tilted, one ear flicking up. “You sure this isn’t powered by caffeine and witchcraft? Wait, please tell me you don't have a set of twins hooked up to this computer somewhere in the back rooms.”

Max blinked. “Statistically speaking, even if I had twins, they’d be more productive coding than solving crimes.” He tapped his keyboard twice. “Also, the energy cost of housing orphans is unsustainable.”

“Minority report? With Tom Newts? Nevermind…” Nick sighed, looking around at the skunk’s dark office. On the far wall were the huge monitors currently flickering with information, and below that a large desk filled with folders and papers, where the skunk sat, occasionally typing on a keyboard as he watched the monitors intently. The silence was broken by the ringing of a phone. With a huff, Max pushed himself back from his desk, picking up the phone on the far side of the desk.

“Max here. Whatchya need?”

Judy took a step forward as the skunk spoke, leaning in a bit to try to isolate some of the information flying across the screen. She could briefly make out news articles, Muzzlebook posts, and surveillance feed photos of a white vixen, although she couldn't tell if it was the same vixen they were looking for.

“Yeah, once you have the parts, let me know. I'll need to make sure the machines that need them are ready. Thanks,” Max finished, hanging up the phone as he looked up at the monitors. ”Good timing, looks like our report is ready.”

The sound of thumping and hammering interrupted the conversation. Max glanced at the time and sighed. “They did wait till 5 p.m. The floor above us has been vacant for a while and is being remodeled. It took a few complaints and telling the property manager to get them to stop all that during work hours.”

Max glared at the ceiling, took a long gulp from the can sitting at his desk, and brought their attention back to the screen. With a few more clicks, the pair was looking at a few different documents and photos. “Anyway, your vixen’s name is Claire Arlington,” Max said, squinting at the screen. He adjusted his glasses, pushing them back up his snout. “Born in Tundratown. Which tracks, given the vixen fur and the emotionally distant stare in her high school yearbook. Tundra girls, man.”

Nick blinked. “Is that a personal observation or...?”

Max ignored him, scrolling. “She had one misdemeanor that was dropped at age 18 for hacking a school server. So she’s got taste. Looks like her connection to Jack is…. Oh…” The skunk's face fell as he flipped to the next slide. On the screen was a photo of two arctic foxes along with the coroner's report for Adam and Samantha Arlington. The cause of death was a motor vehicle accident. The same accident that had caused Jack to lose his parents.

Judy pointed towards the notes section on the police reports on the screen. “She lost her parents in the same accident….but where was she? She couldn't have been in the car. It's listed as a 4-door sedan with only 5 seats.”

“Hold on, let me…” Max's voice trailed off, the silence only broken by the clacking of the keyboard. A moment later and a statement from the investigating officer was pulled up on the screen. “Looks like she was back at the cabin they were staying at. They were on a ski trip, but according to the report Claire had injured her ankle the day before and stayed at the cabin, so they decided to only take one car.”

Nick bit his bottom lip as he shook his head. “That's awful, but I don't think that helps with the case.”

Max hesitated before turning towards the two officers. “Maybe…. I did find something on my initial search. It's a small clip from the hospital security cameras. I…it's a very short clip, and I can't say what the context is exactly. I think it might shed some light on everything, especially since not long after the accident, Claire's digital footprint disappears.”

“It disappears?” Nick asked.

"She went ghost. Proper ghost. Somehow, she wiped her records clean. You don't see that level of paranoia outside of conspiracy theorists and ex-spouses." Max took his glasses off and cleaned them as he pulled up grainy, black-and-white security footage from a hospital corridor. Leaning against the wall was Claire, her fur matted by her tears. Standing across from her was a manned wolf, his back to the camera.

The room went silent as the manned wolf’s voice came out of the speakers. “It looks like Jack distracted him at the right moment. It was enough to slow his reaction time, so he couldn't move out of the way. Jack was the only one who made it out,” he said. The vixen on the screen brought her paw up to her muzzle as she choked out a sob, before the video abruptly ended.

Max frowned as he tapped at his keyboard. “I know it’s not a lot. Unfortunately, that's all I was able to recover. I wish I could show you more.”

He clicked a few buttons, jumping slightly as a cartoon gazelle appeared on the screen, her cheery AI voice filling the office. “Hello! It looks like you are attempting to retrieve additional files! Unfortunately, we are unable to retrieve them at this time. Please contact the ZPD admin for further assistance!”

Max snorted as he shook his head. “I hate that thing. It’s unnatural.”

Nick tilted his head and stared at the cartoon image on the screen.“Whose decision was it to make it a Gazelle?”

“Chief Bogo’s. Something about an angel with horns. Honestly, I didn’t really pay attention. I was just thinking about the insane amount of paperwork that was going to be needed,” Max replied, forcing the AI assistant to close.

The video remained frozen on screen; the white fur of the vixen seemed to blend into the hospital wall behind her. Judy studied her features, taking in the deep sorrow splashed across her face. She turned towards Nick, her eyes raised. “Well, if she thought her parents' death was Jack's fault, that would certainly be the motive to want to break in, and maybe even conspire to kill him.”

“I've seen mammals kill for less,” Nick replied. “The problem is that at this point, it's only a working theory. We have no proof of anything.”

“Even still, we should probably call Jack to let him know our theory and see about getting a detail out to his home. If the theory turns out to be true, then leaving Jack without protection could mean death for him. Can we get all this on a flash drive?”

Max nodded as Nick pulled out his phone. “I'll call over to the station and get the details over to Jack's house.”

Judy pulled out her phone, searching for Jack's number. The phone rang a few times before going to voicemail. She frowned before trying Sylvia as well. She heard Nick sigh as she hung up her phone, unable to reach either mammal.

“The best they can do is an on-call in an hour or two... We’ll get there first. Means canceling dinner, though," Nick said. He shot Judy a grim smile. "Looks like we'll need to take both the guns and the cannoli to go.”

Jack's door swung open, music blasting from somewhere deep in the house. The notes floating through the air seemed to clash with each other, an electronic mix of synthetic notes and bass drops. In his arms was a stack of papers in a box, with what looked like a few odds and ends, and the smell of soap and cleaning products wafted through the air, stinging the hairs lining Nick’s nose.

“Well, hey there, Hollywood,” Nick called as the door swung open to a house full of bass and citrus-scented chaos. “If you were aiming to give us a migraine, mission accomplished.”

Jack appeared in the doorway holding a box of papers, his ears flicking in mild irritation. “And if I wanted peace and quiet, I wouldn’t have opened the door.”

“Touché,” Nick slipped his sunglasses off, reaching out to take a stack of papers from Jack as Judy stepped up beside him.

“Jack,” she said gently, “we need to talk.”

His grin faltered. “Something wrong?”

“We think you might be in danger.” Her voice was measured but clear as she spoke. “We have a theory. One that might explain the break-in and the woman in the photo.”

Jack’s ears lowered slightly. “Is that why you’re here?”

“To make sure you're okay. And to fill you in,” Nick added, suddenly less glib.

Judy handed him the tablet, walking him through what they’d learned.

Jack listened in silence, his paws tightening on the edges of the tablet. He set it down on the hallway table like it might burn him.

After a moment, he let out in a strangled voice, “I don’t know. Maybe I am the reason they all died. I don’t remember the accident. And when you can’t trust your own memory, it’s hard not to wonder if the worst version is the truth.”

Judy glanced at Nick, then took a tentative step toward Jack. “I understand,” she said softly. “Recently, I had to deal with the weight of feeling like someone might be gone because of me. It sticks. But something Nick reminded me of—something I’m still trying to believe—is that we don’t carry their loss to punish ourselves. We carry it so their memory can shape how we keep going. Let the beauty of who they were... grow something better in us.”

Nick gave a quiet nod. “We plant roots and keep walking. Right now, we don’t know what’s true or what isn’t, but we do know that we’re not going to let you face it alone.”

Jack nodded as he turned and shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his paws together. The kitchen was a sharp contrast to the ransacked chaos in the rest of the house. The smell of citrus cleaner still lingered in the air, mixing with the faint bite of bleach and stainless steel. Under the overhead lights, the marble countertops gleamed, and every surface looked freshly wiped. A stack of dishes sat drying neatly beside the sink, and the trash had clearly been emptied.

He moved about the space with muscle memory more than awareness, grabbing a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge. The cool hum of the appliance underscored the tension. The tile underfoot was chilled and spotless, reflecting a sterile sheen from the recessed lights above.

Nick perched on a barstool near the island, idly spinning a bottle cap between his fingers while Judy leaned against the counter, her eyes still flicking toward the windows, ever alert.

“I understand why she would be mad. But do you think she would want to kill me over something I have no memory of?”

“Mammals have tried to kill each other for less. Money, revenge, bad karaoke...”

Judy shot him a look. “We’re serious, Nick.”

“So am I. Bad karaoke’s a public health crisis.” He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

The lights flickered once, barely noticeable before steadying. Jack didn’t seem to notice, but Judy did. Her ears stiffened slightly. Nick’s eyes narrowed.

Jack fumbled with the bottle, the carbonation hissing too loudly as the cap popped off, foaming slightly over the rim.

“Dammit. More carbonated than I thought,” he grumbled. “I'll grab a—”

The lights died with a snap, plunging the kitchen into thick silence. The hum of appliances faded, and in its absence, the room felt like it was holding its breath.

“I… I paid the bill,” Jack faltered, too quietly, too slow.

THUNK. The sound of something heavy hitting the tile echoed from the hallway, immediately followed by the sharp, ear-splitting hiss of a discharging canister.

A thin cloud erupted from the hall, rushing through the room like a living thing. Acrid. Choking. Fast.

“Nick! Gas!”

Judy barely had time to shout before her knees buckled and she hit the floor hard, her flashlight clattering loose, the beam cutting a cone of clarity through a rising haze. The air was already changing. It was too warm, too heavy, like something was coiling in her lungs.

“Dispatch, this is Zulu 240—possible 134, hazardous substance...” Her voice cracked, swallowed by a harsh cough. Her eyes widened as she grabbed the hand towel on the counter, holding it up to try to filter out toxic fumes.

Her paw slipped from the mic as she fell to the ground, and the clattering of the flashlight on tile echoed in the large kitchen.

“Carrots?” Nick rasped. He staggered, ears ringing, pulse hammering. The flashlight spun in slow circles where it rolled, the light settling on her unconscious silhouette. “Judy?!”

“Nononono—” he reached for her, but his knees buckled, slamming to the floor. He crawled, claws scraping uselessly on marble as he reached for her arm. His chest burned. His vision pulsed and dimmed.

“Nick!” Jack shouted, before a chorus of dry coughs heaved out of him. “Nick where are…where…you,” Jack's voice faded completely, followed by a soft thump against Nick’s side a moment later.

Nick’s paw found Jack’s sleeve. He didn’t remember reaching for it — just felt the fabric clench between his fingers like it might anchor him. Judy was somewhere beyond his reach, her body slack on the floor, flashlight beam swinging wildly. The beam landed on her body. Still. Motionless

Everything in him screamed move. Get up. Get her. But his body was quitting. Not failing. Quitting, like it had made a quiet decision without him.

Nick’s claws scraped air. He couldn't even shout. The only thing that came out was a breath, broken and useless.

The hissing of the canister started to fade as the last of the gas pumped into the room.

Somewhere past the fog in his eyes, he saw a shape. A mammal. Larger than Jack. Upright. It moved like a ghost. No panic. No noise. Just purpose.

Nick’s paw curled around Jack’s sleeve as he slumped against him and knocked out. His claws dug in, trying to get a good grip.

The figure didn’t slow; it just ripped Jack from his grip and kept walking, never looking back.

“No—!” Nick tried to shout, but the word came out as a broken gasp, broken by coughs, his pulse slowing down as his vision started to fade in and out.

He heard sirens. Faint. Somewhere far away. Through the blur, his eyes landed on the counter—the glass of sparkling water. Still fizzing. He watched the bubbles rise as the shadow vanished with Jack. Then there was only the fizzing. And the dark.