In the Denny’s washroom, Billy leaned forward over the sink, splashing cold water on his face. He looked up at the stained mirror, and for a moment, couldn’t recognize the serious young man looking back at him. Something in his face was different.
He seemed older. Wiser, maybe.
He took a deep breath and steadied himself. The hotel manager couldn’t really accuse Xavier of anything. It would be the guy’s word against theirs, anyway. And the knife was gone.
Billy jerked brown paper out of the rusty dispenser and wiped his face. Behind him the door opened, and he glanced up at the mirror to catch a bald man in a brown sweater walking in. He recognized him from the dining room. The man’s eyes paused on Billy’s face in the mirror and then he walked over to the sinks, stopping at the one right
