CXLIV

Two years, six months, and three days after Henry's disappearance

That morning, as soon as Hopper opens the door to the station, he's assaulted by the deafening noise of shouting. The culprit is a young blonde woman, her hands pressed against the counter; the victim, Callahan, merely watches her with a tired expression.

"I want to speak with the sheriff!" the young woman protests, and Hopper seriously considers sneaking to his office and pretending he didn't see a thing.

Callahan responds to this request in his laconic voice: "As I've said, he hasn't arrived yet. But if it's about last night—"

"Of course it's about last night!" she interrupts him. "Are you the only officer in all of Hawkins?! And you didn't even take my statement!"

Callahan tilts his head and scoffs, a sardonic smile forming on his lips. "The fact that your friend abandoned you because he'd rather spend the night with another girl is not a crime, miss."

"I'm not reporting him, I've already explained that!" Frustrated, the young woman slaps the reception desk. "I want to report his disappearance!"

"Same thing, same thing," Callahan replies with a dismissive gesture of his hand. "If that's all—"

"OH, yes, because of course my friend would rather scream for his life and then vanish in the middle of the night, leaving only the mutilated body of a raccoon behind instead of writing me a note or telling me to my face…!"

"Yesterday was Halloween," Callahan counters with that incredibly irritating tone. "Maybe he decided to play a prank on you, knowing you're prone to… this kind of reaction."

The young woman turns her face—from his position, Hopper notices that her eyes are closed—and pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger.

It's then that Callahan notices Hopper's presence. Normally, Hopper would have made a gesture indicating that he should pretend he hadn't seen him.

But something, maybe something akin to a police sixth sense—ha, what a moment to discover something like that in himself—prompts him to clear his throat. The young woman instantly turns toward him, her blue eyes locking onto the golden star on his chest.

"How can I help you, miss?" Hopper asks her.

The relief on the girl's face is palpable.

"Believe me, no one knows better than I do how much of an idiot Steve can be," Robin says after getting out of the patrol car in front of Steve's house. "But he's my idiot, and I know he wouldn't pull this kind of prank on me."

The sheriff gives no indication that he's heard her, but it's already a step in the right direction that he's agreed to inspect the scene.

The raccoon's body is exactly as Robin found it the night before. Given the autumn weather, it hasn't produced the characteristic smell of decomposition yet, and therefore, the insects haven't claimed the corpse either.

"Does your friend live alone?" the man asks as he crouches down in front of the remains.

"Yes, for the past few months."

"And his parents?"

"They travel a lot, I don't know where they are right now."

"Hm." The officer straightens up and looks at her. Something in his gaze unsettles her.

"What's going on?" Robin demands.

The man simply replies: "Nothing to worry about. I'll put an order to canvass the area in case your friend shows up and—"

However, Robin is so done with men who do nothing but brush her off. "I know you know something and you're not telling me." It's a bluff, really; she doesn't have enough information to come to any conclusions.

It's just a hunch.

A hunch that pays off.

"I have an idea," the man admits reluctantly, adjusting his hat and turning his eyes back to the dismembered corpse. "But I'm not certain."

"Share it with me."

The man takes a deep breath. "There's… something odd about all this, but I need more evidence." Finally, he looks at her, and Robin notices the deep sorrow in his eyes. "When I have more information…"

"You'll let me know." It's the only option Robin allows him.

Hopper sighs as he crosses the threshold of the house. Only Joyce is at home—Jonathan is working, and Jane and Will have afterschool activities—making dinner. As soon as she notices his arrival, she offers him a tired smile, her hands briefly stopping from chopping vegetables.

"Rough day, honey?"

"You have no idea," he replies, taking a moment to kiss his wife.

"Yeah? Tell me about it."

He hadn't planned on hiding it from her. When he finishes his story, Joyce's alarmed look makes it clear she hasn't overlooked what this could mean.

"Do you think—?"

"Yeah. I took a close look at the body and noticed a strange pattern of bites. Almost like the teeth formed a circle."

Joyce sighs and lowers her gaze to the half-chopped carrot. "You want to make the call." It's not a question.

"I don't see any other option."

"I thought… we'd keep her out of this. I thought that's why… we took those precautions."

Because they did take them, of course. There's no way a man like Hopper—a cop, no less—could have lived through everything he's lived through, seen everything he's seen, and not do anything.

It wasn't hard to convince Jonathan to accept the shooting lessons Hopper offered them—that boy, after all, would do anything for his mom. Will's peaceful nature posed a greater obstacle; however, even though it took a bit longer, his love for Joyce ultimately swayed him.

"I feel better knowing that you three will be able to defend yourselves," Hopper had assured her back then, gently locking his hands around his wife's arms to stroke her skin in a comforting gesture. "But… if things are like we've seen, I'd feel better if we exhaust all options."

Reluctantly, Joyce nods. Hopper doesn't want this either, truth be told: Jane is his daughter, after all.

And that's exactly why, he tells himself as he walks toward the living room phone. That's exactly why I must do what's best for her and the whole family.