Page 99 of The Taskmaster
I jumped onto a wheelie bin and then hauled myself over the fence. Once I’d jumped, and landed on the other side, nothing could stop me. I ran through the alleyway, racing into the fields behind. I didn’t stop until the only sound I could hear was the whistling in my ears and my own panted breaths.
“You’re free,” I gasped as I bent forward, pain radiating through me. But it was pain I’d happily endure. It was nothing compared to what they’d inflicted on me. “You did it.” I wanted to smile, but I couldn’t. For over ten years I’d been abused in that home. Beaten, starved, ridiculed and raped. I wasn’t sure I’d ever smile again.
I peered around in the darkness, wondering what to do next. I couldn’t go to the police. I didn’t trust them. They’d sendme back. I couldn’t go to the hospital; they’d do the same. The only person I could rely on was me.
I hobbled through the undergrowth, trying to find somewhere safe to rest. Eventually, I found a dilapidated old shed. The door was hanging off its hinges, and the only things inside were cobwebs and spiders. It was perfect.
I lay down on the floor of the shed, peering up at the stars through the cracks in the roof. I’d piled stones in front of the door, so if anyone tried to come inside, I’d hear them before they found me and I could escape. And as I lay there, I felt a sense of peace for the first time in my life.
This was the first place I’d ever felt safe.
Chapter Fifty-One
ISAIAH
“I’m not condoning what you did. I would never do that. But I did come back for you. I came to the house, and they told me you’d been fostered.”
I wasn’t here to soothe Dan Walters’ shattered pride.
“I saw you,” I replied. “But that’s all pointless now. What happened, happened. The only way I could move forward was to build a life for myself, and then obliterate theirs.”
Walters was watching me intently now, a deep crease between his eyes as he tried to make sense of my reality.
“So how does Charles Quinn factor in all this? He didn’t work at Clivesdon House.”
“Charles Quinn told me exactly how he fitted in before you found us. He used his position at the hospital to target vulnerable people, especially children, that he channelled into the homes where he could. Others weren’t quite so lucky.”
“How do you mean?”
“He trafficked them. Sold them like they were nothing but a cash revenue for him. He sat at the top of the chain, feeding off the ones below. People like me. Children, babies.”
Walters swallowed in disgust.
“Can you corroborate that? Do you have evidence.”
“I have his word. Trust me, that’s enough. I’m guessing his men at the warehouse, where you found me, won’t speak up.”
“They’re dead,” Walters stated.
“And dead men don’t tell lies. If you want to find out the truth, you’ll have to do more digging. He’ll have associates at the hospital. Other men on his payroll. I’d do the digging myself, but I’m guessing I won’t be roaming free, allowed to do my work for quite a while.”
“No, you won’t,” Walters said, and I just shrugged.
“He mentioned a nurse called Fiona Tapp. Said she was in on it too. Maybe start there.”
“I will,” Walters nodded absentmindedly. He had something else on his mind.
I looked at the bones laid out in front of me.
“When you charge me, make sure you add Angela Maynard to my rap sheet too.”
He frowned. “The woman who went missing after her house burned down?”
“That’s the one. I didn’t keep a souvenir that time, but she’s one of mine.”
He frowned harder.
“Can you tell me where her body is?”
