Page 71 of The Taskmaster
“I’m going to be sick. I need to go home,” I blurted as I ran for the door. “Tell H.R. I’ll call them later.”
I didn’t stop to wait for her reply, but I could hear her fussing about me going back too early and needing to take time to get the sickness bug out of my system. I had to get out of there. Hewas watching me. He was coming to my work to finish what he’d started. I had to get away.
I took the stairs instead of the lift and then peered around, aware of my surroundings and hyper-vigilant as I walked through the reception area and out into the street.
My eyes scanned the road to see if there were any suspicious cars or people. There weren’t, and a taxi was parked right outside the doors to the building. Now wasn’t the time to cut corners and take public transport. I needed to get home as soon as possible to devise a plan. I wanted to get home so I could feel safe in my own four walls. So, I climbed into the taxi and gave him my address. Ten minutes later, I was dropped off outside my apartment building, feeling totally and utterly drained.
When was this going to end?
When I was dead, probably.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
ISAIAH
Ajawbone, a femur, more metacarpals and phalanges than anyone could need. I sat on the floor of my apartment looking at the trophies I’d collected over the years, all scattered around me. I needed to get some ribs next. Maybe a skull to match the jawbone.
I picked the jawbone up and held it in front of me, smiling as it smiled back.
“Death suits you,” I told it, then I placed it back on the floor in front of me. “It should have come for you sooner, though.”
From my position on the floor, I could see my monitors, and as I saw Abigail walking through the hallway of her building, and letting herself into her apartment much earlier than she was due to come home, I knew something was up. She looked nervous, on edge as she peered around her apartment and started biting her nails. It was time for me to leave.
I put my trophies back on my mantlepiece, right next to the lock of her hair. And then, as I grabbed my helmet, I tapped into the app for the listening device I’d fitted underneath her desk at work.
I clicked play, and when all I heard was white noise playing back at me, I almost threw my phone across the room.
“Fucking piece of shit technology,” I cursed.
The bug had obviously malfunctioned, and now, I didn’t have a fucking clue what had happened at her work, or why she’d left and raced back home to pace her living room like she was waiting for the end of the world.
I needed to be closer.
I put on my helmet and jumped on my bike, then roared off, racing to get across town.
Something in the pit of my stomach told me things weren’t right. And after her intruder had made himself known more than once, I vowed I was staying put this time. Tolley had been dealt with. My apartment could sit empty for a while. I had to find somewhere to crash that was as close as I could get to her.
I pulled into the street where she lived and then veered onto the forecourt. I decided to park at the rear of the building, so I was out of sight. I cut the engine, but kept my helmet on in case I saw her nosy neighbour opposite. Then I walked around to the front of the building and let myself in.
I stood for a moment, staring at the post boxes in the foyer. All the boxes were labelled in some way, hers with her name. I pulled out the scrap of paper with her name on and crumpled it into a ball, shoving it in my pocket. Then I noticed one box was blank. Number fifteen. It was on the same floor as Abigail but a few doors down from her.
Was it empty?
There was only one way to find out.
I started to climb the stairs, checking my pocket to make sure I had the syringe of sedative ready in case I needed to use it. When I reached her floor, I walked with my head down until I got to number fifteen. It was on the opposite side to Abigail’s,but close enough that if I needed to get to her, I could be there in thirty seconds. Probably sooner.
I glanced up and down the hallway, then started to pick the lock. When it opened, I stepped inside and closed the door.
I stood still for a moment, listening for any signs of life, but there was none. So, I walked further into the apartment and started to look around. There was an old leather sofa in the living room and a worn-out rug in front of it. The kitchen appliances still had electricity, and there were some beers chilling in the fridge. But the rest of the apartment was empty. No bed in the bedroom. I was lucky though. I had somewhere I could watch her, and there was no need to take anyone captive do that. Well... I could’ve takenhercaptive, I guess. At least I’d know she was safe then, and if I was honest, that option was still on the table. But for now, I wanted things to progress naturally, like I’d seen on TV. Like it did for normal people. But I could engage the crazy at any moment, if I needed to.
I sat down on the edge of the sofa and took my phone out, so I could watch her inside her apartment. It would’ve been more helpful if I’d brought some of my screens from home and set them up in here, had them playing constantly so I could follow her, but I’d come here on the off chance that I could access somewhere that wasn’t a bloody maintenance closet. Now I was here, I could plan my strategy better. Set up an observation room that was more useful.
I took my phone out to watch her again, turning the volume up, and she was sitting on her sofa, eyes wide, with her hand over her mouth as she stared at the TV.
Emergency services were alerted to a house fire on Comberton Lane late last night, and as yet, the owner, Angela Maynard,has not been located. Officers believe the fire was started deliberately, and we spoke to a local resident at the scene.
“The flames lit up our bedroom, and it woke me up. I looked through the curtains and saw the place going up. I told my wife to call the fire brigade. But by then, it was too late.”
