The Final Silence Read Online Free PDF Page A

imagined explaining a cracked rib to her father.
    ‘Stupid girl,’ she said.
    Rea grabbed the crowbar and got back to her feet. She examined the minor damage she’d inflicted on the door frame. Barely a chip on the paintwork, but it was a start.
    She returned the crowbar’s blade to the tiny furrow it had dug. This time, she worked the blade back and forth, widening the gap before pushing it deeper. Soon she had forced the crowbar’s tip in by a quarter of an inch. Not too hard. Only a little sweat on her back.
    Rea kept working, back and forth, pushing, rewarded by the grinding and cracking. The frame took the brunt of the damage, its wood softer than that of the door. When the blade had dug in almost half an inch, it met something solid. The latch plate, she thought. The crowbar would go no further.
    She took her hands away. The crowbar remained suspended, wedged in place. She felt her pulse in her ears. What if she wasn’t strong enough to force the door open?
    ‘Course I am,’ she said.
    Rea gripped the crowbar, set her feet apart, and pulled. Pressure built inside her head. Her shoulders shook with the effort.
    Nothing.
    She released the bar and let her hands drop to her sides. A cold line of sweat ran from her temple to her cheek. She gripped the crowbar again and leaned back, pushing with her legs, using the weight of her body.
    A hard crack, and the door moved. Only a fraction of an inch, but it moved.
    Rea’s breath came in gulps, her heart feeling like it would force its way up her throat.
    ‘This time,’ she said, taking hold of the crowbar once more. She braced one foot against the door frame, planted the other on the floor, and threw her weight back.
    Through no will of her own, a growl started deep in her chest and grew to a strained squeal. Christ, I sound like a pig, she thought. A laugh bubbled up from her belly, but before it could escape, the crowbar came loose of the frame and she fell tumbling backwards.
    The back of Rea’s head connected with the wood of the banister and a fierce light flared behind her eyes. The world lurched and shifted. Time creased like folded paper.
    Something warm and metallic in her mouth. She swallowed, felt a gnawing pain at the back of her tongue. Bitten it, probably, but she couldn’t remember when. How long had passed?
    Rea sat upright, rested her shoulders against the banister. She touched her fingertips to the back of her head. Tender, but her scalp was unbroken. A goose egg had already swollen beneath the skin. She turned her head from one side to the other. The muscles in her neck twitched and flickered with pain. Could’ve been worse, she thought. She’d known a boy at school who’d been left paralysed from the neck down after a simple fall.
    What had she been thinking, anyway? She should’ve waited until her father was there to help. But then, she’d always been like that. Flashes of bravado followed by regret and retreat to her parents’ safety net.
    All to get a bloody door open.
    Then she looked up and saw the empty space where the door had been. And the room beyond, dark as a cave.

5
     
    LENNON WALKED THROUGH the doors of the old Presbyterian church on the Falls Road. The building had been expanded and converted into an Irish cultural centre with a theatre, a cafe, exhibition rooms and galleries. He made his way upstairs to one of the classrooms and found it empty save for the Irish dance teacher packing up her gear. Lennon couldn’t remember her name.
    ‘I’m here to collect my daughter,’ he said.
    The teacher looked up from the collection of CDs she was stowing into a bag.
    ‘Ellen McKenna,’ Lennon said.
    The teacher smiled. ‘Oh, Ellen? Her aunt came for her.’
    Lennon cursed under his breath. He was no more than ten minutes late, but Bernie McKenna had used those few minutes to swoop and take Ellen. She only lived a two-minute walk away, so Lennon knew Bernie had taken Ellen home, was probably preparing a meal for her.
    He thanked