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In Part 8 we follow Jack as he reacts to the events of Part 7.

IMPORTANT!!!! If the last thing you read in this story was a gun going off, you've missed Part 7! Don't read further! Adjust your filter settings to allow Adult submissions, and then go read part 7. And as always, if you've not read ANY of these, go back and read from Part 1. ", "writing": "Disclaimer: This story is part of a series, entitled “Dangerous Games”. The series contains non-human anthropomorphic animal (“Furry”) characters of varying ages, adult and cub. While there are no overt sexual acts depicted in this series, the stories will contain adult themes, topics, and situations, which may not be legal in some jurisdictions. These include: frank discussions of sexual acts and character sexuality, alcohol and drug use, criminal acts, violence, adult language, weapons including guns and knives, bloodshed, grievous bodily harm, death, and events which depict underage characters in peril. \n\nIt is up to the reader to be aware of the laws regarding depictions of such material in their place of residence. If you are not allowed to read such material, due to age, religion, place of residence, or any other factor, do not continue.\n\nThis story and all characters are copyright Shryke. This is a work of fiction. All events and persons depicted are fictional, and any similarities with actual events or persons is purely coincidental. \n\n\n\n\n\nIMPORTANT!!!! If the last thing you read in this story was a gun going off, you've missed Part 7! Don't read further! Adjust your filter settings to allow Adult submissions, and then go read part 7. And as always, if you've not read ANY of these, go back and read from Part 1. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nDANGEROUS GAMES\nby Shryke\nPart 8\n\n Jack sat in the conference room in Max's office. This was the same room, he recalled, where the lawyer had met them to pick up his order of cigars that Jack and Angelo brought. That seemed like a hundred years ago now, the fox thought, after the events of the past week. \n It was Sunday – the day after Angelo had been taken from the hospital by Cub Protective Services. After nearly sliding into a depressive despair at the hospital, he had called Max to inquire about adopting the eleven-year-old fox. There was loud music playing in the background of the phone call, and the otter said he couldn't discuss such matters at that time and suggested they meet the following day. \n The teen fox had to bite his lip to keep his anger in check at that comment; how dare anyone have fun while Jack's world crumbled around him! He quickly calmed down after a moment's reflection, and agreed to meet in the morning. As was the case the day Angelo was shot, Jack went home and flopped down hard on his bed not expecting to get any sleep, and lay there until morning. He wasn't sure if he ever did manage to doze off, or for how long. \n “So there's 3 ways you can do this,” Max was saying in regards to Jack's options. The otter sat across the conference table from Jack, and unlike every other time they had met, he was not wearing an expensive suit, but just a golf shirt and jeans. “There's straight-up adoption, foster care, or legal guardianship.” \n “What's the difference?” Jack was hoping not to get caught up in too much legal talk. \n “Well, with adoption he becomes your kid,” Max said. “Same as if he was your biological son. I don't think we should try that way.” \n “What? Why not? That's... that's what I want,” Jack said. \n “I know,” Max said, “and we'll get there eventually. But that takes a long time, and there's all kinds of investigations, visits with social workers, classes you have to go to, and that kind of thing. And that's if they decide that you're someone they'll allow to adopt!” \n “That's... nuts,” Jack replied derisively. \n “I know, right? Anyone can screw a girl and have a pup and nobody makes them do all that,” the otter said with a laugh. “But, that's how it works, so that's how we have to play.”\n Jack sighed heavily. “Ok, what about the other ones?” \n “Ok,” Max echoed, “Foster Care. That's where he lives with you, and you provide for all his day-to-day needs, but the State 'owns' him.” Max made air-quotes as he spoke certain phrases, Jack noticed as the otter continued. “The state makes all his life decisions, and they keep close tabs on you to make sure you don't screw up. And if you do... pffft!” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, making the “you're out of here” sign. \n “Screw that,” Jack said, reacting to the last part of Max's speech. “How's that any good?” \n “He does live with you,” Max said. “And if you don't screw up, you've got nothing to worry about. Plus they pay you an allowance to spend on him, and the whole process is fairly quick. You have to get trained and certified, but like I say... it's quick.”\n “Hmm,” Jack said, pondering and unsure. \n “The only catch, if you can call it that,” Max continued, “is that there's such a lack of good foster homes around, that once you get certified they might want to place additional kits with you.” \n Jack looked down and sighed again. That made sense, of course. “I...” he began slowly, “I don't want to save the world. Just... one little gray piece of it.” He thought of those cubs in the hospital who were lying there with nobody visiting, and how he had the urge to go in and sit with them for a while. How would he react if CPS offered him someone like that? \n “I know,” Max said with empathy. “I'm just letting you know what to expect. You never have to take a cub that they offer, though. But statistically, most adoptions happen from within the foster care system. You can start all that paperwork while he's already living with you!” \n “So,” Jack said after a long silence, “you think I should do that? Become a foster parent and then what... request Angelo?” \n “Actually,” the otter said, “there's the third option which I think is our best bet: legal guardianship.”\n “What's that?”\n “Kind of like foster care,” Max explained. “He lives with you and you provide for his daily needs, but: you also make all his life decisions. The state will still keep tabs on you, and will still yank him if you screw up, but otherwise its the closest to actual adoption. This route is often used by parents in their wills, where if they die then a close friend agrees to raise their kits. I think I can make it work here though. Then all the court has to do is decide if you're suitable for that.”\n “Court?” The word brought a fresh wave of anxiety to the 18-year-old. \n “Yeah, I know,” Max said, divining his thoughts. “We'll need to get that situation sorted first of course,” he said, meaning the pending investigation into Jack's killing of Victor. “But that goes for any of the three options.” \n “So,” Jack began, slowly again, trying to wrap his mind around all of this, “we try to get me as his legal guardian.” Max nodded. “And if that falls through, I try for foster care.” Another nod. “And if that falls through...” Max just stared this time, his silence answering Jack's question. “Right,” Jack said resignedly. “Ok then, what do I need to do?” \n “Well,” Max said with some reservation, which made Jack cock one ear. “You will have to change some things. You're 18, right? And two months out of high school with no job?” \n Jack stared blankly. He had not thought about his circumstances in such a raw fashion. “Yeah,” was all he could say. \n “So first, you need a good job,” the otter said. “Any leads?”\n Jack had not thought of finding a job since Victor offered him $100 per day to drive for Angelo. Prior to that, he had only interviewed at one place since leaving home. He sighed. “No. I guess I'll be making pizzas.” \n Max sat back in his chair and thought for a moment. “Well,” he finally said, “I might have something better for you, actually.” \n “You? But... I mean... how...” \n Max laughed at Jack's tongue-tied state. “No, actually I was about to post a job for a Legal Assistant. You know what that is?”\n Jack stared. He again felt a strange admiration for Max. The otter genuinely seemed to want to help him at a personal level, which flew in the face of all the lawyer stereotypes he had heard growing up. Even when he discussed Jack's goal of adopting Angelo, Max used “we”: “we'll get there eventually”, “the way we need to proceed” and so on. \n Now it seemed that the otter was offering him a job, though he had no idea what being a Legal Assistant entailed. “Not a clue,” he said flatly.\n “It's basically doing all the lawyer work that you don't need a law degree to do. Mostly it's a lot of case research and sorting through the thousands of documents that might be part of a case. There might be some building of exhibits, posters and that kind of thing. Pretty much anything I need you to do.”\n “I've... got no experience in that kind of thing,” Jack said. He felt embarrassed to say so, which he found silly since he would not be expected to have any such experience. \n “Yeah,” Max replied, “and I was kind of looking for an LA that did have experience, but hey, they all started somewhere. It'll just take a bit longer to get you up to speed, that's all.”\n Jack pondered this, at the same time asking himself why he wasn't jumping at the chance. What the otter said next made his mind up for him. \n “So, I figure I can bill you out at 70 or 80 bucks an hour to the client. That means I could pay you, oh... 35 an hour?”\n “35,” Jack said, stunned. \n “Yeah, for starters,” Max replied. “You work 40 hours a week, that's about 70 grand a year. And once things get going, you'll be working at least 40 hours a week. Not bad for right out of high school!”\n “Wow, Max,” Jack said. “I'm...” he searched for the right word...\n “Surprised?” Max offered. \n “I was going to say 'grateful', actually,” the fox replied. “That you would do something like that for me, who you barely...” he trailed off as he felt his throat tighten. \n “My pleasure,” Max said with a slight bow. “I always liked Angelo, and I want to help him out after all that's happened. And I like you too, Jack. You're good people.” Jack smiled, feeling himself blush under his fur. “And trust me,” Max continued, “having a 70k job will look really good to the family court.” \n Jack nodded in agreement. “So what else do I need to do before we go... filing papers or whatever?”\n Max looked pensive, which is not what Jack was expecting when he made the lighthearted comment. “Well,” the otter said, “this is where it gets a little more interesting. You need to move out of that shit-hole you're living in.” \n “To, like, a better apartment?” He would be able to afford one now, he reckoned. \n “Well, no,” Max said evasively. “Angelo needs to be in what they call a 'nurturing environment'. Meaning a home where he can 'grow and flourish'. Those are the terms the court will be using. A house with a big back yard, maybe pets, access to good schools. Definitely a loving family, which I don't doubt you will be, but... something even more, so the court has no reason to deny you.” \n Jack understood now where Max was going. There was only one place he knew of that fit that description. “Back home,” he said almost sadly. \n “Bingo,” Max said quietly. \n Jack sighed again deeply, then with an ironic chuckle, he said, “Heh, I move out to show that I can make it on my own. Not 3 months later I come crawling back. Some big fox I am, huh?” \n “Jack,” Max said gently, almost lovingly, “you're not on your own anymore.” \n Jack looked into the otter's dark eyes and smiled. “I'm not, am I?” \n Max smiled back. “And knowing when you need help from others is one sign of maturity,” he said. \n Jack sat back, ruminating on what the otter had said. Max just watched him, without further comment. Jack finally broke the silence. “It's a lot to ask. Of my folks I mean. They're definitely not expecting this to drop on them.” \n “I know,” Max said. “And all you can do is ask. But like I said: you're good people. And good people come from other good people.”\n “I guess I should go have a chat with them, huh?” Jack had still not told them about Victor, or indeed anything in his life since leaving home in June. He had a standing invitation to Sunday dinner – a tradition in his house – and it seemed like the perfect opportunity. It would definitely not be a Sunday dinner to forget, he thought. \n\n---\n\n Jack sat at his usual place at the family dinner table, in the same seat he had sat for every meal as long as he could remember. The others around the table, his father, mother, and eleven-year-old sister, stared at him in stunned silence. His mother dabbed the corners of her eyes with her napkin. \n He had shown up unexpectedly for Sunday dinner, much to the delight of the family. As the meal progressed, though, they could tell that something was bothering him: he barely spoke, and gave short answers when he did. Finally as the meal was wrapping up, his father came out and asked him directly what was wrong. \n Jack told him. “I killed a guy,” he said blankly. He had given a tremendous amount of thought to how he would say that, and the blunt delivery was always the joke in his mind. Yet when it came down to it, that was the only way to say it. The reaction was immediate: everyone froze in what they were doing, even with fork half-lifted to mouth. \n From there he progressed to tell the story yet again, as he had to the police and to Max. He omitted very little with the family though, making sure to let them know what he didn't tell the police. He still kept the deeply personal things to himself, but spoke of his and Angelo's drug sales and running from the police in a stolen car. \n When he mentioned the drug sales, Jessica, his little sister, gave him a shocked look. He had lied to her face about that, back on the first day he and Angelo had visited a schoolyard. She had heard Angelo's name and the exaggerated stories about him from her peers; when he and Jack stopped by the house to retrieve Jack's hunting knife, Jack had dismissed her concerns by saying that this was not the same Angelo as she had heard of. \n Now that the truth was out, the little red fox listened to the rest of his story, her face a mix of sadness, anger, and betrayal that Jack could not look at for more than a moment. His parents' faces were mostly filled with concern and sadness as he continued. \n He recounted everything, not dwelling on the particulars of Victor's death as he had to with the police, and through to the hospital and Angelo's removal by CPS. He did see Jessica shed a tear when he told of this last part, though she tried to hide it. \n The shocked faces turned to surprise as he finished up with what he planned for Angelo. “So,” he said in conclusion, “that's what I'd... like to do, if you're... if you're ok with it.” He found it very hard to ask them for this, realizing that they would be committing to another cub in the house, with all the attendant responsibilities that would bring. \n There was a long silence. Jack sat there motionless, moving only his eyes between the three others at the table. His mother was dabbing tears and biting her lip as if she was about to cry. Jessica had her shoulders hunched forward and was staring down at her plate. Jack's father sat back in his chair and was looking intently at Jack, his face not betraying his thoughts. \n Jack found the silence disconcerting, and nervously said, “I'll pay for everything, of course. I'll even... pay rent... if you want me to.” \n His father nodded. “That goes without saying,” he finally said. “But,” he continued slowly, as if considering each word deliberately, “I want to make sure that you know what you're signing up for.” He looked at Jack intently as he spoke. “This isn't like getting a dog. You will be responsible for every moment of his life... to the exclusion of your own. Every waking minute, every sleeping minute for that matter, will be dedicated to him first, and yourself last. For at least the next 7 years.” \n “I know,” Jack said earnestly. In his mind he was already looking at life that way. “I'm willing to do that – to sacrifice everything in my life to give that boy a proper life of his own.”\n “Sacrifice,” his father repeated. “Good word.” He paused, letting the weight of the words sink in to everyone at the table. “We won't decide anything tonight, of course, as you know.” \n Jack nodded. That was one of the customs he had become used to over the years. No decision of any significance was made in the heat of the moment. You always discussed on one day, and decided another, often having multiple rounds of discussion. “I know,” he said, “I just wanted to let you know what was happening.”\n “We need to meet him,” Jack's mother said, having regained her full composure. Jack noticed Jessica take on a nervous countenance at that statement. \n “I,” Jack said slowly, “I... don't even know where they took him. I'll try to see... if that's even possible. Maybe Max... I dunno.” He sounded lost, even to himself. \n “You'll also need to get a lot of other details sorted,” his father said. “A will, life insurance, a trust of some sort. What school would you send him to?”\n “I was thinking Greenleaf,” Jack said. Greenleaf Academy was the private primary school that Jessica now attended. The girl's face looked even more concerned when Jack said this. The older fox reckoned he knew what was bothering her. \n “Expensive,” Jack's father said. “How will you pay for that? Even if this lawyer hires you, tuition is due prior to the start of the year, and they want it all at once.”\n Jack sighed. He was hoping that his parents would offer to loan him the tuition against his salary, but his father, as he always did, was taking him at his word that he would pay for everything. And tuition was expensive at this school. He'd need a pot of...\n “Gold,” Jack said out loud, not realizing he said it.\n “Gold?” \n “Umm, yeah,” he said quickly. “What I mean is: Victor didn't use banks. He didn't want to have to explain where he got his money from. So he kept it in his house, and for long-term storage he bought gold coins.” He looked at his father with a sudden awareness. “He gave me a bunch of them to hold on to, in case his place was robbed or raided.”\n “And you've still got them,” his father said. \n “Yes! What better payback than to use Victor's money to pay for Angelo's education!” He laughed out loud with relief. \n His father smiled at the sentiment, appearing to appreciate the irony of it. “I assume the police don't know about that either?” \n “No, they don't,” Jack confirmed. The unspoken request accompanied his words: and please don't tell them. \n “Well,” his father said after a moment, “We'll have a family meeting later on about this, and do some talking over. You understand that this decision will have to be unanimous, right? If any one of us is not 100% behind it, then it's a no-go.” \n Jack bowed his head. “I know.” He looked to Jessica who still seemed concerned. \n Another long silence followed, finally broken by Jack's mother. “Ok, who wants pie?”\n\n---\n\n Jack hugged his parents goodbye and gave a fist-bump to Jessica. “I'll call you soon as I know what's up,” he said, opening the door to go outside. “Hey Jessica, c'mon out with me?” \n The little fox girl did not hesitate and went outside with her brother. Jack waved to his parents behind the screen door, who waved back and closed the inside door. \n Jack put an arm around his sister as he walked towards his car. “Jess,” he began. \n The younger Archer kit threw his arm off of her and shoved him. “You lied to me!”\n “I know,” Jack replied. There was no use arguing that fact. “I had to, though. I didn't want you to worry.” \n “Worry,” she said incredulously. “Worry? And now you want to bring that... that thug into our house? Send him to school with me? What's the matter with you?” She had heard the stories from around the municipal fields where her teams practiced and played: Angelo was a violent drug dealer who had killed someone over a bad drug deal. \n Angelo had heard these same stories; Victor had told him to encourage the spread of them in order to inflate his reputation, so school-aged furs would be less inclined to mess with him. It did work to an extent, but this was now the downside. \n Jack turned and put both paws on her shoulders. “I swear he's not the guy you think he is. All those stories are fake. Made-up so people would be afraid of him.” \n “Well, mission accomplished,” she said sarcastically. “All I know is what I've heard, and I've heard a lot! From a lot of furs!”\n “Yeah,” Jack said, trying to be as gentle as he could, “but you never heard from anyone who actually saw... anything. It's always a friend of a friend of a friend heard about this.” The girl seemed to stop to consider this. “That's because none of it actually happened,” Jack said. “Please, trust me on this.”\n “I... I dunno.” \n “Ok,” Jack said. “At least promise me you won't make up your mind until you meet him? I swear, he's the nicest kit you'd ever want to meet.” \n Jessica pondered this for a moment. “Ok,” she said. “I won't make up my mind 'till then.” \n “That's all I can ask for,” he said, giving the kit a hug. \n\n---\n\n The next morning, Monday, Jack went to Max's law office for several reasons. Firstly, it was something to do to take his mind off of Angelo, as well as off of Jack's own uncertain situation with the law. \n Additionally, Max had him come down to start the paperwork he would need to file to start the process to obtain legal guardianship of Angelo. Max's secretary printed out a template and asked Jack to fill out all parts of it that he could, after which she would type it up as a proper legal filing. \n It would not actually be filed, Max said, until Jack's legal situation was resolved. The court would insist on that, he said, besides which it would not be fair to Angelo to get his hopes up only to have them shot down if Jack were to be indicted. Even if the investigation dragged on, as was always a possibility, they would have to wait until it was resolved one way or another before filing the guardianship papers. \n The third reason Jack was there was so that he could see what being a Legal Assistant actually entailed. He had not been officially hired, though Max assured him that the job was his for the asking. He did want to see what the work was, though part of him also knew that he would be crazy not to take the job. \n He spent an hour or so filling out the filing template. It asked for all of his personal and financial information, which didn't take long, as well as detailed information about the home he was proposing Angelo would live in. They wanted the address, the names and ages of all residents, their employment and income status, rental or mortgage status, and on and on. \n He finished up the template, as best he could, by mid-morning. Max had been behind closed doors in his office since arriving, and Jack asked his secretary, a red panda lady, what he should do next. Apparently Max was on a call with an important client, and Jack had already completed two of the three reasons he was there, so was looking for something to do.\n The secretary told him to wait in the conference room, which made his ears flatten against his head. Out of curiosity he asked if the Police had called, and mentioned that he was waiting to hear from them. She checked the small bundle of phone messages she had taken, but none were regarding his case. \n Dejected, he went to the conference room and sat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs. A quarter of an hour or so later, Max emerged from his office and joined Jack in the conference room. The otter was his normal animated self. \n “Jack!” he said, shaking the fox's paw vigorously. “Thanks for coming out. Mags taking care of you?” Mags was Maggie, his secretary. \n “Yeah,” Jack said. “She gave me the forms and all. I filled them out, as much as I could. There's some things I didn't know, like my parents' annual income, and...”\n “No problem,” Max said, interrupting. “If they need that during the investigation, they'll get it.” \n “Nothing from the PD either,” Jack added, meaning the Police. \n “Hopefully soon,” the otter said. “Meantime, come with me to the workroom and I'll show you what a typical task for you would be.” Without waiting for acquiescence, he turned from the room and headed towards the hallway that he had just appeared from. Jack chuckled at his behavior, recalling how it amused Angelo as well. He got up from his seat and followed. \n Max's office was at the end of the hallway. Along the way there were doors to a copy room, a small kitchen, and a large workroom with long tables set up and dozens of stacked white boxes against the walls, each with a code written on them in marker. \n “So here's one of the more common tasks a Legal Assistant does,” Max said, indicating the boxes. “This is all evidence from the other side in a bunch of open cases. Documents, emails, company memos sometimes, receipts. Pretty much anything I think we could use to win for the client.” \n “What, they just give you their evidence?” \n “Yep, they have to,” Max said. “It's called 'discovery'. We give them all our stuff, they give us all their stuff. By the time the trial comes, both sides pretty much know what the other will do. That whole “surprise evidence” that you see on TV is a load of crap!”\n “Ok,” Jack said, following him. “So my job would be... to sort through all this?” \n “Basically, yeah,” he replied. “For instance, the case for today is an injury lawsuit. Our client...” He paused, thinking for a moment, then walked to the phone on the wall and hit a button. \n “Hello,” Maggie, the secretary, said on the speaker phone. \n “Hi Mags,” Max said, “can you whip up an NDA for Jack here?” \n “Will do,” she replied. “Archer, right?” \n “Yes ma'am,” the otter said. \n “Be right there,” she said and hung up the phone. \n “You don't work for me yet,” Max explained. “Not officially anyway. So I need you to sign something that says you'll protect the information you see here.”\n “An NDA,” Jack said. \n “Non-disclosure agreement,” Max replied, then continued. “So our client broke his ankle at a restaurant. A paving stone on the walkway broke loose as he stepped on it. Got plenty of witnesses for that.”\n “So seems like a no-brainer,” Jack said. \n “Well, not exactly,” Max replied. “Accidents happen, as they say. We need to show that the restaurant knew about that loose stone ahead of time, and didn't fix it. Now, my witnesses are ready to state that they had felt the stone moving in past visits, and told the owner about it. So I need you do pour through all of... this.” He indicated 6 boxes on the table packed full of papers. “See if you find anything in there that says they knew, like a report from one of the other customers who complained about it.” \n “Seems easy enough,” Jack said. \n “Oh, it is easy,” the otter said, “but mind-numbingly tedious. I'll go through a pile with you, so you know what kind of things are worthwhile.” \n\n---\n \n Max and Jack worked for an hour or so on the first box, sorting through the seemingly endless array of documents. There was every conceivable paper that a restaurant would keep: mostly receipts from food suppliers, but also budgetary files, employee files, permit and inspection notices, and the like. They talked as they sorted, and Jack got to know Max a little better. \n The river otter was 29 and single, just 2 years out of Yale Law School. He did not graduate with honors, so was not immediately recruited into one of the large multinational law firms as he was expecting, so he opened his own private practice. He expressed some ironic frustration that a Yale Law degree wasn't “good enough.”\n His hope was to make a name for himself as a solo attorney, and then get recruited into a larger firm, and keep working his way up that path. He did a lot of pro bono work, as Jack knew from the sheet the police had given him. While that work was generally altruistic, Max's related hope was that he could establish a name with the public, which would then become a possible path to running for public office, such as a state or congressional representative. \n For his part, Jack told Max his own story, from his troubled adolescence through his recent graduation, and moving out to his own apartment. He recounted the specific string of events that led him to knock on Victor's door that day where he met Angelo and caught Victor's attention with his car repair abilities. He restrained himself from concluding with “And the rest, as they say...” \n After an hour, Max had to leave for another conference call with a client, and left Jack to his sorting. The main task here was what Max called “short listing”, meaning: culling the huge pile of documents down to ones that might bear further scrutiny. So Jack was told that if he was at all unsure on whether a piece was important, he should assume that it was and set it aside. It would be much easier to review a smaller pile, even if most of them turned out not to be actually useful. \n The fox sat at the table, sorting through endless pages looking carefully at each for any mention of loose stones, injured customers, or the like. At one point he found a customer complaint that they had tripped in the parking lot, but reading further showed the complainant to be not only far from the paving stones for this case, but also very drunk. He set the page aside for review anyway. \n Every time he saw the main line ring on the telephone, he stopped and stared at it on the wall. The secretary knew he was anxiously awaiting a call from the Police, and she said she would let him know the instant it came in. He watched the phone until the call dropped and the button went dark before resuming his sorting. \n Just after noon, when Jack was starting to think about getting some lunch, Max returned to the workroom with 2 pizza boxes and a plastic bag full of soda bottles. “Lunch!” he declared. \n “Oh wow, thanks,” Jack said. “You read my mind!”\n “You'll find I'm one hell of an employer,” the otter said with exaggerated pride. “Seriously though, I usually buy lunch when we go heads-down on a discovery like this.” He put the 2 boxes on the table and opened them: one Carnivore Special loaded with meat and one Aquatic Delight, which had chunks of various fish and shrimp – no raw oysters, Jack noted with a smile. \n Jack grabbed a bottle of soda and a piece of the Carnivore pizza and bit in. “So, nothing from the Police, I take it,” he said as he chewed. \n “No, nothing yet,” Max said, taking a bite of his own piece. “Grand Jury meets today though, so maybe we'll hear by 5.” \n That did not help Jack's anxiety. “Gee, thanks,” he said dryly. \n “No, I'm serious. D.A. might have wanted more opinions and sent it their way; they could easily decline to indict.” An awkward silence followed. Max must have sensed that Jack didn't want to think about that, as he abruptly changed the subject. “So, anything good in here?”\n “Nothing that jumps out at me,” Jack said, indeed glad for the change of mental direction. “There's something in here about a drunk patron tripping in the parking lot, but from the diagram it looks far away from the loose stone.” He slid the short stack that he had accumulated thus far over to Max, who sat on the corner of the table. \n “Mmm-hmm,” the otter said around a mouthful of pizza, looking down at the document on the table, his paws too messy with pizza to touch it. “Yeah,” he said after reading it, “probably nothing, but we'll keep it handy, in case there turns out to be a pattern of people getting hurt here.” He used his soda bottle to slide the paper off of the stack, then looked at the one underneath it. “What else we got here,” he said as he read. \n Jack finished his slice and grabbed one of the Aquatic pizza, to see what that was like. Being a fox he was generally open to any kind of meat or fish, a notable exception being those raw oysters that Max had brought out the prior week. The fish pizza was remarkably good, he noted. \n Max continued to slide papers using his soda bottle and reading the papers Jack had set aside, though from his lack of reaction, nothing particularly useful was found. \n Jack put away a few more pieces, and was starting to feel full, when Maggie, the secretary, came in. “Fax from the PD, for you,” she said. Jack's ears perked up fully. \n “Thanks, Mags,” Max said, taking the page. He looked at it for a second, which seemed like an hour to Jack, before saying, “Not what we're waiting for.” \n “Shit,” said Jack, sitting back heavily in his chair, his heart pounding from the adrenaline buildup. \n Max read the fax further then said, “This is actually the autopsy report on Victor.” \n “Autopsy? Wasn't it obvious?”\n Max chuckled. “Yeah, but its a law: anytime a non-natural death occurs, they have to do one.” He read further, biting into a piece of pizza held in his other paw, which Jack found morbid. “This is interesting,” the otter said. “Cause of death.” \n “My knife,” Jack said quietly, not wanting to re-live that. \n “Wrong!” Max exclaimed like a game-show host, eliciting a confused cock of the head from Jack. “According to this: 'Although the carotid defect was not survivable, the immediate cause of death was pulmonary aspiration of liberated blood'.”\n The fox stared blankly for a moment, his lip curling slightly in confusion. “Huh?”\n “Basically, he drowned in his own blood,” Max said plainly, and continued reading. \n Jack stared at Max, his eyes wide. In his mind he could see Victor's face struggling below him, twisted and surprised. His mouth was open, and the blood pooled within... \n “Whoa, whoa,” Jack heard Max call out, and felt the otters paws gripping his shoulders. “You OK Jack?”\n “Y... yeah,” Jack said, shaking off the vision. He looked to Max, who had run around the table and grabbed Jack's shoulders, as if to steady him. He found the otters grip somewhat comforting. “Yeah, I'm OK.” \n “You looked like you were gonna faint,” Max said, letting go of him, but staying next to the teen. \n “No, no,” Jack said, “It's just...” He fought for the right words, but could not find any that didn't sound accusatory. “Why would you tell me that? Why the hell... would you think that I wanted to know that?”\n Max stood up, looking surprised, his small otter ears flattening against his head. “Jack,” he said, “Shit man, I'm sorry. I just thought... No, I didn't think, actually.” He looked genuinely upset. “Sorry,” he repeated. “You know he had it coming, though. It was going to be either him... or you and Angelo.” \n Jack sighed and nodded. “Just... I've never... k-killed anyone, y'know? And it's bad enough... that...” he trailed off as his voice got choked. \n Max put an arm around the sitting fox, who grabbed it with both of his paws. “I know, man,” the otter said again, “and I'm really sorry for doing that.” \n Jack gave the otter's arm a squeeze, trying not to cry. He took a deep breath and let go of Max. “I'm ok, really,” he said unconvincingly, wondering which of them he was trying to convince. \n Max patted Jack's side, his arm still around the fox, then let go himself and went back to the corner of the table where he was sitting. He picked back up the fax and looked through the subsequent pages, looking over to Jack every few seconds, as if checking up on him. \n “Oh, here's a good one,” the otter said after turning to another page of the fax. \n “Max, please...” Jack said sadly. \n “No, this is good,” Max said. “Remember how you said that Victor claimed he was an orphan?”\n “Yeah,” Jack said. No doubt he had only said that to instill a false camaraderie with Angelo. “Lemme guess, he wasn't.” \n “Well, yes and no,” Max replied. “Says here that the day after his 25th birthday, his parents were killed when their house burned down. The fire was called 'suspicious', but nobody was ever charged. Victor... was the sole beneficiary of their life insurance, which would be placed in a trust until he turned...” He paused dramatically, then: “25!”\n “That...” Jack said, suddenly finding a renewed hatred for the ferret. It would have been bad enough if he had just lied, but to hear that made Jack angry. \n “Exactly,” Max said. “Don't shed any tears for that piece of shit, Jack. You didn't just save yourself and Angelo: you gave some cosmic justice to a couple of ferrets somewhere.” \n Jack thought about that, and the notion of justice made him feel better somehow. \n\n---\n\n Jack was nearly through with the first box of documents as 5:00 approached. Max had been absent for several hours following lunch but was now back in the room, not really doing much besides drinking from a soda bottle and occasionally chatting with Jack. The fox wondered with amusement how much he was billing clients to do that. \n As happened many times that day, the main phone line rang. Jack looked to the phone on the wall for a moment, then back to his work without lingering on the lit line. \n The intercom beeped. “Max, Officer MacAllister on line one.” \n Jack's heart rate instantly doubled and Max himself jumped up from where he sat. “I'll take it in my office,” he said, then turned to Jack. “Let's go!”\n Max practically ran out of the room and down the short hallway to his office, Jack right on his heels. The fox closed the office door as Max went around to his desk and picked up the phone. For his part, Jack did not sit in the chair across the desk, but rather went around and stood next to Max's chair. \n “Cartwright,” Max said into the phone handset. Jack wondered why the otter did not put the call on speaker, and watched the brown lutrine face for clues. \n “Hi, officer,” he said, then listened. “Fine, fine, thanks.” He moved his free paw in a circular gesture, as if saying “come on, come on” which made Jack smile nervously. Max continued, “Right... right... ok... I see.” He looked to Jack, but his face gave nothing away. A long pause while the officer spoke. Max wrote down a few words on a notepad as he listened, but Jack could not read them from the angle he stood. “Ok... can you fax that to me?” He looked again to Jack and wiggled his eyebrows. “Great, thanks... will do... bye.” \n Jack agonized for a second, then nearly shouted, “What?”\n Max sat back in his chair. “Can you say Nolle Prosequi?” A thin smile crossed his muzzle. \n The fox almost whimpered in frustration. “Do I want to? Wha... what does that...” \n “No charges!” Max jumped up and said with a flourish. \n Jack's eyes went wide, and a huge grin split his face. “Really?”\n “Really,” Max said. “D.A. says it was clear self defense, and the other stuff you did was understandable for what you were trying to accomplish with Angelo. He even knows you probably did other illegal stuff that you didn't admit to, but that was, in his words 'excusable in context'.” \n “Max, that's... I mean...” Words failed the teen fox. He was so relieved, and at the same time had so much built-up anxiety that he felt he could scream. With a giant grin he grabbed Max in a bear-hug. \n “Hey now,” the otter said cheerfully, and patted the fox's back. \n “Sorry,” Jack said, composing himself and stepping back. “So that's it then? No more cops?”\n “Nope, unless any new evidence crops up,” Max said. “But they're not going to be looking, so you're in the clear.”\n Jack looked to Max in relief and awe. “Wow,” was all he could say.\n \n---\n\n The first order of business the next morning was to file Jack's guardianship petition with the court. Maggie had it ready to go in a package and was waiting for the courier to arrive when Jack showed up. \n The fox had slept better Monday night than he had in almost a week. The anxiety that was lifted from the police closing his case, coupled with the optimistic anticipation of getting custody of Angelo, had lifted his mood to where he would actually call himself “happy”. \n He had called his parents as soon as he had gotten home on Monday, and told them the news. They were understandably relieved of course, and the conversation quickly turned to Angelo. They were just about to have another family meeting after dinner to talk about what Jack had proposed on Sunday.\n The preliminary feeling among the Archers was that none of them were going to veto it yet, and wanted to meet the boy before deciding further. Max had told Jack that it would be impossible for that to happen until the guardianship paperwork was filed, so this was one more box checked off in the to-do list. \n The third thing that had Jack feeling good was that he could officially be hired by Max, now that his criminal case was settled. That process was sure to kick off that morning, he thought. Sure enough, when he arrived Maggie showed him the packet destined for the court, and another packet containing all the job forms and information that he would need. \n Max was in the conference room, meeting with a small group – clients, Jack figured. The otter waved at him when he arrived, then returned his attention to the business at hand. Jack took the job packet into the workroom and spread its contents out on the table, separating the forms he needed to fill out from the informational sheets. \n He laughed out loud when he read the “About the Firm” document: paper-clipped to it was an 8x10 photograph of Max, the sort one would find in a professional directory. Jack looked at the photograph with a smile. The more time he spent with the otter, the more he liked him on a personal level. Granted he was helping Jack out on more simultaneous issues than he wanted to consider, but beyond that there was the feeling that Jack would enjoy just hanging out with him. \n Jack filled out all the tax forms and benefits forms; he was not expecting the latter, which included health and life insurance. He filled them out as well, but set them aside to ask Maggie about them further. His father had mentioned getting life insurance when Angelo came to live with him, and Jack was now not sure what to do about that, since that process had just gotten started. \n After all the forms were completed and all the informational documents read over, Jack returned his focus to the boxes of evidence that he worked on the previous day. He had just gotten started again when Max came into the workroom. \n “Morning, employee,” the otter said cheerfully. \n “Morning, employer,” Jack replied with a smile.\n “Well, your paperwork is all filed,” Max said. Jack knew he was not referring to the employment paperwork. \n “Great,” Jack said. “What happens next?”\n “Next,” Max said. “The court will enter the petition into the system, assign it a docket number, and notify the other parties. That's CPS in this case.”\n “Why them?” Jack asked, his ears drooping. \n Max nodded, understanding. “They're his legal guardians right now,” he said. “Now: they're going to probably object vigorously to you taking Angelo. So just be prepared for that.” \n “Why would they object?” \n “Well,” Max said, clearly trying to sound delicate, “it's like I said yesterday: you're 18 and barely out of school. They'll probably try to use that to show you're incapable of taking care of a cub. Our job is to show them that you can!”\n There he went again, Jack thought. 'Our job...' He smiled at Max. “So how long will it take before things happen... whatever that might be?”\n “Filing and entry should be done today,” Max said. “CPS will probably get notified today too. After that, it's all about how crowded the docket is in this district's family court. I don't do a lot of work there, so I really don't know.”\n “Days? Weeks?”\n “Ehh, yes?” Max said with a grin. “Could be either. Or longer.” Jack slumped visibly in his seat. “It could also be this week,” Max said, trying to reassure the fox. “Let's just see what we get back from the court, ok?”\n “Ok,” Jack said. As always, his mind started to wander into worst-case scenarios. \n “Anything new in the box?” Max indicated the evidence boxes. \n “Nothing so far,” Jack said, “I was just getting started.” He scooped out a pawful of paper from one of the boxes. \n\n---\n\n The day flew by from Jack's perspective. Max was in meetings or on calls most of the day, so Jack rarely saw him. He did bring lunch in again, however, and the two chatted briefly before the otter had to leave for a lunchtime call. \n Jack went through the evidence boxes at a fairly good rate. He finished the first box that he had started the day before, and was just finishing off the second when Max returned to the room, shortly before 5:00. \n “Quitting time,” he said cheerfully. “Any good stuff in there?”\n Jack handed him the short stack that he had developed. “There's one in there that might be pretty good,” he said. “From a construction contractor. About 3 or 4 pages down.” \n “Oh yeah?” Max pawed through the sheets, looking for the one Jack mentioned. \n “Yep,” the fox replied, “Like an estimate to repair their walkway.” \n Max looked at him, wide-eyed. “No shit?” he rifled through the stack, and finally located the sheet. As he studied it, he began to giggle. “Holy crap, Jack,” he finally said with a grin. “You know what this says?” \n “Well, yeah,” Jack responded. He had been the one to review it, after all. “They called in a contractor to give them an estimate for some repairs. Looks like the paving stones were part of that, and...” \n “No no,” Max interrupted. “I mean: what it says. It says they knew!” He laughed out loud. “Look at the date here. It's a month before our guy hurt himself. They knew for a month and didn't fix it!” He laughed again, loudly, almost maniacally, then settled down. “You just made me fifty grand, my dear fox!”\n Jack had figured the sheet was important, but had not considered the full implications of what it meant. He would have given it to Max immediately, had he known, or at least keep it on top of the short stack. He smiled meekly. “Not bad for my first day, huh?” \n “I'll say,” Max replied, patting the fox's shoulder. “You do this every day and we'll make a hell of a team!” The otter thought for a moment. “Speaking of which, you have plans for dinner?” \n Jack's ears perked up. His only plans were as usual for him: fast food on the way back to the apartment, or ordering a pizza once there. “Uhh... no,” he said, “nothing planned.” \n “Well,” Max said, “it's the least I can do after... this.” He waved the contractor sheet. “What do you say we go get something good? I'll take you to a nice high-class place!” \n Jack considered this unexpected invitation, mentally weighing it against the pizza while factoring in the otter's happy smile. “Yeah, sure,” he said after the briefest of moments. “Love to!”\n\n---\n\n The next day, Wednesday, Jack showed up for work early. He was in a good mood, following a very nice dinner and a good night's sleep. He and Max had gone to a French restaurant – a fairly nice one, but not one that required a coat and tie. Max derisively referred to those as being for poseurs. “You pay a fortune for the meal, get incredibly shitty service, and a meal that you down in 2 bites,” he had said. \n The place they had gone to was not like that, however. Jack was admittedly ignorant of French cuisine, so asked Max to recommend things. The otter did not hold back, either: he started by ordering a bottle of Dom Perignon and several appetizers, including escargot and some sort of pastry balls with spiced meat within, which Jack found delicious.\n Jack reminded Max that he was below the drinking age, but the otter seemed to intentionally not hear him until after the champagne bottle was uncorked. \n “Try it, at least,” Max said, pouring a little of the champagne into an available water glass. “You can tell everyone you've tried three hundred dollar champagne!”\n Jack's ears perked at the price. “Jeez, Max,” he said, “don't spend that on my account.” \n “Nonsense!” Max said with a flourish. Then as Jack sniffed the glass, “A toast: to loose paving stones, and my eagle-eyed Legal Assistant who found them!”\n Jack clinked his glass to Max's and sipped the champagne. It was unlike the “sparkling” champagne-substitutes he always had on New Year's Eve, and certainly unlike any carbonated soda. Rather, it had a very subtle taste, and the bubbles within felt extraordinarily small, as if there were thousands on his tongue. \n “Just doing my job,” Jack said after finishing the small amount in his glass. “By the way, I never actually thanked you for doing that.” He looked earnestly into the otter's dark eyes. “So: thank you for being there for me. This... saves me in so many ways, I can't count them all.”\n Max smiled a warm friendly smile. “It was my pleasure, my friend.” There was a moment of silence as the two regarded each other, then Max said, “C'mon, have some more. Nobody's looking, and you might have to drive me home otherwise!”\n Jack reluctantly had another half-glass but would take no more, as he needed to drive home as well. The rest of the meal was had, including a very rich dessert with all sorts of cream and pastries and such. Jack wanted to know what the final bill was, but Max shooed him away from the folio when it came, and gave a platinum card to the waiter. \n All in all, his first time at a French restaurant was enjoyable, even the snails, which he initially turned his nose up at until Max persuaded him to at least try them. The food was very rich, which likely contributed to the soundness of his later sleep. \n It was in stark contrast to the fast-food chicken biscuit he had just finished on the drive into work on Wednesday. As he came into the office, Maggie was at the desk as usual and the conference room was empty. \n “Good morning,” he said to the red panda. “The boss here?” He smiled as he said that, the thrill of meaningful employment still fresh. \n “Good morning, Jack,” she replied. “Nope, he's not here yet. Haven't heard anything.” \n Jack nodded. It was just after 8:15, and he didn't know when Max normally got there. He hoped that he did not have any problems on the drive home after consuming most of a bottle of champagne. “OK, I'll be in the workroom,” he said, and headed down the hallway. \n The array of evidence boxes were still stacked by the table. Even though he had clearly found a “smoking gun” for the injury case, he grabbed the third box and set to sorting through its contents. It would only help the case further if he found more, he reckoned. Besides, he had no other tasks given to him yet. Presently he heard Max arrive, give a quick hello to Maggie and rush down the hall. \n “Morning, Jack,” Max said rapidly, continuing down the hall without waiting for a response. Jack heard his office door close, followed closely by Max's phone line lighting up on the phone in the workroom. \n “Hi,” Jack replied for his own amusement after the otter's door closed. Max must have been late for a client call, he figured, which was probably attributable to the champagne causing him to sleep later than expected. \n After another half hour, Max's door opened and he came to the workroom with a pawful of papers. “Morning, Jack,” he said again. \n “Morning,” Jack replied. “You make it home ok?” \n Max laughed. “Oh yeah, don't worry about that.” He paused for a moment, then his face got more serious. “So... we've got a bit of a situation.” \n Jack's ears perked. That did not sound good. “Uh-oh,” he just said. \n Max waved the papers in his paw. “CPS has counter-filed on our petition. They've asked for a summary dismissal with prejudice.” \n The fox cocked his head, not understanding much besides 'dismissal'. “Umm, what does that mean?” His voice was audibly nervous. \n Max sat down on the edge of the table. “Remember how I said they would object? Well they're not only objecting, they're saying that you don't even deserve serious consideration, and they've asked the judge to dismiss your request 'summarily', which means without even listening to our side, and 'with prejudice', which means you could never re-file it.” \n Jack slumped in his seat. Why was the world making it so difficult for him to do the right thing, he wondered. “Would that keep me from trying the other things? Foster care and all?”\n Max's face answered his question even before he spoke. “It would... not be good,” the otter said. \n Jack leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Fuck,” he said, then rubbed his face with his paws. “When will I know what happens now?”\n “Well, fortunately I know this judge's clerk,” Max said. \n “Oh yeah?” Jack asked, not understanding. \n “Yep,” Max said, “that's who I was on the phone with this morning. He's put us on the docket for Friday morning.” \n “He can just shuffle cases around like that?” \n “Oh, sure,” Max said conspiratorially. “He and I go back 200 years!” Jack stared, his face displaying his now total confusion, which made Max laugh. “You ever heard of Paws & Claws?” the otter asked.\n “Ummm, its one of those secret societies, I think,” Jack said. He had heard the name before somewhere in that context. \n “Yep,” Max confirmed. “A 200 year-old club, if you will, from college. He and I were both in it, so I asked him for a... favor. Fringe benefit, if you get my meaning.” \n Jack did not completely get his meaning, but had heard that members often ended up in positions of power, so likely exchanged favors with their fellows. “I see,” Jack said. “And you're both vampires or something?” The thought had come to him when Max said 200 years, and he found it too funny to keep to himself, even in the current situation. \n Max ruffled the fox's headfur. “The club is 200 you doofus,” he said with a laugh. “We say it like that because it doesn't matter if two Pawsmen were in at the same time. To us, everyone who's ever been in it, going back 200 years, was in at the same time. So we look out for each other.” \n Jack nodded, his laughter fading as the reality of the situation returned. “So Friday morning, huh? Do I get to be there, or is this another time where decisions are made off in a room somewhere?” \n “No,” Max said, “you definitely get to be there. And I'll be there with you.”\n “Will Angelo be there?” \n “Probably,” Max said. “This concerns him intimately. Even if the CPS lawyers are representing 'his best interests', I think he'll still be there.”\n “Friday,” Jack said. Now he just had to make it through two more days of uncertainty. At least he now had some work to occupy his mind, and a friend in Max to talk to. It was still going to be a rough couple of days though. \n\n---\n\n Friday morning, Jack stood in the lobby of the courthouse. He was wearing a suit and tie at Max's instruction, and stood waiting for the otter to show up. It was approaching 10:15, and their hearing was scheduled for 10:30. The last thing he wanted was to show up late for this.\n “Jack!” The voice from behind him startled the fox, who turned to see Max approaching, dressed in what looked like a very expensive suit, carrying an attache case. \n “Hey,” Jack said nervously with a wave. \n Max put his case down and straightened Jack's collar. “You have breakfast like I said? With OJ and no coffee?”\n “Yep,” Jack replied. “I only hope I don't puke it all on the judge's bench.”\n “You won't,” Max said with a laugh. “Besides, we'll be in the judge's chambers for this.”\n “Ok, so I'll puke on the judge then,” Jack said with a slight grin, trying to calm himself. \n “Nah,” Max said reassuringly, “you'll be fine. I'll probably do most of the talking, but the judge is probably going to ask you some very direct questions. Don't read too much into them, but answer truthfully. Any lie or half-truth will come back to haunt you, believe me.”\n “Right,” Jack said, taking a deep breath. \n “Come on,” Max said, walking towards the elevator. “I already found where we're supposed to go.”\n “Will Angelo be here?” Jack asked as they walked. \n “He is supposed to,” Max said. \n That was something, at least, Jack thought. He desperately wanted to see the boy again, to talk to him about how things were going, and just to give him a hug. \n The pair reached the elevator, and Max pressed the button for the 3rd floor. Other furs filed in with them, pressing several other floors. Jack closed his eyes as the elevator rose, breathing deeply to calm his nerves. He felt a supportive squeeze on his arm, and patted the paw with his own. The elevator opened on the 3rd floor, and they exited with one or two others. \n “Ok, 327,” Max said, looking at the sign in the elevator lobby. “Thataway,” he said, pointing down one hallway. “Let's go!”\n Jack counted the office numbers as they walked. Ahead he saw a single lady seated on a bench outside one office, reading on a tablet computer. As they got closer he recognized her as one of the ones who took Angelo away at the hospital. “That'll be 327,” he muttered angrily to Max.\n “Steady,” Max muttered back, then as they neared her, he said “Good morning ma'am.” \n “Good morning,” she replied, rising to shake Max's paw before sitting back down and turning her attention back to her tablet. She was a middle-aged cat lady with light gray fur, dressed very professionally in a suit, and with her hair worn tightly up. She glanced at Jack for a second, then returned to her reading without comment or gesture. \n Jack instantly disliked her, even beyond the fact that she stood between Angelo and him. His ears perked at the thought: Angelo? The cub was not there, nor was there any indication that anyone else had accompanied the cat. He turned to Max, who read his face and just put up a calming paw, nodding slightly. \n They only waited a minute or so before the door opened and a clerk appeared. “Please come in,” he said, holding the door open for the cat lady. Max and Jack followed, the otter giving a strange handshake to the clerk. \n There was an outer waiting room of sorts, with a desk for the clerk and some chairs and a sofa. The clerk led them to another door, with a brass plaque on it bearing the judge's name: Walter Sorensen. He opened the door and motioned the group to go in. \n Jack followed Max and the cat inside to the judge's office. It looked exactly as Jack pictured a judge's chambers would look: wood paneling, numerous bookshelves filled with legal-sounding books, and a large ornate wooden desk and a matching conference table. \n The judge, a brown bear in his fifties, was seated at the table in his robes, along with a young mouse girl who appeared to be the stenographer, from all the equipment in front of her. The judge had a manila folder in front of him, which Jack assumed contained the petition and related documents. \n “Thank you for coming folks,” the judge said. “Please sit down and we'll get started. Is everybody here?”\n “The mistress from Dole is coming – she's stuck in traffic,” the cat lady said. “She has the minor cub with her. I would like to get started though: there may be some things the cub should not hear.” \n Like hell, Jack thought. He would tell Angelo everything, the first chance he got. \n “I agree,” Max said, “I have one question that the boy might find distressing.” Jack smiled to himself at the difference in how Max and the CPS lady referred to Angelo: “the minor cub” and “the boy.” He hoped the judge took notice of this as well. \n “Very well,” the judge said. “Please be aware that everything you say from here on is on-the-record.” He nodded to the stenographer. “This is in regards to the petition for summary dismissal of a filing for guardianship of the minor cub Angelo Cole by John Archer Jr. If everyone would identify themselves for the record. Petitioner?”\n “Agnes Somerset, attorney for Cub Protective Services,” the cat lady said. \n “Respondents?”\n Max elbowed Jack softly. “Umm,” Jack said nervously, then cleared his throat. “Jack... I mean, John Archer Jr.”\n “Maxwell Cartwright, attorney for Mr. Archer,” Max said. \n “Your firm is eponymous?” the judge asked. \n “Yes your honor,” Max replied. Jack had no idea what that meant, and started to get nervous again that he was lost so quickly. \n “Thank you,” the judge said. “I'm Judge Sorensen, I'll be handling this immediate petition, as well as Mr. Archer's request, pending today's outcome. Now then, Mr. Archer, you have requested permanent guardianship of Angelo Cole.”\n “Yes sir,” Jack said. “Your honor,” he added, correcting himself. \n The judge opened the manila folder and put on a pair of reading glasses. “I've read your file, as well as the related police report, so I understand how you've arrived at this point. And where is the cub housed currently?”\n “Dole House, CPS,” the cat responded. \n “Very well,” Judge Sorensen said. Then after a moment's silence he continued. “Ms. Somerset, you've filed a petition for summary dismissal of Mr. Archer's request. Why is that?”\n “Well, your honor,” she began with a certain smugness that Jack recalled from the hospital, “we feel that Mr. Archer is not fit to raise a cub, being barely out of high school, and recently under police investigation.” \n “That was nolle prossed and you know it,” Max said with irritation. “I know you have a copy of the writ.”\n The cat looked to the judge, who said nothing. “Well, yes,” she acknowledged when the rebuke she seemed to be asking for did not come. \n “So,” Max said plainly, “that case is irrelevant to his request.” He now looked to the judge who met his gaze.\n “I would tend to agree,” the bear said. There was a knock at the chamber door. The judge looked towards the door, then back to Max. “You said you had a question that should be asked out of the cub's presence, Mr. Cartwright?” \n “Yes, your honor, thank you,” Max replied. “Based on the current CPS backlog, Ms. Somerset, what would you estimate the chances of placing the boy in a permanent home are?”\n There was a long period of silence as the cat lady ruminated on the question. “There is always a chance,” she said. “We find the right foster home...” \n “With all due respect,” Max said, “there is a chance I'll win the lottery this week. Just a really really bad chance. I mean this as a serious question, as I feel it directly impacts my client's request. You have an eleven-year-old that you've labeled as “troubled” for some reason, and in all seriousness, what do you personally think the odds will be of placing him?”\n There was another long silence while Max and the cat locked eyes. Finally the judge rose, and said, “I believe our cub has arrived. Come in,” he shouted to the door. Jack jumped up from his chair and faced the door, which clicked open. \n\nTo be continued...", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Disclaimer: This story is part of a series, entitled “Dangerous Games”. The series contains non-human anthropomorphic animal (“Furry”) characters of varying ages, adult and cub. While there are no overt sexual acts depicted in this series, the stories will contain adult themes, topics, and situations, which may not be legal in some jurisdictions. These include: frank discussions of sexual acts and character sexuality, alcohol and drug use, criminal acts, violence, adult language, weapons including guns and knives, bloodshed, grievous bodily harm, death, and events which depict underage characters in peril.  

It is up to the reader to be aware of the laws regarding depictions of such material in their place of residence. If you are not allowed to read such material, due to age, religion, place of residence, or any other factor, do not continue.

This story and all characters are copyright Shryke. This is a work of fiction. All events and persons depicted are fictional, and any similarities with actual events or persons is purely coincidental.





IMPORTANT!!!! If the last thing you read in this story was a gun going off, you've missed Part 7! Don't read further! Adjust your filter settings to allow Adult submissions, and then go read part 7. And as always, if you've not read ANY of these, go back and read from Part 1.







DANGEROUS GAMES
by Shryke
Part 8

          Jack sat in the conference room in Max's office. This was the same room, he recalled, where the lawyer had met them to pick up his order of cigars that Jack and Angelo brought. That seemed like a hundred years ago now, the fox thought, after the events of the past week.
          It was Sunday – the day after Angelo had been taken from the hospital by Cub Protective Services. After nearly sliding into a depressive despair at the hospital, he had called Max to inquire about adopting the eleven-year-old fox. There was loud music playing in the background of the phone call, and the otter said he couldn't discuss such matters at that time and suggested they meet the following day.
          The teen fox had to bite his lip to keep his anger in check at that comment; how dare anyone have fun while Jack's world crumbled around him! He quickly calmed down after a moment's reflection, and agreed to meet in the morning. As was the case the day Angelo was shot, Jack went home and flopped down hard on his bed not expecting to get any sleep, and lay there until morning. He wasn't sure if he ever did manage to doze off, or for how long.
          “So there's 3 ways you can do this,” Max was saying in regards to Jack's options. The otter sat across the conference table from Jack, and unlike every other time they had met, he was not wearing an expensive suit, but just a golf shirt and jeans. “There's straight-up adoption, foster care, or legal guardianship.”
          “What's the difference?” Jack was hoping not to get caught up in too much legal talk.
          “Well, with adoption he becomes your kid,” Max said. “Same as if he was your biological son. I don't think we should try that way.”
          “What? Why not? That's... that's what I want,” Jack said.
          “I know,” Max said, “and we'll get there eventually. But that takes a long time, and there's all kinds of investigations, visits with social workers, classes you have to go to, and that kind of thing. And that's if they decide that you're someone they'll allow to adopt!”
          “That's... nuts,” Jack replied derisively.
          “I know, right? Anyone can screw a girl and have a pup and nobody makes them do all that,” the otter said with a laugh. “But, that's how it works, so that's how we have to play.”
          Jack sighed heavily. “Ok, what about the other ones?”
          “Ok,” Max echoed, “Foster Care. That's where he lives with you, and you provide for all his day-to-day needs, but the State 'owns' him.” Max made air-quotes as he spoke certain phrases, Jack noticed as the otter continued. “The state makes all his life decisions, and they keep close tabs on you to make sure you don't screw up. And if you do... pffft!” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, making the “you're out of here” sign.
          “Screw that,” Jack said, reacting to the last part of Max's speech. “How's that any good?”
          “He does live with you,” Max said. “And if you don't screw up, you've got nothing to worry about. Plus they pay you an allowance to spend on him, and the whole process is fairly quick. You have to get trained and certified, but like I say... it's quick.”
          “Hmm,” Jack said, pondering and unsure.
          “The only catch, if you can call it that,” Max continued, “is that there's such a lack of good foster homes around, that once you get certified they might want to place additional kits with you.”
          Jack looked down and sighed again. That made sense, of course. “I...” he began slowly, “I don't want to save the world. Just... one little gray piece of it.” He thought of those cubs in the hospital who were lying there with nobody visiting, and how he had the urge to go in and sit with them for a while. How would he react if CPS offered him someone like that?
          “I know,” Max said with empathy. “I'm just letting you know what to expect. You never have to take a cub that they offer, though. But statistically, most adoptions happen from within the foster care system. You can start all that paperwork while he's already living with you!”
          “So,” Jack said after a long silence, “you think I should do that? Become a foster parent and then what... request Angelo?”
          “Actually,” the otter said, “there's the third option which I think is our best bet: legal guardianship.”
          “What's that?”
          “Kind of like foster care,” Max explained. “He lives with you and you provide for his daily needs, but: you also make all his life decisions. The state will still keep tabs on you, and will still yank him if you screw up, but otherwise its the closest to actual adoption. This route is often used by parents in their wills, where if they die then a close friend agrees to raise their kits. I think I can make it work here though. Then all the court has to do is decide if you're suitable for that.”
          “Court?” The word brought a fresh wave of anxiety to the 18-year-old.
          “Yeah, I know,” Max said, divining his thoughts. “We'll need to get that situation sorted first of course,” he said, meaning the pending investigation into Jack's killing of Victor. “But that goes for any of the three options.”
          “So,” Jack began, slowly again, trying to wrap his mind around all of this, “we try to get me as his legal guardian.” Max nodded. “And if that falls through, I try for foster care.” Another nod. “And if that falls through...” Max just stared this time, his silence answering Jack's question. “Right,” Jack said resignedly. “Ok then, what do I need to do?”
          “Well,” Max said with some reservation, which made Jack cock one ear. “You will have to change some things. You're 18, right? And two months out of high school with no job?”
          Jack stared blankly. He had not thought about his circumstances in such a raw fashion. “Yeah,” was all he could say.
          “So first, you need a good job,” the otter said. “Any leads?”
          Jack had not thought of finding a job since Victor offered him $100 per day to drive for Angelo. Prior to that, he had only interviewed at one place since leaving home. He sighed. “No. I guess I'll be making pizzas.”
          Max sat back in his chair and thought for a moment. “Well,” he finally said, “I might have something better for you, actually.”
          “You? But... I mean... how...”
          Max laughed at Jack's tongue-tied state. “No, actually I was about to post a job for a Legal Assistant. You know what that is?”
          Jack stared. He again felt a strange admiration for Max. The otter genuinely seemed to want to help him at a personal level, which flew in the face of all the lawyer stereotypes he had heard growing up. Even when he discussed Jack's goal of adopting Angelo, Max used “we”: “we'll get there eventually”, “the way we need to proceed” and so on.
          Now it seemed that the otter was offering him a job, though he had no idea what being a Legal Assistant entailed. “Not a clue,” he said flatly.
          “It's basically doing all the lawyer work that you don't need a law degree to do. Mostly it's a lot of case research and sorting through the thousands of documents that might be part of a case. There might be some building of exhibits, posters and that kind of thing. Pretty much anything I need you to do.”
          “I've... got no experience in that kind of thing,” Jack said. He felt embarrassed to say so, which he found silly since he would not be expected to have any such experience.
          “Yeah,” Max replied, “and I was kind of looking for an LA that did have experience, but hey, they all started somewhere. It'll just take a bit longer to get you up to speed, that's all.”
          Jack pondered this, at the same time asking himself why he wasn't jumping at the chance. What the otter said next made his mind up for him.
          “So, I figure I can bill you out at 70 or 80 bucks an hour to the client. That means I could pay you, oh... 35 an hour?”
          “35,” Jack said, stunned.
          “Yeah, for starters,” Max replied. “You work 40 hours a week, that's about 70 grand a year. And once things get going, you'll be working at least 40 hours a week. Not bad for right out of high school!”
          “Wow, Max,” Jack said. “I'm...” he searched for the right word...
          “Surprised?” Max offered.
          “I was going to say 'grateful', actually,” the fox replied. “That you would do something like that for me, who you barely...” he trailed off as he felt his throat tighten.
          “My pleasure,” Max said with a slight bow. “I always liked Angelo, and I want to help him out after all that's happened. And I like you too, Jack. You're good people.” Jack smiled, feeling himself blush under his fur. “And trust me,” Max continued, “having a 70k job will look really good to the family court.”
          Jack nodded in agreement. “So what else do I need to do before we go... filing papers or whatever?”
          Max looked pensive, which is not what Jack was expecting when he made the lighthearted comment. “Well,” the otter said, “this is where it gets a little more interesting. You need to move out of that shit-hole you're living in.”
          “To, like, a better apartment?” He would be able to afford one now, he reckoned.
          “Well, no,” Max said evasively. “Angelo needs to be in what they call a 'nurturing environment'. Meaning a home where he can 'grow and flourish'. Those are the terms the court will be using. A house with a big back yard, maybe pets, access to good schools. Definitely a loving family, which I don't doubt you will be, but... something even more, so the court has no reason to deny you.”
          Jack understood now where Max was going. There was only one place he knew of that fit that description. “Back home,” he said almost sadly.
          “Bingo,” Max said quietly.
          Jack sighed again deeply, then with an ironic chuckle, he said, “Heh, I move out to show that I can make it on my own. Not 3 months later I come crawling back. Some big fox I am, huh?”
          “Jack,” Max said gently, almost lovingly, “you're not on your own anymore.”
          Jack looked into the otter's dark eyes and smiled. “I'm not, am I?”
          Max smiled back. “And knowing when you need help from others is one sign of maturity,” he said.
          Jack sat back, ruminating on what the otter had said. Max just watched him, without further comment. Jack finally broke the silence. “It's a lot to ask. Of my folks I mean. They're definitely not expecting this to drop on them.”
          “I know,” Max said. “And all you can do is ask. But like I said: you're good people. And good people come from other good people.”
          “I guess I should go have a chat with them, huh?” Jack had still not told them about Victor, or indeed anything in his life since leaving home in June. He had a standing invitation to Sunday dinner – a tradition in his house – and it seemed like the perfect opportunity. It would definitely not be a Sunday dinner to forget, he thought.

---

          Jack sat at his usual place at the family dinner table, in the same seat he had sat for every meal as long as he could remember. The others around the table, his father, mother, and eleven-year-old sister, stared at him in stunned silence. His mother dabbed the corners of her eyes with her napkin.
          He had shown up unexpectedly for Sunday dinner, much to the delight of the family. As the meal progressed, though, they could tell that something was bothering him: he barely spoke, and gave short answers when he did. Finally as the meal was wrapping up, his father came out and asked him directly what was wrong.
          Jack told him. “I killed a guy,” he said blankly. He had given a tremendous amount of thought to how he would say that, and the blunt delivery was always the joke in his mind. Yet when it came down to it, that was the only way to say it. The reaction was immediate: everyone froze in what they were doing, even with fork half-lifted to mouth.
          From there he progressed to tell the story yet again, as he had to the police and to Max. He omitted very little with the family though, making sure to let them know what he didn't tell the police. He still kept the deeply personal things to himself, but spoke of his and Angelo's drug sales and running from the police in a stolen car.
          When he mentioned the drug sales, Jessica, his little sister, gave him a shocked look. He had lied to her face about that, back on the first day he and Angelo had visited a schoolyard. She had heard Angelo's name and the exaggerated stories about him from her peers; when he and Jack stopped by the house to retrieve Jack's hunting knife, Jack had dismissed her concerns by saying that this was not the same Angelo as she had heard of.
          Now that the truth was out, the little red fox listened to the rest of his story, her face a mix of sadness, anger, and betrayal that Jack could not look at for more than a moment. His parents' faces were mostly filled with concern and sadness as he continued.
          He recounted everything, not dwelling on the particulars of Victor's death as he had to with the police, and through to the hospital and Angelo's removal by CPS. He did see Jessica shed a tear when he told of this last part, though she tried to hide it.
          The shocked faces turned to surprise as he finished up with what he planned for Angelo. “So,” he said in conclusion, “that's what I'd... like to do, if you're... if you're ok with it.” He found it very hard to ask them for this, realizing that they would be committing to another cub in the house, with all the attendant responsibilities that would bring.
          There was a long silence. Jack sat there motionless, moving only his eyes between the three others at the table. His mother was dabbing tears and biting her lip as if she was about to cry. Jessica had her shoulders hunched forward and was staring down at her plate. Jack's father sat back in his chair and was looking intently at Jack, his face not betraying his thoughts.
          Jack found the silence disconcerting, and nervously said, “I'll pay for everything, of course. I'll even... pay rent... if you want me to.”
          His father nodded. “That goes without saying,” he finally said. “But,” he continued slowly, as if considering each word deliberately, “I want to make sure that you know what you're signing up for.” He looked at Jack intently as he spoke. “This isn't like getting a dog. You will be responsible for every moment of his life... to the exclusion of your own. Every waking minute, every sleeping minute for that matter, will be dedicated to him first, and yourself last. For at least the next 7 years.”
          “I know,” Jack said earnestly. In his mind he was already looking at life that way. “I'm willing to do that – to sacrifice everything in my life to give that boy a proper life of his own.”
          “Sacrifice,” his father repeated. “Good word.” He paused, letting the weight of the words sink in to everyone at the table. “We won't decide anything tonight, of course, as you know.”
          Jack nodded. That was one of the customs he had become used to over the years. No decision of any significance was made in the heat of the moment. You always discussed on one day, and decided another, often having multiple rounds of discussion. “I know,” he said, “I just wanted to let you know what was happening.”
          “We need to meet him,” Jack's mother said, having regained her full composure. Jack noticed Jessica take on a nervous countenance at that statement.
          “I,” Jack said slowly, “I... don't even know where they took him. I'll try to see... if that's even possible. Maybe Max... I dunno.” He sounded lost, even to himself.
          “You'll also need to get a lot of other details sorted,” his father said. “A will, life insurance, a trust of some sort. What school would you send him to?”
          “I was thinking Greenleaf,” Jack said. Greenleaf Academy was the private primary school that Jessica now attended. The girl's face looked even more concerned when Jack said this. The older fox reckoned he knew what was bothering her.
          “Expensive,” Jack's father said. “How will you pay for that? Even if this lawyer hires you, tuition is due prior to the start of the year, and they want it all at once.”
          Jack sighed. He was hoping that his parents would offer to loan him the tuition against his salary, but his father, as he always did, was taking him at his word that he would pay for everything. And tuition was expensive at this school. He'd need a pot of...
          “Gold,” Jack said out loud, not realizing he said it.
          “Gold?”
          “Umm, yeah,” he said quickly. “What I mean is: Victor didn't use banks. He didn't want to have to explain where he got his money from. So he kept it in his house, and for long-term storage he bought gold coins.” He looked at his father with a sudden awareness. “He gave me a bunch of them to hold on to, in case his place was robbed or raided.”
          “And you've still got them,” his father said.
          “Yes! What better payback than to use Victor's money to pay for Angelo's education!” He laughed out loud with relief.
          His father smiled at the sentiment, appearing to appreciate the irony of it. “I assume the police don't know about that either?”
          “No, they don't,” Jack confirmed. The unspoken request accompanied his words: and please don't tell them.
          “Well,” his father said after a moment, “We'll have a family meeting later on about this, and do some talking over. You understand that this decision will have to be unanimous, right? If any one of us is not 100% behind it, then it's a no-go.”
          Jack bowed his head. “I know.” He looked to Jessica who still seemed concerned.
          Another long silence followed, finally broken by Jack's mother. “Ok, who wants pie?”

---

          Jack hugged his parents goodbye and gave a fist-bump to Jessica. “I'll call you soon as I know what's up,” he said, opening the door to go outside. “Hey Jessica, c'mon out with me?”
          The little fox girl did not hesitate and went outside with her brother. Jack waved to his parents behind the screen door, who waved back and closed the inside door.
          Jack put an arm around his sister as he walked towards his car. “Jess,” he began.
          The younger Archer kit threw his arm off of her and shoved him. “You lied to me!”
          “I know,” Jack replied. There was no use arguing that fact. “I had to, though. I didn't want you to worry.”
          “Worry,” she said incredulously. “Worry? And now you want to bring that... that thug into our house? Send him to school with me? What's the matter with you?” She had heard the stories from around the municipal fields where her teams practiced and played: Angelo was a violent drug dealer who had killed someone over a bad drug deal.
          Angelo had heard these same stories; Victor had told him to encourage the spread of them in order to inflate his reputation, so school-aged furs would be less inclined to mess with him. It did work to an extent, but this was now the downside.
          Jack turned and put both paws on her shoulders. “I swear he's not the guy you think he is. All those stories are fake. Made-up so people would be afraid of him.”
          “Well, mission accomplished,” she said sarcastically. “All I know is what I've heard, and I've heard a lot! From a lot of furs!”
          “Yeah,” Jack said, trying to be as gentle as he could, “but you never heard from anyone who actually saw... anything. It's always a friend of a friend of a friend heard about this.” The girl seemed to stop to consider this. “That's because none of it actually happened,” Jack said. “Please, trust me on this.”
          “I... I dunno.”
          “Ok,” Jack said. “At least promise me you won't make up your mind until you meet him? I swear, he's the nicest kit you'd ever want to meet.”
          Jessica pondered this for a moment. “Ok,” she said. “I won't make up my mind 'till then.”
          “That's all I can ask for,” he said, giving the kit a hug.

---

          The next morning, Monday, Jack went to Max's law office for several reasons. Firstly, it was something to do to take his mind off of Angelo, as well as off of Jack's own uncertain situation with the law.
          Additionally, Max had him come down to start the paperwork he would need to file to start the process to obtain legal guardianship of Angelo. Max's secretary printed out a template and asked Jack to fill out all parts of it that he could, after which she would type it up as a proper legal filing.
          It would not actually be filed, Max said, until Jack's legal situation was resolved. The court would insist on that, he said, besides which it would not be fair to Angelo to get his hopes up only to have them shot down if Jack were to be indicted. Even if the investigation dragged on, as was always a possibility, they would have to wait until it was resolved one way or another before filing the guardianship papers.
          The third reason Jack was there was so that he could see what being a Legal Assistant actually entailed. He had not been officially hired, though Max assured him that the job was his for the asking. He did want to see what the work was, though part of him also knew that he would be crazy not to take the job.
          He spent an hour or so filling out the filing template. It asked for all of his personal and financial information, which didn't take long, as well as detailed information about the home he was proposing Angelo would live in. They wanted the address, the names and ages of all residents, their employment and income status, rental or mortgage status, and on and on.
          He finished up the template, as best he could, by mid-morning. Max had been behind closed doors in his office since arriving, and Jack asked his secretary, a red panda lady, what he should do next. Apparently Max was on a call with an important client, and Jack had already completed two of the three reasons he was there, so was looking for something to do.
          The secretary told him to wait in the conference room, which made his ears flatten against his head. Out of curiosity he asked if the Police had called, and mentioned that he was waiting to hear from them. She checked the small bundle of phone messages she had taken, but none were regarding his case.
          Dejected, he went to the conference room and sat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs. A quarter of an hour or so later, Max emerged from his office and joined Jack in the conference room. The otter was his normal animated self.
          “Jack!” he said, shaking the fox's paw vigorously. “Thanks for coming out. Mags taking care of you?” Mags was Maggie, his secretary.
          “Yeah,” Jack said. “She gave me the forms and all. I filled them out, as much as I could. There's some things I didn't know, like my parents' annual income, and...”
          “No problem,” Max said, interrupting. “If they need that during the investigation, they'll get it.”
          “Nothing from the PD either,” Jack added, meaning the Police.
          “Hopefully soon,” the otter said. “Meantime, come with me to the workroom and I'll show you what a typical task for you would be.” Without waiting for acquiescence, he turned from the room and headed towards the hallway that he had just appeared from. Jack chuckled at his behavior, recalling how it amused Angelo as well. He got up from his seat and followed.
          Max's office was at the end of the hallway. Along the way there were doors to a copy room, a small kitchen, and a large workroom with long tables set up and dozens of stacked white boxes against the walls, each with a code written on them in marker.
          “So here's one of the more common tasks a Legal Assistant does,” Max said, indicating the boxes. “This is all evidence from the other side in a bunch of open cases. Documents, emails, company memos sometimes, receipts. Pretty much anything I think we could use to win for the client.”
          “What, they just give you their evidence?”
          “Yep, they have to,” Max said. “It's called 'discovery'. We give them all our stuff, they give us all their stuff. By the time the trial comes, both sides pretty much know what the other will do. That whole “surprise evidence” that you see on TV is a load of crap!”
          “Ok,” Jack said, following him. “So my job would be... to sort through all this?”
          “Basically, yeah,” he replied. “For instance, the case for today is an injury lawsuit. Our client...”  He paused, thinking for a moment, then walked to the phone on the wall and hit a button.
          “Hello,” Maggie, the secretary, said on the speaker phone.
          “Hi Mags,” Max said, “can you whip up an NDA for Jack here?”
          “Will do,” she replied. “Archer, right?”
          “Yes ma'am,” the otter said.
          “Be right there,” she said and hung up the phone.
          “You don't work for me yet,” Max explained. “Not officially anyway. So I need you to sign something that says you'll protect the information you see here.”
          “An NDA,” Jack said.
          “Non-disclosure agreement,” Max replied, then continued. “So our client broke his ankle at a restaurant. A paving stone on the walkway broke loose as he stepped on it. Got plenty of witnesses for that.”
          “So seems like a no-brainer,” Jack said.
          “Well, not exactly,” Max replied. “Accidents happen, as they say. We need to show that the restaurant knew about that loose stone ahead of time, and didn't fix it. Now, my witnesses are ready to state that they had felt the stone moving in past visits, and told the owner about it. So I need you do pour through all of... this.” He indicated 6 boxes on the table packed full of papers. “See if you find anything in there that says they knew, like a report from one of the other customers who complained about it.”
          “Seems easy enough,” Jack said.
          “Oh, it is easy,” the otter said, “but mind-numbingly tedious. I'll go through a pile with you, so you know what kind of things are worthwhile.”

---
          
          Max and Jack worked for an hour or so on the first box, sorting through the seemingly endless array of documents. There was every conceivable paper that a restaurant would keep: mostly receipts from food suppliers, but also budgetary files, employee files, permit and inspection notices, and the like. They talked as they sorted, and Jack got to know Max a little better.
          The river otter was 29 and single, just 2 years out of Yale Law School. He did not graduate with honors, so was not immediately recruited into one of the large multinational law firms as he was expecting, so he opened his own private practice. He expressed some ironic frustration that a Yale Law degree wasn't “good enough.”
          His hope was to make a name for himself as a solo attorney, and then get recruited into a larger firm, and keep working his way up that path. He did a lot of pro bono work, as Jack knew from the sheet the police had given him. While that work was generally altruistic, Max's related hope was that he could establish a name with the public, which would then become a possible path to running for public office, such as a state or congressional representative.
          For his part, Jack told Max his own story, from his troubled adolescence through his recent graduation, and moving out to his own apartment. He recounted the specific string of events that led him to knock on Victor's door that day where he met Angelo and caught Victor's attention with his car repair abilities. He restrained himself from concluding with “And the rest, as they say...”
          After an hour, Max had to leave for another conference call with a client, and left Jack to his sorting. The main task here was what Max called “short listing”, meaning: culling the huge pile of documents down to ones that might bear further scrutiny. So Jack was told that if he was at all unsure on whether a piece was important, he should assume that it was and set it aside. It would be much easier to review a smaller pile, even if most of them turned out not to be actually useful.
          The fox sat at the table, sorting through endless pages looking carefully at each for any mention of loose stones, injured customers, or the like. At one point he found a customer complaint that they had tripped in the parking lot, but reading further showed the complainant to be not only far from the paving stones for this case, but also very drunk. He set the page aside for review anyway.
          Every time he saw the main line ring on the telephone, he stopped and stared at it on the wall. The secretary knew he was anxiously awaiting a call from the Police, and she said she would let him know the instant it came in. He watched the phone until the call dropped and the button went dark before resuming his sorting.
          Just after noon, when Jack was starting to think about getting some lunch, Max returned to the workroom with 2 pizza boxes and a plastic bag full of soda bottles. “Lunch!” he declared.
          “Oh wow, thanks,” Jack said. “You read my mind!”
          “You'll find I'm one hell of an employer,” the otter said with exaggerated pride. “Seriously though, I usually buy lunch when we go heads-down on a discovery like this.” He put the 2 boxes on the table and opened them: one Carnivore Special loaded with meat and one Aquatic Delight, which had chunks of various fish and shrimp – no raw oysters, Jack noted with a smile.
          Jack grabbed a bottle of soda and a piece of the Carnivore pizza and bit in. “So, nothing from the Police, I take it,” he said as he chewed.
          “No, nothing yet,” Max said, taking a bite of his own piece. “Grand Jury meets today though, so maybe we'll hear by 5.”
          That did not help Jack's anxiety. “Gee, thanks,” he said dryly.
          “No, I'm serious. D.A. might have wanted more opinions and sent it their way; they could easily decline to indict.” An awkward silence followed. Max must have sensed that Jack didn't want to think about that, as he abruptly changed the subject. “So, anything good in here?”
          “Nothing that jumps out at me,” Jack said, indeed glad for the change of mental direction. “There's something in here about a drunk patron tripping in the parking lot, but from the diagram it looks far away from the loose stone.” He slid the short stack that he had accumulated thus far over to Max, who sat on the corner of the table.
          “Mmm-hmm,” the otter said around a mouthful of pizza, looking down at the document on the table, his paws too messy with pizza to touch it. “Yeah,” he said after reading it, “probably nothing, but we'll keep it handy, in case there turns out to be a pattern of people getting hurt here.” He used his soda bottle to slide the paper off of the stack, then looked at the one underneath it. “What else we got here,” he said as he read.
          Jack finished his slice and grabbed one of the Aquatic pizza, to see what that was like. Being a fox he was generally open to any kind of meat or fish, a notable exception being those raw oysters that Max had brought out the prior week. The fish pizza was remarkably good, he noted.
          Max continued to slide papers using his soda bottle and reading the papers Jack had set aside, though from his lack of reaction, nothing particularly useful was found.
          Jack put away a few more pieces, and was starting to feel full, when Maggie, the secretary, came in. “Fax from the PD, for you,” she said. Jack's ears perked up fully.
          “Thanks, Mags,” Max said, taking the page. He looked at it for a second, which seemed like an hour to Jack, before saying, “Not what we're waiting for.”
          “Shit,” said Jack, sitting back heavily in his chair, his heart pounding from the adrenaline buildup.
          Max read the fax further then said, “This is actually the autopsy report on Victor.”
          “Autopsy? Wasn't it obvious?”
          Max chuckled. “Yeah, but its a law: anytime a non-natural death occurs, they have to do one.” He read further, biting into a piece of pizza held in his other paw, which Jack found morbid. “This is interesting,” the otter said. “Cause of death.”
          “My knife,” Jack said quietly, not wanting to re-live that.
          “Wrong!” Max exclaimed like a game-show host, eliciting a confused cock of the head from Jack. “According to this: 'Although the carotid defect was not survivable, the immediate cause of death was pulmonary aspiration of liberated blood'.”
          The fox stared blankly for a moment, his lip curling slightly in confusion. “Huh?”
          “Basically, he drowned in his own blood,” Max said plainly, and continued reading.
          Jack stared at Max, his eyes wide. In his mind he could see Victor's face struggling below him, twisted and surprised. His mouth was open, and the blood pooled within...
          “Whoa, whoa,” Jack heard Max call out, and felt the otters paws gripping his shoulders. “You OK Jack?”
          “Y... yeah,” Jack said, shaking off the vision. He looked to Max, who had run around the table and grabbed Jack's shoulders, as if to steady him. He found the otters grip somewhat comforting. “Yeah, I'm OK.”
          “You looked like you were gonna faint,” Max said, letting go of him, but staying next to the teen.
          “No, no,” Jack said, “It's just...” He fought for the right words, but could not find any that didn't sound accusatory. “Why would you tell me that? Why the hell... would you think that I wanted to know that?”
          Max stood up, looking surprised, his small otter ears flattening against his head. “Jack,” he said, “Shit man, I'm sorry. I just thought... No, I didn't think, actually.” He looked genuinely upset. “Sorry,” he repeated. “You know he had it coming, though. It was going to be either him... or you and Angelo.”
          Jack sighed and nodded. “Just... I've never... k-killed anyone, y'know? And it's bad enough... that...” he trailed off as his voice got choked.
          Max put an arm around the sitting fox, who grabbed it with both of his paws. “I know, man,” the otter said again, “and I'm really sorry for doing that.”
          Jack gave the otter's arm a squeeze, trying not to cry. He took a deep breath and let go of Max. “I'm ok, really,” he said unconvincingly, wondering which of them he was trying to convince.
          Max patted Jack's side, his arm still around the fox, then let go himself and went back to the corner of the table where he was sitting. He picked back up the fax and looked through the subsequent pages, looking over to Jack every few seconds, as if checking up on him.
          “Oh, here's a good one,” the otter said after turning to another page of the fax.
          “Max, please...” Jack said sadly.
          “No, this is good,” Max said. “Remember how you said that Victor claimed he was an orphan?”
          “Yeah,” Jack said. No doubt he had only said that to instill a false camaraderie with Angelo. “Lemme guess, he wasn't.”
          “Well, yes and no,” Max replied. “Says here that the day after his 25th birthday, his parents were killed when their house burned down. The fire was called 'suspicious', but nobody was ever charged. Victor... was the sole beneficiary of their life insurance, which would be placed in a trust until he turned...” He paused dramatically, then: “25!”
          “That...” Jack said, suddenly finding a renewed hatred for the ferret. It would have been bad enough if he had just lied, but to hear that made Jack angry.
          “Exactly,” Max said. “Don't shed any tears for that piece of shit, Jack. You didn't just save yourself and Angelo: you gave some cosmic justice to a couple of ferrets somewhere.”
          Jack thought about that, and the notion of justice made him feel better somehow.

---

          Jack was nearly through with the first box of documents as 5:00 approached. Max had been absent for several hours following lunch but was now back in the room, not really doing much besides drinking from a soda bottle and occasionally chatting with Jack. The fox wondered with amusement how much he was billing clients to do that.
          As happened many times that day, the main phone line rang. Jack looked to the phone on the wall for a moment, then back to his work without lingering on the lit line.
          The intercom beeped. “Max, Officer MacAllister on line one.”
          Jack's heart rate instantly doubled and Max himself jumped up from where he sat. “I'll take it in my office,” he said, then turned to Jack. “Let's go!”
          Max practically ran out of the room and down the short hallway to his office, Jack right on his heels. The fox closed the office door as Max went around to his desk and picked up the phone. For his part, Jack did not sit in the chair across the desk, but rather went around and stood next to Max's chair.
          “Cartwright,” Max said into the phone handset. Jack wondered why the otter did not put the call on speaker, and watched the brown lutrine face for clues.
          “Hi, officer,” he said, then listened. “Fine, fine, thanks.” He moved his free paw in a circular gesture, as if saying “come on, come on” which made Jack smile nervously. Max continued, “Right... right... ok... I see.” He looked to Jack, but his face gave nothing away. A long pause while the officer spoke. Max wrote down a few words on a notepad as he listened, but Jack could not read them from the angle he stood. “Ok... can you fax that to me?” He looked again to Jack and wiggled his eyebrows. “Great, thanks... will do... bye.”
          Jack agonized for a second, then nearly shouted, “What?”
          Max sat back in his chair. “Can you say Nolle Prosequi?” A thin smile crossed his muzzle.
          The fox almost whimpered in frustration. “Do I want to? Wha... what does that...”
          “No charges!” Max jumped up and said with a flourish.
          Jack's eyes went wide, and a huge grin split his face. “Really?”
          “Really,” Max said. “D.A. says it was clear self defense, and the other stuff you did was understandable for what you were trying to accomplish with Angelo. He even knows you probably did other illegal stuff that you didn't admit to, but that was, in his words 'excusable in context'.”
          “Max, that's... I mean...” Words failed the teen fox. He was so relieved, and at the same time had so much built-up anxiety that he felt he could scream. With a giant grin he grabbed Max in a bear-hug.
          “Hey now,” the otter said cheerfully, and patted the fox's back.
          “Sorry,” Jack said, composing himself and stepping back. “So that's it then? No more cops?”
          “Nope, unless any new evidence crops up,” Max said. “But they're not going to be looking, so you're in the clear.”
          Jack looked to Max in relief and awe. “Wow,” was all he could say.
          
---

          The first order of business the next morning was to file Jack's guardianship petition with the court. Maggie had it ready to go in a package and was waiting for the courier to arrive when Jack showed up.
          The fox had slept better Monday night than he had in almost a week. The anxiety that was lifted from the police closing his case, coupled with the optimistic anticipation of getting custody of Angelo, had lifted his mood to where he would actually call himself “happy”.
          He had called his parents as soon as he had gotten home on Monday, and told them the news. They were understandably relieved of course, and the conversation quickly turned to Angelo. They were just about to have another family meeting after dinner to talk about what Jack had proposed on Sunday.
           The preliminary feeling among the Archers was that none of them were going to veto it yet, and wanted to meet the boy before deciding further. Max had told Jack that it would be impossible for that to happen until the guardianship paperwork was filed, so this was one more box checked off in the to-do list.
          The third thing that had Jack feeling good was that he could officially be hired by Max, now that his criminal case was settled. That process was sure to kick off that morning, he thought. Sure enough, when he arrived Maggie showed him the packet destined for the court, and another packet containing all the job forms and information that he would need.
          Max was in the conference room, meeting with a small group – clients, Jack figured. The otter waved at him when he arrived, then returned his attention to the business at hand. Jack took the job packet into the workroom and spread its contents out on the table, separating the forms he needed to fill out from the informational sheets.
          He laughed out loud when he read the “About the Firm” document: paper-clipped to it was an 8x10 photograph of Max, the sort one would find in a professional directory. Jack looked at the photograph with a smile. The more time he spent with the otter, the more he liked him on a personal level. Granted he was helping Jack out on more simultaneous issues than he wanted to consider, but beyond that there was the feeling that Jack would enjoy just hanging out with him.
          Jack filled out all the tax forms and benefits forms; he was not expecting the latter, which included health and life insurance. He filled them out as well, but set them aside to ask Maggie about them further. His father had mentioned getting life insurance when Angelo came to live with him, and Jack was now not sure what to do about that, since that process had just gotten started.
          After all the forms were completed and all the informational documents read over, Jack returned his focus to the boxes of evidence that he worked on the previous day. He had just gotten started again when Max came into the workroom.
          “Morning, employee,” the otter said cheerfully.
          “Morning, employer,” Jack replied with a smile.
          “Well, your paperwork is all filed,” Max said. Jack knew he was not referring to the employment paperwork.
          “Great,” Jack said. “What happens next?”
          “Next,” Max said. “The court will enter the petition into the system, assign it a docket number, and notify the other parties. That's CPS in this case.”
          “Why them?” Jack asked, his ears drooping.
          Max nodded, understanding. “They're his legal guardians right now,” he said. “Now: they're going to probably object vigorously to you taking Angelo. So just be prepared for that.”
          “Why would they object?”
          “Well,” Max said, clearly trying to sound delicate, “it's like I said yesterday: you're 18 and barely out of school. They'll probably try to use that to show you're incapable of taking care of a cub. Our job is to show them that you can!”
          There he went again, Jack thought. 'Our job...' He smiled at Max. “So how long will it take before things happen... whatever that might be?”
          “Filing and entry should be done today,” Max said. “CPS will probably get notified today too. After that, it's all about how crowded the docket is in this district's family court. I don't do a lot of work there, so I really don't know.”
          “Days? Weeks?”
          “Ehh, yes?” Max said with a grin. “Could be either. Or longer.” Jack slumped visibly in his seat. “It could also be this week,” Max said, trying to reassure the fox. “Let's just see what we get back from the court, ok?”
          “Ok,” Jack said. As always, his mind started to wander into worst-case scenarios.
          “Anything new in the box?” Max indicated the evidence boxes.
          “Nothing so far,” Jack said, “I was just getting started.” He scooped out a pawful of paper from one of the boxes.

---

          The day flew by from Jack's perspective. Max was in meetings or on calls most of the day, so Jack rarely saw him. He did bring lunch in again, however, and the two chatted briefly before the otter had to leave for a lunchtime call.
          Jack went through the evidence boxes at a fairly good rate. He finished the first box that he had started the day before, and was just finishing off the second when Max returned to the room, shortly before 5:00.
          “Quitting time,” he said cheerfully. “Any good stuff in there?”
          Jack handed him the short stack that he had developed. “There's one in there that might be pretty good,” he said. “From a construction contractor. About 3 or 4 pages down.”
          “Oh yeah?” Max pawed through the sheets, looking for the one Jack mentioned.
          “Yep,” the fox replied, “Like an estimate to repair their walkway.”
          Max looked at him, wide-eyed. “No shit?” he rifled through the stack, and finally located the sheet. As he studied it, he began to giggle. “Holy crap, Jack,” he finally said with a grin. “You know what this says?”
          “Well, yeah,” Jack responded. He had been the one to review it, after all. “They called in a contractor to give them an estimate for some repairs. Looks like the paving stones were part of that, and...”
          “No no,” Max interrupted. “I mean: what it says. It says they knew!” He laughed out loud. “Look at the date here. It's a month before our guy hurt himself. They knew for a month and didn't fix it!” He laughed again, loudly, almost maniacally, then settled down. “You just made me fifty grand, my dear fox!”
          Jack had figured the sheet was important, but had not considered the full implications of what it meant. He would have given it to Max immediately, had he known, or at least keep it on top of the short stack. He smiled meekly. “Not bad for my first day, huh?”
          “I'll say,” Max replied, patting the fox's shoulder. “You do this every day and we'll make a hell of a team!” The otter thought for a moment. “Speaking of which, you have plans for dinner?”
          Jack's ears perked up. His only plans were as usual for him: fast food on the way back to the apartment, or ordering a pizza once there. “Uhh... no,” he said, “nothing planned.”
          “Well,” Max said, “it's the least I can do after... this.” He waved the contractor sheet. “What do you say we go get something good? I'll take you to a nice high-class place!”
          Jack considered this unexpected invitation, mentally weighing it against the pizza while factoring in the otter's happy smile. “Yeah, sure,” he said after the briefest of moments. “Love to!”

---

          The next day, Wednesday, Jack showed up for work early. He was in a good mood, following a very nice dinner and a good night's sleep. He and Max had gone to a French restaurant – a fairly nice one, but not one that required a coat and tie. Max derisively referred to those as being for poseurs. “You pay a fortune for the meal, get incredibly shitty service, and a meal that you down in 2 bites,” he had said.
          The place they had gone to was not like that, however. Jack was admittedly ignorant of French cuisine, so asked Max to recommend things. The otter did not hold back, either: he started by ordering a bottle of Dom Perignon and several appetizers, including escargot and some sort of pastry balls with spiced meat within, which Jack found delicious.
          Jack reminded Max that he was below the drinking age, but the otter seemed to intentionally not hear him until after the champagne bottle was uncorked.
          “Try it, at least,” Max said, pouring a little of the champagne into an available water glass. “You can tell everyone you've tried three hundred dollar champagne!”
          Jack's ears perked at the price. “Jeez, Max,” he said, “don't spend that on my account.”
          “Nonsense!” Max said with a flourish. Then as Jack sniffed the glass, “A toast: to loose paving stones, and my eagle-eyed Legal Assistant who found them!”
          Jack clinked his glass to Max's and sipped the champagne. It was unlike the “sparkling” champagne-substitutes he always had on New Year's Eve, and certainly unlike any carbonated soda. Rather, it had a very subtle taste, and the bubbles within felt extraordinarily small, as if there were thousands on his tongue.
          “Just doing my job,” Jack said after finishing the small amount in his glass. “By the way, I never actually thanked you for doing that.” He looked earnestly into the otter's dark eyes. “So: thank you for being there for me. This... saves me in so many ways, I can't count them all.”
          Max smiled a warm friendly smile. “It was my pleasure, my friend.” There was a moment of silence as the two regarded each other, then Max said, “C'mon, have some more. Nobody's looking, and you might have to drive me home otherwise!”
          Jack reluctantly had another half-glass but would take no more, as he needed to drive home as well. The rest of the meal was had, including a very rich dessert with all sorts of cream and pastries and such. Jack wanted to know what the final bill was, but Max shooed him away from the folio when it came, and gave a platinum card to the waiter.
          All in all, his first time at a French restaurant was enjoyable, even the snails, which he initially turned his nose up at until Max persuaded him to at least try them. The food was very rich, which likely contributed to the soundness of his later sleep.
          It was in stark contrast to the fast-food chicken biscuit he had just finished on the drive into work on Wednesday. As he came into the office, Maggie was at the desk as usual and the conference room was empty.
          “Good morning,” he said to the red panda. “The boss here?” He smiled as he said that, the thrill of meaningful employment still fresh.
          “Good morning, Jack,” she replied. “Nope, he's not here yet. Haven't heard anything.”
          Jack nodded. It was just after 8:15, and he didn't know when Max normally got there. He hoped that he did not have any problems on the drive home after consuming most of a bottle of champagne. “OK, I'll be in the workroom,” he said, and headed down the hallway.
          The array of evidence boxes were still stacked by the table. Even though he had clearly found a “smoking gun” for the injury case, he grabbed the third box and set to sorting through its contents. It would only help the case further if he found more, he reckoned. Besides, he had no other tasks given to him yet. Presently he heard Max arrive, give a quick hello to Maggie and rush down the hall.
          “Morning, Jack,” Max said rapidly, continuing down the hall without waiting for a response. Jack heard his office door close, followed closely by Max's phone line lighting up on the phone in the workroom.
          “Hi,” Jack replied for his own amusement after the otter's door closed. Max must have been late for a client call, he figured, which was probably attributable to the champagne causing him to sleep later than expected.
          After another half hour, Max's door opened and he came to the workroom with a pawful of papers. “Morning, Jack,” he said again.
          “Morning,” Jack replied. “You make it home ok?”
          Max laughed. “Oh yeah, don't worry about that.” He paused for a moment, then his face got more serious. “So... we've got a bit of a situation.”
          Jack's ears perked. That did not sound good. “Uh-oh,” he just said.
          Max waved the papers in his paw. “CPS has counter-filed on our petition. They've asked for a summary dismissal with prejudice.”
          The fox cocked his head, not understanding much besides 'dismissal'. “Umm, what does that mean?” His voice was audibly nervous.
          Max sat down on the edge of the table. “Remember how I said they would object? Well they're not only objecting, they're saying that you don't even deserve serious consideration, and they've asked the judge to dismiss your request 'summarily', which means without even listening to our side, and 'with prejudice', which means you could never re-file it.”
          Jack slumped in his seat. Why was the world making it so difficult for him to do the right thing, he wondered. “Would that keep me from trying the other things? Foster care and all?”
          Max's face answered his question even before he spoke. “It would... not be good,” the otter said.
          Jack leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Fuck,” he said, then rubbed his face with his paws. “When will I know what happens now?”
          “Well, fortunately I know this judge's clerk,” Max said.
          “Oh yeah?” Jack asked, not understanding.
          “Yep,” Max said, “that's who I was on the phone with this morning. He's put us on the docket for Friday morning.”
          “He can just shuffle cases around like that?”
          “Oh, sure,” Max said conspiratorially. “He and I go back 200 years!” Jack stared, his face displaying his now total confusion, which made Max laugh. “You ever heard of Paws & Claws?” the otter asked.
          “Ummm, its one of those secret societies, I think,” Jack said. He had heard the name before somewhere in that context.
          “Yep,” Max confirmed. “A 200 year-old club, if you will, from college. He and I were both in it, so I asked him for a... favor. Fringe benefit, if you get my meaning.”
          Jack did not completely get his meaning, but had heard that members often ended up in positions of power, so likely exchanged favors with their fellows. “I see,” Jack said. “And you're both vampires or something?” The thought had come to him when Max said 200 years, and he found it too funny to keep to himself, even in the current situation.
          Max ruffled the fox's headfur. “The club is 200 you doofus,” he said with a laugh. “We say it like that because it doesn't matter if two Pawsmen were in at the same time. To us, everyone who's ever been in it, going back 200 years, was in at the same time. So we look out for each other.”
          Jack nodded, his laughter fading as the reality of the situation returned. “So Friday morning, huh? Do I get to be there, or is this another time where decisions are made off in a room somewhere?”
          “No,” Max said, “you definitely get to be there. And I'll be there with you.”
          “Will Angelo be there?”
          “Probably,” Max said. “This concerns him intimately. Even if the CPS lawyers are representing 'his best interests', I think he'll still be there.”
          “Friday,” Jack said. Now he just had to make it through two more days of uncertainty. At least he now had some work to occupy his mind, and a friend in Max to talk to. It was still going to be a rough couple of days though.

---

          Friday morning, Jack stood in the lobby of the courthouse. He was wearing a suit and tie at Max's instruction, and stood waiting for the otter to show up. It was approaching 10:15, and their hearing was scheduled for 10:30. The last thing he wanted was to show up late for this.
          “Jack!” The voice from behind him startled the fox, who turned to see Max approaching, dressed in what looked like a very expensive suit, carrying an attache case.
          “Hey,” Jack said nervously with a wave.
          Max put his case down and straightened Jack's collar. “You have breakfast like I said? With OJ and no coffee?”
          “Yep,” Jack replied. “I only hope I don't puke it all on the judge's bench.”
          “You won't,” Max said with a laugh. “Besides, we'll be in the judge's chambers for this.”
          “Ok, so I'll puke on the judge then,” Jack said with a slight grin, trying to calm himself.
          “Nah,” Max said reassuringly, “you'll be fine. I'll probably do most of the talking, but the judge is probably going to ask you some very direct questions. Don't read too much into them, but answer truthfully. Any lie or half-truth will come back to haunt you, believe me.”
          “Right,” Jack said, taking a deep breath.
          “Come on,” Max said, walking towards the elevator. “I already found where we're supposed to go.”
          “Will Angelo be here?” Jack asked as they walked.
          “He is supposed to,” Max said.
          That was something, at least, Jack thought. He desperately wanted to see the boy again, to talk to him about how things were going, and just to give him a hug.
          The pair reached the elevator, and Max pressed the button for the 3rd floor. Other furs filed in with them, pressing several other floors. Jack closed his eyes as the elevator rose, breathing deeply to calm his nerves. He felt a supportive squeeze on his arm, and patted the paw with his own. The elevator opened on the 3rd floor, and they exited with one or two others.
          “Ok, 327,” Max said, looking at the sign in the elevator lobby. “Thataway,” he said, pointing down one hallway. “Let's go!”
          Jack counted the office numbers as they walked. Ahead he saw a single lady seated on a bench outside one office, reading on a tablet computer. As they got closer he recognized her as one of the ones who took Angelo away at the hospital. “That'll be 327,” he muttered angrily to Max.
          “Steady,” Max muttered back, then as they neared her, he said “Good morning ma'am.”
          “Good morning,” she replied, rising to shake Max's paw before sitting back down and turning her attention back to her tablet. She was a middle-aged cat lady with light gray fur, dressed very professionally in a suit, and with her hair worn tightly up. She glanced at Jack for a second, then returned to her reading without comment or gesture.
          Jack instantly disliked her, even beyond the fact that she stood between Angelo and him. His ears perked at the thought: Angelo? The cub was not there, nor was there any indication that anyone else had accompanied the cat. He turned to Max, who read his face and just put up a calming paw, nodding slightly.
          They only waited a minute or so before the door opened and a clerk appeared. “Please come in,” he said, holding the door open for the cat lady. Max and Jack followed, the otter giving a strange handshake to the clerk.
          There was an outer waiting room of sorts, with a desk for the clerk and some chairs and a sofa. The clerk led them to another door, with a brass plaque on it bearing the judge's name: Walter Sorensen. He opened the door and motioned the group to go in.
          Jack followed Max and the cat inside to the judge's office. It looked exactly as Jack pictured a judge's chambers would look: wood paneling, numerous bookshelves filled with legal-sounding books, and a large ornate wooden desk and a matching conference table.
          The judge, a brown bear in his fifties, was seated at the table in his robes, along with a young mouse girl who appeared to be the stenographer, from all the equipment in front of her. The judge had a manila folder in front of him, which Jack assumed contained the petition and related documents.
          “Thank you for coming folks,” the judge said. “Please sit down and we'll get started. Is everybody here?”
          “The mistress from Dole is coming – she's stuck in traffic,” the cat lady said. “She has the minor cub with her. I would like to get started though: there may be some things the cub should not hear.”
          Like hell, Jack thought. He would tell Angelo everything, the first chance he got.
          “I agree,” Max said, “I have one question that the boy might find distressing.” Jack smiled to himself at the difference in how Max and the CPS lady referred to Angelo: “the minor cub” and “the boy.” He hoped the judge took notice of this as well.
          “Very well,” the judge said. “Please be aware that everything you say from here on is on-the-record.” He nodded to the stenographer. “This is in regards to the petition for summary dismissal of a filing for guardianship of the minor cub Angelo Cole by John Archer Jr. If everyone would identify themselves for the record. Petitioner?”
          “Agnes Somerset, attorney for Cub Protective Services,” the cat lady said.
          “Respondents?”
          Max elbowed Jack softly. “Umm,” Jack said nervously, then cleared his throat. “Jack... I mean, John Archer Jr.”
          “Maxwell Cartwright, attorney for Mr. Archer,” Max said.
          “Your firm is eponymous?” the judge asked.
          “Yes your honor,” Max replied. Jack had no idea what that meant, and started to get nervous again that he was lost so quickly.
          “Thank you,” the judge said. “I'm Judge Sorensen, I'll be handling this immediate petition, as well as Mr. Archer's request, pending today's outcome. Now then, Mr. Archer, you have requested permanent guardianship of Angelo Cole.”
          “Yes sir,” Jack said. “Your honor,” he added, correcting himself.
          The judge opened the manila folder and put on a pair of reading glasses. “I've read your file, as well as the related police report, so I understand how you've arrived at this point. And where is the cub housed currently?”
          “Dole House, CPS,” the cat responded.
          “Very well,” Judge Sorensen said. Then after a moment's silence he continued. “Ms. Somerset, you've filed a petition for summary dismissal of Mr. Archer's request. Why is that?”
          “Well, your honor,” she began with a certain smugness that Jack recalled from the hospital, “we feel that Mr. Archer is not fit to raise a cub, being barely out of high school, and recently under police investigation.”
          “That was nolle prossed and you know it,” Max said with irritation. “I know you have a copy of the writ.”
          The cat looked to the judge, who said nothing. “Well, yes,” she acknowledged when the rebuke she seemed to be asking for did not come.
          “So,” Max said plainly, “that case is irrelevant to his request.” He now looked to the judge who met his gaze.
          “I would tend to agree,” the bear said. There was a knock at the chamber door. The judge looked towards the door, then back to Max. “You said you had a question that should be asked out of the cub's presence, Mr. Cartwright?”
          “Yes, your honor, thank you,” Max replied. “Based on the current CPS backlog, Ms. Somerset, what would you estimate the chances of placing the boy in a permanent home are?”
          There was a long period of silence as the cat lady ruminated on the question. “There is always a chance,” she said. “We find the right foster home...”
          “With all due respect,” Max said, “there is a chance I'll win the lottery this week. Just a really really bad chance. I mean this as a serious question, as I feel it directly impacts my client's request. You have an eleven-year-old that you've labeled as “troubled” for some reason, and in all seriousness, what do you personally think the odds will be of placing him?”
          There was another long silence while Max and the cat locked eyes. Finally the judge rose, and said, “I believe our cub has arrived. Come in,” he shouted to the door. Jack jumped up from his chair and faced the door, which clicked open.

To be continued...", "pools_count": 1, "title": "Dangerous Games, Part 8", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "1", "rating_name": "Mature", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "3", "name": "Violence", "description": "Mild violence", "rating_id": "1" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "2", "views": "99" }