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- Herausgeber: BoD - Books on Demand
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
In the seemingly quiet town of Witten, a gruesome string of murders shakes the community: an unknown killer forces his victims to eat themselves to death. While the police struggle for leads, fearless crime reporter Svetlana Elendt launches her own investigation. Teaming up with determined detective Claudia Donnerfuß, she uncovers a disturbing trail one that leads straight to the powerful WittenPharma AG, a corporation hiding dark secrets. As more victims are discovered, Svetlana finds herself caught in a web of lies, ruthless science, and deadly experiments. Undercover investigations, secret laboratories, and missing children are just the beginning. While the police chase misleading clues, Svetlana and her team realize they are not just hunting a murderer they are exposing a vast conspiracy. But the closer they get to the truth, the greater the danger becomes. Who is behind the twisted experiments? What role does the pharmaceutical industry play? And will Svetlana manage to unmask the killer before he strikes again? The Force-Feeder of Witten is a gripping psychological thriller packed with tension, dark revelations, and unexpected twists.
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Seitenzahl: 241
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Dedication
I dedicate this novel to everyone who motivated me throughout the writing process.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank everyone who supported me in writing and publishing this book.
The Force-Feeder of Witten
A Gripping Crime Novel
Beneath the peaceful facade of the quiet town of Witten, a dark menace lurks. A sadistic killer is on the loose—and his gruesome signature sends shivers down the spines of investigators. His victims meet a horrific end through force-feeding, and he leaves behind no clear trace.
Young, small-statured yet fiercely determined crime reporter Svetlana Elendt faces the toughest case of her career. Together with her unconventional team of investigators, she sets out to unravel a tangled web of lies, secrets, and power that grips the city. The trail soon leads to the prestigious WittenPharma AG and a network of ruthless perpetrators. But can Svetlana and her team catch the murderer before he strikes again?
The Force-Feeder of Witten is a gripping crime novel that keeps readers on edge with unexpected twists and compelling characters. A chilling story of human depravity, dangerous secrets, and the ultimate question: How far would you go for the truth?
Table of Contents
Introduction
Prologue:
Finally, the Holidays
(
Barbara, Dieter, Hanni, Ute, Ronald, Elenore, and Marianne)
Chapter 1:
The Abduction
(
Elena Uncomfortable)
Chapter 2:
The Discovery of the First Victim
(
Auguste Weissnix)
Chapter 3:
The Second Body
(
Edna Seenothing)
Chapter 4:
The Investigation Begins
(
Svetlana Elendt, Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 5:
Closing In
(
Svetlana Elendt, Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 6:
Further Discoveries
(
Teenagers and Peter Kruger)
Chapter 7:
The Secret Meeting Place
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 8:
Undercover Investigations
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 9:
The Role of the Press
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 10:
Another Victim
(
Edna Seenothing)
Chapter 11:
The First Clues
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 12:
The Mysterious Clinic
Chapter 13:
The Connection to the Parents
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 14:
A Dangerous Game
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 15:
Strengthening Suspicions
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 16:
The Role of the Doctors
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 17:
The Pressure Increases
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 18:
The Discovery at the Boarding School
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 19:
The Undercover Informant
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 20:
The Secret Message
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 21:
Suspicious Behavior
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 22:
A New Lead
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 23:
The Suspects
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 24:
The Hidden Plan
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 25:
The Encrypted Messages
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 26:
The Unexpected Witness
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 27:
The Secret Operation
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 28:
The Boarding School
’
s Role
(Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 29:
The Threat
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 30:
The Mysterious Phone Call
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 31:
The Kidnapping of an Investigator
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 32:
The Hidden Message
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 33:
The Hunt Begins
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 34:
The Unexpected Twist
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 35:
The Authorities' Role
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 36:
The Locked Door
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 37:
The Escape
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 38:
The Rescue Mission
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 39:
The Secret Conspiracy
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 40:
The Crucial Clue
Chapter 41:
The Hidden Files
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 42:
The Secret Meeting
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 43:
The Suspicious Doctor
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 44:
The Coded Message
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 45:
The Final Chase
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 46:
The Eerie Discovery
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 47:
The Secret Organization
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 48:
The Dark Past
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 49:
The Confrontation
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 50:
The Hidden Research
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 51:
The Breakthrough
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 52:
The Covert Operation
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 53:
The Stolen Data
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 54:
The Secret Meeting
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 55:
The Fatal Mistake
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 56:
The Key Information
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 57:
The Dramatic Turn
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 58:
The Secret List
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 59:
The Crucial Arrest
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 60:
The Fateful Encounter
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 61:
The Last Pieces of the Puzzle
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 62:
The Secret Operation
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 63:
The Chase
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 64:
The Boarding School Confrontation
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 65:
The Final Discovery
(
Svetlana Elendt)
Chapter 66:
Saving the Children
(
Claudia Thunderfoot)
Chapter 67:
The Arrest of the Perpetrators
(
Sandra Suretomeet)
Chapter 68:
The Truth Revealed
(
Svetlana Elendt, Claudia Thunderfoot)
Epilogue:
A New Life
(
Hanni, Ute, Elenore, and Marianne)
Prologue: Finally, the Holidays(Barbara, Dieter, Hanni, Ute, Ronald, Elenore, and Marianne)
Restlessness fills the boarding school. It’s the last day before autumn break, and the thought of a week beyond these walls sets our hearts racing. Barbara, Dieter, Hanni, Ute, Ronald, Elenore, and Marianne—we can hardly wait to go home, to see our parents again, to escape this place that has felt like a suffocating cage for months.
The entrance hall, where we gather, is a relic of another era. Its high ceilings, adorned with intricate stucco, hint at a past grandeur. But the crumbling plaster and creaking floorboards tell a different story—one of neglect and slow decay.
Our footsteps echo softly through the cold hall, as worn and tired as the building itself. The classrooms we’re about to leave behind are no different, their battered furniture a daily reminder of how little this place is cared for.
“I can’t wait to get out of here,” Hanni says, shaking her brown curls, which bounce with every movement. Relief fills her voice, but there’s something else too—a trace of bitterness.
“This place is driving me crazy.”
We all feel it. Life at the boarding school is a waiting game, an endless stretch of time filled with confinement and stagnation.
Dieter, who has lived with brittle bone disease since childhood, nods. “Maybe the headaches will stop once we’re gone,” he murmurs. There’s a weight in his blue eyes, one we all recognize.
We may have different conditions, but we share the same exhaustion, the same persistent headaches, the same sense that something isn’t right. A shadow lingers over this place, creeping into our bodies, into our bones.
Barbara, who never loses her courage despite her spastic paralysis, stays quiet, thoughtful.
Ute, moving steadily through the halls with her leg braces, remains optimistic. Ronald, whose walker is his constant companion, tries to smile.
Elenore, ever cheerful despite her rare illness, does her best to lift our spirits. And Marianne, resilient after her battle with polio, stands with quiet determination, ready to embrace this brief taste of freedom.
One by one, our parents arrive. Their faces show relief—but also concern. They’ve heard about our constant headaches, our exhaustion, and they plan to use the break to have us medically examined. Maybe, just maybe, the coming days will bring answers.
Caritas Sisters Maria Littlebad and Ellie Badthing, along with Caritas Brother Jochen Extraheavy, bid us farewell with kind words and warm embraces. They’ve always tried to make life here bearable, but even their efforts can’t mask the building’s oppressive atmosphere. The cold seeps into the walls, into our skin, into our thoughts.
At last, we step through the heavy doors and into the crisp autumn air. The weight we’ve carried for so long suddenly feels lighter. The gloomy corridors, the heavy curtains—left behind. Ahead of us lies a week of rest, a chance to breathe, and maybe even the hope of finding answers to the questions that have haunted us for months.
Our parents guide us to the waiting cars along the tree-lined driveway. I glance back one last time at the old building, its secrets pressing against the windows like whispers in the dark.
Then the engines roar to life. The doors slam shut. And we drive away.
Autumn break has begun—a time to breathe, a time to hope.
Chapter 1: The Abduction (Elena Uncomfortable)
Never in my worst nightmares could I have imagined that such horror would unfold in our quiet neighborhood.
It is one of those silent, bone-chilling autumn nights in 1983. My night shift at the hospital is finally over, and exhaustion weighs on me as I step into our apartment. The warm brown tones of the furniture, so typical of the decade, radiate a familiar comfort. Manfred is already in bed, his soft snoring a steady rhythm in the stillness —proof of his own fatigue after another grueling shift.
Before heading to bed, I check in on Barbara— our brave little fighter, whose spastic paralysis has never dimmed her unbreakable spirit. Her wheelchair stands neatly beside the bed.
Everything looks as it should. Everything feels safe, as if the world is still in order.
But the next morning, when I go to wake Barbara for breakfast, a strange silence fills the air. It’s the kind of silence that doesn’t belong, that seeps into your bones and warns of something being terribly, irreversibly wrong.
A knot tightens in my stomach.
I step into her room—and freeze.
Barbara’s bed is empty. Her wheelchair stands untouched.
A chill races through me, sharp as a blade. My breath catches. The world tilts.
“Manfred!” My voice barely makes it out of my throat.
He rushes in, his eyes filled with the same shock, the same disbelief. For a moment, neither of us moves. We are suspended in that awful realization, trapped in the moment before our lives are forever changed. Then, without hesitation, we call the police.
But deep down, I already know.
Something unimaginable has happened.
Something that will never let us go.
The news hits like a crushing blow.
Other children are missing.
Families in our neighborhood—people we’ve lived beside for years—are waking up to the same nightmare. Within days, the children of the Rewaldi, Agitated, Darwald, Strawberryleg, Blumgesterb, and Verystrong families vanish without a trace.
Dieter, the courageous boy with brittle bone disease.
Hanni, always bursting with laughter.
Ute, who never let spina bifida slow her down.
Ronald, the fearless adventurer with his walker.
Elenore, whose radiant spirit could brighten the darkest day.
And Marianne, who had fought polio and won— only to disappear into the night.
All of them gone.
As if the earth itself had swallowed them whole.
The desperation in our voices echoes through the cold autumn air. We search. We plead. We wait for answers that never come.
Wolfgang and Hannelore Rewaldi.
Manfred and Waltraut Agitated.
Joachim and Elfriede Darwald.
Heribert and Gisela Strawberryleg.
Eberhard and Elfriede Blumgesterb.
Maximilian and Ursula Verystrong.
Parents bound together by an agony none of us can comprehend.
We watch as the police comb through our homes, dusting for fingerprints, searching every shadowed corner. But what can they possibly find? The spaces that once felt warm and safe now seem hollow, unfamiliar. The wooden paneling, the plush carpets—once symbols of comfort—now whisper of something unseen, something stolen.
Every shadow hides a secret just beyond reach.
Every object feels tainted, as if touched by an invisible, malevolent force.
I sit in Barbara’s room, staring at the empty wheelchair.
The bed, once a place of rest, now a void.
I cannot breathe.
Hope clings to me stubbornly—hope that our children will be found, that they are safe, that this is not what it seems. But the darkness surrounding us feeds my doubt. The silence in this house is no longer just silence.
It is absence.
It is grief.
It is terror.
And the nightmare we have fallen into shows no sign of ending.
Chapter 2: The Discovery of the First Victim (Auguste Weissnix)
It begins as an ordinary morning.
But the moment I step into the practice, something feels off. The air is thick, suffocating, as if the silence itself is pressing down on me. I close the heavy wooden door behind me, my footsteps echoing through the empty reception area. The familiar furniture, the carefully tended plants—none of it offers comfort today.
Everything feels strange, like an invisible veil has settled over the office, warping reality into something unfamiliar.
With every step toward Dr. Greenblock’s office, a deep unease tightens around my chest. His door is slightly ajar. Unusual—he always kept it shut.
I push it open.
And freeze.
The room is a wreck. Papers scattered across the floor. A chair overturned. Dark streaks of blood smeared across the wooden planks.
And behind the desk—Dr. Bernhard Greenblock.
He lies motionless in a pool of blood, his face twisted in agony. My breath catches. My knees go weak. Just yesterday, this man had been alive, kind, always ready with a reassuring word. Now, he is gone—reduced to a silent, brutal reminder of how quickly everything can be ripped away.
With trembling hands, I reach for the phone, my fingers fumbling over the receiver. The words won’t come. The sound of my own breathing is deafening. Seconds stretch into eternity before I finally manage to call the police. Even then, my voice feels detached, like it belongs to someone else.
The investigators arrive, moving with practiced efficiency.
Detective Claudia Thunderfoot, sharp-eyed and methodical, takes charge. Beside her stands Svetlana Elendt, the small yet formidable crime reporter, notebook already in hand. They move through the scene, securing the area, documenting every detail. The camera flashes, casting harsh bursts of light over the bloodstained floor.
Outside, Svetlana’s spinach-green Citroën CX and a police VW Passat sit parked in the cool autumn air. But inside, reality has twisted into something unrecognizable.
Then my eyes land on the floor—on a small, open pillbox.
A shiver runs through me as I read the label: WittenPharma AG.
Scattered pills lie mixed with vomit near Dr.
Greenblock’s lifeless face, the acrid stench filling the air. A sedative—the name on the packaging is unmistakable. My mind reels, refusing to grasp the implications.
The police collect the box, inspecting its contents. Svetlana scribbles something in her notebook.
“WittenPharma,” she murmurs. “Why am I not surprised?”
I try to think—to remember anything that might explain this. But my thoughts are thick with shock, my mind sluggish, unable to piece it all together. Dr. Greenblock was professional.
Respected. What could have led to this?
The room, once a place of healing, now holds only the cold weight of death.
Questions come at me fast, but my answers are slow, broken. My voice barely reaches my own ears. I stand there, trapped in the horror of it all, my surroundings suddenly foreign. The quiet hum of the old office equipment, the creak of the wooden floor—sounds I once found comforting —now feel distant, like echoes from a life that no longer exists.
Outside, a small crowd gathers. Neighbors whisper among themselves, their faces drawn with shock. The charming brick building with its neatly trimmed front garden no longer looks inviting. It conceals something far more sinister now.
I stare at the empty chair behind the desk. At the blood that has seeped into the wood.
This place will never feel the same again.
A crime like this does not happen without reason. Somewhere, in the chaos of scattered files and overturned furniture, a truth waits to be uncovered.
A truth that will change everything.
Chapter 3: The Second Discovery (Edna Seenothing)
Every morning, my path leads me through Luther Park—a refuge from the noise of the world, a place where I can breathe. But today, something is different. The air feels heavier, the usual hush of dawn strangely oppressive. As the first weak rays of sunlight push through the dense canopy, I step into a secluded corner surrounded by thick bushes.
And I freeze.
Something is there—something that doesn’t belong.
A shape, small and still, disrupts the peaceful scene. My breath catches in my throat as a sickening realization claws its way through me.
A child.
Lying motionless.
Cold.
A shiver runs through me as I force myself to move closer, though every instinct screams at me to turn away. Nausea churns in my stomach.
My hands tremble.
Then I see her face.
Barbara Uncomfortable.
The little girl who vanished without a trace just days ago.
She looks as though she’s only sleeping, but the pallor of her skin and the unbearable silence around her tell the truth. A horror worse than I can comprehend has stolen her life. The weight of it crashes down on me, suffocating.
Luther Park—once my sanctuary—is now a crime scene.
With shaking hands, I stagger toward one of the old yellow telephone booths at the park’s edge.
The walk feels endless, my legs like lead, my mind refusing to accept what I’ve seen. My fingers barely obey as I dial emergency services, and when I finally speak, my voice is barely more than a whisper.
Time stretches unbearably until the first sirens pierce the morning quiet.
Detective Claudia Thunderfoot arrives with her team, her expression unreadable as she steps onto the scene. Close behind her is crime reporter Svetlana Elendt, her sharp eyes already scanning for details.
They move quickly, securing the area with unsettling precision. Svetlana’s spinach-green Citroën CX sits parked at the park’s entrance, a silent witness to the horror unfolding. Officers mark the ground, taking photographs, speaking in hushed tones.
I watch in numb disbelief as the scene is meticulously examined.
Then I see it.
Near Barbara’s body, half-hidden in the dewy grass—an open pillbox.
A name stands out in bold letters:
WittenPharma AG.
A fresh wave of nausea rolls through me. The pills are scattered, some dissolving into the damp earth. Beside them, vomit stains the grass.
The air carries its acrid scent, sharp and undeniable.
The police carefully collect the evidence, photographing the scene before sealing the pillbox in a plastic bag. Svetlana crouches, picking up one of the pills with gloved fingers.
“That looks disturbingly familiar,” she mutters, jotting something down in her notebook.
Detectives comb the area, searching for footprints, signs of a struggle—anything that might explain how Barbara ended up here. Then, just beyond the bushes, they find them. Drag marks.
Clear. Brutal.
Someone brought her here. Someone took her life and left her in this quiet, forgotten corner of the park.
The thought makes my skin crawl.
I answer their questions as best I can. I tell them about my daily walks, the usual faces I see in the park. But none of it seems important in the wake of what’s happened.
All I can think about is Barbara’s family. Her parents. The moment they will receive the news.
The moment their world will be shattered beyond repair.
Luther Park, once a place of peace and reflection, now holds an unbearable silence—the kind that lingers long after the crowd has dispersed.
I remain long after the officers have pieced together what they can. I watch the trees cast long, shifting shadows over the ground where Barbara was found, as if the park itself is mourning.
But I know the truth now.
Evil doesn’t lurk only in dark alleys or distant cities.
It hides in plain sight.
Even in the most peaceful places.
And I will never walk through this park the same way again.
Chapter 4: The Investigation Begins
(Svetlana Elendt, Claudia Thunderfoot)
The Witten police headquarters is a concrete block against the gray morning sky— unremarkable from the outside but alive with tension and movement within. Officers weave through the narrow hallways, their hurried steps echoing off the linoleum floors. Wanted posters and security notices line the walls, while the rhythmic clatter of typewriters blends with the crackling voices on CB radios.
Inside, urgency hums beneath the surface.
Claudia Thunderfoot and I step through the revolving door, leaving the sharp autumn air behind. The precinct greets us with its usual chaos—phones ringing, officers speaking in clipped tones, the scent of coffee thick in the air.
Claudia, as composed as ever, moves with quiet authority, her focus unshakable. She doesn’t waste time on small talk. Cases like this don’t allow for it.
I keep pace beside her, feeling the weight of the moment settle onto my shoulders.
Our office is a cramped, overburdened space, suffocating under stacks of case files, reports, and hastily scribbled notes. The walls are covered with photos of the missing children, maps of Witten, forensic analyses—every detail of the investigation pinned in place like a puzzle waiting to be solved. Desks groan under the weight of paper stacks, their surfaces littered with coffee rings and cigarette ash.
In 1983, resources are limited. There are no high-tech databases, no instant results—just relentless hours spent combing through paperwork, following leads, pushing the available tools to their limits.
Outside, my spinach-green Citroën CX sits parked at the curb—my mobile newsroom, a relic of my past life as a journalist. The backseat is a mess of notebooks, press credentials, and radio transmitters. But today, the real work happens inside these walls.
The briefing room is the nerve center of the investigation. On the walls, every lead, every finding is displayed—photos, case connections, scribbled timelines. The tension in the room is thick. We are waiting. Waiting for the piece that will make the picture clear.
Claudia scans the latest reports, her sharp mind working through the possibilities. She doesn’t speak unless necessary—every thought is measured, every theory built on fact. The forensic team is working tirelessly, analyzing fingerprints, blood samples, fibers. Nothing is left to chance.
Then, the call comes.
A new body has been found.
Within moments, we are back on the move, the chill of the outside air cutting through our coats.
The abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Witten is a cavernous void of rusted metal and concrete dust. Even before stepping inside, I can sense the horror waiting for us.
The stench hits first—stale air, rot, vomit.
Then, the body.
A man lies sprawled on the cold floor, limbs contorted in unnatural angles, his face frozen in a grotesque mask of agony. Around him, the scene is eerily familiar—pills scattered like breadcrumbs, an open WittenPharma AG pillbox resting against an overturned crate.
Claudia exhales sharply, crouching near the body. “Damn it,” she mutters, examining the packaging. “This is just like Dr. Greenblock.”
I pull out my notebook, jotting down every detail, though my stomach tightens with each word. This isn’t random. This is methodical.
Someone is using these pills—again and again.
But why?
The forensic team moves with grim efficiency, photographing the scene, bagging evidence.
Flashbulbs cut through the dim light like lightning strikes. The warehouse, with its rusted beams and shattered windows, looms over us, indifferent to the horror it now houses.
I step back, staring into the encroaching darkness beyond the broken doorframe. The air is thick with dust and decay, but beneath it all, something else lingers—something unseen, something calculated.
The threads of these crimes are tightening around us.
Pulling us deeper into a web of lies, power, and death.
Night falls over Witten, swallowing the city in deep shadows. But at the precinct, the lights burn on. Claudia and I, along with the rest of the team, push forward. There is no time for rest, no space for doubt. The pieces are there—we just have to fit them together.
The road ahead is long, and the obstacles will be many. But we are ready.
In this unremarkable building, beneath flickering fluorescent lights and the smell of stale coffee, the fire of justice burns.
And we will not stop until the truth is uncovered.
Chapter 5: The Noose Tightens
(Svetlana Elendt, Sandra Suretomeet)
A biting wind sweeps through Witten’s industrial district as I step toward the headquarters of WittenPharma AG. The building looms ahead— glass, concrete, sterile. It exudes the cold efficiency of the era, stripped of warmth or humanity. At my side is Sandra Suretomeet, my colleague and trusted confidante. Together, we are unraveling a web of corruption and crime— one that runs far deeper than we ever imagined.
The atmosphere shifts the moment we enter.
Security is tight. Cameras track our every movement. The sterile white walls and minimalist design only amplify the unease creeping up my spine. We pass through multiple checkpoints, our wiretaps and microphones carefully hidden. Our mission is dangerous—but necessary.
Our target is Dr. Ingrid Gloriole, WittenPharma’s lead researcher. Her involvement in the company’s darkest dealings is undeniable. What remains to be uncovered is just how far her crimes extend.
Her office is a study in power. Dark wooden furniture, heavy drapes, elegant decor— everything designed to project authority. It’s hard to believe that ruthless decisions were made within these walls. As Sandra discreetly plants recording devices in the air vents and behind bookshelves, I sift through the documents on her desk.
What we find is damning.
Records of illegal drug trials. Connections to high-ranking officials. Documents that link WittenPharma’s products to deaths, covered up with bureaucratic precision.
A name jumps out at me.
Dr. Lothar Greysausage.
We leave WittenPharma behind, stepping into the sharp, ice-cold air. But the chill does little to clear my head. The next stop is the Orthopedic Clinic, a sleek, modern facility masking something far more sinister.
Dr. Greysausage, the clinic’s head physician, is more than just another cog in the machine. His ties to WittenPharma are deep. His role in unethical human experiments makes him central to our investigation.
Inside, everything is pristine. Too pristine. The staff is polite, the hallways spotless, the air thick with the sterile scent of disinfectant. But the illusion of order is just that—an illusion. Behind Greysausage’s office door, reality shifts.
The room itself is unremarkable. But his desk?
That’s where the truth lies.
Patient records detail medical trials with disturbing consistency. Procedures conducted without consent. Experiments disguised as treatments. Each file is a death sentence in bureaucratic form.
Sandra remains calm, methodical, her presence keeping me grounded. As we comb through the paperwork, we uncover a hidden compartment in the desk. Inside—documents that could bring down WittenPharma.
Secret meetings. Signed agreements. Proof of corruption at the highest levels.
We have what we need.
But with every discovery, we become a bigger threat.
Back at police headquarters, the tension is palpable. We spread the collected documents across the desk, piecing the puzzle together.
Every page, every name, every connection— each one tightening the noose around WittenPharma.
Detective Claudia Thunderfoot, as sharp as ever, leads the discussion. The evidence is overwhelming, but precision is key. One wrong move, and the perpetrators will slip through our fingers.
We strategize, plan every step. There is no room for error.
Then—the phone rings.
Another body.
The warehouse on the outskirts of Witten is a graveyard of rust and decay. The air is thick with the scent of death—stale, metallic, tinged with something faintly medicinal.
A man lies sprawled on the concrete floor. Face twisted in agony. Limbs frozen in unnatural angles.
And beside him—an open WittenPharma AG pillbox.
Scattered pills. Vomit. The telltale signs of a horrifying pattern.
Sandra exhales sharply. “The pattern repeats.”
I nod, my stomach knotting painfully.
Dr. Greenblock.
Barbara Uncomfortable.
And now this.
The forensic team works around us, documenting every grim detail. The scene is all too familiar.
I step back, staring into the darkness beyond the shattered warehouse windows.
The web of lies, power, and death is closing in.
And we are standing at the center of it.
Night falls over Witten, the city swallowed by shadows. But at police headquarters, the lights remain on.
We are far from finished.
The documents in our hands could shatter WittenPharma. The evidence is damning. The stakes have never been higher.
The next hours will be critical. The walls are closing in on those responsible.
This is more than just an investigation.
It’s a fight.
A fight for truth. A fight for justice. A fight against a system built to exploit and destroy the innocent.
Giving up is not an option.
The noose is tightening.
And we are ready to tear it apart—thread by thread.
Chapter 6: Further Discoveries
(Teenagers and Peter Kruger)
