Page 10 of The Taskmaster
“We don’t let visitors in without an appointment, I’m afraid. Do you have an appointment booked?”
That was rubbish. There were people coming and going from this house all the time. No one had an appointment.
“I’m a police officer. I’m enquiring about one of the boys involved in a case we’re dealing with. I don’t need an appointment.”
My heart raced with hope.
“And which boy would that be?” Wilson asked.
“His name is Isaiah Dalton.”
Yes.
That’s me.
That was my name.
Then, my heart sank as I listened to the response Wilson gave him.
“He’s not here anymore. He’s been sent to a foster home.”
“Where? Can you give me the address?” Officer Dan asked.
“You know I can’t do that,” Wilson replied. “It’s against our data protection policy. And yes, I know you’re police, but if you want that information, you’ll have to go through the official channels to obtain it. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
There was silence for a minute. The sound of the street outside was all I could hear, the hum of the traffic, the buzzfrom workmen’s tools far away, the swish of the breeze, and then Officer Dan spoke.
“Is he happy?”
No. I’m not. I’m hurt and scared, and I want to leave this place. I thought home was bad sometimes, when my dad got mad, but this is so much worse.
“Yes,” Wilson lied. “He’s with a family with two kids his own age. A family dog too. Nice area. I think they’re looking to adopt him. He’s landed on his feet.”
Another beat of silence and then, “That’s good. I’m glad. I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I promised I’d visit him, you see, and I didn’t want to let him down.”
“He probably doesn’t even remember. I wouldn’t worry. He’s in a good place now.”
“I tried to go to the hospital,” Officer Dan added. “But they wouldn’t let me see him there. I’ve called here a few times, too, but it’s been like trying to get into Fort Knox trying to access this place or get any information. I haven’t been assigned to the case, but it’s still on my mind, you know? But thank you for being honest with me. Like you said, he’s in a better place and that’s good. It’s great. That’s exactly what I wanted for him. I hope he gets the counselling he needs and that he’s happy.”
“I’m sure he will,” Wilson replied.
No.
I wasn’t.
I wasn’t getting anything other than hurt and tormented. I hated my life.
My stomach grew heavy when I heard footsteps on the path, growing quieter as they moved farther away from the house. The knots in my tummy twisted tighter as the slam of a car door and the rev of an engine filled the air.
“See,” Harold hissed in my ear, forcing goosebumps of fear and repulsion to prickle on my skin. “That wasn’t so hard, wasit?” He shoved me forward, throwing me to the floor as he cackled to himself, “See you later tonight, Isaiah.”
I ignored the way his threat made my insides squeeze hard, and instead, I crawled over to the window.
Officer Dan was still sitting in his car outside. He hadn’t pulled away yet.
I didn’t care if Harold was still in the room, I banged my fist on the window and shouted, “Help,” hoping Officer Dan would hear me. But he didn’t. Instead, he put his head forward, resting it on the steering wheel of his car, and his shoulders began to shake.
“Help!” I kept shouting, pounding my fist on the glass as hard as I could. I had to take this chance. They’d come in and drag me away soon.
