“I guess. Are you doing better? You were always so hard on the whole world, especially yourself. I hoped you’d find some softness, you know? I wanted you to have peace.”

“I’m getting there.”

“I’m glad.” She put her arms around me in a quick, awkward embrace, and then she bowed her head in embarrassment. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

The light changed. She started across Michigan Avenue toward the Hilton. My eyes followed her, but then I looked beyond her to the crowded sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.

He was standing right there.

My Dylan. The Dylan in the leather jacket. The Dylan I was here to kill.

He stood on the corner and eyed me with his own steely resolve. Tai must have seen him, too, because she stopped in the middle of the street. Her shoulders spun around so she could look behind her. Finding me where I was supposed to be, she began to look back to confirm the impossibility of what her eyes were seeing.

As she did, a Chicago tour bus blocked our view of the Hilton. When it passed, the other Dylan had already vanished. I was sure he was in the crowd of pedestrians now, but as far as Tai was concerned, he was just a momentary trick of her imagination. She continued to the opposite corner and gave a little wave as she headed south for the LaSalle Plaza.

I didn’t bother chasing after my doppelgänger. Not yet.

I knew that when the time came, he’d find me.

Obviously, the Dylan Moran who lived in this world had made mistakes even worse than mine.

I wanted to know who he was, what had happened that sent him to prison, and whether Karly was a part of his life. There was one person who could always give me answers. Roscoe. That was assuming there had been no car accident in this world that had taken him away from me.

I headed for Roscoe’s South Side church, but when I went inside, I noticed a poster on the bulletin board with photographs of the church staff. My heart fell when I saw that Roscoe wasn’t listed among them. I wondered if he was gone, as he was in my own world, but when I asked one of the priests about him, I was relieved to learn that no one named Roscoe Tate had ever been associated with the church.

So where was he?

I retraced my steps to the medical clinic on Irving Park where Roscoe’s mother practiced. Fortunately, this part of the world hadn’t changed. As I approached the building, I saw Alicia Tate coming out the front door, and her face broke into a broad smile as she spotted me on the sidewalk.

“Dylan, what a nice surprise.”

Unlike Tai, Alicia sounded genuinely happy to see me.