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The job of a private detective didn't just involve performing investigations for a client. It never usually came down to the tropes a film noir fan like me usually expected from a standard mystery. There wasn't always a femme fatale, a shady client, or another more-dangerous secret lurking beneath the surface of the current one. Sometimes, it all came down to a mother and father wanting their little girl back.

Mr. and Mrs. Levine were those parents. They wanted their Nora back. She'd run away from home mere hours after her eighteenth birthday, apparently in large part to the Levine's strict upbringing as a conservative family of brown bears.

It was an upbringing which made mine look like a hippie commune. No freedom of expression, no extracurricular activities other than those approved, no breaking curfew, never being a minute late for breakfast, lunch, dinner, the nightly bedroom inspection, or even friends who couldn't measure up to their high standards. The way Mrs. Levine described Nora's teenaged years sounded more like a prison sentence. The entire time, neither she nor her husband could look me directly in the eye as they explained it.

Nora's five-year disappearance devastated them. However, it also allowed Mr. and Mrs. Levine to look hard in the mirror and realize where they went wrong. After much-needed therapy and introspection, the Levines finally decided that they desperately wanted to find their daughter to make amends, if not find solace in knowing she was safe. After filing the contract and paperwork, I went about my job, which seemed harder than I thought.

For three straight weeks, the middle-aged bear couple visited Daniel's café to ask for updates. Some days of the week, I gave them inklings of hope. Mostly though, they left wearing crestfallen faces, but not before thanking my roommate for the free coffee. Seeing their genuine heartbreak not only pushed me to keep searching, but it also led to me considering giving them a hefty discount, no matter the outcome.

The good news? I found her. She even happened to be still living in Crossroads City. The bad news? I discovered why she'd gone off the grid. Through a tip and a few stakeouts, I found her in a shady supermarket being escorted by a larger grizzly bear wearing a permanent scowl. An hour later, I'd trailed the two to a crowded apartment complex, discovering through a discreet neighbor that Nora's husband was a sometimes-unemployed construction worker named Malcolm Kendricks. The neighbor mentioned things from how sweet Nora was in the few instances he met her to how she also often went weeks or months without leaving the apartment.

I waited until the husband left again in the evening, then went to the apartment door to speak with Nora. Knocking once, then twice, a meek voice said through the door, "Hello?"

"Excuse me, ma'am," I asked, "but are you...Nora? Nora Michelle Levine?"

Something behind the door unlocked, and the wooden barrier opened a crack, then a few feet to reveal a disheveled she-bear wearing clothes she either slept in or pulled from the hamper. The smell wafting from the dwelling nearly made me gag, yet keeping a professional demeanor, my concern remained on the twenty-something ursine. As she stared down at me, I noticed Nora's sunken eyes, the way they remained widened, and her pupils darting between me and the hallway, like a feral prey watching out for a predator on the prowl.

"Who are you? How do you know me?"

"My name is Zack Leander," I introduced myself with a friendly, reassuring smile. "I'm a private detective, and your parents hired me to find you."

Nora gave a carefully raised eyebrow. "You must be mistaken," she sighed in disbelief. "My mom and dad would never do something like that."

"I can prove it," I promptly pulled out my cellphone and called their number.

"You can?" She warily leaned in closer when I placed it on speaker, and watched as the icon changed to indicate the number had been answered. "H-Hello?"

Her mother answered, "N-Nora? Nora, baby, is that you?"

"Nora, please tell us it's you," her father spoke up on the other end. "Nora?"

"Mommy?" Her voice quavered as suddenly as her composure did. "Daddy?"

"It's us, baby girl," Mr. Levine sniffled on the other end of the call. "We-We're here, Nora. We'll always be here. We love you and want you to come home."

"I...I can't," she whispered, not to us, but to herself.

"We're so sorry for everything, Nora!" Her mother spoke through another sob. "I'm so sorry for never telling you how much we loved you, how proud we are of you, and we know you're angry with us, but we're not trying to control you like we used to."

"We only want you to be safe, baby girl," her father said, "and we know you're not safe."

"I know, but I can't leave!" Nora whimpered out a growl, glancing between me, the phone, and something noticeably moving behind her hunched figure. "I can't leave now. He's gonna be back any minute. He said he'd k-kill Luke if I left!"

Our answer for who Luke was came into view from down the hallway. Nora's parents couldn't see it, but I did; a malnourished and confused four-year-old bear cub in clothes too big for him to wear. He called for his mother's name, which made her freeze. A tear full of regret and anguish rolled down the she-bear's cheek.

Out of the corner of my eye, I heard a hulking presence storm back up the stairs. It was Malcolm. With folded ears, I acted within seconds. I turned off the phone, pocketed it in my coat, clasped my paws together in a friendly manner, then put my years of living in the Mormon State to good use.

"But I have this amazing book for you in my pocket, ma'am," I spoke like a young missionary. "If you'll let me in, I can tell you the Good News of our Lord Jesus Christ--"

"Who the fuck're you!?" The grizzly bear snarled at me, before pushing me away from the door. He smelled of foul pot. "Don't come back or I'll put you through a fuckin' wall! Nora, I told you over and over not to open the door unless it's me!"

I stumbled backwards onto the hallway floor, looking up to see Nora plead with her husband as he slammed the door shut. A series of shouts and cries eventually climaxed into an fragile silence as my ears picked up the sounds of a television show blaring through the paper-thin walls. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I stood back up and hailed for a cab outside.

We needed to her and her son out of there, fast.

***

Mr. Levine wanted to drive over and strangle the bastard. So did his wife, and frankly, I did too. Unfortunately, we needed to be practical. A quick talk with some friends in the CCPD informed me the Kendricks apartment had a history of calls about domestic abuse, but no officers or CPS agents could prove anything criminal. We were on our own unless I could provide something concrete.

I followed Malcolm during one of his outings. He only traveled half a block away--about five minutes of walking--to get his fix from a seller. It seemed he never needed to go far.

Originally, I'd planned on photographing the grizzly buying drugs to then turn over to the police, but the photos I managed to take only showed an angry bear hugging a random possum as they secretly exchanged money for a bag. If anything, the police department would confuse my pictures for a random photograph of two old friends reuniting years later. Luckily for me and the Levines, it didn't mean I came up with nothing though.

See, I recognized the possum. He worked for a certain drug dealer who operated in Crossroads City, and whom I'd reluctantly knew: Jake the Jaguar.

"Why do you need me to bring you here again?" Daniel asked me from the driver's seat of his car. Concern filled the Saint Bernard's muzzle. "Wait, are you really gonna go see--"

"Yes," I simply told him. "Can you pick me up in about fifteen minutes? I'll be careful."

"Sure, sure," he grumbled, "just don't do anything to piss them off."

"Daniel, they're drug dealers, not mafia," I chuckled. "But yeah, I promise."

The canine let me close the passenger door before he rolled out of the empty parking lot, leaving me to stroll around the massive, abandoned superstore. Placed between the Skyway Mall and a winding zone of low-income housing, the J-Mart remained a seemingly empty shell. A fading monument to a bygone era of economic growth prior to the rise of online shopping. I was willing to bet at some point, it had been one of Crossroads City's more popular department stores centers for stable families, and a nice place to buy groceries before bringing kids to the nearest video rental shop. Hell, I could even recall vague childhood memories of the J-Mart before it became what it was: a drug den.

From the back of the building, I entered an unlocked exit door straight into complete darkness. My feline tail twitched at the near-complete silence surrounding me, but I didn't show unease. The occupants not only knew me, but they could see and smell any fear.

"Jake the Jaguar?" I called out. "I...I know you're there!"

A click in the darkness and hushed murmurs led to me gaining flashbacks from the Henderson case. Nevertheless, I stayed my ground like the previous time.

"Stand down, Miguel," a voice whispered in front of me, and thanks to the light coming from the exit door, I could just make out the form of a slender, intimidating feline with piercing golden eyes. I could almost make out a smirk on the silhouette, as well as crossed arms. "It's been a while, hasn't it, gatito? Are you finally here to taste test the hash?"

I easily ignored the snickers when he called me 'gatito'--or 'little cat'.

"Not exactly," I said, deciding to finally get to the point. "As much as I hate saying this, I'm here because...ugh, I need your help. I need a favor, actually."

"You need a favor, huh?" Jake the Jaguar asked skeptically.

"My clients have a daughter," I explained promptly, "She's trapped in an abusive marriage with one of your regular clients. He's a grizzly named Malcolm Kendricks. I recognized one of your underlings selling some cocaine to him last night. The parents want to get her and their grandson out of the apartment, but we can't do that unless he's distracted. It'll give us time to get them and their belongings out of the apartment without any trouble. If you can do something to make sure Malcolm stays away from that apartment for more than ten or fifteen minutes, it'll really help this family."

Once again, I expected the worst to occur. My instincts as a law-abiding detective often expected the worst of people. We were trained to be aware of it and always be prepared for it, especially of they were criminals breaking the law for either pleasure or greed. Then again, I still didn't fully know about Jake the Jaguar's own moral compass.

At least, until he told me, "Consider it done. Just don't forget that you'll owe me a favor in the future, gatito."

A smile brightened slightly under my whiskers. "As long as I'm not carrying briefcases again," I told the Samaritan feline, "it's a deal."

***

"Anyway, getting Nora and the kid out went a little bit anticlimactic," I told Daniel as we sat in the living room couch and ate into our slices of pizza. "I just messaged the Levines that Malcolm had left, then joined them in helping get the daughter, their grandson, and most of their belongings into a truck. They went to the police to press charges, file a restraining order, and the two are staying with their grandparents until a judge can deem Malcolm as an unfit father and husband. As for Nora and the kid, they're both fine, but Mrs. Levine told me the four of them are going to move out West to start a new life once the legal mumbo jumbo is taken care off in a few months. Too many painful memories and all that..."

"At least now, Nora can forage a new beginning for herself," he commented midway into a bite.

I offered a quizzical expression. "Don't you mean 'forge a new beginning'?" I asked the Saint Bernard. "And did you just make a bear joke?"

"That too," Daniel snagged another bite, and I couldn't help but laugh. "By the way, Zack?"

After finishing a slice and licking off some strands of cheese stuck on my whiskers, I turned to my roommate. "Yeah, Dan?"

He offered a proud grin. "You're a great person, you know that?"

"Oh, thanks," I nodded at the canine, "but don't thank me. Thank Jake."