Splinter the Silence Read Online Free PDF Page A

neck till it was dead. Those women had poisoned his whole life.

And now bitches like that were everywhere he turned, interfering in other people’s lives, making misery for other kids like him. He couldn’t escape them. He’d reached the point where he couldn’t keep taking their crap. He needed to put a stop to it.

But he had to be clever about it. Just killing them would make martyrs of them. He had to strip them of anything that might make them admirable. Make them worthless. Make it look as if their own behaviour had driven them to their deaths. That their guilt and shame had finally kicked in.

Now he’d started, he felt so much better. After Kate Rawlins, there was a kernel of peace in his heart that hadn’t been there before. It grew with stronger with Daisy Morton and Jasmine Burton. Now the bodies were starting to pile up, these bitches would have to take notice. It might take a while, but eventually they’d begin shutting up.

Or he’d keep on doing it for them.

Tony meanwhile was in the self-contained end section of the barn, where Carol had been living. He was gratified that she trusted him enough to give him free access to her most private domain. He hoped she’d eventually grasp that what he was about to do wasn’t a breach of that trust.

Carol had stamped her own personality on the space now. Michael, a successful games software designer, wouldn’t have recognised the place. It had been designed as an office that could double as a guest suite. A desktop ran along one wall, power points arrayed along its length like a strange design statement. Where there had once been an assortment of computer monitors and peripherals, there was now a single laptop and a neatly folded pile of T-shirts. Another wall was shelved and held Carol’s books and CDs. There was a king-size bed and a walk-in wardrobe, a shower room, and beyond that, down a short hallway, a decent-sized kitchen with a breakfast bar and a couple of stools. It was soundproofed and air conditioned; to Tony, it resembled a bunker more than anything.

Sleep had been elusive, but that wasn’t unusual. Tony had struggled with sleep for years, seldom managing more than four or five hours without waking and staring at the ceiling, listening to the wheels going round inside his head. The atmosphere between Carol and him before they’d parted hadn’t helped. He’d hoped she’d see the sense in what he was saying. He knew she wouldn’t be able to capitulate directly, that she’d make him drag her to the point of agreement, but he believed that she was ready for change. Ready to admit that it was time to reclaim her life.

That hadn’t been how it had gone. He’d barely made it to the barn door in time to stop Carol slamming it shut in his face. Her eyes had blazed with anger as he’d barged in behind her. ‘I’ve told you. This is none of your business,’ she’d said, storming through the barn to her living area. By the time he caught up with her in her kitchen, she was pouring a large glass of white wine.

‘Straight to the bottle,’ he said. ‘You’ve been busy telling me you don’t have a problem, but what’s your first response to any kind of criticism? Have a big drink. Classic, Carol. Classic alcoholic behaviour.’

She took a defiant swig from the glass. ‘I’m not an alcoholic. I like a drink. And frankly, after the night I’ve had, I think I deserve a little pleasure.’

‘I don’t think there’s any pleasure in that glass. I think there’s relief. I think there’s release. And I think there’s dependency. You needed that drink, whether you wanted it or not.’

‘You think I can’t do without it? You couldn’t be more wrong. I’m perfectly happy to do without drink.’

‘Really? So why did you always have a quarter-bottle of vodka in your desk drawer? Why do you always carry a hip flask in your handbag?’

She’d made a little ‘tcha’ of disgust. ‘What? You’re spying on me now?’

Tony shook his