"Not exactly." He dropped a bottle of orange juice and a bottle of iron supplements on the table next to Sam's bed. There were a few more small OJ bottles to go in the fridge with the blood.

The clothes he pulled out of the bag and hung up carefully. Black fitted slacks and a gunmetal gray, long sleeved shirt. New boots. He'd left all the shiny, preppy crap Pam forced on him back in Louisiana, so he'd have to make do on his own now.