They had largely left him alone after the news about Diana. Apparently, the abbreviated viewing with Charles Scott would count as the full four hours for the day. Even Brent had disappeared by the time Jeremiah had finally come out of the bathroom, and he used the solitude to formulate a plan. He wanted to research all the various ways a person could be murdered, to find the cleanest, most reliable method. But he knew they’d certainly be monitoring his internet use. Googling murder probably wasn’t the best idea. Instead, he played IF on his own, morphing into his avatar, steeling himself for the task taking shape in his mind. He tried to think like Clyde, to push away every trace of sympathetic thought. Clyde wouldn’t think twice about killing that clone. He probably would have done it a long time ago. Brent had left a final message on the sidebar of his screen: I’ll be there tomorrow. Keep quiet. Stay calm. I’m going to help you.

Eventually, he realized, he’d have to tell Brent what he was planning to do. The only conceivable way out of here would be with his help. And Brent knew the truth. He could be convinced. Maybe.

It would prove difficult, he knew, to hide his state of mind from Natalie Young. But he had the motivation he needed to do it. He’d have to concentrate, lock his intentions away in some dark corner of his mind and just fake his way through their conversations.

While he waited to be escorted to her office for their scheduled session the next morning, he took a few deep breaths and practiced a calm, unreadable expression.

“I know you’re hurting,” Dr. Young said before he’d even settled onto the couch. “You’ve had some time alone with it now. How are you coping, Jeremiah?”

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll be all right. I’m more concerned about Parker right now.”

“And you didn’t want to watch when the clone broke the news.”

“I didn’t think I could stand it,” he told her. “I didn’t want to see.”

“Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t have been able to say anything. I should be the one to tell him his mother died. I don’t want to listen to someone else do it. Don’t you see that, Natalie? I’m his father. It’s my job. They took that away from me.”

“Okay,” she said thoughtfully. “I suppose I can understand that. Have you thought about how you would have handled that conversation? What you would say to Parker if you were there?”

“Why should I?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “What good would it do? I’m not there and, evidently, no one is going to let me out.”

“We can’t let you out. You know that.”

“That’s funny.” He smirked. “They didn’t have a problem letting me out when it suited their own interests.”

“That was different, Jeremiah. But you signed an agreement, remember.”

“Yeah, I signed a fucking contract. I know. The almighty contract.”