Hikers - The Collection (Complete Box Set of 5 Books)

by Lauren Algeo

  Brewer saw the determination in her eyes and cut off a chunk of lasagne without a fight. He ate mechanically, barely tasting the warm pasta and mince, until most of the plate was empty. The food sat heavily in his stomach although Ellen had been right – he did feel a renewed sense of energy from the meal. He drained the glass of water that she’d put next to his plate and sat back in the wooden seat.

  Ellen was still eating and she paused with a forkful of salad halfway to her lips. ‘I still don’t want to know the details but how did Marcus find out the truth about what happened?’

  ‘He knows a detective who was called to the scene,’ Brewer replied. ‘The guy confided in him about what he saw in that study.’

  Ellen pursed her lips and put the fork back down. ‘If Marcus knows people in other stations, is there a way we can use his connections to get close to Daniel?’

  ‘I was thinking the same thing,’ Brewer said. ‘I’m not sure how though. I can’t exactly get assigned to a case anywhere else, I’m barely on the books at Lewisham as a consultant.’

  ‘Could you ask to look at the Davenport case? You know, a fresh pair of eyes in case they missed anything?’ Ellen suggested.

  ‘God, no,’ Brewer snorted. ‘I’m not supposed to know about any of this. Marcus would get in serious trouble if I started poking around.’

  ‘We’ll keep thinking,’ Ellen sighed.

  Brewer thought back over the broadcasts he’d seen, trying to come up with another solution. He closed his eyes and played through everything they’d learned so far. His mind settled on a snapshot from Connors’ statement that evening. Right at the end, Connors had walked over to his waiting security team.

  Brewer’s eyes flew open. They’d been going about this all wrong by trying to use the detective connection.

  ‘The security team,’ he blurted out.

  Ellen jolted in surprise at his loud tone. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Connors has a security detail. They travel with him everywhere.’ His voice rose with excitement. ‘If I can get on that team then I’ll have access to Downing Street; Connors’ damn home! I’ll be able to get close to Daniel.’

  Ellen nodded enthusiastically and she sat up straighter in her chair. ‘You have all the experience and your police background would be a huge selling point.’

  ‘I might be pushing it age-wise but decent people with the right experience aren’t young,’ Brewer said. ‘I’m in shape and I’ve had all the relevant training.’

  ‘There’s just one small problem,’ Ellen frowned. ‘How the hell are we going to get you onto the Prime Minister’s security team?’

  Chapter 8

  Daniel stared at the textbook in front of him but he wasn’t reading any of the maths equations on the pages. He was silently cursing his mother, who was sitting at the other end of the dining table. She was sipping a cup of herbal tea and engrossed in a romance novel.

  Studying was not what Daniel wanted to be doing. He should have been in a car with his father, travelling to a television interview, yet he was stuck at home. There had been no plausible reason for him to attend it. If it had just been his mother at the breakfast table that morning, he would have given her a gentle nudge to allow him to go, but father had been there too. His 11-plus exams were coming up in a few months and they’d been adamant that he study more, even though his tutor wasn’t booked in for the day. His lessons had been sporadic over the last two weeks, with all the drama surrounding Davenport’s death and funeral, and his parents wanted to get him back on track.

  Daniel felt a ripple of pleasure tingle down his spine at the memory of Davenport’s funeral. It had been a media frenzy, with thousands of members of the public lining the streets and over-the-top security. Daniel had gorged himself on the overwrought emotions of everyone around him until he was light-headed.

  The funeral had been held a week ago, with a service at St Paul’s Cathedral, followed by a cremation at Mortlake Crematorium. There were hundreds of people at the service but Daniel had gotten a seat near the front, behind the grieving Davenport family. He’d sat in the crowded room, beside his mother and father, and listened to the sniffles and whimpers around him.

  He’d flitted from mind to mind, enjoying the dark thoughts that resided there. People were wondering why Davenport had killed himself and how he’d done it – the details had somehow managed to stay buried with some clever PR by his father. They were angry at what he’d done to them, particularly Davenport’s wife, Sara. She had a deep rage burning inside her. She had no idea why her husband had done it.

  Some people in the room weren’t grieving at all and that amused him. Those people had been made to attend for career purposes, or had pretended to like Davenport. Daniel had spent an enjoyable five minutes inside the mind of one woman who was fretting about how she’d looked in paparazzi photos. She was working out how she could muster some fake tears on the way out of the service and get near to Sara for a photo opportunity. She was unbelievably vain and not listening to anything the Reverend was saying.

  Going into Thomas’s mind had been the most fun. The boy was desperately upset over the loss of his father and Daniel had given him a little push to begin blaming himself.

  ‘It’s all your fault,’ he’d whispered to the boy’s distressed mind. ‘He killed himself because you were such a bad son.’

  Thomas had been sitting directly in front of him and his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs. Daniel had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Perhaps one day Thomas would follow in dear old daddy’s footsteps.

  The rest of the week since the funeral had been fairly uneventful and Daniel was itching to cause some pain. He was trying to restrain himself while there were so many eyes on their family however the need had been so strong since Davenport. The urge to release someone else from their meaningless life kept him awake at night – not that he ever slept that much. Somehow he found that he didn’t need as much sleep as everyone else.

  Daniel knew he had to quell his intense desires. He’d been so careful throughout his short life and this was not the time to draw attention to himself. He glanced up at his mother and she gave him a smile when she realised he was looking at her. His lips automatically stretched into a smile of his own but it didn’t reach his eyes. He’d taught himself to blend in very well.

  ‘How’s it going, darling?’ his mother asked, putting down her paperback. ‘Do you need any help?’

  ‘No. I’m ok, thank you,’ he replied. ‘Just thirsty.’

  The maths problems were easy, he barely needed to think about them at all, but he never let on just how clever he really was. He would play dumb for his tutor – an elderly man called John, who always smelt of cigarette smoke. He knew it was important to appear normal. His parents had high hopes for his exam results and he wouldn’t disappoint, he just had to keep up the pretence of studying for the high marks he was going to get.

  ‘I’ll get you a juice.’ His mother stood up and headed for the kitchen, exactly as Daniel had hoped.

  As soon as she left the room, he picked up his computer tablet from the chair beside him and began to hunt online for the information he needed. His father had an important meeting with the heads of several banks in two days’ time and Daniel wanted to get as close to them as he could.

  He logged into his father’s email account, using the password he’d plucked from his mind months ago. There were several messages about the upcoming meeting and he quickly found what he was looking for. The meeting would be held in a conference room at 10 Downing Street at 10:30am.

  Daniel could sow the seeds tonight to get himself to the meeting too. Of course he wouldn’t be in the room itself, he just needed to be in the vicinity. He could pretend to be interested in the latest financial crisis and how it would affect the economy; that should get him a visit to his future home. They were due to move there any day now and his father was secretly keen for him to follow in his political footsteps.

  Daniel heard his
mother walking along the corridor and swiftly put his tablet back on the chair, out of sight.

  ‘Here you go, darling.’ His mother handed him a glass of orange juice and put a plate of chocolate biscuits on the table.

  ‘Thanks.’ He gave her the most genuine smile he could muster and gulped some of the juice.

  He was never particularly hungry or thirsty but it was another mask he wore well. He could devour a meal with enough fake enthusiasm to convince his parents that he loved food. In reality, he didn’t enjoy eating – the only real satisfaction he got was from releasing people. That sated the only hunger he had burning inside him. He nibbled on a biscuit regardless and pretended to turn his attention back to his textbook.

  His mind returned to Davenport and he pictured all the dark blood that had flowed from his body. He could clearly visualise the moment the light had gone out in the man’s wide eyes. Releasing people was what he was born to do.

  He’d started small, about a year after his parents had adopted him. They’d lived in a detached house in Surrey at the time, with a large garden out the back. Daniel had been settling in and honing his mind controlling skills when he’d discovered releasing.

  He’d been in the garden one day and come across a small bird that had fallen out of its nest. He could see the other baby birds nestled high up in the tree. This bird was still alive but he knew it wouldn’t last long. As he’d stared at its tiny chest while it struggled for air, he was filled with a deep sense of calm. He’d picked up the bird and closed his palm around its featherless body. His fingers had squeezed tightly and he’d covered his fist with his other hand for added pressure.

  The bird had fluttered weakly against his skin at first then quickly fell still. He’d heard the unmistakable sound of tiny bones crunching and a delicious shudder had run through his body. He had released the bird from its misery. He was more powerful than anyone in the world.

  Daniel had hidden the miniature corpse in a bush near the tree and never mentioned it to anyone. It was his little secret.

  The thrill of killing the bird had lasted for a few days then his mind had turned to planning the next releasing. He was only six years old then but instinct told him to be careful and make sure that no one knew what he was doing. He had to fit in in order to get what he wanted.

  The next releasing had come nearly six months later, after meticulous planning. Daniel had started feeding a small tabby cat that lived somewhere in the neighbourhood. He’d been very discreet, sneaking scraps of food out to the adjoining garage then leaving them just beside the door for the cat to eat. It had purred and rubbed at his ankles but he didn’t pet it, he only made sure it would keep coming back.

  After a couple of weeks, the cat was appearing every day and Daniel made his move. He waited until one afternoon, when school was finished, and told his mother he was going to play in the garden. His father was at work and she had been busy doing the ironing in the living room. He’d snuck a pillowcase out of the airing cupboard and taken it out to the garage, hidden under his jumper. The cat had been pacing around by the garage door, waiting for him.

  Daniel had put a piece of ham on the ground then scooped the cat up in the pillowcase when it had crouched down to eat it. The cat had struggled and meowed inside the case and Daniel had carried it quickly to the bushes at the back of the garden. There was a spot by the fence where no one would be able to see him.

  He was a strong boy and he held the squirming case firmly until he was out of sight. One of the cat’s claws had scratched his palm through the thin material but he barely felt it. He’d discovered a while ago that unlike other children, he could self heal. The tell tale scratch would be gone momentarily and blood was easy to wash off. Healing his cuts was just another thing that made him superior to everyone else. Nobody he knew could do that, not even people he’d seen on TV who worked in hospitals. It was another of his secrets.

  He was aware that highlighting all of his differences would cause him nothing but trouble. There would be questions and tests, and he’d never be free to carry out releasings and peruse minds at his will.

  Daniel hadn’t been entirely sure how he was going to end the cat’s life but as soon as he put the struggling bundle on the ground, he knew. The case was wriggling violently in the dirt and he knew just how to stop it. He’d leaned against the fence and stamped down hard with his right foot. There had been a crack as his trainer connected solidly with the cat’s body, followed by a muffled screech of pain.

  Daniel had stamped his foot again, harder this time, and again, and again, until the noise stopped and the case was still. He was breathing heavily and filled with joy. Another miserable creature had been released.

  He’d stared at the filthy, bloodied case for a while then pushed some dirt over it and gone back to the house to clean up. The cut on his palm had long healed and he washed the dried blood and dirt from his hands in the downstairs toilet. His mother was still ironing and had no idea what he’d been up to. He’d smiled widely at her from the doorway then skipped upstairs to relive the moment over and over in his mind.

  He’d kept the cat’s body hidden at the back of the garden for two days before burying it properly in the dirt. He liked to sneak down there whenever he could to peek at the slowly decomposing body. He would have kept it out for longer if he weren’t so concerned about foxes dragging out the body and revealing what he’d done. They wouldn’t be able to get to it with the deeper grave he’d dug and there was still an uneven mound of dirt there to remind him.

  Seeing the missing cat posters appearing around the neighbourhood had added to his pleasure. A photo of the cat was taped to every lamppost and tree but only Daniel knew where he was. They were never going to find precious little ‘Mittens’.

  After the cat, Daniel had experimented with a few other animals. He’d drowned another cat in a bucket of cold water and kept a mouse trapped under a glass until it had died of starvation and thirst. Releasing creatures was fun for a couple of years but by the time he turned eight, he’d grown bored of it. There was no skill in killing vulnerable animals; he needed to challenge himself.

  He’d been perfecting the art of mind control and could get people to act on his will. He could rifle through people’s thoughts and memories with ease, and he knew that he wanted more out of life. Animals were too easy so he moved on to bigger and better things.

  A small snigger escaped Daniel’s lips and he quickly glanced up from his textbook. His mother was gazing at him with a mildly curious expression.

  ‘Is there something funny, darling?’ she asked.

  ‘No, nothing,’ he smirked. ‘Just life.’

  ‘Uh huh.’ She looked puzzled by his reply but didn’t ask what he meant. ‘I’m going to carry on packing up the living room if you need me. Your father thinks we can move tomorrow.’

  ‘Ok.’ Daniel watched her leave the room with a satisfied smile.

  They were due to move to Downing Street and it couldn’t come quick enough. The Davenport family had been allowed to stay there for the last couple of weeks to grieve and get their affairs in order but they had finally vacated yesterday. Daniel didn’t know where they had moved to, and it was of no interest to him. He was keen to get amongst the action at Downing Street.

  Their current residence at Dorneywood was nice, and the size of the estate was perfect for him to get away with whatever he wanted, but Downing Street was where they belonged. He couldn’t wait to have access to all those influential minds whenever he wanted: the Defence Secretary, the Home Secretary, the Justice Secretary; it was all so enticing.

  His father had appointed a new Deputy Prime Minister, William Harlow, who would be moving into Dorneywood in their place. They would still have use of a government country house called Chequers, so he could get up to mischief there if he needed to, out of sight of prying eyes.

  Daniel stretched his arms above his head. If his mother was right and they were ready to move to Downing Street tomorrow then he wouldn�
�t need to persuade his parents to let him go there on Friday for the finance meeting – the bankers’ minds would already be laid out downstairs at the house for his perusal.

  Daniel closed his textbook with a loud smack. Studying was done for the day; he needed to finish packing up his bedroom to make sure the move went smoothly. As he picked up his tablet from the chair, he decided that he would like the bedroom Thomas had stayed in during his time at the house. Hopefully it would still be thick with poor little Tommy’s tears for his dear departed dad.

  This time the snigger that erupted from Daniel’s throat was loud and chilling.

  Chapter 9

  Brewer sat in the hard office chair and tried not to fidget. He was wearing a dark grey suit and new white shirt. The stiff collar felt as though it was choking him and he fought the urge to loosen his burgundy tie. Marcus sat across the desk from him and swivelled in his chair.

  ‘Mate, try not to look so nervous.’ Marcus gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Graham is a good bloke. You’ll do fine.’

  Brewer nodded. He wanted to explain that he wasn’t nervous; he was desperate. This was the only plan he and Ellen had and they needed it to work. He’d never be able to get close enough to Daniel otherwise.

  Brewer had approached Marcus nearly two weeks ago for his help. His friend had been surprised when Brewer had asked out of the blue if he had any contacts in the new Prime Minister’s security team. He and Ellen had carefully planned out the angle they were going to use. The Prime Minister was looked after by the Specialist Protection Branch, or SO1 team. They were usually Met police or Special Forces, and younger than Brewer, but there had been a few incidents lately that would help his case.

  A couple of weeks before Davenport’s death, a man had been able to get close enough to throw a bottle of water over him as he’d walked to his car. There had been uproar in the media – what if the man had thrown acid instead of just water? Then less than a week after that incident, an irate woman had shoved Davenport on his way out of an interview. There had been questions over the quality of the SO1 team and Brewer intended to use that to his advantage. The same team were now assigned to Connors and he wanted in.