Laila remembered a sermon she had heard as a child.
The pastor had quoted.
"... and let the children come to me ..." or something like that.
How macabre this Christian saying was compared to Summersby's tactics.
Summersby ran an upmarket, exclusive children's clothing store in one of Rome's most expensive shopping streets, Via Condotti.
Many wealthy locals and tourists stayed with their offspring for a long time in front of the huge shop window of Summersby's shop.
The shop window was child-friendly decorated and, in addition to the latest models from Prada, Armani, Gucci and other well-known designers who wore the mannequins, the whole still life was a single symphony of the hottest and hippest toys.
Two puppet boys in cool Armani outfit played with PSP devices (portable PlayStation).
Two doll girls bent curiously in their Prada dresses over a box of cute retriever puppies, who fought happily together.
No stuffed animals but live goods.
Laila saw the shop window clearly in front of him.
For some unknown reason, her mannequins had always seemed strangely eerie.
Whether this was due to her current assignment or the illusion that she thought she saw fiery red eyes under curved horns above the shop-window arrangement, she would not reveal herself.
The mirage only vaguely shimmered on the shop-window when Laila turned her gaze away from Summersby's shop.
Just a flash in the corner of his eye.
Was this a sign?
She had spent many hours in the opposite cafe, sipping some latte macchiato and watching the pig and his shop.
Here he recruited his unsuspecting victims.
Summersby was smart enough not to care about the children of the paying clientele, Laila had found out unexpectedly.
He chose his victims only among those who considered his expenses.
Sam had come across it by accident.
Over 70% of disappeared children lived with their parents in Rome or spent a few days there.
The commonality, however insignificant it seemed, was Laila's only straw to cling to.
So she chose particularly attractive points in the Eternal City and drifted almost haphazardly.
With her Nikom F4 she held everything and observed countless Roman businessmen.
It was a coincidence or destination—she had also taken several pictures of Summersby's shop and the people strolling by.
Her old friend, Fate, made sure that the issue of an Italian newspaper with a report on the current case of the disappearance of a 5-year-old girl had been lying next to the photos taken by Laila .
The article was accompanied by a recent family photo.
Laila, whose desk at the time was littered with the photographs of Summersby's shop, had peppered the newspaper angrily on the desk, accidentally sweeping some photos onto the floor.
When she picked up the first photo and put it next to the article, God and the devil were in good spirits again or fate or whoever hit unexpectedly.
The girl in front of Summersby's shop had turned to the street the moment Laila pressed the trigger. The face of the little ones was clearly recognisable.
Seeing the photos right next to each other hit her like a blow.
The girl in her photo and the missing girl from the newspaper article were one and the same person. Laila hurried on the phone with individuals from her contract group, and her suspicion was quickly confirmed that they had all gone to Rome and admired the shop window display of Summersby.
Within a period of 1—2 years, the children disappeared without a trace.
During the periods when the girls and boys who did not come from Italy disappeared, Summersby had either been represented in the store by a friend or closed for business.
Laila still did not know what Summersby was doing with the children and whether they were still alive.
But that would change her today.
She was so close.
After all, Laila had lured Summersby out of reserve, otherwise she would hardly be in this crappy situation.
But—WHAM—when she thought she was about to reveal Summersby's secret, she met her old, albeit unloved friend, fate.
Fate? Laila shuddered, thinking of fiery red eyes.