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The bus ride to my first suspect took about an hour and a half.

Beforehand, while the ocelot distracted himself with a random TV show in the living room of the penthouse, I'd spent some time researching the two boys who, the night before, had tried shooting me and Cherry in his motel room. My work laptop--a new model that utilized Tor, not one but two passwords I changed monthly and an impenetrable firewall for communicating with various clients over the years--also allowed me to become a master hacker whenever the job required me to do so.

Often, this skill became essential for hiding my online pawprints.

Cherry's would-be-assassins were Daniel Mckenna and Harry Solomon, a golden retriever and coyote respectively who recently graduated college (that much could be figured out through news and police reports), but never knew the ocelot. After researching their social media pages, I knew they were on-and-off on employment, had trouble with money and were very behind in their rent for two months before a mysterious benefactor suddenly paid two years' worth of rent to their landlord.

Yet no records on the police database indicated they found a letter from the fur who hired them. This meant either the bastards were lying through their teeth--though unlikely, given how I'd held a gun to them before shooting Harry--or the contractor instructed them to burn the letter after reading it over. Either way, I only had leads.

The first suspect was Kendal Osbourne, a jock Cherry had regular liaisons with before getting caught by the stallion's then-girlfriend. Apparently, Kendall came from a semi-prestigious family but was considered the black sheep following a rumor he slept with a certain ocelot at school, as well as two counts of drunk driving.

After further research, I found out the pony lad lived several towns over. He'd gone to college for a couple years in a different state, excelled in football and the like, but was expelled for some undisclosed reason. The parents probably bribed the administration one final time before cutting their youngest son out of his inheritance.

A single day, one trojan email and forty-five minutes of scouring his hard drive from the distance of my penthouse later...I found out why. And it made me want to send an anonymous tip in to the cops at that very moment.

First though, I had to know.

So, I dressed myself up in casual clothes, a pair of rugged jeans, plaid shirt, tinted sunglasses and a belt buckle with longhorns embedded into the metal. Cherry certainly seemed to like my disguise ("Wanna let me ride you when you're back, cowboy?"), though I managed to get myself on a bus before the ocelot could tempt me.

By the time I got into town, the first place I went to was Kendall Osbourne's job.

"Hello and welcome to Burger Knight," the stallion droned tiredly behind the cash register. "May I take your order?"

"Yah," I faked a thick Minnesotan accent, "I'll have the Combo with a mushroom-and-swiss burger with orange pop and some cheese curds."

Kendall sluggishly typed in the order, like the poor fur had been doing this mundane task all week and hadn't gotten enough sleep due to the stress of his job. Not that it mattered anymore for him though, though. Soon, the stallion would be plenty wide-awake.

"That'll be $11.43, sir..." he replied. "Got the money?"

"You betcha!" I pulled out my wallet and fished out a ten-dollar bill and two ones, as well as a small piece of paper hidden between them. "Keep the change, alright?"

Kendall blankly stared at me for only a second. He wordlessly grabbed the money from my paws and handed me a number and my receipt, then telling me to find my seat. Once he opened the register, I turned away with my number to an empty table before the stallion could say anything about the note I gave him.

The fast food restaurant was crowded today. Families talked in clusters and friends joked amidst a baseball game playing on a TV nearby, but I could see it. The look of vulnerable horror on Kendall Osbourne's long snout when he opened the note and read it.

Osbourne, if you don't want anyone to know what's on your computer, text this number.

XXX-XXX-XXXX

From my table at the other end of the restaurant, I watched the large stallion frantically tell his boss he wasn't feeling well and needed a break. Then, he disappeared into the back of the Burger Knight. At first, I thought he'd fled the scene, but then I saw the stallion's figure peek through the backroom of the restaurant, sitting in a chair.

Then, I got a text on my flip phone.

Kendall: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU????

** <unknown>: Answer my questions, and your secret is safe with me. Confront me and I guarantee the whole world will know.**

** Kendall: Idk what your fucking talking about**

** <unknown>: I'm talking about the pics you have hidden on your computer. Let me ask you something. How young are those boys and girls, you fucking pervert?**

** ** I willed myself not to let my emotions show.

Kendall: If you want money, I can give you whatever much u want.

** <unknown> Not a chance, burger boy. Just answer these questions and I'll leave. Did you hire Daniel Mckenna and Harry Solomon to kill someone?**

** Kendall: Those two on the news? I don't know what you're talking about!**

** <unknown>: Don't lie to me.**

** Kendall: I'm not! Why the fuck would I hire them to kill someone??**

** <unknown>: You come from a prestigious family, correct?**

** Kendall: My folks haven't spoken to me in years, goddammit! I'm a failure to them. I also got hack of all my savings last night and I can barely even afford rent, so whatever you're rambling about doesn't make sense!!!**

** ** He had a point. Unless the 'black sheep' suddenly managed to convince Mommy and Daddy to lend him thousands of dollars, why would this stallion waste it on paying two years' worth of rent for the assassins? Still, this was one lead off the list.

At least I also managed to steal all of Kendall's online savings, which consisted of about $4,500 from his bank accounts. As a part-time hacker, it helped to know how to secretly transfer money onto a cryptocurrency before converting it once again into untraceable USD. If only I could've seen the look on the stallion's face when he realized he was broke the night before.

Sure, it was chump change compared to what one of my clients charged. Yet still, I think Cherry would love to go on shopping sprees or something. Maybe even buy some Jacob Candle DVDs or some of the countless TV shows he'd been recommending I watch.

** <unknown>: Understood.**

** Kendall: Please don't call the cops. I'll do whatever you fucking want. I didn't meant to hurt anybody ok? Its just pics! It's not murder for fucks sake.**

** ** Wrong. What he did was the murder of a cub's childhood innocence.

** Kendall: Please im begging you! Say something!!! Don't call the cops!**

** ** Right as a waiter finally arrived with my tray of food, two police officers entered the restaurant, asking the assistant manager if a stallion named Kendall Osbourne worked today.

<unknown>: Sorry, but that ship sailed thirty minutes ago. Good luck in court, K.

** ** Later, I would go to the nearest trashcan, break my flip phone in two, toss the first part away and then walk a block before tossing the second part into another trashcan. I would deliberate about the next suspect, tour downtown a bit and then ride back to my penthouse on the last bus before dinner. Just in time for me and Cherry to cook something together.

For now, I watched the stallion get dragged away in handcuffs out the doors, then enjoyed my lunch with a satisfied smirk.