Instead, as each four-hour segment passed with every indication that Diana was safe, Jeremiah clung to the profound satisfaction that his note had worked. He’d taken a risk and had made a difference. He might have foiled Scott’s plans for his wife. He might have actually done something. He savored that victory alone.

At the end of another viewing watching the clone still basking in the glory of his publicity stunt, Brent traded his lab coat for a beer and seemed ready to settle in for the evening.

“I’m tired, Brent,” Jeremiah said instead of engaging in the casual conversation. “Finish your beer and go home to Mel. I’m going to bed early.”

Thirty minutes after Brent left the lab, Jeremiah all but collapsed onto his bed and fell into the first sound sleep he’d had in days. Sheer exhaustion finally won out over his own fretting.

When he awoke in the darkened room, it took him a full minute to comprehend that someone was knocking impatiently at his front door in the next room. From the sound of it, they’d been trying to get his attention for a while. No one ever knocked like that on his door, he realized through a fog. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw by the clock on his bedside table that it was 2:28 in the morning.

“What the hell,” he mumbled, and threw off the covers. “Yeah, just a minute!” he called.

As he approached, pulling tight the belt on his bathrobe, he heard the familiar buzz and click of the electronic lock and the door eased open. Charles Scott stood in front of him, dressed uncharacteristically in a white T-shirt and khaki pants, as though he, too, had been roused from his sleep. His hair and demeanor, however, were in their usual state of perfection.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Mr. Adams.” Scott stepped inside and the door closed slowly behind him. “I’m afraid something has happened.”

Jeremiah rubbed at his eyes and yawned.

Scott put two fingers to Jeremiah’s elbow and decisively led him to the couch. Jeremiah sat down and tried to shake the sleep from his head.

Scott scrutinized him with narrowed eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose before speaking. “I have terrible news,” he said. “Your wife, Diana, was in a car crash about an hour ago. I’m afraid she didn’t survive.”

Jeremiah stared up at Scott blankly and tried to determine whether he was actually fully awake. He couldn’t comprehend the words. They made no sense to him. He couldn’t connect them with any kind of truth. He had written the note. He had warned his clone. He had saved her. He had made a difference.

Diana.

“Did you hear what I said, Mr. Adams? Your wife was killed in a car accident tonight.”

“Parker...” Jeremiah started to rise up from the couch before falling back down again.

“She was driving alone. Your son is safe at home with the clone.”

Jeremiah shuddered at those words. There was no such thing as safe anymore.