Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Hopper
Today, Nysa came with Maddie to feed the chickens but plans to go back to my mother’s old place after lunch—before nap time. Everything has been quiet all morning when suddenly the sound of a car grabs my attention. I glance out through the barn door to see Malerick’s cruiser rolling up the driveway, dust kicking up behind it.
It’s been three days since Malerick and his team started digging deeper into what was found on Nysa’s land, and every update has been worse than the last. I step out of the barn as he parks, his door creaking open. His expression is grim, the kind that tells me I’m not going to like what he has to say.
“Afternoon, Sheriff,” I say, leaning against the barn doorframe, trying to keep my tone light . . . okay, I’m mocking him.
“Cut the shit out.” He glares at me, shutting the door behind him. His eyes flick to the house briefly before returning to me. “I heard Nysa is here, which goes against what I asked you to do. Keep them safe—away from here.”
“I can’t abandon the animals. They just came to visit. We’ll be heading back to Mom’s after lunch,” I say defensively.
He groans, but then says, “Well, might as well do this together. I have to talk to both of you.”
I cross my arms. “What is it?”
Mal doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulls a folder from under his arm, holding it out to me. I take it, flipping it open, my eyes scanning the grainy black-and-white photo of a young man.
“His name was Marcus Fallon,” Malerick says. “Reported missing three years ago. He’s from Boston, where he disappeared without a trace. Someone mentioned he had a big debt but nothing else came out of it.”
“Three years?”
“Yeah,” Malerick confirms, his voice grim. “We ID’d him through dental records. He was the first body we found on Nysa’s land.”
I let out a slow breath, my mind racing.
“The Fallons aren’t just powerful—they’re untouchable,” he states. “There are other agencies now involved looking into what’s happening and who we have in here.”
“How the hell did he end up buried there?” I ask, my voice low.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Malerick replies. “But it’s not just him.”
I glance up sharply. “What do you mean?”
He hesitates for a moment, then pulls out another photo, this one of a young woman with striking features and a smile that could light up a room.
“Her name’s Cassandra DeLuca,” he says. “She was a New York heiress. Went missing about eight years ago. There was a ransom demand—her family paid it—but she was never found. Until now.”
I stare at the photo, almost numbed.
“Fuck,” I mutter, handing the folder back. “This is big, Mal. Bigger than anything this town’s seen.”
He nods, his expression hard. “And it’s all connected to Nysa’s land.”
I run a hand through my hair, glancing back toward the house. “Does she know any of this?”
“Not yet,” he says. “I wanted to tell you first. Now that they know we know . . . we have to drag the attention out of the town. Make them believe we’re not suspicious of anyone specific. That we’re thinking someone from somewhere else is doing it.”
“But you think they’re here,” I ask.
“Or close by,” he confirms.
“So, what’s the plan now?”
“Ledger and Galeanna are coming back. They’ll be staying at Mom’s. We’re moving out of these lands tomorrow night. I need you to come back,” he states.
“But you said it’s dangerous.” I gawk at him, because he’s got to be shitting me.
“You’re hiring new farmhands today,” he continues. “Nysa will be hiring people too, so she can bring back her farm.”
“No,” I say, but the sound is more like a bark. “There’s no fucking way you’re putting her in danger. Leave her with her grandmother.”
“What will be the excuse?”
“They have to fix her house,” I respond right away. “I mean the place is falling apart. It needs new bathrooms, a coat of paint . . . you can’t have her living alone there.”
He scratches his head. “Can I think about that?”
“You can’t put her in danger,” I insist.
What the fuck is going through his mind? Like seriously. If he was more than just the fucking sheriff, maybe I would trust him. He would’ve had the support of the FBI. Right now he only has the resources of the town and that ain’t much.
Mal doesn’t respond right away, his gaze steady on mine. He leans against the side of the truck, his arms crossed, looking more like my pain-in-the-ass brother than the sheriff of Birchwood Springs.
“What the fuck are you thinking, Mal?” I snap, the frustration bubbling over. “You can’t just toss Nysa into this mess and hope for the best.”
“She’s already in it, Hopper,” he says, his tone even but sharp. “Whether she’s here, at Grandma Harper’s, or halfway across the country, whoever’s behind this knows she’s involved. Keeping her locked up somewhere isn’t going to fix that. We just figured out that they can be anywhere. She’s lucky that nothing happened to her while she was running.”
I rake a hand through my hair, pacing back and forth on the dirt. The idea of Nysa being anywhere near this is enough to send my heart racing. “So what? You want her back at her place, hiring people, pretending like everything’s fine?”
“That’s exactly what I said,” Mal sighs, exasperated. “Because if she doesn’t, it’s going to look suspicious. The best way to keep her safe is to make it look like we’re not connecting her to any of this.”
“And what if they come back?” I counter, spinning around to face him. “What if whoever did this decides to bury her too?”
“She’s not going to be alone,” he says, his voice dropping to a low growl. “You’ll be here—with security. I’m moving people closer to her land. But we need her cooperation to keep this quiet.”
I let out a harsh laugh, shaking my head. “You’re asking her to act like nothing happened after you dug up all those bodies in her backyard.”
“Do you think I like this plan, Hopper?” Mal snaps, stepping closer. “Do you think I enjoy putting her or any of you in this position? But this isn’t about what I like or what makes me feel better. It’s about keeping this town safe and catching whoever’s responsible for this shit.”
I glare at him, my fists clenched at my sides.
He’s right, and I hate that he’s right.
But that doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
“You’ve got to tell her,” I say after a moment, my voice rough. “She needs to know everything. The bodies, the connection to her land, the risks.”
“I will,” he promises. “But not all at once. She’s already dealing with enough.”
I look back toward the house, the faint sound of Maddie’s laughter drifting through the open window. Nysa’s in there, probably reading to Maddie or trying to teach her something new.
She has no idea what’s coming.
“I don’t like this, Mal,” I mutter.
“I don’t either,” he admits. “But it’s the best option we’ve got.”
When I head back to the house, I take a moment to pause on the porch, leaning against the railing as I watch the sun dip lower in the sky. The light filters through the trees, casting long shadows across the yard.
Inside, I can hear Maddie’s tiny voice and Nysa’s soft laughter. The sound of them calms me a little, but also makes me anxious. Why don’t I just take them with me and we run away?
Because in order to make them safe, we have to pretend everything is fine and play along. I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the conversation with Mal. Trying to focus on what’s in front of me instead of the weight pressing down on my chest.
When I finally push open the door, Nysa is sitting on the floor with Maddie, surrounded by blocks and picture books. Maddie is babbling about something, her hands waving in the air, and Nysa is nodding along, her smile easy and natural.
“Hey,” Nysa says, looking up as I step into the room. “How’s the horse?”
“He’s doing better,” I reply, leaning against the doorframe. “Thanks for keeping Maddie entertained.”
“It’s not hard,” she says, glancing at Maddie. “She’s pretty great company.”
Maddie looks up at me, grinning. “Daddy. Look what we made.”
She points to a precarious tower of blocks, and I can’t help but smile. “That’s impressive, pumpkin.”
“Don’t touch it,” she warns, her little hands reaching out protectively.
Nysa laughs, sitting back on her heels. “She’s very serious about her architecture. Grandma just ordered some new toys that include big stacking blocks that will be great for her.”
I watch them for a moment, something deep inside me pulling tight—not with fear or doubt, but with a certainty I wasn’t prepared for. A feeling that settles in, undeniable, making me realize just how much they mean to me.
And that terrifies me.
“Lunch is almost ready,” Nysa says, standing and brushing her hands on her jeans.
I nod, my mind still spinning from Mal’s words.
She notices, her brow furrowing slightly. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just a lot on my mind.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push.
Instead, she turns back to Maddie, helping her clean up the blocks and books before heading toward the kitchen.
And as I watch her move, so effortlessly a part of this house, this life, I can’t help but think about how much I’d do to keep her safe.
Whatever it takes.
Even if it means making choices I don’t like.