It’s been eating at him since Beaumont’s, the notion that if he hadn’t been hurt trying to help Edgar, he might have been able to get to the Fiend before he cut the girl’s throat. His anger boils over, and he storms into the bathroom and turns on the shower. “Get your ass in here!” he barks. “Wash that blood off.”

“I need my stuff.”

“Now!”

Edgar pops up and lurches toward him, maybe to take a swing, Jesse thinks, but he pushes past into the bathroom and slams the door.

Embarrassed about squabbling in front of Sanders, Jesse says, “Excuse me for that.”

“It’s been a long night,” Sanders says. He pulls the rag away and touches the cut on his head.

“Looks like the bleeding’s stopped,” Jesse says.

“Will you let me put a bandage on it?”

“Go on ahead.”

Sanders roots in a duffel bag and comes up with a small first aid kit. He wets a washcloth in the room’s sink and cleans the gash.

“You haven’t been at this long, have you?” Jesse says.

“What? Bleeding?” Sanders says.

“Killing rovers.”

“I didn’t even know there was such a thing until a few days ago, and I wish I’d stayed ignorant,” Sanders says. He dabs antibiotic ointment on the cut and fashions a dressing out of cotton balls and tape.

“What brought you to it?” Jesse says.

“One of you devils killed my son.”

“And killing us makes you feel better?”

“Not yet.”

Sanders presses the bandage into place and checks it in the mirror. “How many people have you murdered?” he asks Jesse.

“One or a thousand, it’s all the same, isn’t it?” Jesse replies.

“I suppose so,” Sanders says. “You were damned after the first.” He lies on one of the beds with a Bible. Jesse sits at the table, the .45 close at hand.

Morning has come up, the room’s drapes barely holding it back, by the time Edgar emerges from the bathroom and stretches out on the second bed with Abby.

“I’m hungry,” he says.

“You can hold off until dark,” Jesse says.

Edgar points at Sanders and says, “Send this boy out for something.”

“That’s Mr. Sanders,” Jesse says. “He’s not your boy.”

“I have bread and lunch meat,” Sanders says. “You’re welcome to it.”

“Thank you,” Jesse says.

Sanders lays out a loaf of Wonder Bread, a jar of mustard, and a package of salami. Jesse tells Edgar to get up and make his own sandwich. Sanders makes one for himself when Edgar finishes.

“You want me to leave this out for you?” he asks Jesse.

Food is the furthest thing from Jesse’s mind. Now that they’re settled, he’s focused on going after the Fiends.

“What kind of weapons have you got?” he asks Sanders when the man comes out of the bathroom after taking a shower.