Orson chuckled. “Shirley,” he said, perfectly serious, “I’ll say it like this. I want your heart. Now if you get up and walk out that door after I’ve cut it out, I won’t stop you.” He stood up. “I’ve gotta piss, Andy. Keep her company.” Orson walked to the door, unlocked it, and stepped outside. I could hear him spraying the side of the shed.

“Ma’am,” I whispered, breathless. “I don’t know what to do. I am so sorry. I want—”

“I don’t want to die,” she said, begging me with her stormy eyes. “Don’t let him hurt me.”

“I’m chained to the floor. I want to help you. Just tell me—”

“Please don’t kill me!” she screamed, oblivious now to my voice. She rocked back and forth on her knees like an autistic child. “I don’t want to die!”

The door opened, and Orson cruised back in. “Well, you’re in the wrong place,” he said, “’cause it’s that time.” He held the knife by his side and moved deliberately toward her. She crawled away from him, using only her knees because her hands were still cuffed behind her back. The chain always stopped her. Orson giggled.

“No!” she screamed. “You can’t do this!”

“Watch me,” he said, bending down toward her, the knife cocked back.

“Stop it, Orson!” I yelled, my heart beating in my throat. With the woman cowering at his feet, a puddle spreading beneath her, Orson looked back at me.

Think, think, think, think. “You just …you can’t kill her.”

“Would you rather do it? We can’t let her go. She knows our names. Seen our faces.”

“Don’t cut her,” I said. The lumpiness of tears ached in my throat.

“I do it to all of them, and I don’t make exceptions.”

“While they’re alive?”

“That’s the fun of it.”

“You’re out of your mind!” Shirley screamed at Orson, but he ignored her.

“Not this time, Orson,” I implored, rising to my feet. “Please.”

Shirley screamed, “Let me go!”

“Bitch!” Orson screamed back, and he kicked her in the side of the head with the steel tip of his boot. She slumped down on the floor. “Open your mouth again, good-bye tongue.”

He looked back at me, eyes blazing. “It’s perfect with you here,” he said. “I want to share this with you.”

“No,” I begged. “Don’t touch her.”

Orson glanced down at his victim and then back at me.

“I’ll give you a choice,” he said. Walking to the stool, he set down the knife and pulled out my .357. “You can shoot her right now. Save her the pain.” He approached and handed me the gun. “Here. Seeing you kill her painlessly would be as good to me as killing her the way I like to.” When he looked at Shirley, I glanced at the back of the cylinder. The gun was loaded.

“Shirley, get up. I told you it was a lucky coincidence for you that my brother was here.”