I should have noticed immediately that the tunnel was dark. The lights had been on when I came this way before, but now they were off. I didn’t realize what it meant. I was too focused on catching up to the man in front of me. I plunged ahead, practically running beside the river, and the noise of my footsteps finally made him aware of me.

He stopped, turning around slowly to see who I was. I stopped, too.

We confronted each other. He stood at the end of the tunnel, lit by the light post and the glow of the street above him. I was still in darkness, my face obscured. We weren’t far apart. If I leaped for him, I’d be on him. He had nowhere to run.

Dylan raised his arms with the fingers of his hands spread wide. He knew that I was a threat, but for now, I was just another Chicago mugger shaking him down. “I’m not armed,” he called. “I’m not going to fight back. What do you want? Money? I don’t have much, but you can have whatever’s in my wallet.”

I spoke to him from the tunnel. “I don’t want money.”

“Then what do you want?”

I tried to speak, but my throat choked up with guilt and indecision. We were alone, no one around but the two of us. It was the perfect moment. Everything I wanted was right in front of me, standing on the trail. All I had to do was take it.

“Talk to me,” Dylan went on. “Are you in trouble? Do you need help? Tell me what you want.”

I couldn’t hold it in. What I said made no sense, not when he couldn’t see my face and see who I was. But I told him anyway.

“I want your life. That’s what I want.”

Fear widened his eyes. He flinched and took a step backward, ready to bolt. I wondered if he was thinking about that earlier moment, looking through the window, seeing his mirror image on the other side of the glass. Did he realize that was me? Could he hear himself in my voice?

“Don’t run,” I warned him sharply, grabbing the knife from my pocket and holding it up in silhouette. “Don’t try it. You won’t get far.”

“Listen to me. I have a little girl. A baby.”

“I know.”

“You know? You know who I am?”

“I know everything about you . . . Dylan Moran.”

“Then what do you want with me?”

“I told you. You’re leading the life I’m supposed to have. And I want it back.”

“What does that even mean?” He narrowed his eyes, trying to see me in the darkness. “Who are you?”