Laila stepped out of the shower. Her back still hurt, but she felt great. She would not kill Summersby and not leave him to his fate in the flames. She had bigger plans for him. His house and the sad contents of his cellar would be victims of the flames, but his time had not yet come.

Laila took the can with body cream. Summersby followed her movements with blinking eyes. Laila was sure that he could not see her very well without his glasses and that he certainly had no sexual interest in her body. Even so, his eyes were uncomfortable. Without further ado, she simply threw a towel over his head and began to cream.

She would have to make a few phone calls. But before that she had to choose a suitable place to put her plan into action. The place should be lonely, away from civilisation., but special. Laila thought of roses.

*****************************

Every moment Laila expected to be grabbed from behind. She reached the path and kept running in the direction Dick had called her to reach the pub. After a few meters, they forced violent side stitches to stop. Laila stood bent over and pressed her hand to the aching side.

Nobody followed her. The birds sang their song again. Doubts came over her. Was she just imagining it all? Had she become a victim of her overloaded nerves, was she actually ready for a holiday? Laila took off his jacket and wiped the sweat from his forehead. In her inside pocket she felt for her cigarettes.

God, she needed a train now. Laila ignited a glowing stalk with trembling fingers and inhaled the smoke deep into her lungs. She sat down on a tree stump and slowly smoked her cigarette. Laila felt the sweat drying on her forehead. She laughed hard.

She needed something normal. She longed for a big whisky and a casual conversation with Dick. She would not ask him about the flowers, how could she explain why she was running wild in the woods? Maybe these flowers did not exist. He just thought she was crazy and the officer in him would probably urge him to make further inquiries about Belinda Hammersfield.

It was better not to touch it. Laila decided to spend a few days and nights with Dick, then spend three weeks in a first class spa hotel. A few massages and cosmetic treatments would be sage for your body. To her state of mind, she would take care of her last job. Laila kicked out the cigarette and continued on her way to the pub.

********************

Laila tried again with the big cigars. She simply bit off an end and grabbed a huge silver table lighter and lit the expensive tobacco. Disgusted, she grimaced. Still not tasting, but better than nothing. Laila carried her clothes to the laundry room with the cigar in the corner of her mouth. She stuffed them into the drum and chose a short wash program. Naked, she strolled back into Summersby's living room and stretched out on the huge couch.

Laila held the cordless phone in front of his face. Before falling asleep, she had to inform Benedict. He was probably worried because Laila had not contacted him in days. He would do whatever it takes to get Laila out of Italy with Summersby.

She typed Benedict's number. After two rings, the answering machine answered. "Therapeutic C enter Belinda Hammersfield If you would like to make an appointment, please press 1. If you need more information about our therapeutic approaches and achievements, you can find them on our website www.hammersfield.com To leave a message, speak Please after the signal, thank you for your trust. " The beep sounded. "Benedict, this is Sam, I hope you see the number on the display, because I have no idea how ..." Impatiently, Benedict interrupted her. "I have not heard from you in days, I thought you were dead. Our clients are very nervous and ... "

"Benedict, I have him." Laila spoke in a low, satisfied voice. "Did you miss me? Come on, tell me some dirty things, I need some relaxation before I fall asleep." Benedict exhaled audibly. Angrily, he hissed into the phone. "Do you know what it's like to worry about others?"

"Unfortunately not, what is it, are you telling me something nice?" Benedict was completely unnerved. "The children?"

"All dead."

"Summersby?"

"Lives."

"How so?"

"Because I have an idea."

"I do not know if I like it."

"Come Ben, tell me something nice." Laila felt light as a feather. She floated on the feeling of triumph. "What is this idea?"

"Hm, first something nice, did you miss me?" Silence on the other end of the line. "Ben, I really need it, all right now, but I've had some ugly things to do to talk to you right now, so do not dress like that." A sigh. "I missed you, I was worried, about you."

"How soon can you organise a flight, let's say for myself, as a grieving widow, and once for my deceased husband? "

"I think he lives."

"Yes, and that should remain so, I just want to make it unobtrusively out of the country, because I can hardly put it next to me and permanently chewing in the face."

"In the coffin? He needs oxygen. Where are you going? America?"

"Yeah, the airport should be in the immediate vicinity of Cestohowa."

"What do you want there?"

"I like roses."

"Laila ." His voice trembled. "I did not ask for your opinion, I have no plan where I am, probably in Summersby's home or cottage, I can see trees, but no other houses, the door is locked, I could insert a window to get out. The shack is being torched, send me someone to pick up Summersby and me from here. "

"Laila, I ..."

"Since when do I discuss my decisions with you? Do you have the number?" Laila hissed into the phone. Quietly "yes"

"Good, then get in touch in due time, I'll hit my ear now, for" - Laila looked at the clock over the fireplace - "about 3 hours." She broke the connection. She was angry. This was similar to Benedict.

First he quarrelled until Laila had agreed to this order. And now, when she wanted to end it in her own way, he played her admonishing conscience. Impetuous annoyance overcame Laila. He was not there when she found the victims dead or alive.

It was Laila who was spattered with the blood of the killers and molesters when she sent her to hell. Benedict was not plagued by nightmares. Should the ass-hole live on in his sanctimonious little world and play the moral apostle? Laila had long ago sold her soul to the devil.

Angrily, she pushed out the thick Havana on the glass plate. She threw herself on the couch and looked at the dark green velour. fabric of the backrest. Three hours sleep. Benedict would not dare to disturb her first.