Remember My Lies

Part 1 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 Part 2 19 Part 3 20 21 22 23 Part 4 24 Part 5 25 26 27 Part 6 28 29 30 Part 7 31 32 Recipe Afterword Drea Summer Remember my lies About the author: Drea Summer, a native of Austria, lived in beautiful southern Burgenland. She began her writing career by emigrating to Gran Canaria more than four years ago. The "island of eternal spring" inspires her to write gruesome and bloody stories that haunt her mind. About the book: “Beyond the Fog of Memories, Lies the Unthinkable” In a tranquil vacation home on the idyllic island of Flekkerøya, the police descend upon Thore Albertsen, a successful real estate agent from Oslo. His wife has vanished without a trace, a blood-soaked bed stains their sanctuary, and a knife with his fingerprints is discovered. Yet, Thore's memory fails him, plagued by headaches and forgotten fragments. In this gripping tale by the masterful hand of Drea Summer, the boundaries blur between sanity and madness, reality and illusion, as Thore questions his own innocence and uncovers a sinister truth hidden within his shattered memories. Prepare yourself for an electrifying finale that will shatter your expectations, as the shocking truth, concealed in the depths of a fractured mind, is finally exposed. Can you trust what remains when memories crumble? Drea Summer Remember my lies Mai 2023 © Empire-Verlag Empire-Verlag OG, Lofer 416, 5090 Lofer Austria www.empire-verlag.at First published 2023 001 The moral rights of the author, illustrator and copyright holders has been asserted Translated: Literary Queens Novel Translation Gaia Marino and Amy Fenster Barkhausenweg 11 22339 Hamburg Germany Cover: Chris Gilcher http://buchcoverdesign.de/ All rights reserved. The work may be reproduced only with the permission of the publisher “I am Yva, and I will avenge my sister’s death.” Part 1 Present – Am I Guilty? 1 Thore Albertsen had been dragged out of his vacation home on the Norwegian island of Flekkerøya, near Kristiansand, like a felon. The cold metal of the handcuffs bit into his skin, and his breath condensed into little clouds as the officers led him toward the police car. More patrol cars littered the street in front of his house, their blue lights flashing so brightly that he had to squint his eyes. He hoped that, at any moment, he would wake and find that this was all a nightmare, but as much as he tried to rouse himself, he realized he was already awake. He fervently scanned the neighborhood, looking for help, and caught sight of Mr. and Mrs. Berthelsen talking to a uniformed man in front of their house. They were Lana and Thore‘s neighbors and they shared a boat dock. Was it possible that the couple had seen something that could have helped him? His hair was still damp from a shower and he was wearing only a sweater and jeans, but instead of freezing, as he should have been, beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Snowflakes melted on his face, and the rising wind left goosebumps on his skin. He trembled, and closed his eyes for a moment, again, wishing himself awake, but the nightmare continued. A strong hand grasped his upper arm, pushing Thore into the police car, and he found himself sitting in the back seat. What the hell is going on here? He stared out the window at the house he had bought with his wife, Lana, less than half a year ago. The white wood of the exterior facade was in desperate need of a coat of paint. Although Lana had complained to him about his negligence three months ago, he had managed to put her off until summer. As he took in the details of the house, his thoughts drifted back to the day he had discovered this little treasure. It was probably fate that the former owner, Arne Olsen, came to Thore’s brokerage office. Although Oslo was a good four hours away from the small village of Skålevik on Flekkerøya, Olsen had come to him. He, Thore Albertsen, was the best in his business. At fifty-one years old, he had managed to do what most could only dream of. He had more money than he was able to spend: after buying some properties for himself, he rented them out at a high price and had had a little luck on the stock market. Only clients who had interesting properties on offer came to him, knowing he was choosy and included only lucrative properties in his portfolio. The photos Arne Olsen had shown him of his house had taken Thore’s breath away. He knew right away that this vacation home was exactly what he and Lana had been looking for, for so long now. That’s why he didn't hesitate and made Olsen a generous offer within the hour. At first, Olsen was a bit suspicious that Thore wanted to buy the house from him without having even visited it, but when Thore informed him that he and Lana had their first wedding anniversary in just over two weeks, any doubt was removed from the table. Of course, the cottage had cost a few more Norwegian Kroner than he had originally wanted to spend, but he was doing it for Lana, after all. For the love of his life. The car door was yanked open, startling Thore back to the here and now. A slender man, around 5’7”, gave him a disparaging look. “I’m Chief Inspector Håkon Larsen. Kripos,” he announced. Shit. Thore’s blood went cold. The Kripos was the special investigative unit of the police. Why are they here? “Where is Lana?” Thore stammered. “I think you should answer that question, don’t you?” the chief inspector asked. At that moment, four men in wetsuits, rushed past the patrol car. Thore's breath caught in his throat. They can't seriously believe… “I didn't do anything!” Thore shouted, shaking his head. “Lana