Page 70 of The Taskmaster
I continued searching, reading notes, and scanning lists until my eyes were sore and my brain hurt. I needed to focus on something else. I wasn’t getting anywhere with my search, and I didn’t like feeling hopeless. So, I hacked into Abigail’s credit card account.
She had maxed out her account. She had five figures of debt, and when I looked at the things she’d spent money on to get into that sort of financial trouble, I saw payments to local hardware stores, online stores, nothing that showed an extravagant lifestyle. It all looked mundane, and yet, I knew this was weighing heavy on her, and I wanted to lift that off her shoulders.
So, I transferred cash from an offshore account where I kept the money I’d stolen from my players and put it on her credit card, paying off the balance and clearing her debt. The payment would never lead back to me. I’d encrypted those accounts too well for them to be traced. But she wouldn’t have to make the monthly payment that she couldn’t afford anymore.
When I clicked to clear her balance and the zeros appeared, I sat back in my chair and smiled. At least those evil fuckers had been some use in their death. They’d paid her debt. They hadn’t fully paid back mine though. I still had work to do.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
ABIGAIL
Iwanted to call in sick to work again. I felt exhausted after everything that had happened the night before. But as shit as I felt, I had to go in. I hated letting people down. I knew we were short-staffed today, and I didn’t want to give my bosses a reason to fire me. Lord knows I needed the money.
Which reminded me, it was payday, and I needed to make a payment on my credit card to keep the bloody wolves from my door.
I sat at my desk at work and logged into my credit card account online, ready to make the minimum payment, and then I froze. That couldn’t be right. I logged out and back in again, checked I had the right account number. I even refreshed the page, but it still showed me a big fat zero. I couldn’t help it; I put my hand over my mouth as I started to laugh, then happy tears welled in my eyes.
What the fuck?
I checked the transactions and saw that a payment for the full amount I owed had been made earlier in the day, and I felt excited and sick all at once.
I knew who’d done this, and the guilt laced with unquestionable thanks I felt was overwhelming.
I grabbed my phone and found his number.
“Sweetheart, this is a lovely surprise. Aren’t you at work?” he asked, and I could hear the confusion in his voice.
“I am at work, Dad, but I had to ring to say thank you.”
“Thank you for what?”
I couldn’t stop staring at the computer screen as I spoke, “Thank you for paying my bill. I’m so sorry you found it, but honestly, you’ve saved my life. I know I was silly, and things got a little crazy but...” I took a deep breath. I was rambling. “Just... thank you.”
“Pumpkin, I have no idea about any bills. You know that’s your mother’s domain, so she’s the one you’ll have to thank. But for what it’s worth, you’re welcome.”
They had saved my life.
I was giddy as I chatted to my dad, struggling to stay focused on the mundane stuff he was talking to me about because I was so distracted by the realisation that I wasn’t in massive, life-altering, awful debt anymore. Even when he started to tell me about the case he was working on, asking me if I’d seen him on the TV that morning giving a debrief, I just said, “No. I was busy getting ready for work, sorry,” as the smile stayed fixed on my face.
Eventually, I agreed to go and see them soon for dinner, and he hung up. And then I sat back in my chair and let out the most satisfied sigh. Life was starting to look up for me. I’d have spare money this month. I could book a hair appointment and sort out the mess from the chunk that was missing from the side. Everyone convinced me they couldn’t see it, but I could. I went to my hairdresser’s website to see if she had any appointments available, and as I did, Jess walked into the office.
“Good morning. Are you feeling better?” she asked, sliding into her chair and turning her computer on.
“So much better.”
She gave me a quick furtive glance and hummed. “You do look better. It’s nice to see you with some colour in your cheeks.”
That colour had been put there for more than one reason.
I was about to ask her if she’d heard any more about the IT guy who got injured in our car park, when she cut me off.
“Oh, before I forget, this guy called yesterday. He said he wanted to come and meet you to discuss a wedding for next month.” She picked up a scrap of paper from her desk and started to read the message. “He said it was going to be something quite unique, and that you were recommended to him, so he was only interested in booking you.”
“Wow, that’s flattering. Did he say who recommended me?”
“No.” Her brow wrinkled as she stared at the paper. “And he didn’t give me a proper name or a contact number. He said he’d call by later this afternoon and that you’d know who it was. Oh, and just to tell you his name was Q.”
Bile scorched a trail from my belly, up my body, and into my throat, and rocks pounded the pit of my stomach. I wanted to throw up. The elation from moments ago was a distant memory now. The name that’d haunted me for years loomed over me like the reaper’s shadow, with the promise to bring imminent death my way in the most destructive way possible. I could barely breathe; speech was lost to me. All I could do was stand up, grab my bag from the floor and slap my hand over my mouth.
