Page 96 of The Taskmaster
“No, please. Dad, stop them,” Abi cried, but more officers had surrounded her, pushing her back, ripping her away from me. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. Let him go,” she cried out, but they weren’t listening.
They twisted my arms behind my back and handcuffed me, reading me my rights. But all I could focus on was her.
“I had to call it in, Abi,” her father said, regret in his tone. “You know that. You know it was the right thing to do.”
“But it wasn’t,” she screamed as they led her away. “This is wrong. Please.”
“Get her out of here,” her father snapped, as they dragged me off the ground and began to pull me across the warehouse to take me into custody.
“We found three bodies in the hallway,” another office stated as he marched me past Dan Walters.
“I had to shoot them. It was self-defence. They had guns and they threatened us both.”
“Looks like there was fucking carnage in here,” he said, and Walters hung his head.
“You have no idea.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
ISAIAH
Isat on a plastic chair in a tiny room with concrete walls, cheap fluorescent lights and vinyl flooring that’d seen better days. I drummed my fingers on the small wooden desk in front of me, growing more agitated by the second.
I was surprised they’d uncuffed me after what I’d done. Walters had witnessed me commit murder, the team that burst in afterwards and arrested me, had dragged me away like I was England’s most wanted.
Maybe I was.
There were a lot of people in Brinton Manor who would celebrate my demise. I knew this was likely the end of the road for me. But I prayed that I’d see her one last time. Just once. That’s all I wanted.
The door opened and my head shot up. Dan Walters walked into the room holding an opaque, orange plastic bag. He shut the door behind him and approached the chair on the opposite side of the desk, placed his bag on the floor and sat down.
“No cameras?” I asked, glancing at the corners of the ceiling where cameras would usually be fitted.
“No. This isn’t a standard interview room.” He placed his arms on the table, hands clasped tightly, fingers threaded together as he regarded me with mistrust.
“No recording equipment either,” I added, quirking my brow. “And no partner to do the good cop, bad cop routine.”
His face remained stoic, unwavering as he replied, “I don’t even know where to start with the absolute shitshow I saw back there. The fact that my daughter had to see that makes me...” His head fell forward, and his grasped hands tensed as he struggled to finish what he was saying. His shoulders rose as he took a breath to compose himself.
Then his head whipped up and he was back to being the impenetrable, unflappable police officer he always presented to the world.
“This interview we’re having, it’s off the record,” he stated, surprising me with his candour.
“It’s not like you to break code,” I replied, sitting back in my chair, studying the man I’d spent years of my life dreaming about, like he was some kind of superhero. But that superhero was about to end the life I’d built from the dust and debris of the hell he’d left me in.
“I want to know what’s going on. What my daughter is involved in. For that reason, this stays off the record... for now.”
I nodded.
I was in total agreement with him.
He reached down to pick up the bag he’d brought into the room, and then he started to take out evidence bags, placing them on the table in-between us. Bags that contained my trophies.
“When my daughter rang me, asking for my help, she sent me an address that she’d been locked into. I got there, used a battering ram to knock the door down, and when I entered theproperty...your property, I found these.” He paused. “I’m going to give you the chance to explain to me exactly what these are.”
“Well...” I tilted my head from side to side, cracking my neck to relieve tension. “They look like bones to me. Oh, and a wallet. Didn’t you bag up the cigarettes and lighter I had, too? You might find some interesting DNA on those.”
Walters was growing agitated, flexing his jaw as he said, “Perhaps I should rephrase my question. Why do you have human bones in your home?”
