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"What are you doing?" Gretel asks, intrigued, sitting next to her.
"I want to make sure it doesn't have a built-in GPS tracker because if it does, we're screwed."
Gretel pales but calms down when they confirm that this model is quite old and doesn't have one.
"What if the owner installed their own? You know, those ones they sell on Amazon..." Gretel wonders aloud.
"I doubt it. I don't think someone involved in this kind of thing would bother. In any case, it wouldn't be too bad because then all the data would be sent directly to their mobile account, and it will take the police a while to get the company to provide the information."
"True, things don't move as fast as they make us believe in movies or books," Gretel confirms, secretly grateful for being a fan of those true crime podcasts that taught her so much.
"Alright, you stay with him, and I'll get rid of the car."
"No way," Gretel categorically refuses. "We're both in this together, and we won't separate."
Abigail looks at her and agrees, feeling relieved not to go alone. Despite her icy exterior, she's just as terrified as Gretel. They cover their faces and head straight to the garage, where Abigail pounds on the storage room door.
"Hey, are you okay?" she asks, heart racing.
"You're gonna regret what you're doing," Mikel spits from inside.
"Good," Abigail whispers to Gretel, "stay intact."
They open the door and find him curled up on the mattress. A stench of urine slaps them, making their noses crinkle, and nausea creeps in.
"Left you a bottle to piss in," Abigail reproaches, noting the damp corner opposite the mattress.
"Thought it best to leave as much DNA trace as possible around here."
Mikel laughs, then spits against the wall, earning disgusted looks from the women.
"Do as you please; you're the one living with this putrid smell," Gretel says, attempting to appear unfazed.
"Here's your last chance. Release me far from here, and my father will pay you enough to leave the country and start fresh somewhere else," Mikel suggests.
Gretel is about to respond, but Abigail signals her to hold off, speaking for both of them.
"Let us ponder it for a few hours. Understand that we've got a real mess on our hands, and we're figuring out the best way to deal with it."
Mikel scans them up and down, nodding. After all, he can't escape, and all he can do is wait.
"Alright, but as a goodwill gesture, could you fetch me a coffee? Smell it from here," he says, sniffing as if there's a line of coke in front of him.
"Fine," Gretel concedes.
They close the door and return to the kitchen.
"Got any sleeping pills?" Gretel asks Abigail, who stares at her in astonishment before a half-smile creeps onto her face, causing Gretel's heart to flutter.
"Think there's Diazepam, might be expired."
"Doesn't matter, probably works better that way," Gretel says with a sly grin. "I think it's best we keep him calm when we're not around."
"Agreed. Make the coffee light with lots of milk."
After concocting the magic potion, they return to the storage room, leaving the steaming plastic cup at the foot of the bed before locking it again. They grab some cash, hop in the car, ready to return without him.
Chapter 9
