Page 55 of The Taskmaster
“It’s funny the things you collect as you move through life,” he replied as we walked along the jetty.
Again, another response that left me feeling like there was more to unpack, but I didn’t have chance. Isaiah was throwing the plastic roll onto a boat. It was showtime.
Isaiah held his hand out to help me climb into the boat. I looked down at his outstretched hand, then contemplated making a run for it. I don’t know why I chose to take his hand and step into the boat, but I did. It was like some unspoken, unfathomable tether that was keeping me here, and it made no sense. But then, none of this did.
As I sat on a small wooden bench at the side of the boat, Isaiah held his finger up and said, “Wait there. I just need one more thing.”
He walked at pace towards the trees that edged the lake, leaving me to sit there on the boat with the body.
What the fuck was he doing?
Moments later, he reappeared holding concrete blocks, one under each arm. Then, when he drew near, he placed them on the floor of the boat and told me, “We need the weight.”
He climbed onboard and walked to the front of the boat, turned the engine on, and we started to move through the water.
I stared out at the dark, murky lake, sparkles of moonlight bouncing off the waves the boat was creating. It was a deathly mesmerising scene, and I found myself switching off from reality. It was better that way.
Eventually, Isaiah announced, “We should be fine here,” as he shut off the engine.
We sat silently for a moment in the middle of the vast lake. Then he opened a small box next to the bench where I sat and took out some rope.
My heart was pounding out of my chest, and I held the gun tightly, ready to use it if needed.
He wound the rope around the bottom of the plastic where her legs were, then tied the other end to one of the concrete blocks. He did the same at the top, working like he was a professional.
“I might need your help to lift her with these blocks,” he said, and I stood up, shuffling slowly across the rocking boat, trying not to lose my balance as I manoeuvred myself to stand at her feet.
“Ready?” he asked, giving me a nod, and then we both lifted her, stepping to the side and dropping her off the edge of the boat into the water.
The pale plastic faded slowly into the dark, murky depths as the weight of the blocks pulled her to the bed of the lake. And I stared down, watching the ripples, feeling relief that it was over.
“You need to ditch the bag,” Isaiah said as he stood beside me.
“I know,” I replied, reaching to pick my backpack up, pissed that a perfectly good backpack was being discarded in the lake. But it had to be done. I couldn’t hold onto evidence. Not while he was standing here watching me.
I wanted to do everything right. So, I took the wrench out first, dropped it into the water, and watched as it plunged out of sight, then I added the knife, and finally, the backpack, which drifted away slower but eventually disappeared. There was nothing in that backpack that could be tied back to me. Everything was gone. Swallowed by the lake, hidden in the water. A secret cavern of my crime that no one would ever discover.
At least, I hoped so.
Chapter Thirty-Two
ISAIAH
She’d sat on the boat, clinging to my gun like it was her anchor. She did the same once we got to the jetty and into my van. I couldn’t deny, it intrigued me, wondering whether she’d actually use it if I made the wrong move. I wasn’t sure, and I liked that about her. She was unpredictable. Tonight had proved that.
I flashed my indicator and pulled into the car park for her apartment, parking at the front of the building so she felt safer.
“You don’t need the gun anymore,” I told her, nodding to the glove box to tell her to put it back.
“Maybe.” She glanced at the firearm in her hand and then frowned.
“Not maybe. It’s a no.” I leaned over and heard a quiet gasp as I moved closer and took the gun from her. She didn’t argue or try to resist; she let me put it back in the glove box, and then she sat back, throwing her head back on the headrest.
“We didn’t need to take her to the lake. We could’ve left her in the house.” She turned to glare at me, accusations darting from her eyes, ready to stab me, but they just fell to the floorlike blunt darts hitting a useless old dartboard. “Why did you do that? Why did you take her?”
I met her steely glare with a satisfied wink, my eyes crinkling as I grinned and said, “I fancied an adventure. Burning her was boring.” Then leaning closer, I added, “Didn’t you enjoy trying something new?”
“You’re crazy,” she said, slowly turning to stare ahead.
