Hot Spring

Part 7

The girls stiffened as they heard Mike coming up the steps. Clomp, clomp, clomp. He was out of breath and carrying a box, presumably the one Sue had seen downstairs. It looked heavy and was sealed with a wide, transparent tape. He kicked the cellar door all the way open, where it hit the wall behind it hard. Jake barked, a high-pitched, pleading sound, that turned into a long whine.

"It's okay, Jake," Jessica called out. "Don't worry, boy."

Mike laughed and let the box fall to the floor with a heavy thud. "Reassuring the dog. How good of you. I suppose you think you're the perfect little princess, don't you? Aunt Marley's little niece, so prim and proper. She told me about you."

Jessica didn't reply, but Sue let out a "Hmph!"

"What is that supposed to mean, 'Hmph!' Is that attitude I hear? You're giving me attitude now?" He grinned at Jessica, staring at her with gleeful menace, thinking it was her who'd make the sound. She stared back him, unblinking.

"I know her family didn't approve of me," he continued. "Bunch of self-righteous pricks."

"Excuse me," Sue said, with a boldness that surprised and alarmed Jessica. "You used Aunt Marley, for her money. She told us how you were supposed to do landscaping work around here, and you never did. And she paid you."

"Sue, be quiet!" Jessica whispered loudly.

Mike just chuckled, picking up his hunting knife from where he'd put it on the counter earlier. He held it up to the light and moved it back and forth between his forefinger and thumb, as though admiring how the blade glinted in the light. He'd turned the radio down, but the hourly news was on again. Mike put the knife down and turned the volume up.

The newscaster repeated the same information as earlier, adding that one of the missing men had been in contact with an older man he'd met on a gay dating site before he'd disappeared. The older man's name was Peter Davidson, but they thought that was an alias.

Peter Davidson was a landscaper, from Vancouver, the missing man had told friends before he'd been last seen alive.

Mike sighed and lifted the box onto the counter, where it teetered on an edge. Picking up the knife again, he sliced through the tape on the box. He'd been holding the box onto the counter with one hand, but when he let go it came crashing to the floor.

At least twenty wallets flew out onto the floor, one of them skittering across the tiles to hit Jessica's foot. She looked down to see an open wallet at her feet. A young, dark-haired man looked up at her from his driver's licence's photo. She felt her skin crawl, but used her heel to push it under the chair. Mike was busy scooping up the other wallets, which were various shades of brown and black, and hadn't noticed the one that had landed near her. Jessica thought she should save as much evidence as she could, before he got rid of it. She wasn't sure what his plans were for her and Sue, and tried to push that thought far into the back of her mind, into a room she refused to really look into. If she and Sue didn't make it - and let's face it, she thought, the chances are not high that we will - at least there might be some evidence left in the cabin to link Mike to the disappearances of those men.

"So Mike, were you keeping the wallets for your sick, twisted little fantasies?" Sue asked. "Just like the photo of that tattoo I found in my room?"

Mike stopped what he was doing for a few seconds, not looking at the girls, but staring into the box, which was now full again with the wallets. He stood up silently, not meeting their eyes, and put the box on a chair nearby, taping it shut again.

Jessica's heart pounded in her chest, and she'd felt the last bit of hope she'd had about surviving this ordeal drain out of her.
What had gotten into Sue? Why was she trying to provoke him like this?