“He looks pissed,” Brent said.

“Can you blame him?” Jeremiah snapped. “He’s probably sick and tired of this by now.”

“Working late again?” the clone said. Diana turned and offered him a half smile.

“Yeah,” she said. “That same case. Is Parker home?”

“In his room.”

“Did you eat?”

“I made sandwiches.”

“I had something at the office,” Diana said, although the clone hadn’t bothered to ask. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll take a shower before bed.”

“I bet you’re exhausted.” There was a hint of accusation in his voice. “All these late nights. Takes a lot out of you.”

In the lab, Jeremiah scrutinized the monitor. Was the clone finally going to do what he himself could never do? Was he finally going to confront her?

Diana stared at the clone for a long moment without a word and then shook her head and started toward the stairs.

“Wait,” the clone said. Jeremiah held his breath. “Why don’t we have a drink? You can tell me all about this case that’s been keeping you away every night.”

Diana’s eyes narrowed. “I’m tired, Jeremiah. I don’t want a drink. Besides, it’s nothing you’d be interested in.”

“Oh? Try me,” the clone said. “I think I’d be very interested. Especially if you decided to—oh, I don’t know—actually tell me the truth for a change.”

Her silence felt like it filled both the kitchen where she stood and the lab beyond. Jeremiah could feel Brent staring at him, but he kept his eyes on the monitor, waiting.

“What are you talking about? Tell you the truth about what?”

“About what it is that’s taking you away from your family,” the clone said. “What is it that’s so much more important to you than your own son? Or should I ask who?”

Diana glared at the clone in a way that Jeremiah had never seen before. It was as though he could see something physically shift in her as she held him in her gaze. And that shift smacked of something final. For a minute, he wondered whether she was about to lash out and slap the clone across the face. If she had, it wouldn’t have surprised Jeremiah.

Instead, she took one measured step closer to the clone and, when she finally spoke, her voice was low and cool, almost devoid of emotion. “You’ve changed, Jeremiah,” she said. “I don’t even know who you are anymore. But you’re not the same man I married.”

Jeremiah felt a wave of dread rise up inside him. Why, of all the things she might have said, had she decided on those exact words? He understood why she’d said it. She was angry. She’d felt trapped. In any other scenario, it would have meant nothing. But it echoed eerily what his mother had said just before she was murdered. Those were words that could get her killed.

Jeremiah closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. He could hear Brent typing something rapidly into his laptop. He sat up, startled, and looked at him.