Page 89 of The Taskmaster
Chapter Forty-Five
ABIGAIL
It all happened so fast. One minute, he was holding my hand and leading me to the front door, he opened it, and then I heard tyres screeching in the distance. As I went to turn around, he pushed me inside and locked the door behind me. I tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t unlock from the inside, and I pounded on the door for him to let me out.
For just a moment, the thought had entered my head that maybe he’d tricked me into coming here. That perhaps I wasn’t safe, and his intentions hadn’t been as pure as I thought. But that thought soon vanished when I peered through the peephole that was fitted into his door as I pounded on it.
I saw the black car speed into view, and then the doors flung open and two men, dressed in dark suits and wearing balaclavas, jumped out. Isaiah was further away now, approaching the car with a knife in his hand, and as they charged forward, he managed to catch one of them with his blade, forcing them back. But he wasn’t going to win this one, and no amount of screaming and shouting from me could help him.
I saw the third man get out of the car and run around to tackle Isaiah from behind. I hollered and slammed my fists onthe door to warn him. But it was no use. He grabbed Isaiah, and within seconds, Isaiah was on the floor.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I cried and shouted, pounding on the door as I watched them lift his lifeless body and stuff it into the boot of their car. Then they glanced around and climbed back into the vehicle and drove off at speed.
But not before I’d memorised the registration number, and the make and model of the car.
I repeated the registration number over and over as I took my phone from my pocket. Then I opened my notes app and typed it in so I wouldn’t forget. It was my only hope of tracking him down and saving him.
I kept trying the lock, seeing if I could open the front door, but it wouldn’t budge. So, I spun around and headed down the corridor, opening doors, trying to find another way out of this place. All the windows were barred up, and each room looked more like an office than a home. I’d never seen so many monitors.
With panic rising every second that I searched, I entered another room and recoiled as I stared at a noose hanging from the ceiling. A sickening dread hit me, and I whipped around. I couldn’t look at it. The images it conjured in my brain were so dark, they scared me.
Why the hell did he have something like that?
Did he plan to use it?
Was this what he wanted to show me?
Would he have used that on me?
I felt blind panic at the thought of what it meant, and scenarios began to play in my mind like a sick horror movie.
Focus, Abi. You have to concentrate on getting out of here,I mentally reminded myself, and I stalked out of that room.
Eventually, I found the back door, but that was locked, too, and there wasn’t any glass in the door that I could smash. I wastrapped in here, and I had no idea how I was going to escape. Actually, I did have one option. It was my only option. I hated using it, but what other choice did I have?
I took my phone out and pressed the call button. It rang out three times before it was answered.
“Hi, Dad, it’s me. I need your help. I’m going to send you a pin with my location, and I need you to come and get me. But you can’t tell anyone else where you’re going. You have to come alone, and please bring something to break a door down,” I said, stumbling over my words.
“What the hell is going on, Abi?” my dad asked, worry evident in every word he spoke, but I could hear shuffling in the background, like he was mobilising himself into action.
“I can’t tell you over the phone, but please, just trust me. I’m okay, but I need you to come and get me.”
“I’m on my way,” he stated, and I cut the call, sending the pin with my location, and standing at the front door with my arms wrapped around me as I willed him to come faster. What I was going to tell him, I had no idea, but I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
I looked through the peephole, waiting for him to come, and when his car appeared outside, I started to bang on the door. Dad got out of his car and started to glance around. He didn’t know exactly where I was, and this door was doing too good a job at keeping me hidden, and silencing my noise. But as Dad started to move around and came closer to the door, he heard me.
“Abi,” he called out, pressing his ear against the door to listen. “Is someone in there with you?”
“No. It’s just me,” I shouted, and he stood back, then ran to his car and took out a toolbox from the back.
“Stand back,” he shouted as he came near and got to work, trying to open the door. It was a stubborn lock and took a lot ofwork on Dad’s part to break it open. But eventually it did, and when he rushed through the door, he grabbed me and held me tight.
“You’re okay, love. I’ve got you,” he said, hugging me tight. “Let’s get you home, and I’ll call this in.”
I gently pushed him away, telling him, “No, Dad. This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Well, it looks like someone imprisoned my daughter, and when I find them, there’ll be hell to pay.” He gritted his teeth, his jaw flexing as he looked me up and down. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice lower now, hesitant at what I might say.
