“I’ll handle my end.”
“Sure you will,” Surrette said. “Go ahead, get started.”
“The woman on the bed? She keeps moaning,” Terry said.
“That’s about to end. You dropped the rope. Pick it up.”
Terry shook his head. “I’m going back to Reno.”
“Walking, are you?” Surrette said.
“I’m saying include me out. I’m DDD on this. Deaf, dumb, and don’t know. I got no issue with you. I got no issue with these people. You don’t owe me anything. I’m gone. Okay?”
“No, not okay,” Surrette said. “Let me show you how it’s done. You might develop a taste for it.” He walked to the bed and took a switchblade from his coat pocket. He pushed the release button. The blade, seven inches long with the wavy blue-and-white glimmer of an icicle, sprang to life in his hand. Felicity opened her eyes.
“It’s time, is it?” she said.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Go ahead.”
“You really want me to?”
“I do. Untie my hand, please.”
“What?”
“I’ll help you. You mustn’t be afraid.”
“I shouldn’t be afraid?”
“Please. Just release my right hand.”
“So you can do what?”
“Touch you.”
His mouth moved as though he wanted to smile. “You have things a little turned around.”
Her right wrist pulled against the rope. “Please,” she said.
“All right, your highness,” he said. He gripped the rope and sliced it in half. “Now what?”
She fitted her fingers around his wrist and guided the blade to her breast. “Push it in,” she said. “Make it quick.”
“Asa! Listen to that noise out there!” Boyd said.
“What noise?” Surrette said.
“Like thousands of people roaring in a stadium,” Boyd said.
“That’s the wind,” Surrette said. “Storms come off the lake almost every night here. The wind makes a roaring sound through the orchards.”
“You hear that? You call it wind? What the fuck is it, man?” Terry said.
“I don’t hear anything,” Surrette said.
“I’m out of here,” Terry said.