He spent all night reviewing the newspaper articles, everything relating to jewel robberies he set to the side to be reviewed a second time to find anything familiar. Most thieves leave an imprint of themselves at the crime scene. Those who are bold leave a calling cards, and those who are sloppy leave paw prints and pieces of fur stuck to broken glass. It took Nick a while to find the article relating the jewel heist in the Zootopia Fine Arts Museum. It was a small article, barely a column, from something so expensive. A red ruby, no bigger than a wolf's paw. In the pitiful column, it stated that the ruby was worth ten thousand and that the glass box container was shattered on the top. Enough for a slippery paw to reach in and run off with the ruby. The strange part is that he found no trance of a murder mentioned in the newspaper. Not even in the obituary.

His sore eyes stared dully into his glass cup, staring at the gold droplets of the remaining liquor he has. He rubbed his fist into his blood shot eyes, his head pulsing in pain making him reach into his desk drawer grabbing two pain killers for his hangover. He pinned the article up against his speckled wall, with three more articles adding to it. All of what he believes could be the same jewel thief, crimes committed before the art heist. Nick, rubbed his chin in interest. From what he uncovered, all of the robberies had a big shiny jewel. The first was a blue sapphire taken from a private collection in the Tundra District, a familiar club he used to frequent in his younger years. The second was a sun colored topaz, taken from Outback Island in a homeowner's house. The third was an amysthest stone in the Rainforest District, from a police station. Nick chuckled as he imagined the inept officers powerless to stop one animal. All of the robberies were made before the art museum and now the fourth taken from a fiery bunny.

He still remembers the way her skirt danced when she pivoted her hip in the air. Her angry rose-lip scowl when she gave her private number to him. He could see the distain coming out of her eyes. He rubbed his thumb over the scrap of paper, ruffled and mangled from him taking it out and shoving it back into his pocket. He glanced at the clock above his door, it was late in the morning and he couldn't sleep. He dragged the massive rotary phone, hearing it scrape against the mahogany wood. He dialed the number. He press his ear against the metal, hearing it ring. By the third ring, he was sure he got stiffed. Handed a fake number and would only see her when she visits on her own time. He was about to hang up until he heard the deafening click.

"Mr.Wilde?" Her voice pierced his brain. He sniffed and let out a chuckle.

"Have you been waiting for my call, darling?"

"Are you drunk?" She snapped, making Nick frown slightly. "Because it sounds like your slurring your words, or perhaps I heard you incorrectly?"

He leaned back in his chair. "I need to see where your jewels were taken."

"Whatever for?"

"If you want me to help you, I need to see your home or do think I'll dirty up the place?"

She was silent for a moment. "Wear clean shoes." and she gave him her address.

It was a long drive to the Bunnyburrows, the sunny countryside only made him narrow his eyes painfully. His car bounced against the litter of potholes that filled the winding streets. His cigarette waved side to side as he puffed the nicotine down to a small nub, ignoring the suffocating air inside his enclose car. He grabbed the turn style on his door and rolled down the window, airing it out. Immediately his senses were overwhelmed by the sudden smell of wheat and sunflower from the fields he passed. Working farm bunnies, breaking ground with little ones running through the crops with baskets on their heads. Filled with their pickings. As he reached closer to his destination, he saw that his presence was unwelcomed. He drove up the lonely dirt road, passing by bunnies working in the family field. He passed a large wooden sign, painted in white with the last name, Hopps. Just like the night he saw the distain in her eyes, he saw it in the bunnies he passed by. Suddenly their work were interrupted by his presence and he knows why. Foxes were not allowed on a bunny's land.

He was greeted with pitchforks and shotguns when he stepped out his broken down station wagon. He raised a brow when one old grandpa pointed a barrel to his face. Nick, calmly lite another cigarette when the gruff bunny growled at him.

"Get back in your car and on your way, you piece of devil-filth!" He said, taking the safety off of his weapon. Nick was ready for the prejudice against him. The hatred he sees when animals look at him, to foxes. All foxes. He was used to it, except when it came to bunnies. They are the worst.

He flinched when he got hit by a dirt clod by a small bunny, no older than seven. One wearing dirty blue overalls. The dirt crumbled against his trench coat as Nick eyes narrowed at the small bunny, who picked up another one.

"Get outta here! Ya dirty fox!" He cocked his arm back, ready to nail him again.

"Benjamin!" A sharp voice rang. Suddenly all of the bunnies ears went up at once and their eyes turned to the white farmhouse. Detective Nick Wilde, followed their line of sight. Standing on the doorway, dressed in brilliant yellow sundress, was a storm. Judy Hopps stared down the young bunny. The fury reaching deep inside him, making him drop the clod of dirt to the ground. He whirled at her.

"That fox is trespassin' Sis!"

She stepped down, her eyes glued on him. "Not when he is a guest!" Her head swiveled to what Detective Wilde suspected was her massive family. "We are not savages! and put down that gun, Pop-Pop!" She said stomping towards him.

"Never!" His grandfather retorted. "I'll kill every devil-foxes that step on my farm!"

"Not when I'm around!" Nick's eyes widened slightly when the petite bunny snatched the shotgun right out of his paws. At first, the old bunny began to protest until Judy glared at him. "You forget that I am in charge of this farm Pop-Pop! That goes to everyone else!" She addressed giving the rest of her family a cold glare. "And I will have no race hating here."

She snapped the shotgun, dropping the bullets to the ground. Nick picked up another cigarette in his breast pocket as he brushed the dirt off of his coat. She shoved the gun into one of the adults in her family. A brown colored bunny, who looked just as afraid as the rest of the family.

"Get back to work, all of you." She muttered like poison dripping out her mouth.

Nick puffed out a smoke cloud and before it disappeared, the crowd did. Disappearing into the fields. His eyes fell on the little brother, who lingered behind. Judy faced him and pointed sternly to the field.

"Go on Benji, finish helping Pop-Pop picking berries."

"But Sis!-"

"Cut the gas." She said, slicing the air with her paw. Silencing him. Her brother pressed his lips together, his small paws turning into fists.

"But why is that fox here?" He demanded.

"One more word and no lunch." She said, making his ears lower. "And I just made a carrot cake." She pointed to the field again. "Now go."

Detective Wilde smirked when he saw her brother ran into the field, faster than any bunny he seen run. He glanced back at Judy Hopps, who crossed her arms at him. He puffed out another smoke cloud as he stared at her with boredom.

"My apologies, Detective Wilde. " She said softly. "I did not mean for you to get treated in such a way."

He hummed, amused. "Do they know that your family jewels are gone?"

"No." She replied. "Let's keep it that way."

He nodded slowly and flicked the cigarette on the ground, stomping the embers out. "Show me where you use to kept the jewels."