Page 52 of The Taskmaster
I did as he said, and the side door of the van slid open. He put the body in and then reached forward to collect something from the back.
“We’ll need to clean the house,” I ventured, but when he pulled out a petrol can and a glass bottle with a cloth stuffed in the top, I knew that wasn’t the plan.
“Why clean it when we can torch it?”
“But wont the neighbours see? It’ll attract attention.”
He shrugged, closed the side door of the van and began walking back through the gate. “By the time they see it, we’ll be long gone. And all the evidence will be ashes.”
He had a point...
Except, I had one tiny issue.
“Why aren’t we leaving her in the house then, if we’re torching the place?” I asked as I followed him.
He tilted his head, quirking his brow in a way that said,trust me, and stated, “It’s too messy. I’d prefer to do this my way.”
I was getting the impression he liked having control tonight. And in this case, I had to trust him. I didn’t really have any other choice. We’d already established that.
We both trekked back across the garden and into the house. The armchair looked a state, with blood soaked everywhere.
“Get your bag, the wrench and the knife. We’ll dispose of those ourselves. Like I said, it’s too risky to leave anything incriminating behind.”
“And the kitchen towel and your apron?” I asked, but he shook his head.
“They’ll burn easily in the fire. Leave them where they are.”
I picked up my backpack, well aware that my hands were shaking. Then I put the bloody wrench and knife inside as Isaiah started pouring petrol all over the armchair, moving to the area around it and then splashing a trail on the carpet that led to the back door. He threw a little into the kitchen for good measure, too.
Once he’d emptied the can, he stood at the door, took a lighter out of his back pocket and asked, “Are you ready?”
I nodded, put the backpack on my shoulder and sidled past him, heading outside. I stood in the garden just behind Isaiah as he flicked the lighter and then put the flame under the rag in the glass bottle.
“Stand back,” he told me as the flames licked the cloth, and then he threw the bottle into the house.
I saw the armchair catch fire first, just before Isaiah closed the back door.
“There’s no time to stand and watch the party. We need to go.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
We both ran down the garden, through the gate, and Isaiah opened the van. I got into the passenger side as he jumped into the driver’s seat. And then he started the engine, and I glanced out of the side window, watching the orange glow from the windows.
“In a few minutes it’ll be out of control. It’s an old cottage. Wooden walls, floors, all of it will go up.”
“Are you sure they won’t find anything?” I asked, peering at him as he drove through the field at the back of the lane and then bumped us back onto the main avenue. The moonlight reflecting off his face made him look otherworldly. I’d never seen a man who looked like him before.
“Not a thing.” He turned to look at me, the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “Don’t worry. Daddy will never know.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He cocked his brow and then focused back on the road ahead. “Come on, Abigail. The whole world knows who your father is.”
The dread that was already weighing down my stomach felt heavier. I couldn’t think about my parents. Not now. This wasn’t a part of my world they needed to know about. Ever.
“Are you threatening me?” I felt so uneasy. Sick, in fact.
“Of course not.” He laughed quietly to himself. “You have secrets and so do I. I get it. I’m the last person you need to worry about.”
