Chapter Five: The Shed of Dread

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Mrs. (L/N) sits at her kitchen table. Her index and middle fingers are resting on her temples and her thumbs are caressing her cheek bones. Mrs. (L/N)'s elbows have not moved from the table, even though when she was young her mother told her that a proper lady should never rest her elbows on a kitchen table.
Mr. (L/N) is standing at the marble counter. His subconscious tells him to stand. He'll appear stronger. More dominant.
Chief Hopper is standing at the kitchen's entrance. Officers Callahan and Powell stayed in the car, Hopper feels that this is a one man job.
"Are you sure it's her bike," Mr. (L/N) asks. Hopper has already told the parents about his discovery in the woods.
"Of course it is!" Mrs. (L/N) doesn't bother to look up as she scolds her husband, "God, do you even know what your own daughter's bicycle looks like?"
"Yes, I do," Mr. (L/N)'s lips squeeze into a thin line and his eyebrows furrow. He doesn't like that his wife is speaking in a condescending tone to him in front of a person of authority, "I'm not a terrible father even though that's what you like to make everyone believe."
Mrs. (L/N)'s eyes snap open. Furiosity burns in her heart. "Do you really want to debate on this now in front of the Chief of police?" She stands up and the chair scrapes against her nice, wooden floor. Mrs. (L/N) makes the comment to her family constantly to pull their chairs out carefully, it was her job to keep the house clean and in order. However, in this moment that doesn't matter in the slightest. "Are you seriously going to stand here and say that you're a good father when it was your job to watch for our daughter," (Y/N)'s mother gets up in her husband's face. Her hands gesticulate wildly.
Hopper stands awkwardly at the entrance. He didn't come here to observe a couple arguing. He's had enough of this for today. "Okay, okay, listen," Hopper reminds the two that he's still present and they bashfully look away from each other. Mrs. (L/N) slumps back into the chair, this time only one hand is placed on her face. "After finding the bikes we went down to Joyce Byers house," Hopper explains the evidence that him and the officers collected at the Byer's house to the distressed woman and volatile man, "I'm guessing that they ran there after the crash, I'm not exactly sure why," Hopper shifts his weight onto his other foot and scratches his beard, this just doesn't make any sense. Why would the children leave their bikes, run to Joyce's, and disappear off the face of the earth? "There was a mark on the wall, looked like the back door'd been slammed open too hard," (Y/N)'s mother furrows her brows. For what reason did they have to slam the door? It couldn't have been for any good reason.
Hopper leans against the wall and sighs, knowing his next words will trigger some sort of reaction from the couple, "We'll be organizing a search party tonight," Mrs. (L/N)'s heart pauses it's rhythmatic beats. A search party makes it official. Her daughter is really missing. Out in the world without guidance or shelter or food or warmth or worse. Her heart's beat goes from nonexistent to rapidly pounding. Words can't escape her throat. It feels like it's closed in on itself. She shakes her head and rests it on the table. A brain-crushing headache has formed.
Mr. (L/N) just taps his fingers on his forearm. His stare is blank, no expression can be found. Panic really does show diversely on different people.
"I know it can be hard," Hopper maintains the same detached tone throughout his monologue. "But, this doesn't mean they're lost. There's still a possibility that they've run off," (Y/N)'s mother rises her head and nearly begins to protest. However, Chief Hopper continues speaking quickly so that he isn't interrupted, getting his point across today has been extremely difficult, "Even if they haven't run away they're probably still in the vicinity," Hopper's words don't bring much relief to the parents.
Chief Hopper takes a deep breath, he's exhausted, it's been a long day. One missing kid is tiring enough. He takes his hat which he was fidgeting with in his hands and places it on top of his head. He turns half way towards the doorway but stops and turns back to face not Mrs. (L/N) but Mr. (L/N).
"(Y/N) didn't come home last night," Hopper stated, his voice low.
"Well, yeah," Mr. (L/N) raises his eyebrow and outstretches his hand sarcastically. (Y/N)'s mother doesn't understand the angle Hopper's trying to play, but she knows there is an angle.
"No, I mean she didn't head straight home," Hopper stands up straight, his back to the doorway once again. "She rode down past this street with the Byer's boy and two others," Hopper looks down at his hands, the cold had cracked them. He traces the lines with his finger tips and tries to sound as casual as possible so as to not sound like he is insinuating the parents of being suspected of something unusual, "Why didn't (Y/N) come straight home?"
"How are we supposed to know that?" (Y/N)'s father has clearly been irritated by this question.
"Well, doesn't she usually come straight home when she's told to? Why on that night was it different?" Hopper tries to harshen his tone, Mr. (L/N) can't be the lead interrogator.
"I-I don't know," Mr. (L/N) stutters through his sentence. His eyes show some discomfort.
Hopper looks down at Mrs. (L/N) who is sitting quietly with her hands folded in front of her face as if she is praying. He decides to ask the adult with a less guarded conscious, "Why was it different?" Silence. Hopper can be a brute but he isn't stupid. There's definitely something wrong here. Some secret that if it were to be released a nuclear family could be destroyed. Mrs. (L/N) looks up at the Chief, her eyes sadden and her voice is weak, "I don't know, Chief. I wish I knew, but I don't,"
The Chief nods. He can tell (Y/N)'s mother isn't lying. Her father on the other hand. He has something to hide. Hopper will have to ask again when Mr. (L/N) lets his guard down. That time will come. Just not now. Or ever if he's lazy enough.
So, he nods and leaves the quiet couple to hide behind their masks. For a little while longer anyway.

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