Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
THE TASKMASTER
Iwatched her on the monitors in my living room.
A wall of monitors to stalk my prey. Half of them were set up to follow my next player, the other half were on her.
I couldn’t help but smile when she took the knife from her dresser and held it up like she was auditioning for Kill Bill.
She looked surprisingly cute doing her ninja shit.
She flung her bedroom door open as if she were about to go into battle, and the look on her face when she saw that things weren’t right in her apartment, that the photo was missing, made me grin wider. I can’t deny, I may have cackled slightly.
Why not?
It was fun watching a player squirm. Only, she wasn’t a player. Not really. She was my pet project. My way of showing Walters what happens when you fuck around. He’d soon find out. They both would.
And then I saw her shouting. Heard her screaming about this being the last time I’d get to do this to her, that it was the last time I’d ever stalk her, and I felt a jolt, like a glitch in my matrix, as a strange heaviness invaded my whole body.
Red mist appeared that hung heavily over me, choking me.
She was being stalked already.
This wasn’t her first time.
And she thought that person was who’d been in her home a few hours ago.
Who the fuck was it?
Who else was watching her?
Did they have cameras set up in her apartment, too?
Were they watching me earlier and fucking laughing at me?
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 was my game. 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.”
It was the 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 already knew 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.
Like I was 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 with fucking 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?”
Cream chinos sighed and said, “Abi had to go to work, but she left her keys with me.” His woman huffed and rolled her eyes as he took a set of keys from his pocket and handed them to me.
“I don’t need the old keys,” I replied with a shrug. “I’m a locksmith. I can take this one off and put a new one on in no time.” But I took them anyway, as she muttered under her breath something about, “Did she give you her number too?”
“Just knock on our door when you’re done and we’ll take the new keys and pass them on,” he said.
She sighed and stomped back into her apartment, and he followed like a dog with its fucking tail between its legs. If I put him into one of my games, he’d fold like a fucking pack of cards. And the sadistic side of me couldn’t wait to see it.
“Catch you later,” I said, grinning to myself.
Time to get to work.
Once I’d removed the lock, I opened the door to her apartment.
Right away, that flowery, girly scent hit me, just like it had last night.
It wasn’t a smell I was used to, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
It certainly beat the smell of death I was used to drowning in.
Although, I had become accustomed to it over the years.
And it did offer me a degree of satisfaction.
But this, in her apartment, was something else entirely.
I made sure the front door was closed behind me and then walked further in, scanning the room for places where cameras could be hidden.
Someone else’s cameras. I did a sweep of the living room, checking every inch, but all I found were the discreet ones I’d hidden.
I did the same in the kitchen, and there was nothing there either.
Pushing the door open to her bedroom, I breathed in deeply.
That sweet scent was stronger in here. And in daylight, I could see everything clearly.
Going through her apartment today gave me a better sense of who she was.
A girl who liked appearances to be pretty and perfect, but under the surface it was anything but.
I’d already seen her bills last night. Today, I could see that paint was peeling in places that she tried to cover up.
Her fridge was empty and her cupboards sparse.
And now, in her bedroom, I saw the threadbare rug on the floor and the chipped furniture.
The pretty bed with a pile of cushions at the top piled against the wall.
But as I walked over and began to move the cushions, I could see the torn wallpaper hiding behind.