FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Who defined certain relationships as 'taboo'?

What factors made modern-day society decide which kinds of love were unacceptable to let flourish? Discovering the full name of my sexuality on a website during my teenaged years, I asked myself why the world didn't accept relationships that never harmed anyone. Most of the time those nuances all boiled down to ancient texts. The prophet or apostle of one version of God wrote it down so it must be true or the biological need to produce healthy offspring had higher priorities. Forget attractions to the same sex or, understandably enough, your own flesh and blood. Unfortunately for one of my past clients, he couldn't deny to himself a relationship involving both the former and the latter.

Crossroads City had been enduring a sweltering heatwave for the previous week; the Utah summertime embedded itself on the pavement when the breaking rainfall finally began. Droplets of mountain rain had been pelting the sidewalk outside while furs relaxed indoors or stood under canopies or at bus stops, waiting for the next short break in the morning drizzle.

On one street corner a few blocks short of Main Street, Danny's Boulevard of Books & Coffee happily provided everyone a warm cappuccino. It provided me with things to do on the second week without a client. Most of the time, it involved me making sure Daniel's newest employee--a she-wolf named Marissa, fresh from her second semester of college--of the summer didn't fuck up customer orders. Meanwhile, the St. Bernard did his usual interview with a scrawny teenaged bat who wanted the open barista position.

The weather meant there weren't as many customers as usual. During my bouts of boredom, I liked discreetly watching other furs. Working as a private investigator, I couldn't help myself (plus, I could read lips). The lioness/mountain lion couple seated in the corner booth talked about meeting each other's parents. A lonely business wolf one table away from them stared at his tablet between sipping down his cappuccino like it was the only thing keeping him sane. Three high school furs were having an obnoxious conversation regarding some bullshit drama within their circle of friends. A nun sat quietly reading a book, though I couldn't tell if it was the Bible or not--as the twenty-something fox behind her feverishly typed away at his laptop's keyboard, his cup of coffee long forgotten as he gaped at the screen. Either he was an aspiring writer or a desperate fur trying to get his thesis finished on time.

A dog came through the door, startling me from my bored daze. When I turned to see the new customer, I was surprised to see a young Dalmatian. He seemed at least eighteen or seventeen, though it could be hard to tell. From the way he glanced back and forth between the walls and the line for the register, as well as the large black backpack astride on his right shoulder, I knew he didn't plan on ordering a latte.

Marissa went to give Table Ten their orders as the Dalmatian stopped her and quietly said, "Excuse me. I dunno if I got the right address, but..." he held the straps on his backpack with both paws, "is this where L-Leander Investigations is?"

A large grin almost comically stretched its way across my feline muzzle and my tail roughly smacked at the floor; finally, another client for me to help out!

"Hey Marissa, do you think you can handle things on your own until Daniel's back here?" I asked the she-wolf before she could answer him. "Be honest."

"I think so," she nodded. "Yeah, I think I can manage, Mr. Leander."

The Dalmatian jerked his head and stared at me. He looked me up and down like he could hardly believe I appeared the part of a freelance private investigator. Not the first time a client said it, honestly. Most expected an imposing, muscular and tall canine as opposed to a short, toned, male calico in his late twenties.

I waved him over, "So then, if you'll follow me please...you look like you have some things to discuss with me in private, correct?"

"Y-Yes, I do." He nodded. "Thank you."

I guided the Dalmatian to the door leading in the direction of the staircase connecting the first and second floors, then towards a locked door that carried a foggy window with the phrase 'Leander Investigations, LLC' plastered in front. Ever since I had it specially ordered and tinted, Daniel wouldn't stop teasing me about how cliched it made my business appear.

To my credit, the interior of the small room didn't fit the cliched profile of a private eye's office. The organized metal desk wasn't completely littered with empty beer bottles, a used ashtray, bourbon hidden under said desk, several stuffed filing drawers, a fedora hat, or a messy bed collecting dust in the corner; none of that. I preferred to stay organized on the job. However, secretly, I did in fact love monologuing to myself in my chair.

"So, what brings you all the way over here?" I asked after turning the light on and safely closing the door behind us. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for school in the Fall, kid?"

"I graduated in May," the Dalmatian curtly replied.

"You're eighteen then?" He firmly nodded. "Got proof? I have a policy against helping someone who isn't allowed to legally vote or die for our country..."

Setting the apparently heavy backpack down on the client's chair opposite my desk, he rifled through it until he pulled out a Utah driver's license. He offered and I looked it over. He turned eighteen in April. Underage furs tried hiring my services a few times (they all involved petty high school gossiping shit), but luckily for the Dalmatian, I instantly knew a fake I.D. card when I saw one.

"Good, good," I sighed, giving it back to him with a confident, reassuring smile. If a young adult dog like him was seeking someone like me out, then they needed more than help with a usual infidelity case. "What brings you here then, Mr. Alnwick?"

"W-Well," the canine placed his backpack down beside the chair and joined me in sitting down at our respective chairs. "See, it's my brother. My twin brother, Jasper...he's been missing since April."

Jackson Isaac Alnwick II. If I didn't already keep occasional tabs on influential furs or the general rumor mill, I wouldn't have known the young Dalmatian's father--Alnwick, Sr.--worked as the editor-in-chief for the Crossroads City Chronicle. The elder Dalmatian's salary, decent shareholdings and a sizable inheritance from his late grandfather were more than enough to make him a reputable socialite in high society. He could've moved to anywhere else in America but choose to stay behind in Utah.

Probably wanted to remain a big fish in a small pond, in my humble opinion.

He and his born-again wife spent years trying to have a cub. When they eventually did, they had not one but two miracles: Jackson Junior and Jasper, both of whom grew up under a loving, albeit strict and ambitious household.

According to Jackson, the loving home had long since turned cold when tragedy struck.

"Jasper and I were inconsolable when the doctors told us how long she had," Jackson explained uneasily. "Mom told Dad not to be angry at God or to grieve too long, but he didn't listen. Dad...changed after the funeral. Changed in a bad way. Focused more on work, raised his voice at us more, put more pressure on me to get straight A's, he...he told us never to mention her in the house. It especially got bad when Jasper started acting out."

"Acting out, how?" I inquired of spotted canine.

"Breaking rules, breaking curfew, not doing as Dad said, getting on his nerves when he could. It got much worse when Jasper said he didn't plan to go to a university, let alone want to." He stared down at his phone. "Anyway, he...D-Dad threw Jasper out of the house the night we turned eighteen, confiscated his cellphone and told him to never come back or he'd...he'd kill him. I haven't seen Jasper since then..."

Jackson trembled in his seat, either out of fear towards his twin or anger for his old man. Perhaps and most likely both. Regardless, I needed more information. "Was there a reason your father disowned him?"

"I uh, um...I don't know?" he cocked an ear, then shook the uncertainty visibly seen on his monochrome muzzle. "I don't know. It just happened out of nowhere, I guess. Dad's fucking strict and threatened to...he threatened to..."

"Did he threaten to hurt you?" I asked, to which he nodded in frustration.

"He's just fucking psycho, Mr. Leander! Last week, he went so far as to say I was grounded for life when I broke curfew. He also tried to take my phone and...and threatened to keep me locked in my room. T-That's when I knew...I-I had to get away from there."

The Dalmatian was lying. Not about the dysfunctional family dynamic or that Jasper had been unexpectedly disowned by their rich daddy. That all sounded genuine. However, the way in which Jackson offered a vague answer and how he bit his lower lip, as well as avoiding initial eye contact meant there was something else.

What else did Alnwick Sr. threaten to do though? Secretive clients were nothing new though, and the promise of a challenge looked enticing enough.

"I-I only have a few thousand dollars or so." Jackson riffled through his backpack again to produce a Ziplock bag filled to the brim with what appeared to be dozens of twenty and hundred-dollar bills, plus some loose change. All of it looked fresh out of an ATM. "I don't know if it's enough for what you charge, but I need to find him. I need Jasper. I'm tired of Dad and just need to be with the only other fur out there who cares about me."

"Please," he insisted, "I need to know where Jasper is, Mr. Leander."

I thought over the pros and cons of taking on a client such as him, then shrugged.

"Call me 'Zack'." I spoke while graciously taking one-hundred dollars and handing it back, bewildering the canine as if he expected a hardline no, "Consider what I took to be your deposit. You can give me the balance when I find your brother, okay?"

"O-Okay. Thank you, Mr. Leander--I mean, Zack!"

I nodded. "Listen here though. I know a white liar when I meet one. If you don't wanna tell me the truth about why you're really running away, that's fine. I won't dig into it unless it'll help the investigation. Deal?"

A flicker of hope crossed the content smile on his muzzle. "Deal!"

We shook paws and I immediately went straight to work.

Later telling me he booked a motel room near the interstate bus stop (another clue to add to the archives), Jackson divulged everything he could about his twin brother.

Comparing the two of them, Jackson Alnwick II represented the optimistically curious, polite yet mature student who dutifully studied and preferred following the rules--most of the time. Meanwhile, Jasper Alnwick represented the down-to-earth, boisterous, and outgoing twin, the one who favored practical and outdoor hobbies. Both did share an intense love for competitive swimming growing up, and yet, they rarely strayed apart since cubhood. Their differences did not mean anything to them, except for Alnwick Sr., who had become extremely adamant that both his sons attend the same university he did.

Unbeknownst to anyone though, Jackson did not plan to attend...at least, not within the confines of his controlling father's walls and roof. Once Jasper disappeared, the Dalmatian intentionally botched his A.C.T. exams ("Failing on purpose and making it look convincing is harder than it sounds, Zack.") until Alnwick Sr. relented in letting him have a year off until the next exams the following year.

Fucking moron, but smart lad.

"Do you know anywhere that your brother could've gone to?"

He sighed in defeat, scrolling through his phone. "I messaged all our previous classmates and teammates at school. Nothing."

I cleared my throat, "What about extended family?"

"Not that I'm aware of...Dad's parents are dead, and Mom's is somewhere in the Northwest," Jackson shrugged, "but there is one guy: Eddie Villard. He owns this automotive and repair shop Jasper loved interning at. Almost called it his second home. And before you ask, yes, I did consider checking him out, but the problem is that--"

"--Eddie himself is best buds with your dad?" I surmised quickly.

Jackson blinked a few times, then tentatively nodded. "Well, more like a friend of a friend, but they know each other. Eddie's a good guy, but the moment I walk inside his shop and Eddie hears from my Dad I didn't come home, he'll tell him I was there. You...You won't tell, will you?"

Smiling earnestly from my side of the desk, I googled the location of Eddie's Tire & Auto Repair, "Your secrets are my secrets, kid."

***

I held mixed feelings towards auto shops. Not the workers or the hobby itself of fixing cars, but the atmosphere in general. Ever since me and my older sisters were forced to wait with our parents as burly furs fixed the family's minivan, I never liked the smell of dried motor oil, or the sight of old, boring magazines stacked all over a lonely side table.

A job was a job though. Promising to keep him updated on what I found, Jackson Alnwick Jr. returned to his motel room after exchanging cellphone numbers with me. The morning drizzle turned into breaking clouds by the time I told Danny that I'd be out and about for a new case (the St. Bernard only asked I be careful like always), walking the several blocks distance between the café and the first suspect location where I'd find the missing twin.

Eddie's Tire & Auto Repair lay nestled between an intersection, right beside a spindly old chapel in need of renovation, and adjacent to a long boulevard of storefronts. The main garage lay connected to a small office building, with the lobby and waiting area on the first floor, so I entered and politely wondered if I could talk to the owner. Sometimes, the simplest way to get information was to be upfront and straightforward in an investigation, but a good portion of the time involved telling a white lie here and there.

"What can I do for you Mr. Leander?" asked Eddie Villard, a muscular, Daddy-like crocodile who insisted that the 1980s lived on in his denim jacket and jeans. "Joey in the lobby said you're what, some detective or something?"

Sitting in his big, cushy desk behind his cluttered office desk, the crocodile's yellow teeth and twitching, friendly smile indicated I interrupted his smoking break, so I decided to be quick. Last thing I needed early on in a case was a neurotic lead.

"Licensed P.I. to be exact," I clarified, "and I'm wondering if I can ask you some questions about an intern of yours? His name's Jasper Alnwick."

"The Alnwick brat?" he raised a fascinated eyebrow directed at me. "Who wants to know?"

"My client is an old classmate of his." I pulled out a pen and notepad from my jacket, standing beside the chair opposite of him. "I can't say much, obviously, but they're really interested in finding his whereabouts. Can you tell me when he last worked in your garage downstairs?"

The old crocodile sucked in a deep breath, "I'm as lost as you. That boy stopped showing up here weeks ago. All I know is his old man...well, kicked him to the curb."

"Kicked to the curb?" I feigned confusion, hoping to gain more information.

"Well, you didn't hear it from me," Eddie stretched an arm behind him, "but Jasper's dad told me he caught the brat hiding some heroin and coke in his backpack. Apparently, my rookie mechanic has been dealing for some time."

"Has he now?" I asked, hiding my skepticism behind a neat layer of surprise. "My client never mentioned that Jasper was a junkie."

"I should've known there was something behind that little shit from the start." He scoffed gruffly, "Shame that the best mechanics turn out to have a catch to them. I really thought better of him. Most rookies new to the job couldn't hold a flashlight over an engine, let alone fix it."

"Do you have any idea where he could be?"

"No clue. Probably getting high off his own shit..."

The only legitimate information Eddie Villard could provide me was that he did frequently notice the Dalmatian texting somebody. Acting like some lovestruck puppy, Jasper would constantly smile down at the replies and protectively hide the screen from view of anybody in the break room. One of his coworkers, a rhino, did casually say he ran into Jasper a week prior at a grocery store, and a short conversation between them did say the Dalmatian resided in some homeless shelter. Which one, he didn't say.

It wasn't like Crossroads didn't already have two-dozen of them.

When I called Jackson an hour later and explained that his twin brother had a secret girlfriend, he was quick to act shocked about it, asking if I was sure Villard knew what he saw.

"What makes you think it's impossible for Jasper to have a girlfriend?"

He didn't reply for two seconds.

"I...W-Well, you see, he...he and I...I don't know. It just doesn't seem like him."

"...okay then." I sighed. "Whatever it may be, I still need to look at some other leads, but I'll tell you if I suspect anything? You just stay at your room and relax, okay, Jackson?"

"Okay, Mr. Leander."

"Again, call me Zack."

"Sorry, Zack. I just...if I have anything at all that can help you, I'll call."

"Okay. Thanks. Bye."

Something was clearly up.

With little other details uncovered, I decided to go to the private investigator's modern ace in the hole for finding a missing person: the World Wide Web. To be more specific, I returned to my office back at Danny's Boulevard of Books & Coffee--still going strong once the clock struck six in the evening--and scoured through all of Jackson and Jasper Alnwick's social media profiles. For a good two hours, I did nothing but search through their public posts and the photos, hoping that if Jasper didn't leave behind a digital pawprint of his whereabouts. Maybe give me another clue about his secret girlfriend.

Weeks before the twins' eighteenth birthday and the falling out, Jasper tagged a female golden retriever named Dana Burg multiple times, often accompanied by a selfie of them together. Trice appeared to be at a large movie theater downtown, in front of a bakery a block away from their high school and during prom. In fact, she happened to be Jasper Alnwick's senior prom date.

Telling Daniel that I'd be out and about once again ("I'm cooking a pizza, Zack. You want me to save you a few slices?" he asked, and I smiled and replied, "Sure thing, but please don't keep the olives in it like you did last time." The St. Bernard snickered and answered, "No promises! I'm not your damn housewife!"), I decided to contact Dana Burg for a quick interview. She happened to be working at a retail store for the summer, so I waited until her lunch break until we were able to speak. After reassuring her that I definitely wasn't a scammer nor wanted to steal her best-selling novel idea--I had to show my P.I. badge and a link to my website to prove credibility--the flustered golden retriever finally explained the truth.

"Sure, we went to prom, but we weren't really together." Dana Burg confessed with a shrug, "Jasper told me he was in the closet. I know, right? Shocking! The only other fur who knew about the whole 'gay thing' was his sweet brother, who got to go to prom with that bitchy Sara Lambert." The golden retriever sighed. I envied how naïve teenagers were in romance. "Anyway, I didn't mind. The poor guy didn't want his rich dad to suspect a thing, so we went on a few dates, and we had so much fun."

I nodded unceremoniously while furiously writing every detail down in my notepad. "Thank you for telling me."

"So how is Jasper doing?" she offhandedly asked, "I heard rumors he took some drugs and is in rehab. Is it true? And...do you know any good publishers?"

***

A secret boyfriend? The possibility exists, I thought to myself as I looked through their profiles. It'd certainly explain why Alnwick would kick his own son out, cut off all ties and keep Jackson from maintaining contact with the twin if he's outcasted.

I had to strike that theory down, however.

If latent homosexuality were the main reason for Alnwick Sr. to disown Jasper, it didn't make sense for Jackson to say he didn't know the reason why. It contradicted what Jasper's beard told me. Granted, Crossroads City did happen to be the capital of a religious, socially conservative state such as Utah, but Jackson would have to know I advertised myself as a professional. Did he also miss the demisexual flag pin I had on my jacket?

Anyway, I had to rule out just homophobia being the main reason. I returned to my office, once again browsing through social media as if I were a stalker.

There's gotta be something else involved, I concluded while continuing to mindlessly analyze and scour every photo on MuzzleScroll of the twins' profiles. The Dalmatian is scared about telling me. Maybe his father already knows? Or suspects?

Whatever compelled Alnwick Sr. to secretly disown one son but keep the other on a tight leash, the logic said it had to be something that the father couldn't risk getting out to the public. According to the runaway's testimony, the twins shared every secret together and were inseparable...wait.

It can't be real, I thought tiredly to myself, staring at the photo, Am I really seeing shit now?

_ _ My computer screen displayed a pristine photograph of Jackson and Jasper Alnwick on their seventeenth birthday. They were posing together in front of a large window displaying the logo of an indoor waterpark, both of them smiling brightly to whoever held the camera, the monochrome fur on their toned limbs dripping with water as they were dressed in nothing but matching blue-and-green swim trunks. Nothing remarkable aside from what I noticed in the background of the photo.

Thanks to a coincidence of lighting from the camera or the cool weather outside, if I zoomed in a little to the window's reflection, I could see one of the twins' rear, and one of their paws squeezing it.

Whenever the Dalmatian twins appeared in their profiles, more often in smiling selfies or candid photos of them at school events or in public, they were close. Too close if one looked intrusively enough. In one other photo taken from a previous Halloween party, together dressed as identical vampires, they were grinning cheek-to-cheek. In fact, if I didn't know they were brothers, half the time, the photos of them together seemed more like they were close enough to be like...boyfriends.

_ "I'm tired of Dad and just need to be with the only other fur out there who cares about me."_

***

I decided to sleep on it the rest of the night, waking up at a time approaching noon, only to come to the same conclusion. However, I needed proof before accusing my own client of committing sexual taboo.

"So, what's on your mind, Zack?" Daniel asked me as he cooked some late breakfast for us, complete with dark coffee and an attempted eggs benedict (he liked to experiment with new recipes for the shop's menu sometimes). "Still working on that case?"

"Kinda..." I shrugged tired at the table. We were both still in our pajamas, but I at least had the self-awareness to wear a shirt instead of just a pair of bottoms. "Can't give you too many details at the moment, not yet."

"Is it a high-profile client?" he surmised with a hearty chuckle, "Or is it too early to tell who the killer is?"

"It's not a murder mystery, Daniel." I groaned with my tail twitching amusedly under the chair, "If it were, I definitely wouldn't be able to tell you shit about it. It's just another missing person case. Let's just say I have a theory as to why my missing twin is...well, missing."

"And?" he craned his neck to me.

I smirked slightly, "Can't tell you anything yet. It's a high-profile client." Not to mention that the straight dog would have likely not wanted me to dive into further detail about how really close I believed the Alnwick twins were.

"Whatever then," he sighed before presenting me with some eggs benedict he divided evenly for us onto two paper plates, "it's gonna be a busy day for both of us. I got the shop downstairs, and you got your super-secret high-profile case, so_bon appétit_."

In the end, he couldn't have been any more correct.

There existed a bad joke out there that Crossroads City's Motel 9 near the bus station used to be named the 'Motel 69' during the counterculture moment of the Sixties. It certainly kept its sleazy reputation as one of many places for lowlifes to hide. Nowadays, the midcentury multi-story building stood as a testament against modernization from the surrounding buildings, while refusing to get something like a coat of paint.

After Jackson didn't answer his phone, I knocked on the door to the Dalmatian's room three more times until he opened it, wearing just a pair of athletic shorts. His sleepy gaze immediately widened into hopeful spheres, then drained back to exhaustion when I shook my muzzle.

"Hey there, Jackson." I asked, "Mind if I come in?"

"Sure thing!" he chirped up after a few seconds of thought.

The hotel room lay half-cleaned with its current tenant. An occasional soda can there, a discarded used pair of underwear there, which the Dalmatian kicked out of view in slight embarrassment.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting you." Jackson chuckled nervously. "Anyway, what do you need to talk about?"

"I uh, wanted to run a few things by you about Jasper's whereabouts," I answered the lad, trying my best not to stare at him in a new light of the recent...revelations, "I have a few places we can go check, but I'd like you to come with me." He was about to protest when I quickly added, "Your brother might think your dad hired me if I go sulking around. If there's a chance that he's at any of these places, it might help to have you there with me."

"Good idea, actually..." Jackson beamed at the prospect, to the point I noticed a twinkle in his ocean blue eyes for a moment until they nonchalantly calmed. "I'm gonna go take a shower then? Make yourself at home until then, okay, Mr. Leander?"

"I told you, call me Zack." I groaned, and the younger dog laughed.

The moment he grabbed some clothing and waltzed eagerly into the bathroom with an arm full of clean clothes, my gaze averted from the shut door to his smartphone. It was waiting to be unlocked without so much as a passcode.

My half-fallen ears twitched, and I sighed, "God, I better be right about this."

Some unanswered voicemails, frantic text messages from 'Dad' ( "Why aren't you home?" "Jack, I am serious answer your phone right now!!" "You better not be looking for your sicko brother Jack!" "Fucking answer me!" "I will fucking ground you til my fucking deathbed!!!!" ) as well as the occasional notification from social media distracted me momentarily. Not to my surprise, the wallpaper for the phone happened to be a happy moment between the brothers. The locked screen wallpaper displayed a beautiful sunrise taken at some point in the past. Nothing that appeared to out of the ordinary for a high school graduate.

Then, I made a breakthrough. What I found in the Dalmatian's Photo Gallery proved my crackpot theory: Jackson and Jasper Alnwick were twin brothers in an incestuous affair, until their father discovered it and disowned the rebellious son.

As if the card couldn't have fallen more into place, I heard the shower turn off in the closed bathroom. I shut off the screen and politely waited until he emerged with partially dried fur and fresh clothes. His damp tail curled when he noticed me sitting at the foot of his single bed, arms crossed and gripping the device in one paw.

"What the hell are you doing with my phone?" His voice contained nervous alarm, trying but failing to be stone-cold in how he glared at me. "What did you see?"

"I know about you and your brother's relationship, Jackson." I spoke bluntly, then interrupted the Dalmatian's tranquil horror by adding, "Don't beat around the bush. I suspected it after some things didn't add up."

Silent as he repeatedly opened and closed his maw, Jackson Alnwick avoided eye contact while trying to keep his paws from trembling by stuffing them into the pockets of his shorts. His tail curled between his legs as they tried to keep standing. Poor kid, wondering within the recesses of his terrified mind if I planned to turn him in to his father.

"Wha...What are you g-going to do now?" he stammered after a moment. "Z-Zack, please don't--"

"Now, if I were you, I'd suggest deleting the photos of you and Jasper taken before your eighteenth birthday." I concluded, "Aside from the twincest, I think you'd be in more legal trouble for having pictures like that from before he disappeared. When you were both underage."

My client stared at me, completely dumbfounded as I tried handing him the phone. He snatched it away after a few questioning seconds.

"You are good." he muttered as he presumably deleted the photos. "So why aren't you running outta here? Why aren't you...disgusted that me and my brother are...you know?"

"Fucking each other?" I asked, then corrected myself, "Or were fucking each other?"

"I was gonna say in love, but...yeah." he nodded nervously.

It all clicked into place.

"To tell you the truth, I was initially disturbed. I...kind of still am," my voice stayed professional, yet I couldn't help but sound casual when speaking to one of my clients who committed a crime multiple times, "but you didn't hire me to lay moral judgement on you. You hired me to find your brother so that you can continue this incestuous little romance."

"It isn't just a 'little romance'!" he snapped and stuffed his phone protectively into a back pocket. Jackson, though glaring right into my questioning, stone-cold eyes, still held a vulnerability I only saw in folks who knew their deepest, darkest secret had been unraveled, leaving them exposed to nasty elements like criticism. "Jasper and I...we're...we're in love. Have been for years, Zack. We understand each other at a...a primal level."

I sighed. "He's your brother, kid."

"So what?" he countered, "It's not like he's an older relative taking advantage of me or something. It's always been consensual between us. Plus, neither of us could ever get pregnant from what we do, now can we?"

"You two may now be consenting adults, but it could still get you two into a lot of trouble if the wrong people found out, like your Dad, right?" I asked, then had my suspicions confirmed when the canine's ears sunk down. "That's what really happened. He caught you two playing doctors that night. You thought the door was locked. Then he decided to blame the bad kid for corrupting the good kid?"

The young Dalmatian meekly nodded, but still refused to look at me directly. His black-and-white ears folded down until they camouflaged against his head.

"I'm not going to go back to Dad." Jackson said. "Before he...Before he caught me and Jasper in bed, we had a plan to leave town later this summer. We still do, but now that the cat's out of the bag--no pun intended," he nervously chuckled whilst I rolled my eyes, "it has to be before Dad finds us first."

Standing up from the foot of the bed, a grin crept its way up my muzzle, "Luckily for you, I have a couple ideas of where Jasper might be..."

Crossroads City's unique geography seemed beautiful on paper. A desert oasis next to a Great Salt Lake, with tall mountains surrounding the metropolis and residential sprawl. Yet it did not help that said city happened to be in...well, a desert. A hot, unforgiving desert that did not appreciate furs who loved to wear jackets. Meanwhile, Jasper trailed behind me in just a short-sleeved t-shirt and shorts, and I had to end up carrying my jacket in my arms by the time we arrived in State Hill.

Thank God that, due to the neighborhood's relatively high elevation, there was enough of a summer breeze to keep me from frying under the summer heat.

"So, you really think he went to this homeless shelter?" Jackson asked.

"For gay and lesbian teens." I added, "The Rainbow Lodge is only seven miles northwest of your home. It might be a stretch, but one of his ex-coworkers said your brother mentioned being at one, though I had no idea which one until I narrowed 'em down to proximity, when they were open the night you two...well, yeah, and not to mention the fact your brother would rather trust going there than say, a shelter run by Mormons."

"That's a...perfectly valid point there, the last one." he admitted, then sighed before glancing behind and ahead of us. "So...Y-You really don't judge me for...you know?"

"For what?" I asked, weaving our way past a small group of furs on the street. When they passed us, I replied, "The incest?"

The eighteen-year-old behind me sounded hesitant to answer, even aloud, "Um, yeah. You don't judge me for it? Like, are you into that kinda thing? That's the only reason I can think of why you aren't turning me in."

"First of all, you're talking to somebody who makes a living off of protecting or revealing dirty little secrets." I explained casually, "Second, I'm demisexual. I don't get off on anything unless it's with a long-term partner."

"Really?" Jackson stared at me in surprise. "Never met someone who was demi before..."

"Now, like I said, I make a living off secrets." I returned us to the conversation, "If said secrets were breaking any serious laws, then we'd be having a serious problem." I lowered my voice so only he could hear me, once we were out of earshot from the nearest pedestrians with higher-than-average hearing, "What you and you brother do is in fact breaking the Utah Criminal Code on incest, but as far as I know, it's not completely immoral or against the law unless you two are committing statutory rape or cub abuse."

"Hey!" he barked angrily, which caught the attention of a few furs behind us. Everybody went about their business as he quietly sneered, "Me and Jasper are just twins in love. We're not fucking pedos!"

"I'm just comparing and contrasting, Jackson." I explained to the offended dog, "I'm not judging. I'm just telling you something you already know. Most people tend to think of less-than-innocent examples of incestuous affairs when it's related by blood, mainly when there's a big age gap or power dynamic. I've heard of and even seen some messed up shit that makes your dirty laundry look like it just came out of the store."

Jackson stared blankly at me. "That last part didn't make any freaking sense."

I stopped for a moment to groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. My whiskers tickled my wrist as I sighed, "Sorry, sorry. I'm a bit of a nut for film noir."

"Is that why you become a private detective?" he asked a moment after we returned to walking again, only our destination was right down the street.

I replied, "You could say that. Here we are."

The Rainbow Lodge stood as a three-story building along a street corner, surprisingly well-decorated with flowers outside. The interior lobby seemed stripped of any decorations other than Fourth of July streamers. As if the staff were wary of the same furs they invited sanctuary to. Whatever were their thoughts on the stereotypes of homeless, I found myself surprised by the friendly smile worn by the receptionist dressed in plain clothes, a mid-thirties tigress who seemed to recognize one of us.

"Did you take my advice last night and get a haircut, Jasper?"

Jackson and I froze mid-step.

"What did you call me?" he asked seconds later.

"Your name is Jasper--Oh, I'm sorry, young man," she sheepishly waved her paw, "I probably had you confused for somebody else."

"Um--"

We were so close. I jerked my head behind me to look Jackson directly in the eye. In under three seconds, my lips formed silent words: Pretend to be your brother, now!

"--yeah, uh...'Alicia', sorry ya didn't recognize me," he casually read the nametag. Miraculously, as if he'd done it dozens of times, the Dalmatian's demeanor and attitude somehow managed to change within a split second. Instead of a straightened posture, he leaned forward and placed his paws into his pockets, speaking in a casual and aloof manner. "Yeah, I got a haircut. Some new clothes too. Anyway, can I get back to my room now? It's friggin' hot out there!"

She chuckled at ease, "I told you a haircut would brighten your mood, Jasper. If you hurry back, I think you can still get some brunch from Kendall. Hurry on." Without a single beat, Jackson hurried past me and into the corridor leading down to a series of cubicles within a large room. His lithe form barely disappeared before Alicia cleared her throat. "May I help you, sir?"

For once, I did not mind a cold welcome. "Yes, I'm wondering if you can tell me where I am? It's my first time in Crossroads City and I'm kinda a little lost right now."

She sighed in contempt. "This is a shelter for people without housing, sir." she answered, "If you're new to Crossroads, there's an information center one block down between a Burger Knight and office buildings. You can't miss it."

"Thank you very much." In some odd coincidence, I turned around just in time.

A large, muscled stallion dressed in a sweaty denim jacket and black shade had quickly entered through the front door, ignoring my gaze as he immediately brushed past right to the front desk.

Almost immediately, I recognized him from the previous night's research: Chris 'Kane' Morrison. A bodyguard and alleged fixer for Jackson Alnwick, Sr.

"I'm wondering if you can help me out. My boss is trying to find a vagrant that stole from him. He is a teenaged Dalmatian pup."

My ears barely registered what the horse said when my smartphone buzzed with notifications. One included a text that read, 'He's here!!', plus a recently taken selfie of Jackson and a disheveled, teary-eyed Dalmatian his height, size and age, wearing an extra-baggy blue t-shirt, no doubt used, and bright smiles at the camera.

" Don't come out!" I texted them right back in short intervals, " Kane looking for you in lobby. Escape in back. Meet back at motel?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not telling you anything unless you're a police officer with a warrant." Alicia the Receptionist told him.

"Hmf. Fine." he whirled around and suddenly stopped. He stared directly at me. "You..."

Ready to run, I held a paw up to my chest. "Me?"

"You're that detective the brat Googled on his compu--" Without letting Kane so much as finish his thought, I bolted out the front door and veered a hard left. "Motherfucker, get back here!"

Fingers gripping onto my beloved coat in a tight vice, I ran.

***

"Jesus Christ, Zack. What did you do, run a marathon across town?"

"I...I th...I think I literally just did."

My lungs were sandpaper and my clothes dirtied over a layer of crusty sweat. As I casually tossed my coat across the room onto the back of the couch, it felt like the simple act of walking up the stairs had sucked away any lingering adrenaline in me. So, I leaned against the apartment wall for support as Daniel, without so much as asking if I needed it, went to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

"Here ya go." He handed it to me.

"T-Thanks..." I replied coarsely, then guzzled it down in one single gulp. Droplets dribbled down my chin. "Ah! Yeah, that feels better..."

"So, are you alright?" Daniel looked at me with concern in his canine eyes. "What the hell even happened? Are you being safe out there?"

"Let's just say...solved the case...for clients..." I panted and caught my breath between gulps of air, "Ran into trouble...lost the trouble...after twelve fucking miles!"

Apparently, the strong legs of a bodyguard stallion could not be exaggerated, not when he narrowly caught me time and time again between State Hill, Downtown Crossroads and back again. The so-called 'chase' then turned into stalker's hide-and-seek when I went west through some maze-like alleyways and a few freeways to lose Kane in Skyway Mall. The stallion still would not let up, not until I managed to finally lose him in the food court.

Note to self to always keep emergency cash for a cab next time...

And Daniel--that lovable St. Bernard--cackled with me for a solid minute over what I did. "You are so gonna tell me all about this once it's over. Sounds like something out of one of your film noirs! Like, 'Chinatown'?"

"Maybe," I mumbled with a stupid grin on my cheeks, "but you're not wrong there."

"Whatever, mister detective." he scoffed, then wrapped an arm around my lower shoulder, "Now c'mon, you stink and I'm not gonna let you sit on our couch in those clothes..."

"You sometimes sleep on it naked." I pointed out, to which Daniel scoffed again.

He graciously helped me to the bathroom so I could peel away the smelly clothes, allow my dead phone to recharge and lather myself in whatever residual bodywash we had left in the shower. Sometime later, I emerged dressed in jeans and another plain white t-shirt, only to fall down asleep for a couple of hours.

By the time I awoke sometime around dinnertime, my phone had been fully charged, and I groggily checked my phone notifications on my way to the front door.

"You're really going out," Daniel asked at the base of the stairs going into the café's backrooms, "after running around the city for five hours?"

"Four and a half hours, including two spent walking back here." I told the exasperated dog, then clarified with, "My clients will be leaving town soon and need to pay me. I'll explain later, alright?"

He sighed and followed me out to the main room to help a customer. "It better be a good story, Zack!" he hollered as I disappeared out the front door. "Be safe, okay?"

I groaned with a smile, "Yes, Mom!"

Rather than physically torture myself the rest of the evening, I walked a decent distance to the nearest bank and withdrew enough money for a quick ride to the Motel 9, then called Jackson's phone during the trip. He had sent me a series of text messages during my 'chase' and when the phone's battery died, asking if I were alright, that Jasper wanted to personally thank me for helping them out, to meet them at their motel room when I could and that they promised to pay me before leaving town.

Suddenly, an unknown number appeared on my phone screen. Five times.

Knowing it could not be an average scam call, I answered, "Hello, this is Zack--"

"--Leander, correct?" a deep, impatient voice interrupted, "Good. My name is Jackson Alnwick, Sr. You're the P.I. that my son researched before disappearing."

Taken aback at first, I stood still for a moment and glanced around. No stallion or nondescript vehicle in sight, meaning that a) I didn't need to worry for the moment, and b) I needed to limit the amount of action-packed thrillers Daniel and I watched on movie night.

"That I am, Mr. Alnwick." I curtly replied, resuming my walk into a few quick strides through a crowd. "Jackson Junior told me some interesting stories about you and him, but he only wanted me to help locate your other son."

"Excuse me, I only have one son, Mr. Leander." his voice reverberated slightly from a bad signal, yet the venom in his words matched a few of the columns in his paper. "Jasper was a toxic influence on my boy. The dealing and screaming matches, the threats of violence. Then I found him forcing drugs on his brother and stealing money from me. I had to throw him out!"

I frowned at the condescending voice next to my ear, "Sorry to burst your little bubble, sir, but Jackson told me what really happened that night."

Silence. "Do he now?"

"Yes, I know about the extent of their relationship."

A growl could be heard on the other end. The same voice muttered a string of swear words. "Tell me where the brats are hiding, right now!" he demanded like a 'bad cop'. "Do it and I'll pay you whatever you want, Mr. Leander! I am not going to let my boy throw his life away from some sick, disgustful, twisted romance with that...that punk! You hear me, Leander?! Tell me right now--"

I promptly hung up and blocked the older Dalmatian before he could ramble further on. It happened to be one of the downsides of being a private detective: your phone number was open to the public. More often than not, it also meant a relative or victim connected to a case could harass you should they decided.

In the end, part of me wanted to turn the twins in. Unfortunately for Alnwick Sr., I valued my clients. After all, the life of a private detective sometimes revolved around protecting dirty little secrets. The Alnwick twins were no different.

***

The Motel 9 remained unchanged, yet I remained vigilant about being followed, or if a certain stallion had been following me. He was not. However, I did notice a strange noise once I stood outside Jackson's room. Something that echoed like groans and a screeching series of yelps. Unfortunately, thanks to the fact my attention had been glued to a horse I thought was Kane--false alarm, just a businessman likely about to meet his mistress--walking into a room on the far end.

One second too late and I found the source of the noise: two identical Dalmatian males, both completely naked and panting passionately, one of whom had his legs spread and elicited a shuddering moan while riding his twin brother's rigid cock.

"Jesus Fucking Christ!" I promptly slammed the door shut.

Beyond the door, I heard muffled shuffling and two figures scramble off the (squeaky) mattress, until a familiar voice whispered through the wood.

"U...Um, Zack?"

One of my ears flicked awkwardly, "Yeah?"

"Tell me you didn't see us...see us..."

"Fucking?"

"...yeah."

"Why else would I say, 'Jesus Fucking Christ' if I didn't see you two like that, Jackson?" I raised an eyebrow at the peephole, then warily glanced at a random fur walking out of one of the rooms. "Be sure to lock the door next time, alright? Now, can you let me in? We got some things to talk about and I couldn't call you."

"S-Sure, just...just hang on." Then, I heard the door lock and some further muffled conversations followed by a minute of silence. Finally, the door opened to reveal a nervously smiling Jackson, and a shirtless Jasper suspiciously glaring at me. "H-Hey there..."

I stepped inside and did everything to ignore the wafts of sex lingering in the room and on the two canines. While Jackson took the time to put on the t-shirt and shorts from this morning and Jasper only bothered with his jeans, neither of their boners had fully softened, still creating a tent in their pants. Between the homeless shelter and then, I wondered how much the former had told his twin about me and the case spent searching for him.

Speaking of whom...it appeared the kid was blunt.

"Hey," he spoke up, "you're the detective that my bro hired, huh? You're shorter than I expected."

Jackson gasped and fought back a snicker. I did too, in all honesty.

"Did you expect me to be a hulking wolf with a cigar and a trench coat?" I asked coyly, to which the longer-haired twin grinned and shook my paw. "I'm glad you two managed to escape. Your dad's goon sure gave me a workout for the ages."

"Kane really fuckin' followed you for the past four hours?" Jasper guffawed, then shook his muzzle. "Sorry to hear about that, man."

"I wouldn't call it following as much as it was stalking, but yes." I snickered shortly, "My tail still feels like it's going to fall of any second now. Either Kane is too dedicated to his job, or I really need to work out more."

"Maybe both?" Jasper suggested, to which Jackson lightly smacked his shoulder a couple of times. "Ow, I'm kidding, Jack! Haha, I'm kidding."

He snickered, "You and your big mouth, bro!"

The more rugged twin leaned to his brother's ear, "You of all furs would know all about my 'big mouth', hehe."

Me and Jackson shared blushes, with his more intense compared to mine. My ears grew heated as my tail curled slightly, and a small lump formed in my throat as images from minutes prior resurfaced. I didn't know whether or not to gag, even after having just walked in on them mid-coitus. Still, I needed to get back to business.

"So, Jackson," I paw reached for the smartphone in my pocket and I showed them the electronic bill I fashioned in my Notes app, "I crunched the numbers together and, including the full twenty-one hours spent searching, plus interviews and a small discount because I like you two, I believe you owe me $1,530." I offered them by best customer service smile, "Does that sound reasonable, boys?"

"Reasonable?" Jasper spoke up for them as Jackson graciously handed me the money from his Ziplock bag, "Mr. Leander, if we didn't need the rest of our money, we'd give it all away to you for everything you did!"

"Good, because you might need it for where you're planning to go, wherever it is," I pocketed the money into my wallet, smiling at them, "and I told one of you to please call me Zack. Alnwick Sr. certainly didn't bother doing that..."

As if their casual, relaxed demeanors suddenly vanished, the two teenaged Dalmatians stiffened. Jackson straightened up in fear while Jasper scowled at the mention of their dad, yet both wore a veil of confusion at my statement.

"What?" the twins asked in unison.

"Oh yeah." I scratched my right cheek, "Before walking in on your uh, intimacy...your father called my cell and threatened me to turn you over to him." Jasper straightened up further and balled his fists, glancing between me and the door. "I told him no by the way. He was a real asshole, no offense."

"None taken." they replied in unison, before they laughed, and I did too.

"Well, our psycho father ain't getting either of us back, that's for damn sure!" Jasper possessively, protectively, pulled his twin brother by the waist so they were hip-to-hip. "Zack, I meant when I said thanks. I can't thank you enough for getting us back together, but if that fucker thinks he's gonna separate us again, he's out of his goddamn mind."

"Yeah." Though surprised by the bold action, Jackson wrapped an arm around his brother's waist as well. He even kissed him on the cheek before nuzzling into the other Dalmatian's neck. His voice was partially muffled by the lad's neckfur, "We know this is wrong, Zack. We can't help it. I don't know what'll happen if Dad finds us..."

My tail swished at the carpeting, "Then I have a feeling you two might want to make that cross-country bus ride soon."

"We can't!" Jackson insisted fearfully. "The bus going to Frontier isn't leaving until eight tonight. The tickets are already paid for too."

"Eight? That's an hour away!" Wide-eyed, I couldn't resist being critical to the two horndogs. "Why would you two be fucking like newlyweds an hour before fleeing the state?"

"Well excuse us, but we hadn't seen each other in so long!" Jasper defended themselves. Clearly, if we were in medieval times, he'd have been the headstrong knight and Jackson the prince. "Me and my bro were gonna be doing our thing, take a shower so we didn't funk up the bus, then hope to say good-bye to you before boarding. We had it all planned out."

"I'd suggest taking that shower then." I suggested.

"Don't mind if we do!" Jackson smirked back to his brother, as they unsurprisingly walked paw-in-paw to the bathroom, closing the door shut. Jasper especially took the time to smack the other Dalmatian's rear before closing the door shut. Giggling laughter could be heard through the wooden barrier along with running water and rustling clothes.

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my whiskered nose.

A sickening feeling rested in the pit of my gut. I could have just walked away right at that moment. The Alnwick brothers weren't careless. They were able to take care of themselves. Jackson paid me to find Jasper. I did. I got paid. End of story, right? The possibility of them getting caught by their father only an hour before they left shouldn't have concerned me.

Ugh. Since when did I begin to care about my former clients?

"Zack," I asked myself, "what the hell have you gotten yourself into?"

***

The Crossroads City Interstate Bus Hub was a hivemind for the tourists and stragglers trying to escape to a utopian destination.

By the time dusk began creeping over Utah, many furs patiently stood waiting in line to purchase a ticket (some were complaining about petty grievances) or were either lounging about inside or on the main platform outside, luggage uncomfortably close by. Thankfully, the two Dalmatians I was escorting bought their ticket online.

"You have a credit card?" I stared incredulously at the smug Dalmatian walking close with his brother, "Seriously? After your father kicked you outta the house?"

"Hey, don't look at me like that!" Jasper scoffed, "Dad signed it over to me last year, but after we turned eighteen, the card now belongs to me."

"Which I assume you're gonna pay back?" I surmised aloud.

"Sooner or later, we will have to." Jackson laughed shortly. "Jas and I are getting jobs as soon as we make it all the way to Peninsula City. Hopefully, we can get a place to stay before then..."

"Don't just hope for it, Jack." Smiling at his spotted counterpart, the Dalmatian with longer, unkempt hair gripped the other's backpack in his paw, "We're gonna be okay. We're gonna make a home for ourselves."

The nice twin smirked back, "Still, I hope it won't me too much trouble for you to get a haircut during one of the stops?"

"C'mon," he grinned, "it makes me look more badass and you know it!"

On the platform surrounded by busses preparing to be boarded, I sat on an empty bench across from them as the two bickered like a married couple. They went on contemplating whether or not Jackson should cut his hair short so they could grow it our in matching lengths, or to intentionally look different. Jasper prevented the other from winning the debate by asking me a question.

"Hey Zack, can I ask why you're helping us like this?"

I glanced up at him in confusion. Then at the other brother, who stared back at me like I was about to tell them the secret of life. Sighing, I leaned forward in my bench as a bus driver went to his station. We still had several minutes before boarding would be called. Why not indulge their curiosities?

"If I can be a bit honest, I get the idea of wanting to make a life away from family..." The words seem the carry away from my lips. "Look at me. I'm a male calico. Male calicos are born sterile. That's just a biological fact. Hearing that you two grew up in a religious household like I did, you could imagine how the folks would take it when their only son can't just give 'em grandcubs, but that he's a demi too. My dad sometimes acts like I'm a broken mess and my mom thinks I just need to, and I quote, 'find the right girl'. She's also the type to keep me updated about my older sisters' lives. She and I can't have a conversation anymore without getting involved with how she wants me to live my own life. So yeah, I get what you two want."

The younger pair of Dalmatians blinked at me.

"No offense, Zack," Jasper snickered shortly, "but your old lady sounds like a real narcissist.

"Says the guy who fucks another guy that looks exactly like himself?" I joked back.

They both stared. At me then at each other, the almost-exact mirror of a united soul. I swore they almost combusted right then and there on the bus station platform, only there didn't exist a fuse for them. One of the Dalmatians opened his mouth, then closed it shut, until Jasper finally broke.

"Touché." he answered with a chuckle. "Touché, you motherfucker..."

I couldn't help but wag my tail and grin at the young man. "Taking that as a compliment."

"I have to say this though," Jackson warily checked to make sure no other furs were in earshot, "I never thought the same P.I. we hired would be so willing to let us continue breaking the law."

My tail swayed against the tiled cobblestone under my boots. A cold shiver of wind convinced me to close my jacket around me.

"What the two of you doing is wrong, but not technically illegal," I muttered aloud, "but it won't be where you're going. That I can live with."

Jackson shrugged. "Fair enough..."

"Whatever." Jasper clutched the backpack on his lap. "So, you curious about how we--"

"Nope." I interrupted him. "No, I don't wanna know."

Seconds later and we laughed yet again, exhaling into an amused sigh.

The three of us could have enjoyed the moment in another life. Unfortunately, fate required the strange twins and I to part ways at that moment. Looking behind them to the glass doors leading into the station's main lobby, my eyes narrowed on two familiar figures. One was an older Dalmatian in a business suit. The other was a jacked-up stallion I met before. Neither had noticed us amidst a crowd of furs departing off a parked bus nearby.

"Jasper, Jackson...I want you two to listen to me very carefully..." I firmly ordered the Alnwick twins. "This is gonna be our good-bye. Your old man and his goon are close. I can see the two from here." The rigid fear could be seen in the twins' identically blue eyes. "Keep staring ahead or they might see you. I'm gonna distract them, but whatever either of you do, don't look back at the building. Not when boarding is called or if you hear anything, alright?"

Jasper nodded along with a nervous Jackson.

"T-Thank you, Zack..." the latter said. "Thank you, for--"

Jasper clasped his brother's trembling paw and finished for him, "--for everything."

Who defined certain relationships as 'taboo'? What factors made modern-day society decide which kinds of love were unacceptable to let flourish? A part of me did hope they could make their relationship work, deep down. I sincerely wished them the best of luck in creating a future together, one where the taboo line between romance and brotherhood ended.

"Good-bye, and good luck..." I stood and walked past them, brushing my paw on the rim of their bench. "I hope you two find that happiness of yours."

"Good-bye." they replied once more in unison.

The pair of dogs followed my instructions well. The moment Mr. Alnwick spotted me in the middle of the sizable crowd, making my way inside the lobby past the glass doors, I could feel the glowering frustration in his face. Kane as well looked like he wanted to crush my little head with his hooves.

I pretended not to notice them. Instead, I pulled my phone out to send Daniel some long texts. Most of it consisted of some groceries we needed to pick up. The rest was to ask him if he noticed any suspicious customers or vans parked outside the café. The same time I circled away to the far end of the lobby, I knew Alnwick Sr. and his stallion lackey had taken the bait. They didn't know his son were already at the station.

Damn it. Why was I smiling? I was about to go head-to-head with one of Crossroads City's most 'powerful' socialites. I was doing it so two incestuously romantic Dalmatian brothers could run off to their utopian destination.

"Hey!"

I turned in time to brace for the horse getting into my personal space, as did the disheveled Dalmatian who clearly wanted alcohol in his system. He seemed mad.

I raised my paws up, holding my phone. "Oi, what're you--" Kane tried to snatch it, only for my reflexes to be quicker. "Stop it! I'm serious, I'll call the nearest cop--"

"Where are they, Leander?!" Alnwick Sr. held back a snarl when a few nearby furs glanced our way, "Do you have any idea how much I'm going to fuck your life over? Tell me where my boys are, now!"

Neither of them had noticed an interstate express bus already leaving the station, heading past us towards the highway leading east from Crossroads City. It had the same number the twins boarded minutes prior. They made it. They were finally about to make a life of their own.

"It's too late." I said, having strayed several feet away from them. "Jackson and Jasper already left town, Alnwick. There's nothing you can do to control 'em anymore."

If only I had enough more bravery in me to take a snapshot of his face. It looked flushed and his irises were bloodshot with anger. I could have sold the picture to one of the Chronicle's rival newspapers to make extra money. Then again, I had a much bigger problem to contemplate.

"I'm fucking warning you right now, Mr. Leander!" Alnwick Sr. stomped to me and growled, "If you don't tell me where they're going right now, Mr. Leander, I'm going to sue you so fucking hard you'll be paying off the rest of your debts in loose change!"

He dared not to just let the silent Kane nearby beat me to a bloody pulp. He could have just told him to kick my teeth in, break my fingers one by one, or snap my ribcages like twigs until it made his employer feel good. As much sway and connections as he had behind each paper or in Crossroads' inner socialite circles, he could only do so much.

So, I shook my muzzle. "No, you won't."

Both Alnwick Sr. and an equally perplexed Kane stared at me.

"Wha...What did you just say to me?"

He followed my eyes to the countless furs walking in and out of or standing across the street, their forms partially lit by streetlights or passing cars. They may not have owned a ton of stock, let alone knew the identity of the Dalmatian standing across from me, but they still mattered. They mattered greatly to the dog. The money they spent each morning, buying a copy from a metal newspaper rack in a drug store or where they worked, it greatly mattered to Alnwick. He knew that better than anyone else.

"What are you gonna sue me for?" I asked the growingly despondent dog. "No doubt I'd barely win the court case, but honestly, nothing would stop me from telling every soul out there the truth about you. The truth about your sons. It'll get big news coverage, won't it? There'll be nothing left for me to lose when I'm telling the reporters all about Jasper and Jackson. Why Jack hired me in the first place, how close they are, what they did...Heh, maybe I'll even brag to the press how I caught them in the act an hour before they waved me good-bye...?"

By some ounce of a miracle, my threat worked. Alnwick realized that he lost. Well, he didn't say it to me directly, but I saw it clear as day on his wrinkled, monochrome muzzle. He simply told me to watch my back from then on, motioning for his bodyguard to follow while giving me the death glare of all death glares. The kind I recalled seeing after I had finally come out to Mom and Dad during college.

Minutes later and I spotted a black limousine curved around the corner and disappear with the other headlights of cars. It was going west. Likely, the limousine would crawl back to its owner's empty mansion, now with an abandoned bedroom he could no longer enter without thinking about them.

God, I needed a vacation.

After hailing for a taxi, it seemed like the events of the past couple days finally had their effect on me. I could barely call Daniel's phone number without feeling like it were a chore.

"Zack? Zack, are you alright? Why did you tell me to--"

"I'm fine, Danny. I'm just...just fine..." a tired yawn escaped my lips, and I paused to tell the driver the address for the dog's now-closed café, "...but my God. I got a nice story for you. You better have some daquiris ready for me when I'm back, okay?"

The St. Bernard cackled with excitement on the other end. "It had better be a good one!"

Smirking as I looked out the window, I replied, "It is, but fair warning: you don't want to be in the middle of a drink when I tell you the big twist."