Page 53 of The Taskmaster

After hearing the rules he’d spouted at me back at the house, I guessed he was right. But I was still on my guard.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You’ve asked me that already.” His jaw clenched and he paused for a moment, then added, “I’m helping you dispose of a dead body, and I’ve incriminated myself in this as much as you. I’d say that’s pretty trustworthy. But hey, trust me, don’t trust me, at this stage it’s kind of a moot point.” He glanced to the side again, giving me what I can only describe as an evil smirk that looked even more menacing in the darkness. “You don’t have a fucking choice.”

He was right. We were in this together. And I didn’t have a fucking choice.

“Where are we going?” I asked, turning to look at the plastic roll in the back, fighting the sickness that was swirling inside me, then focusing back on the dark road ahead.

“Hadfield lake,” he replied. “I have an old boat there. We can take it out to the middle and drop her in the water, along with the weapons in your backpack. Personally, I’d ditch the backpack too. Then we come back to the jetty, and...” He clicked his fingers. “Poof. You can forget any of this ever happened.”

“Won’t the bag wash up on the shore and give away the evidence?” I asked, and he laughed.

“It’s a lake, not the coast, but don’t worry, if you throw them all in separately, they won’t ever be found together. We can use weights to weigh the bag down too.”

“Why didn’t we just leave them in the fire?”

He didn’t like that I was questioning him, and his nostrils flared as he replied, “Because I don’t leave weapons at a crime scene. I have my way of doing things, and my way is the best way.”

“A killer with OCD,” I joked, but he didn’t laugh.

“My methods have never let me down.”

“Unless they decide to drag the riverbed and the divers find everything.”

“Do you want my help or not?” he snapped, then he sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and in a lighter tone, he said, “It’s the river or a vat of acid.” He turned to face me for a moment, and that smirk was back in place. “Which one do you prefer?”

“The river,” I replied.

“Good,” he stated far too chirpily. “Let’s get this done then you can forget you ever knew a woman called Angela Maynard.”

My blood ran cold.

“I never told you her name.” I glared at his profile, but he didn’t look fazed. “Youarestalking me.”

“I do my research. I already told you that,” he replied, not a hint of guilt evident in his response. “And my hacking skills are fast and precise. I had her details before you’d even walked through her front door.”

“Are you good at picking locks too? Breaking into women’s apartments?” I put my hand on the door handle, ready to open it and let myself out if I needed to. I’d probably break my legs from the fall, but I blocked that part out.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I might be following her too? Like you said, she wasn’t a good person.”

He had a point.

But I had a gut, and it was telling me to be wary.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I snapped. “You can forget this nightmare too, then.”

He shook his head, that smile still in place. “I won’t forget. This night is going to be seared into my brain for a long time. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.”

“You need to get out more.”

“Says the girl who spends her evening dicing up old ladies.”

“I didn’t dice her up.” My voice was way too high-pitched. I cleared my throat, and in a calmer voice, I said, “I didn’t mutilate her or anything.”

“Sliced, then.” He shrugged, turning a sharp corner and making the plastic parcel in the back roll across the van. “And I still want to know the story behind it, by the way. Let’s call it the payoff for me helping you. I want to know exactly why you went after her tonight.”

“And if I don’t tell you?”