Murder in the first life E-Book

Dirk Lützelberger

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 375

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Anonymous figures surf the Internet every day to pursue their secret fantasies undetected. In her first case, Chief Inspector Gwen Fisher has to learn how closely the virtual and real worlds are connected. The single mother, who has only recently lost her beloved husband, is trying to get her life back under control when the killer strikes for the first time. With the help of her 14-year-old son, she learns things from a virtual parallel world on the Internet that she never thought possible. Sparse clues point to connections that she is initially unable to interpret properly. Too late she realizes that the killer has already taken up the trail to her family in the real world.

Leseprobe

Murder in the first life

From the beginningSaturday, November 17th, 2012, 11:45 pmSaturday, November 17th, 2012, 11:59 pmSunday, November 18th, 2012, 03:20 amSunday, November 18th, 2012, 11:10 amMonday, November 19th, 2012, 06:45 amMonday, November 19th, 2012, 06:45 amTuesday, November 20th, 2012, 06:30 pmTuesday, November 20th, 2012, 06:30 pmFriday, November 23rd, 2012, 07:05 pmSunday, November 25th, 2012, 08:57 amTuesday, November 27th, 2012, 10:45 pmWednesday, November 28th, 2012, 03:15 pmWednesday, November 28th, 2012, 02:30 pmThursday, November 29th, 2012, 07:05 amFriday, November 30th, 2012, 09:00 amSunday, December 02nd, 2012, 02:00 pmSunday, December 02nd, 2012, 06:00 pmMonday, December 03rd, 2012, 03:00 pmTuesday, December 04th, 2012, 07:00 pmWednesday, December 05th, 2012, 05:50 pmThursday, December 06th, 2012, 12:30 pmThursday, December 06th, 2012, 10:30 amSaturday, December 08th, 2012, 07:00 pmSunday, December 09th, 2012, 10:30 amMonday, December 10th, 2012, 06:30 pmTuesday, December 11th, 2012, 09:30 amTuesday, December 11th, 2012, 06:30 pmWednesday, December 12th, 2012, 08:45 amWednesday, December 12th, 2012, 08:00 pmThursday, December 13th, 2012, 09:00 amFriday, December 14th, 2012, 07:45 pmSunday, December 16th, 2012, 03:45 pmMonday, December 17th, 2012, 02:45 pmThursday, December 20th, 2012, 07:30 pmFriday, December 21st, 2012, 09:00 amSaturday, December 22nd, 2012, 02:00 pmSunday, December 23rd, 2012, 04:00 pmSunday, December 23rd, 2012, 06:00 pmMonday, December 24th, 2012, 09:00 amMonday, December 24th, 2012, 07:00 pmMonday, December 24th, 2012, 05:00 pmTuesday, December 25th, 2012, 12:00 amWednesday, December 26th, 2012, 01:45 pmThursday, December 27th, 2012, 09:00 amFriday, December 28th, 2012, 04:00 pmSunday, December 31st, 2012, 06:00 pmThursday, January 10th, 2013, 05:00 pmThursday, January 10th, 2013, 05:45 pmFriday, January 11th, 2013, 05:00 pmSaturday, January 12th, 2013, 04:15 pmSunday, January 13th, 2013, 10:15 amMonday, January 14th, 2013, 09:30 amTuesday, January 15th, 2013, 07:00 amTuesday, January 15th, 2013, 07:45 pmWednesday, January 16th, 2013, 09:30 amWednesday, January 16th, 2013, 06:30 pmFriday, January 18th, 2013, 08:30 amMonday, January 21st, 2013, 07:15 amThursday, January 24th, 2013, 07:20 pmFriday, January 25th, 2013, 12:20 pmSaturday, January 26th, 2013, 06:03 pmSaturday, January 26th, 2013, 06:05 pmSaturday, January 26th, 2013, 06:30 pmSaturday, January 26th, 2013, 07:00 pmSaturday, January 26th, 2013, 07:00 pmSaturday, January 26th, 2013, 07:25 pmSaturday, January 26th, 2013, 07:27 pmSaturday, January 26th, 2013, 07:29 pmSaturday, January 26th, 2013, 07:30 pmFriday, February 01st, 2013, 08:11 pmExtract from the second bookChapter 1Acknowledgement

Murder in the first life

Thriller 

Second edition

Dirk Lützelberger

© 2020 Dirk Lützelberger

By the same author have also been published: Mord im ersten Leben (German Edition) Roadtrip in Australien (German Edition) Road trip Australia (English Edition) Hintertüren (German Edition) Secret doors (English Edition)

Printed in Germany

The work, including its parts, is protected by copyright. Any use is prohibited without the consent of the publisher and the author. This applies in particular to electronic or other reproduction, translation, distribution and making available to the public.Imprint Texts: © Copyright by Dirk Lützelberger Cover: © Copyright by Dirk Lützelberger Translation: www.deepl.com, manual proofreading Publisher: Dirk Lützelberger Am Sorgfeld 14 22587 Hamburg [email protected] Pressure: epubli – a service of neopubli GmbH, Berlin

Anonymous figures surf the Internet every day to pursue their secret fantasies undetected. Chief Inspector Gwendolyn Fisher, a single mother, has recently lost her beloved husband. She is trying to get her life back under control when the perpetrator strikes for the first time. Together with her partner Superintendent Stefan Schick, she tries to pick up the trail of the killer when he slays again. Unusual places where corpses are found and very different approaches to the murders don’t show any connection, but nevertheless the two soon get the idea that this must be a serial killer. Gwen desperately tries to push the investigation forward and also counts on the support of her 14-year-old son, who is very much affected by the death of his father. Together they penetrate a virtual parallel world on the Internet, which both have never known before. Is this the key to solving the case? In the real world, the killer has already tracked down her family. A race against time begins.

For Chrissi

Saturday, November 17th, 2012, 11:45 pm

The cold metal of the bars pressed into his back while Kay Berger tried again and again to find a more comfortable position. After endless attempts he gave up resignedly. It made no sense. His body ached from the cramped position he had been crammed into. It was cold here and dirty.

This was not how he had imagined it, although he had dreamed of sitting naked and locked up in a narrow metal cage several times before. But in this cold November night there was nothing exciting at all. Disappointed, he collapsed deep inside himself.

How had he got into this situation anyway, Kay wondered. Under other circumstances it would have been exactly what he longed for, but at that moment it was just unpleasant. Meanwhile, the bars left very painful marks all over his body. An icy wind glided over his naked body and he got goose bumps. For several hours now he sat in his prison and he shivered. It was really no fun anymore. Had it begun as fun? Kay knew nothing anymore. Somehow his memory was erased. It was time to end this game here. But how? Why him, why now, Kay wondered. But the more he thought about it, the less he had an answer to his questions.

His senses were sharpened by the darkness and he began to explore his surroundings. It smelled slightly of gasoline. Not penetrating, more like someone had spilled a few drops of petrol, which now evaporated. The air was clammy and humid. He felt a breeze now and then, which stroked his skin. Where was he? Kay couldn’t remember very much, no matter how hard he tried. Someone had grabbed him from behind. He had just come home and had parked his car. The stranger had put a cloth over his mouth and nose. What had it smelled like? Kay shivered at the memory of the hospital smell. Then a precipice, a black hole. His legs gave way and … this is where his memory left him. When he woke up, it was light. The next day? Or the day after that? Did it make any difference? He had lost all sense of time. He had to get out of here quickly. His legs, his back and his butt were beginning to hurt like hell. He knew the phenomenon. He had read about it on the Internet. The human body needs to be able to stretch out from time to time. The muscles must loosen, stretch and contract again. The body cannot remain in one position for very long. If it is forced, for example because it has been tied up, it causes hellish pain after a short time and the muscles then start to cramp. Kay felt the next cramp in his thigh, because he could hardly move for hours. His enormous fullness now became his fatality. His flabby body filled the small prison on the side completely, condemning him to immobility. He had to suffer until help came. To make matters worse, he thought, his hands were also handcuffed to the bars behind his back. His legs weren’t tied, but he had to put them down in the cage at an angle because of the narrowness of the cage and could not stretch them out under any circumstances.

The nearby church clock was striking. Kay counted the beats. Half an hour till midnight.

He had got used to the darkness by now and his pupils were wide open. Shadowy he could perceive his surroundings, but he couldn’t see any details beyond the bars. It had to be a new moon, because even through the small window behind him no light came in, which would have made it easier for him to find his way around the room.

Without warning the light was turned on and his eyes hurt. It was bright light, which hit his retina unprepared and he squeezed his eyes together reflexively. Steps! Steps that came towards him. Slowly Kay blinked, but he couldn’t make out any details. He could only perceive the black, shadowy outlines of a person.

"How are you?" asked the person in a soft voice. Kay was confused by the calm tone of his tormentor. "W-w-why are you doing this? What do you w-w-want from me?" His voice trembled.

"You wanted it that way" the stranger purred again in the same monotonous tone. He pondered for a moment and then continued, "I’m only fulfilling your dreams!"

Had he heard right? It must have been a bad dream, Kay thought.

"This is madness! What makes you think I would have dreamed of something like this? Untie me at once!" By now his eyes had become accustomed to the bright light and he could open them normally. Kay watched the man opposite him. Did he know him? Then why did he say he wanted to fulfil him his dreams. Who was this guy? "Please – please let me go. My wife is already looking for me. I won’t tell anyone else. I won’t. Please!"

"I don’t think your wife is already looking for you" the stranger replied monotonously. "After all, you don’t get along as well as you used to! Why should she look for you if you always stay out all night and never say a word about where you’ve been?"

How did the guy know all these details about him, about his life and his family? Kay shivered all over as the stranger walked around the cage and stopped behind him. Searching, Kay turned his gaze right and left and realized he was in a garage, as the smell of gasoline had already made him suspect. On one wall were all sorts of tools hanging and on a shelf on the other wall were several canisters of some kind of liquid. The man behind him was digging in his tool bank. The sounds Kay heard did bode ill. His heart was beating up to his throat. He feared the stranger could hear it beating.

"We’re going to take a little trip" the stranger continued, and Kay now heard the sound that tape made when pulling it off a roll. It all happened very quickly and before Kay understood exactly, hands reached through the bars from behind. With nimble fingers, the figure sealed Kay’s lips.

"We don’t want you to wake up the neighbours, do we?"

Kay could almost hear the horrible smile. He breathed in and out violently through his nose, shook himself, trying to get rid of the tape, but it was already sticking perfectly to his skin. Panic rose in him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t separate his lips a millimetre more. Kay’s eyes opened as the cage was tilted backwards and his head hit the bars. He rolled off. The guy pushed him through the garage with the cage on a sack barrow.

"The journey will not take long. Make yourself comfortable."

Saturday, November 17th, 2012, 11:59 pm

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five" Gwendolyn Fisher counted enthusiastically and together with Elisabeth Robinson and Stefan Schick they finished the countdown, "four, three, two, one!"

Then all the other guests joined in and together they sang, "Happy Bööörthday, tooo you – Happy Bööörthday to youuuuu."

Paul Fisher got goose bumps from the strange sounds, but he smiled bravely when he heard his friends singing. It was good to see them again and they had all accepted the invitation on his day of honour. Celebrating his forty-sixth birthday was Gwendolyn’s idea, or Gwen, as she was called by everyone. She always had such great ideas and was always good for a surprise, thought Paul and looked at her face in love. The youthful charisma of his wife was certainly due to her green eyes, which shone like emeralds full of enthusiasm. She had been Paul’s dream girl from the very beginning, ever since he had succumbed to her smile and her glances at their first encounter. Gwen threw back her long, curly, red hair when she fell around her husband’s neck. Paul could barely stand on his feet as Gwen gave him a birthday kiss on the mouth that every man present envied him.

Gwen laughed her head off, "Now you are in you forty-seventh year of life, your old age guy, while I am only forty-two!"

The party guests enjoyed themselves, although they had to hear the saying every year. It was Gwen’s special way of interpreting the facts and making a positive statement. She was a natural talent for gaiety and joy.

"I also want to congratulate" Phillip squeezed through the group towards his father and wrapped his arms around him. "Happy birthday, Daddy. Stay as you are, that’s how I love you." Paul swallowed hard in the embrace of his fourteen-year-old son, who wanted to be called Phil by everyone. He reminded him so much of himself when he was little, and also saw much of his wife in him. The pert, mischievous look and alert blue eyes he had from his father, the unmistakable red hair from his mother. He himself had agreed to go bald a few years ago when his hair turned grey and began to fall out. That was at least very easy to care for, Paul thought, and it also seemed 'cool' in his son’s eyes. A bit like the hero in 'Die Hard', he kept saying. Paul smiled at the thought of it.

"Now make way for your old mother!" Actually, her name was Elisabeth, but the name had been too old-fashioned for her, so everyone called her just Beth, or sometimes Lisbeth, if necessary. Despite her seventy-two years, she still wiggled through the crowd and reached her son-in-law. She bent down to his ear. "At my age one can’t stand it when children worry one. So, you’d best stay safe and sound so we can have many more lovely parties together." Then she kissed him on the cheek.

"Now let’s have a toast before we die of thirst!" Michael Peters suggested and raised his glass. Dr Peters was a long-time friend of the family and had worked with Gwen at the Kiel State Office of Criminal Investigation, called 'Landeskriminalamt' or LKA, for many years. He oversaw investigating crime scenes and clues in the forensic department. In the meantime, Gwen had been promoted to Chief Inspector and together with her colleague, Superintendent Stefan Schick, they were a well-rehearsed team.

All three cheered Paul when he suddenly sank to the ground, powerless and unexpectedly.

"Paul, what about you?" cried Gwen, still trying to stop the falling body. But the ninety kilograms slid inexorably to the ground, where Paul lay motionless. The guests standing around were paralyzed when Michael was the first to become aware of the situation and sank to his knees next to Paul. He immediately shook him by the shoulders, "Paul, can you hear me?"

Michael put his ear to Paul’s nose and observed if the chest was still moving. The guests around him hardly dared to breathe. After a few seconds his lips formed a slow 'sh…it', then Michael stood up and was in his element. He had experienced such situations many times before.

"Stefan, call the ambulance immediately" he commanded. "Tell them to hurry, he’s probably having a heart attack!"

"Gwen, you’re coming with me! Put on a jacket and Beth, please take care of the guests and stay with Phil until we call from the hospital. Now, everybody, please get out of here!" Michael, ripped open Paul’s shirt, immediately started chest compressions to keep his friend’s circulation going. He had to bridge the time until the ambulance arrived.

♦♦♦

Dr Peters knew the emergency medical team very well, which came into the living room after a few minutes. He shouted to them from a distance, without interrupting the chest compressions, "The defibrillator, quickly!" He knew that Paul was in good hands with his former colleagues and could do anything more for him at that moment. A defibrillator, which would bring the heart rhythm back into order by means of a targeted electric shock, was the only thing that could help now. Michael was sure of that.

When the paramedics took over, he stood up and hugged Gwen. Breathlessly, they watched the doctor’s efforts. Hope germinated in Gwen’s eyes as the paramedics worked at a hectic pace.

"We have a pulse again!" cheered the younger of the two doctors. "He must get to hospital immediately!"

On the way to the ambulance, Michael shouted at Gwen, "Get into the front, I’ll stay in the back with your husband!" While Gwen hurried forward, Michael almost yelled at Stefan, "We’re going to the Army Hospital, it’s the closest one." He added to his instructions, "You keep the way clear for us in the patrol car."

Stefan ran to his Ford Focus tournament, where he had driven to Paul’s birthday right after finishing his shift. He turned on the flashing blue light and waited with the engine running for the emergency ambulance to finally get going.

They left Gwen’s property via the gravel driveway and first turned left towards the main road. Why did Gwen have to live so far from the city, Stefan pondered as he approached the crossroads to turn right. He looked in the rear-view mirror. They were behind him.

No question about it, this was a beautiful area, a few kilometres northeast of Kiel, but at the back of the world. Nothing but fields, footpaths and peace, Gwen had once raved over it. Now they would certainly have liked to have a hospital nearby and not just eight kilometres away. They were alone on the main road and Stefan stepped on the gas. He wasn’t even fifty years old, hopefully he’d survive, Stefan pondered as he saw the ambulance in his rear-view mirror. He fixed the two high beam lights, which raced towards him at high speed. Cramping, Stefan held the steering wheel of his Barbarix tightly while the lights came closer and closer. Barbarix, that is what he and Gwen affectionately called their blue and white patrol car. They were about the same age and often talked to each other while they were on shifts together. At some point Gwen told him that she was a fan of Barbapappa in her childhood days. A program that was a regular part of the children’s program. Barbarix was the smart blue one. Somehow this suited them, said Gwen, and so they simply christened their vehicle Barbarix. Together they had already experienced many exciting times and solved many difficult cases. They were both just as smart as Barbarix.

This idiot is going to kill himself, Stefan rumbled to himself when he noticed that the car behind them was overtaking the ambulance and himself at a crazy speed. In a split second the car had shot past them. A red Porsche, of course, thought Stefan, and shouted angrily after the speeding car, "You bum, is that necessary?"

Then the Porsche braked off abruptly, as if he had heard it, and turned sharp left into the side street, where he suddenly found himself facing a van. Only an emergency stop of the two cars could avoid a collision. Tires squeaked and a grey-blue stinking cloud of burnt rubber surrounded the two vehicles as they came to a halt.

Stefan opened his eyes in horror and grasped the situation in a split second. He recognized how the red Porsche and a white delivery van with inscription on the sides, had come to a halt only a few meters apart. Both drivers were sitting in their vehicles, startled, but seemed unharmed. The van will be allowed to re-sort its load for the time being, thought Stefan, and obviously they didn’t need his help now. Stefan would have liked to get out of the car to tell the Porsche driver what he thought, but there was no time for that. His friend urgently needed to see a doctor. That was the most important matter. Stefan indicated by a hand signal out of the window to the ambulance behind him that they would continue driving and stepped on the gas.

♦♦♦

The remaining drive to the hospital took less than ten minutes. With squealing tires, the patrol car and the ambulance came to a halt in front of the emergency room. The doctors in the Army hospital had been informed upfront and were already waiting. With a worried expression on her face, Gwen got out of the car and stumbled frantically towards the entrance of the emergency room. Dr Michael Peters opened the back doors of the ambulance, ran to Gwen and took her in his arms. He held her tightly and they turned away from her husband, who was already on the stretcher and on his way to the examination room.

"You must be very brave now, Gwen" Michael whispered and continued. "Your husband had suffered another cardiac arrest while driving. There was nothing we could do, and the last hope is with the doctors here at the hospital."

Gwen let her feelings run free and sobbed loudly. Michael pressed her even tighter and stroked her long curly hair with one hand. Gwen could no longer hold her tears and collapsed in Michael’s arms. They stood like this for several minutes and Michael tried to calm Gwen by soft words and stroking her neck.

"Let’s go inside, you’ll catch a cold" said Stefan, and with the words, "I’ll just drive the car to the parking lot" he disappeared again immediately.

Minutes later Michael, Gwen and Stefan met again in the waiting room. It was a cold and sterile-looking room. Without atmosphere and the white on the walls was anything but reassuring. Only the picture of a sunset hung on one side of the room, which was otherwise only furnished with plastic chairs on the walls and a table in the corner.

Gwen had calmed down a bit and turned to Stefan with a questioning look.

"What will happen if Paul dies now? How am I supposed to live without him? What will happen to Phil? How am I going to balance all this alone?"

Stefan took a step towards Gwen and hugged her, "It doesn’t have to come like that, Gwen, the doctors are doing their best for Paul. You mustn’t lose hope."

Stefan’s words had not yet been fully uttered when the door to the examination room opened and a doctor came out with a sinister expression on his face. Stefan and Michael didn’t suspect anything good, for Gwen it was already certain in this moment. "Nooooooo!" she cried out and her legs failed her service. Stefan caught her just before she hit the ground. He set her down on the next chair. The doctor nodded at Dr Peters to confirm Gwen’s suspicion wordlessly. Then he turned to Gwen, who had barely managed to retain her consciousness.

"I’m very sorry, Mrs Fisher, there was nothing we could do." After a short pause he added, "My sincere condolences for your loss."

Doctors weren’t born speakers either, but what could he have said in this situation, Stefan thought as he continued to try to calm Gwen down. Stefan nodded at Michael to tell him to move closer, because they would have to go back home without Paul to tell Beth and finally Phil the bad news.

Silently, they drove the few kilometres back in the patrol car to Felm, a small village that Paul and Gwen had chosen for their family several years ago. Surrounded by riding stables, woods and fields a wonderful place for an adolescent to run riot and excellent recreational value in the evenings and weekends for the adults with their strenuous jobs during the week. The Kronshagen secondary school, which Phil attended, was halfway to Gwen’s work, so she was always able to combine it well to bring her son to school.

Gwen hadn’t said anything the whole way through. What would become of this idyll now, she thought. What would happen to it without Paul? Gwen burst into tears again. Michael took her in his arms again while Stefan let the car glide through the night. They passed the place where an accident had almost occurred on the way to the hospital. "Luckily nothing happened" mumbled Stefan as he saw that the two vehicles were no longer there.

Phil had already been to bed for several hours when Beth welcomed her daughter at the front door of the house. Her flowered robe was no protection against the November cold, and she was already shivering all over her body when she stepped outside. One look in her daughter’s eyes said it all, and her tremor only intensified when she hugged Gwen. "Tell me it’s not true" she begged.

"There was nothing more they could do for Paul" said Michael, who knew that Gwen was incapable of answering at that moment. "I’m so sorry for you both. Let’s go inside. It’s very cold tonight."

Sunday, November 18th, 2012, 03:20 am

'A good deed every day', his parents had hammered into him. Mark Stein was happy and in a state of greatest inner satisfaction. Although it was late, he had finally done his good deed for today. Now he was tired. After he had parked his car in the garage, he only wanted to go home and to bed. Mark was tall, about 6'3" and strongly built, not fat, and well trained. His long legs carried him quickly back to the settlement where his small apartment was located. In the old buildings there was no luxury like an underground garage or parking spaces. Whoever came first, was able to get hold of one of the few parking spaces along the road. This luck was seldom granted to Mark and it had always annoyed him to have to walk to his garage before he could drive his car to work, even in winter times and in bad weather.

Well after midnight Mark entered his one-room apartment almost silently as not to wake the neighbours in the house. It was a small but very tidy refuge with everything he needed to live. A small bathroom, sparsely furnished with white furniture from the supermarket, a combined living/bedroom with a pull-out couch and a small kitchen. Mark lived alone since he had moved out of his parents’ house. He could not imagine a woman at his side at the moment. He lived for his job. Day in, day out, always the same routine, but he filled it with pride and satisfaction. He could really do some good here, every day.

Although Mark was tired, he decided to spend a little more time with his friends on the Internet. After all, he had been neglecting them a bit the last few days. But it had been for a good reason. After Mark had entered his apartment, he immediately went to his computer on the small desk and turned it on. While the aged computer booted, he could wash his hands calmly, dress in something more comfortable and get a beer from the fridge. Mark sat down in his old office chair in front of the computer, which was now already waiting for the next commands. Routinely he moved the mouse over the symbol and started the program. Mark rubbed his eyes, stretched himself and when he looked at the screen again, the dazzling world of the Internet had already built up on his monitor and he was able to log in.

His hands flitted across the keyboard in somnambulistic certainty as he entered his username and password. He had done this several hundred times before and his fingers knew the movements by heart without making a mistake.

Username: Miss Gore

Password: ********

The program welcomed him.

Welcome back Miss Gore.

Your last visit was 3 days and 6 hours ago.

A smile came from Mark’s lips as he read the greeting. His full Avatar name was Miranda Gore. But that was too long for him, and he had shortened his username to Miss Gore to reflect his dominant nature. Miranda was the name of his mother. He had learned so much from her. How to behave in society, what to do and what not to do and that you had to do a good deed every day. He had anticipated his parents, and especially his mothers, every wish and always behaved as they expected him to. Already in his school days he had never been a burden to his teachers. He had always done his homework, was at school on time, had never disturbed and was always very devoted to the tasks his teachers gave him. He liked to remember the biology lesson in which they were supposed to dissect a frog. Some of the girls had cried and refused to take part. Other boys had vomited when they saw a drop of blood. Mark smiled at the thought of how he had made the first cut and the teacher praised him in front of the whole class. Somehow the blood didn’t bother him because he had a job to do. He would have liked to become a doctor, but his school grades didn’t allow him to take this step at the end of his school days, so he threw himself into an education instead. Even today he could still remember the teacher’s praise, and this was also decisive for the second part of his username. 'Gore' stood for coagulated blood and the act of slicing. This always reminded him of the poor frog and his open belly after he had precisely placed the first cut.

Let’s see who’s still awake at this time, Mark said to himself and started typing.

[Miss Gore]: Good evening, is anyone here?

A minute passed, then another. Finally, the hoped-for answer came.

[Priscilla]: Oh, yes, my lady, your servant is here.

With Priscilla, Mark has already had fun for a few weeks. In reality, SHE was a HE. Mark had discovered this quickly, especially since he was also of the opposite sex and knew the clues with which the guys usually betrayed themselves. He himself had never made a secret of his true sex. Quite contrary to his fellow players, because they didn’t give a name, no hint of the real sex and no information from their real life. But they quickly gained confidence in Mark and over time this also loosened their tongues. It’s amazing how much people revealed about themselves when they felt safe in the protection of anonymity on the Internet.

[Miss Gore]: Welcome my slave. You’re still awake?

[Priscilla]: Yes, my lady. Your girl couldn’t sleep and couldn’t stop thinking about you.

[Miss Gore]: That’s nice to hear, but why can’t you sleep?

[Priscilla]: My thoughts keep circling around a topic

[Miss Gore]: WHAT DID I TEACH YOU? YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT!

[Priscilla]: Lady, please don’t be angry. You have taught your slave that nothing belongs to her. Nor her thoughts. It should’ve said, "Your girl’s thoughts keep circling around a topic, my lady."

The answer was not forthcoming.

[Priscilla]: Mistress, please don’t be angry with your slave girl, it’s late.

[Miss Gore]: YOU PIECE OF DIRT, are you trying to save your skin with excuses and justifications now?

[Priscilla]: Mistress, your slave was very disobedient and deserves a lesson for that.

[Miss Gore]: Finally, some truth from your mouth. Before I make up a lesson for you, let me hear what your thoughts were.

[Priscilla]: That slave girl can’t stop thinking about being eaten by Mistress Gore.

Mark was wide awake again. Had he read correctly? Yes, Priscilla was dreaming of cannibalism. Mark instinctively felt, that he had to help this person. Whoever this really was, Mark had to find it out.

[Miss Gore]: My slave, you know that I can help you make this wish come true?

[Priscilla]: Yes, my lady. Please! In order that your girl can sleep well again.

Mark was thinking feverishly. There had to be a way to figure out who was really on the other end of the line. That he was living in the northern part of Germany had been known to Mark on other occasions. After this expression of will it was now time to find out the exact address. Perhaps the punishment he was begging for was the best way to do this.

[Miss Gore]: Well, you’re just going to have to be a little patient for that. For today, you will be given another task that will help you sleep well. And it will teach you to always follow your mistress’ instructions.

[Priscilla]: Anything Mistress Gore wants; your girl will do it.

[Miss Gore]: I’m glad to hear that. I expect a picture of you hurting yourself. Take a picture with your phone and send it to me. You know the e-mail address. Slash your thigh with a sharp knife. I want to see blood!

Mark wondered whether this was a bit too brisk, while waiting for Priscilla’s answer. He’d had many such conversations. They all followed the same pattern. An offence was confessed or even deliberately provoked. Mark then had to play the outraged mistress and could make up a punishment. Mostly they were tasks that could be done in real life as well as in the game. But no matter, in both cases Mark could assume that his fellow players toyed around with themselves and were aroused in real life. So, the answers took time. Then finally the typing started again, and the reaction appeared on his screen.

[Priscilla]: Of course, my lady. May your slave girl perform the task right now?

[Miss Gore]: Yeah, leave and don’t come back until you send me that photo.

Mark leaned back in his chair with pleasure as he logged out. He stretched, looked at his watch and realized that it had got late again. But he had finished all his tasks for today. With a great feeling he switched off the computer and went to bed.

♦♦♦

Sven Honnick ran his hand through his three-day beard and thought about what he should do now. In his job as branch manager of a savings bank, people expected him to set the tone all week long. Now this bitch from the Internet was giving him orders. But that was exactly what he was longing for. Not always knowing an answer to everything and thinking ahead about the next steps, but to let yourself be guided for a moment. Too many times he had wished for this and now he had finally found someone to give him the direction. He did not want to disappoint her. Sven got up and went quietly into the kitchen so as not to wake his wife and little son.

Gallantly Sven moved forward silently. He was in good shape, in his mid-forties and looked almost ten years younger. His young-at-heart manner came from all the sports he did in his spare time. What he liked best were the endless running routes around the nearby lakes. He lived with his family in a detached house in the northern part of Germany, just outside the state capital of Kiel. Sven and Lara Honnick had moved here eight years ago to start a family. The offered position as branch manager had been decisive for both. So, all they had to do was searching for a new job for Lara. She found it as an educator in a nearby day-care centre. Two years ago, her son Lukas was born. Lara’s job had the advantage that they didn’t have to look for a nanny for the little one, but Lukas was together with his mother in the day-care centre every day.

Sven reached the kitchen and inspected the knifes. Determined, he grabbed a long, slim boning one, which he had sharpened only last weekend. On the way back through the bathroom to his study, Sven again made no noise at all, so that minutes later he was sitting on his desk chair, naked and visibly excited. In front of him on the tabletop he had the knife, a handkerchief and a plaster from the bathroom, as well as his mobile phone ready. He inhaled and exhaled slowly and stroked slowly repeatedly over his stiffening penis. His mistress had demanded that he should make a cut on his thigh. If he had to be big or deep, Sven thought about it, but then decided for the light version. He activated the mobile phone camera in his left hand and took the knife in the other. Then he carefully placed the blade on his thigh. Sven took a deep breath and slowly pulled the sharp blade over his skin. A stabbing pain went through him and his cock twitched from the excitement. Sven pressed the shutter release of the camera. Once, twice, three times. Then he put down the camera and the knife, dabbed the blood drops away with the handkerchief and massaged his aroused cock. He needed only a few more movements before Sven ejaculated into the handkerchief and sagged down in his chair, satisfied.

His excitement quickly subsided, and he single-mindedly realized the next steps he still had to take as Priscilla. In no time the pictures were copied from his mobile phone to his computer and an electronic message was sent to [email protected]. Relieved, Sven shut down the computer, disposed of the bloody paper tissue and put the cleaned knife back into the kitchen. Then he lay down in bed with his wife and stared at the ceiling. What will the next tasks be, Sven rejoiced and fell asleep thinking about them.

Sunday, November 18th, 2012, 11:10 am

Gwen sat at her son’s bedside. How could she tell him? How would she answer him if he wanted to know what was going to happen? On her return from the hospital, Beth had reported that Phil had only fallen asleep early in the morning. Now it was almost Sunday afternoon and the low November sun was flooding her house. It was time to get up, Gwen pondered and gently stroked her son over his head. He grumbled and blinked sleepily at her. As the memories of last night made their way through his mind, Phil jumped up and was wide awake.

"Where’s Daddy?"

Gwen held her breath. She didn’t think he would get to the point so quickly. Slowly she began to report. "We were in the emergency room last night. The doctors all acted very quickly, but Dad had no chance. "Daddy won’t be coming home, sweetheart. Now it’s just you and me."

"You lie! It can’t be! Daddy’s only had his birthday, and he’s only forty-six.

"Phil, it’s as hard for me to accept this as it is for you, but Dad is really … dead." Gwen swallowed to keep from crying out of desperation. She had to be strong now. Phil couldn’t get out a word and pressed his face into his pillow. Gwen put her hand on his shoulder.

"Leave me alone! You should have saved him. You were in the hospital with him. Phil was sobbing deeply. "Your doctor-friend was there, too. Why did you let him die?" 'Doctor-friend' Phil had called Michael. There was nothing between them. Why would he think that?

"Darling, Michael had acted immediately. You mustn’t blame him. And Stefan even drove ahead of the ambulance to clear the streets. "We all did everything we could. We never had a chance. Please understand that."

"Go away! Leave me alone!" Gwen gave her son a worried look and stood up.

"I’ll make us a nice breakfast. If you’re hungry, just come down to the kitchen." Phil didn’t say anything and just buried his face deeper into his pillow.

Gwen sat emotionlessly on the couch in the living room and stared at the display cabinet on the opposite wall as Phil stepped out of his teenage bedroom and crept down the stairs. With red puffy eyes he glanced at his mother and went wordlessly into the kitchen. Gwen considered for a moment whether she should speak to him but decided against it. He should calm down first. She heard a clatter in the kitchen and saw Phil walking back toward his room with a slice of bread and heard him closing the door behind him. As if paralyzed, she continued to sit on the couch and thought about what to do next. The hours passed agonizingly slowly, and Gwen couldn’t motivate herself to do anything or even think a clear, concentrated thought.

Around 6:00 pm, Gwen decided to make another advance. She knocked tentatively on Phil’s room door. When she received no answer, she carefully opened the door.

"Phil? How you doing? What are you doing?"

Phil sat at his desk at the computer and played. He didn’t look up when his mother entered the room.

"Honey, let’s talk, please."

"That won’t bring him back either!" mumbled Phil in return. "And I don’t want to live without him either."

"You mustn’t say such things. We must now stick together. The two of us, you and me. We’re the team now, and we’ve got to stick together. I need you!"

"But I don’t need you. I want my father back. You can’t help me."

"But that’s not possible" Gwen replied tenderly and continued. "You know that, too. What can I do to show you that I am always here for you?"

"I don’t want to talk about it today" Phil replied resignedly, without looking up from his game. "I am tired and have to go back to school in the morning. I’m going to bed soon."

"OK, please let me know if you need anything, and if I can do anything. I love you."

Gwen left the room to curl up in a blanket on the living room couch again. Tired and introverted, she stared at the display cabinet again, thinking about tomorrow. She fell asleep.

Monday, November 19th, 2012, 06:45 am

The display showed 06:45 am when the alarm clock woke Mark up, first quietly and then increasingly louder. Determined, he started his computer and then freshened up in the bathroom while the computer was booting. The symbol for new mail appeared and brought a smile to Mark’s tired face. As he hastily devoured a slice of bread, he opened the new message expectantly.

Priscilla had done the job properly and sent him a photograph. Now he’s hooked, thought Mark, saved the picture on his hard drive and printed it out.

"Let’s see if you’re familiar with technology" Mark murmured softly to himself, invoking the extended properties of the image. A mischievous smile played around his mouth as he found what he was looking for. Cell phones often stored the coordinates of where they were taken. As helpful as this might be later in assigning the images to locations where they were taken, if you didn’t want anyone else to get their hands on this information, it shouldn’t be in the images. Priscilla obviously hadn’t thought of it or hadn’t understood it that far. Well done, Mark thought, copied the location data from the image and pasted it back into the search mask on Google Maps. Just fractions of a second later, the map view opened with the location of the picture marked. Perfect! Mark grinned. It was a detached house near his own home.

He’d deal with that later. Now he had to hurry to get to his work and help the people there. He noticed that he was still sitting in front of the computer in his undies. Mark laughed, turned off the computer and dressed in his work clothes. He didn’t need to comb his short light brown hair as it almost fell into shape by itself. He quickly packed some more fruit for the day and hastily stepped out into the hall. The way to his garage was very slippery as the floor was still frozen. But these were good circumstances, thought Mark, because that way he didn’t have to worry too much about the police finding the tire tracks he had inevitably left at the scene. He was very curious to see how long it would take them to find his work and locked the front door.

Monday, November 19th, 2012, 06:45 am

Gwen’s alarm clock also showed 06:45 am when the alarm started at full volume in the bedroom. Awake by the alarm clock next door, Phil staggered out of his room, drowsy, and disappeared into his mother’s bedroom. He turned off the alarm clock and only now realized the empty bed. Probably she had fallen asleep in the living room in front of the TV again, as so often. Phil crept into the living room on the ground floor and saw his mother lying on the couch.

"Mama! The alarm clock rang!" Phil was not yet able to do more in the early morning. He staggered back upstairs and into the bathroom.

Gwen was terribly tired. How long had she been asleep? She’d dreamt about the hospital and about Paul dying. Was it just a bad dream? She regained consciousness and was hit with all the force of reality. She was a widow, a single mother of a teenage son. Why had fate been so serious with her?

"Mum, you have to get up too!" cried Phil from the upper floor, who had finished in the bathroom by now and disappeared back into his room.

"Yes, my love, I’m awake. Thank you."

After Gwen had also freshened up in the bathroom, she prepared breakfast for the two of them in the kitchen. They had treated themselves to the fitted kitchen for their twentieth wedding anniversary. At that time, Paul wanted a stove that you could walk around. Since her kitchen was of a suitable size, this was possible without any problems. On one side there was a kind of counter, which they often used to have breakfast standing up or sitting on the bistro chair. So, they did not always have to bring all breakfast utensils to the dining room next door.

"Phil, where are you? Breakfast is ready and we have to go in a moment!"

Paul had always loved to cook, which was a huge relief for Gwen. When he came home in the evening, he often spontaneously bought little treats and cooked a meal for the family. Nothing laborious, but always exciting, tasty and unusual. Gwen had never been a great cook and never made a secret of it. But she was a gifted baker. She loved to bake cakes, pies and cookies. She was always at her best at Christmas, but this year would be different. Advent was just around the corner and it was all supposed to be so reflective. Now Gwen had to concentrate on other tasks first.

"Phil! Hello? Damn it, we’re going to be late!" Phil trotted down the stairs, his school bag shuffling along behind him on his long arm.

"Here, your bread for the break. We don’t have time now. Do me a favour and eat this one sandwich before school starts. You need something in your stomach!" Hectically, Gwen left the house and pushed her lazy son in front of her to the car parked in the driveway. She turned the ignition key in the lock and heard – nothing! Again. Again. "Son of a bitch!" it slipped from her mouth. She, who was always so much in control. "You got to be kidding me. It’s like everything is conspiring against us today."

"Mom, I have to go to school" Phil timidly remarked.

"Gosh! I can make many things happen, but I can’t perform magic either. The car won’t start! You realize that, don’t you?" This was more of a rhetorical question, to which Gwen didn’t really expect an answer, nor did she hope to. She was already upset enough.

She grabbed her phone and started a speed dial. After two rings, he picked up.

"Good morning Gwen, it’s Stefan, what’s up at this hour?"