Joyce nervously chewed her nails. She was opposed to the plan, but time was running out.
"Murray, I'm not sure. Is there any other option?"
It was insane, she had a bad feeling, and her friend was not known to be cautious.
"Do you have a better plan? Joyce, I'm all ears. All ears!" her partner exclaimed, parking the car. "Besides, it's not a bad plan. If everything goes as expected, by the time the cop finds out, we'll have fled Hawkins. And voila! Nothing will have happened here. Everyone is content and happy."
Joyce frowned. "Why don't we switch places?"
Murray exhaled, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "We've already talked about it. This is our final chance before everything goes to hell. It's now or never, okay?"
She was about to retort, but instead nodded.
Murray handed her a gun. "Take it."
She was taken aback. "You said it was all planned! That we'll do it peacefully!"
Murray arched his brow. "Of course, I'm eighty percent certain."
Joyce couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Eighty percent?"
It was nothing out of the ordinary. Hopper had examined it thoroughly several times and found nothing unusual about it.
Aside from the title 'First prize in Basic programming,' there is nothing suspicious. What in the world was basic?
Hopper shrugged. He kept asking questions and getting fewer and fewer answers. What were those two thieves looking for in such a trophy? It was a solid block of metal devoid of any valuable metal. There was no slot or hole of any kind.
"Unfortunately, there's only one way to find out." He mused aloud as he rummaged through his office drawers. It had to be somewhere, right?
"Oh, look at you." His hands were firmly gripping a hammer he kept at the station for emergency repairs.
"I'm sorry, Bob." His arm rose, but he came to a halt. "What the hell... No, I'm not." Thousands of pieces of glass were scattered across the table seconds later.
Joyce eventually forced the lock, as planned. The house was deserted. Murray had already completed the first phase of the plan. She hoped he wouldn't mess it up, though she would have preferred to swap places with him.
The mission was simple. Look for the trophy, take it, and leave town. All without too much fuss, without leaving a trace, and without dislodging anything!
We'll be able to steal it without him noticing. Murray had told her. Joyce rolled her eyes; that was an easy thing to say! She'd robbed many homes, including mansions, but a police officer's home? It was madness! The entire scheme was insane.
As she checked her watch, her head shook. Ok. Murray estimated that the man with the pretty blue eyes had another couple of hours before leaving work.
"Pay attention, Joyce." She had a mixed feeling about it. She was messing with a man who, on first glance, didn't deserve it. It was unfair that she had to screw over good people to complete her task. They'd hit rock bottom, and she knew it. But, she was intrigued by the man who had almost arrested her. Almost. Not even in his wildest dreams, but he'd come close. Her intuition told her that this man was more than just a local cop.
Joyce started opening drawers and cabinets. She only had to look in places where the trophy could fit because it was quite large. She had a lot of time. The great thing about robbing a house is that you can learn about its owners. They keep their objects, clothes, and food...
She deduced a lot from them at first glance. They either didn't have time or disliked cooking, so there was a lot of pre-cooked food. She was surprised to find no alcohol in the house. That confirmed her theory that he wasn't drunk; he just wanted to forget. Good for him. But there was something odd. Despite the fact that a girl lived there, the house lacks a feminine touch.
Almost all of the VHS films were westerns. "What a surprise, huh? Such a cowboy..."
Joyce then entered the child's room. Something didn't seem to fit. Jane enjoyed comic books and role-playing games, which was unusual for a girl her age. As she touched one of those comics' covers, her entire world abruptly came crashing down. It was one of her son's favorites. Her breath was choppy as she exited the girl is probably Will's age. What in the world was she doing? She felt she was interfering in something that didn't concern her. She rubbed her chin and tried to calm herself.
There was another room. As she walked in, she assumed it was Hopper's room. It could have been neater; it made her think of her son on a Monday morning.
"Men..." Joyce spoke with a sad smile on her face. "Wait a minute... what about Mrs. Hopper?" She opened the closet door looking for evidence of the trophy, but she was also interested in clothes. There was no Mrs. Hopper, only men's clothing.
"Single father?" She bit her lower lip, embarrassed by herself. What a waste of time daydreaming about a family she didn't have. She would lose it if she didn't find the damn trophy!
"I've already searched everywhere!" She yelled angrily. In the end, the plan didn't work out as they had hoped.
She became enraged and kicked the living room floor. "What the...?" The sound of the wooden boards was unusual.
There was something strange going on. Joyce knelt, "Come on, come on..." Her fingers traced the floorboards one by one.
"Aha!" She found a groove and pulled hard, revealing a trapdoor.
Under her feet was what appeared to be a small basement with a neatly stacked pile of was intriguing. The boxes were labeled and in perfect condition. That guy was neat, but only in regards to matters that were important to him, as showed by his room. Hopper didn't hold himself in high esteem. What had happened to him to cause him to be so careless?
Her gaze was drawn to the labels. There were three that stood out.
"Vietnam. Diane's things, and New York." She chose the last option. After all, the trophies they were looking for... had all been manufactured in the same city. She opened it without hesitation, but what she discovered was... odd.
Hopper rummaged through the trophy's remains with the hammer's handle. With his bad luck, he didn't want to cut himself with the shattered glass and metal.
"What exactly is this?" A small object wrapped in a cloth appeared among the remains.
It resembled a roll of film. He carefully yanked on the cylinder's end, and a long strip of plastic began to emerge. Hopper hoped they were, in fact, photo negatives. But no. Several symbols and notches incomprehensible to anyone were engraved on that plastic strip. He had seen those symbols before, so despite everything, he was able to recognize them.
"Oh, no..." The cylinder burned his fingers, and he collapsed onto the chair, unable to stand. "This isn't possible." Those symbols were a coded secret language. The criminal organization 'The Snakes' used it to give serious orders. Such as the location of a large stash or the name of their next victim. They didn't want to risk talking on the phone or in unsafe places, so they used that method to send a message.
It's a little far-fetched, but it works. It took months for Hopper's old unit in New York to intercept several of these messages. And even more months to try to find leads to decipher those damned symbols. 'The Snakes' would have changed the code, but what was clear was that they continued to communicate in code.
"Keep your cool." He told himself. It had been several years since he had faced them. What the hell was that cylinder doing in Hawkins in a fucking nerdy trophy? Was it a coincidence? No, coincidences only occurred in movies. It doesn't look good. That cylinder had to contain sensitive information; they'd kill to get it. His anxiety was growing. If those criminals discovered he was in possession of the cylinder, they would go after him.
"Fuck... and now what am I going to do with this?" He growled, half angry, half nervous. "Think, think, and think again!" He'd be out of a bargaining chip if he destroyed it. He, too, was unable to take it with him. If they caught him and recovered it, the next step would be to kill him! Ok. The third option was the one he chose. Keep it hidden!
His hands trembled when he finally got rid of that cursed cylinder. What if that thing ended up in Hawkins because they tracked him down? Was the woman with the pretty smile one of them?
His stomach churned. What if... No. No way, God!
"Jane!" He panicked and jumped out of the chair.
Joyce was still flipping through a file when her intuition struck gold. Hopper was more than just a local cop. He had previously worked as a homicide investigator in New York. Apparently, he has a good reputation. He had solved many cases, some of which were quite gruesome. How did he end up in a place like Hawkins?
A yellowed newspaper was among the papers. The passage of time had not been kind to it. There were several politicians on the cover. But it also had a small headline near the bottom of the page that drew attention. It was about a police officer who went missing.
"Another blow to the New York Police Department." She began to read. "Only a week has passed since Diane Hopper's bloody murder, and organized crime may have claimed new victims."
Joyce hadn't anticipated this. It happened seven years ago, according to the newspaper.
Many of the puzzle pieces are now in place. The antidepressants, the lack of feminine touch in that house, his desire to forget... Hopper should've raised his daughter on his own. She bit her lower lip, knowing how difficult that was. Will, his son, lacked a father figure as well, but for very different and less tragic reasons. Loonie, his father, was a jerk. They divorced a few years ago. It was ironic, but she was growing increasingly sympathetic to the Hoppers.
"Life sucks." She kept reading the article with rapt attention. "Inspector James Hopper has gone missing for several days. According to sources close to this newspaper, he is dead. They claim the criminal organization marked Hopper. The killing of his wife was only the beginning of the conflict between the police and this group."
Joyce paled as she realized she was playing with fire. If Hopper found out she was working for 'The Snakes'... She had no idea what he was capable of or what she needed to do to stop him. Both would lose in either case.
But he didn't know at the time, did he? And if Murray's plan succeeds, she'll find the trophy. They'd take it and everyone would win.
She'd get Will back, and Hopper could get on with his life. Nobody would be harmed. But... Where on earth did he keep it?
Intense lights shone through the house's window.
Joyce was terrified. "What?!" It was Hopper's vehicle. "No, no, no! Shit! What exactly is he doing here?! He wasn't supposed to show up so quickly!"
Joyce looked in every direction. There was no way out.
To be continued.