Page 20 of The Taskmaster
I hated that. I was no one’s fool. Not now. Not ever.
I clenched my jaw so hard it started to ache, and I balled my fists. This wasmygame. No one else was welcome. I called the shots. I controlled it all. And knowing that someone else might be in the mix pissed me off. Knowing that they were watching her, too. Manipulating. Thinking they were winning.
I swung and punched the wall, hitting it so hard the plaster crumbled under my fist. My knuckles screamed, but I didn’t care, because the demons in my head screamed louder.
No one else was welcome here.
She was mine.
I glanced at my collection of trophies on the mantlepiece, panting breaths of rage as I reminded myself who the fuck I was. The bones of my players that I kept there showed me how far I’d come. There’d be more to add to the collection before I was finished. There were still men out there who needed to pay for their sins. But I was doing something to right the wrongs. It was all I cared about in life.
And then there was the photograph of her and her father, and the lock of hair I’d taken from her as she slept last night.
I could’ve taken so much more, but I didn’t.
I had a code.
I wasn’t a full-on fucking psycho.
At least, not yet. But knowing someone else was watching, playing with my plaything, made me hungry for the game. And I would win. I was the fucking master.
I watched her for the rest of the night, pacing her apartment, muttering to herself as she scrolled on her phone. She sat down, then she got up. She didn’t know what to do with herself. But when the morning came, she tapped her phone and made a call that I was only too happy to listen to.
“Good morning, is that ABB Locksmiths? Yes, I was wondering if it’d be possible for someone to come out today to change my locks... Twelve would work great. Thank you. I’ll see you then.”
She grinned to herself and muttered, “Not again, freak. That is the last time you get into my home.”
Itwasthe last time anyone else would be getting in. But me? I had plans of my own.
It was handy to own a generic white van. Even better to keep a set of workman’s overalls, too. As for tools, I had enough for any job that I needed to do, and today, I was ready.
I parked in the small car park at the rear of her building. It hadn’t been difficult to ring ABB Locksmiths a few hours ago and tell them I was her boyfriend, and that we didn’t need the appointment after all. I’d managed to fix the lock myself. They even thanked me for letting them know. But Abigail Walters would still be getting a visit from a locksmith today. And that locksmith would be me.
I got out of the van, picked up my toolbox to carry in with me, and strode towards her building. The street was busy with traffic, but not many people were walking around. I alreadyknew the CCTV here was non-existent, but I still pulled my baseball cap down to cover my face. You could never be too careful.
When I approached the main door to the building, I found it propped open with a doorstop. Anyone could’ve walked in here. Thank God Abigail had me to watch over her. This place was not secure at all. The residents were asking for trouble. Didn’t they realise there were monsters out there? Predators just waiting to make their move. I kicked the doorstop away, and the heavy metal door slammed shut behind me. At least someone was looking out for other people’s safety.
I already knew her apartment was number twelve, so I took the stairs, retracing the steps I’d taken only hours before. Then I made my way down the hallway and stood in front of her door. I didn’t bother knocking. I already knew there wouldn’t be an answer. The tracker I’d left in her jacket last night showed me she’d left for work early and was currently at the town hall. I’d have to pay her a little visit there soon, too.
I put my toolbox on the ground and was about to get to work on disabling the lock when I heard a door behind me open, and I turned to see a man walk out into the hallway.
“Are you the locksmith?” he asked, and instantly my back went up. I didn’t trust this guy, and I’d spent years learning to trust my gut. He was bad news. I could smell it a mile off. This was the kind of guy I’d happily invite—drag—to take part in my games, but for now, I just smiled and replied, “That’s me.” Dipping my head in greeting, like I’d seen most normal people do. LikeIwas normal. But I wasn’t, and I really fucking hoped this guy gave me a reason to put him into play.
I had a code.
I only killed people who’d hurt me or others.
But that code felt really fucking flimsy right now. The fact that he was wearing cream chinos and a white T-shirt withfucking food stains down the front was making my hand itch, desperate to take the screwdriver from my pocket and shove it into his fat neck. That, and the fact he had been watching her apartment, waiting for me. If I were a betting man, I’d say he was the one stalking her. But I needed to get proof.
It seems luck was on his side today, because a woman, who I assume was his wife or girlfriend, came out into the hallway behind him. Giving me a reason to relax and keep the screwdriver in my pocket. For now.
“What’s going on?” the woman asked, and her man answered, “He’s come to change Abi’s locks,” pointing his thumb my way.
“Why is that any of your business?” she snapped, folding her arms over her chest and ignoring me as she gave him a death stare.
“I told Abi I’d look out for him and collect the keys for her once it was all done.”
She nodded with a knowing grimace of a smile that said she didn’t believe a word. “Oh, you did, did you?”
