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"I am her father, I have the damn right to know what the pig did to my daughter." Laila did not surprise the outbreak. The man was used to giving orders and everyone danced to his tune. "Be patient for a while, Joseph Rüttli, I will inform all concerned parents, but I intend to tell this madness only once, so ..." Laila glanced at the clock on the Volvo. "... wait a minute or two, OK?"

"I do not give a shit what you want, I'm your employer, a paying customer, please help me out." Slowly the banker Laila got on his nerves. "It's going by my rules, or not at all."

"Yes, and what do we have from your rules? Dead children."

The words hurt Laila deeply. Furious, she flung her words against the windshield. "While you were swinging your balls in Switzerland, he peeled off your daughter's skin, stuffed it up and exhibited it as a life-sized mannequin - just the main info Coffin, at Summersby, I have a detailed ill.u.s.trated book that accurately describes the preparation of each child, just in case my gentle clientele does not want to believe the words of a money-guzzling madman. " Stunned, he stared at Laila.

Laila, already annoyed enough with her emotional outrage, stared defiantly at him. "What is it you wanted to know, right?" Disgusted, Danielle's father looked at Laila's profile. "What kind of person are you? Are you still one, or have some of the insanity of your victims rubbed off on you? Just to soothe your own sick conscience, are you trying to pin this book of pictures on you? You must be insane. You monsters. "

Laila pressed her lips defiantly together. 'Smug asshole', she thought. What did he fancy to judge here? She was good enough to kill, now he reproached her for not being s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e enough. But Laila did recognize a spark of truth in his words. Well, she had to fight against her own demons. She fished a cigarette out of her trouser pocket and squeezed the cigarette lighter of the Volvo.

"You do not want to smoke in here?" Indignation swung in his voice. Laila held the smoldering lighter to the top of her cigarette. "Explain to me how you want to stop me." She blew the smoke in his direction. The rest of the journey was spent in icy silence. Laila's stomach cramped as she stopped in front of D.i.c.k's cabin. It was dark. Laila looked at the clock. 21:06 clock - a precision landing.

"What is it? Are we there?" Danielle's father looked around uneasily. Laila opened the car door. "I still have something to do." She got out and saw the fading police seal that still kept the door closed. Laila broke it open and got in with two strong kicks inlet. Stiff, stale air struck her. Laila pushed the light switch - nothing. Probably the investigating officers had issued all the fuses.

Since she was well versed, she found herself in the pale moonlight. First she entered the kitchen. On the small kitchen table, the lightly drawn outlines of D.i.c.ks upper body and arms lifted. The ax was missing. It was safe as evidence No. 1 in the evidence room of a police station.

Laila went into the living room. For a moment, she thought the ram man was sitting on the couch. She drew in a sharp breath and let it out with relief. During the search, the officials had moved some pillows on the couch. The high corners and Laila's tense nerves had played a trick on her. Reluctantly, Laila headed for the broom closet. As if casually, she saw the dark traces of the graphite dust trailing the wooden frame of the door.

Laila opened the door. No window lit the room. He lay in impenetrable darkness. As much as Laila strained her eyes, she could not tell if the photo was still in place. Probably not. Surely it had been cataloged as evidence. But the mere guess was not enough. She needed certainty. With her hands Laila groped through the darkness. With outstretched arms she could just feel the edge of the board.

She had no other choice, she had to enter the broom cupboard. When Laila was swallowed by the gloom of the narrow space, she expected her fingers to feel the thick hair of the chopped off head at any moment. Her breathing was rattling and her nerves were tearing. Laila's hands groped the board, no head, no photo, no tealights. With a loud bang, the door closed behind her. At the same time she was grabbed from behind. Laila's thoughts raced.

D.i.c.k? Summersby? Danielle's father? Laila could barely breathe, so tight was the iron grip of powerful arms. She could barely hear the harsh voice through her own gasping breath. "If you've finished this thing, we have to talk." Sam stared into the darkness - the ram man. "In his icy prison our son is waiting to be carried away by you." The pressure died down as suddenly as it had come.

Laila opened the door. For a moment the panic grabbed her with icy claws as the door knob in her damp fingers did not turn. Laila rushed out of the broom closet and vomited chokingly. Hunted, she looked around. No man, no ram man to see.

You lose your mind, she thought wearily. Outside, the horn of the Volvo sounded. Laila went out. Danielle's father kept poking his head on the steering wheel, sounding the buzzer like that. A very funny sight.

But Laila was not in the mood for laughter. The Swiss banker looked at her. Laila drew a flat hand over her throat. "Stop it." The banker sat very still again. Laila went into the tool shed and packed pliers, wrenches, and crowbars into two large toolboxes.

She put them both on a sack truck and drove them to the parked Volvo and heaved them into the trunk next to Summersby's casket. When Summersby heard the sounds, he immediately began drumming his feet against the wood. "That's what makes it astray since we stopped." Mauled Danielle's father from the passenger seat.

Laila got behind the wheel. "Not far, we'll be right there." The banker studied her face. "You look like shit." Laila laughed hard. "Thank you for the flowers." She thought of roses.