IMPOSTURE: Hunters become the hunted in this gripping murder mystery by Ray Clark (book series for 10 year olds TXT) 📕

pinned the photos onto the whiteboard. “So what we need to find out is, how and when did they all meet up outside of university?”

“And what set them on the road to breaking the law?” asked Colin Sharp.

“And whatever that something was,” said Gates, “did it happen to all four of them as a team, or just one of them?”

“Good point,” said Reilly. “Did one of them recruit the others after something had happened?”

Gardener shook his head. “I can’t imagine David Hunter willingly having anything to do with this… event, or whatever it was. He didn’t seem the type from what we’ve heard.”

“But that’s just it, boss,” said Reilly, “we don’t really know him, not yet. Maybe something did happen way back in the past, and either one or all of them has never forgiven him.”

“We certainly need to find out,” said Gardener. “There’s no telling where this will end.”

“We’ve also emailed the photos over to the station,” said Pearson. “We thought maybe you could print off some copies for your own use.”

“Thank you,” said Gardener, his mind whirring.

Before he could actually issue any tasks, Shona Pearson produced more paper from the folder.

“What we also have here from David Hunter’s phone is Anthony Palmer’s mobile number.”

“Have you tried it?”

“Yes, straight to voicemail,” said Pearson. “From that we managed to get numbers for the other three.”

An air of excitement prevailed.

“Don’t suppose any of them answered?” asked Reilly.

“No, but they are still active numbers, because they all go to voicemail.”

“I suspect you’ve already tried to trace them?” Gardener asked.

Shona Pearson smiled. “Yes, but they’re not stupid. All of their phones are switched off most of the time. And when I say most, I mean probably twenty-three and a half hours a day.”

“Meaning they only switch them on to collect messages and then switch them straight off again,” said Gates.

“People as clever as these won’t allow anyone to trace them through their phones,” said Longstaff. “What about the mobile providers, can they give us anything?”

“Well that’s the strange one,” said Pearson, “we can’t actually find out who they are at the moment. Everything seems to re-route all over the place. When we try to put a trace on we just get blocked.”

“They must have a provider,” offered Gardener.

“Unless they’ve figured out how to get all their calls for free,” said Reilly.

Gardener nodded. “Probably have.” He glanced at Gates and Longstaff. “Would you ladies like to have a go at that one?”

They agreed in unison.

“Okay,” said Gardener, “we have no idea where this lot is; are they still here in the UK, or abroad somewhere? Let’s have copies of the photos and the rest of you back at the airports with digital ID. Run everything they have through photo recognition, especially the new passport system in customs, and double-check everything through CCTV. One of them must have made a mistake somewhere. No one can be that good.”

“Let’s hope not, for our sakes,” said Reilly.

Chapter Sixteen

Following a phone call from Roger Hunter, Gardener and Reilly were back at Highway Cottage in Burley. Despite the fact that he had been living in his brother’s house for something close to three weeks, it didn’t appear to be lived in at all. Gardener had the impression that Roger Hunter was merely a caretaker.

“How are you?” asked Gardener, sipping tea.

“I’ve been better.”

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been put through. Losing family is never easy.”

“You sound like you have previous experience.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” replied Gardener.

“Do you have any other family, Roger?” asked Reilly.

“No. I’m a loner. Always have been. I’ve had one or two relationships but I could never commit to them. I operate better alone.”

Gardener brought up the phone call that summoned them over.

Roger glanced at the coffee table between them. On the top were a couple of diaries. Underneath them was a large white envelope.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d told me, about Anthony Palmer. I’m struggling to believe he would do that to my brother, and Ann Marie.”

“You can’t choose your family, Roger,” said Reilly.

Roger grabbed a handful of pistachio nuts. After chewing he washed them down with some tea before picking up one of the diaries.

“David was always the secretive one of the two of us. When we were kids he used to hide things from me.”

“What sort of things?” Gardener asked.

“Stupid stuff. Things that he’d think I’d want. I remember him hiding a bloody abacus in a bag, inside a case, under the wardrobe. God knows why, I didn’t want it. I didn’t know how to use it. But that was what he did. If there was something he wanted, or something he couldn’t understand, he wouldn’t ask anyone for help about it, he’d fester. He’d hide the bloody things away until he could come up with a solution.”

“What have you found?” Gardener asked, sitting back in his chair.

“This,” said Roger, holding a diary aloft.

“Where was it?” asked Reilly.

“In the bathroom cupboard behind a false panel. You wouldn’t have known it was there unless you were a bit anal like me. If things don’t look right, they’re usually not. I noticed a slight slant on this panel so I moved it. Found these.”

“What’s in them?” asked Gardener, reaching out for the book.

“A couple of things.” Roger opened the diary at a particular page and then passed it over to Gardener. Reilly moved closer.

“It seems that my brother had arranged to meet with Anthony Palmer. From what I can gather, David had told Anthony about the mess he had found himself in, despite the fact that none of it was his doing.

“He was convinced that he was being conned by a hacker who had used the fact that he was employed by a private