I shook my head as he gave me back the ring. “Roscoe, I’m not making this up. You died.”

“I heard what you said. A car accident after I bailed you out of a police station. Dylan Moran in a bar fight—now that’s truly a miracle. You’re far too stoic and practical for anything like that. I don’t recommend violence, but actually, it would be nice to think you’re capable of losing control once in a while.”

“That night changed my life,” I told him.

“So I gather.”

“I lost you, but I met my wife because of it.”

Roscoe steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “I rather like the idea of me dying to help you find the love of your life. You must know that I wouldn’t have hesitated over that kind of sacrifice.”

“I do know that.” Then I looked around at the church, which was like seeing Roscoe back home where he belonged. “But in this world, there was no accident. No bar fight. No car wrapped around the tree. You never died, and I never met Karly.”

He gave me a strange look that I couldn’t interpret. “I doubt it would have made a difference if you had. You don’t believe in the idea of love at first sight.”

“That’s your Dylan,” I insisted. “Not me. I fell for Karly as soon as I saw her.”

“My Dylan,” Roscoe murmured.

I could tell that he still had his doubts. Around us, night was setting in, which made the dangling lanterns overhead glow brighter. The stained glass deepened into shadows on the walls. We were alone, but even so, I felt a strange shift in the environment around me. The air changed, as if a door had opened and closed somewhere.

“I know you’re humoring me,” I told him.

Roscoe sat where he was, his lips pursed in thought. “Well, it’s a lot to take in, I won’t deny that. For the time being, let’s assume this is really happening to you. That you’re a different Dylan Moran, someone I haven’t met before. If that’s true, where is the Dylan that I grew up with? The one who belongs in this world?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he somehow disappear when you arrived?”

“I have no idea. The other Dylan I told you about—the serial killer—he shared my world, so I can’t understand where your Dylan is. He should be here, too, but he’s been missing for two days.”

“In which case, I’m worried about him.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“I love him. He’s my closest friend. I’m sure your Roscoe felt the same way about you.”

“He did.”

Roscoe stood up from the pew and gave me one of his penetrating stares that meant he was going to say something that I didn’t want to hear. “Dylan, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“If you are who you claim you are, then why are you here?”

“I needed to see you again. To talk to you. I knew if anyone would believe me, you would.”

“Yes, I get that. And I’m glad you came. What I want to know is, why are you here in this world and not your own?”

“I told you. I need to stop this other Dylan. He’s a killer.”

“That’s a job for the police. In any world. It’s not your job.”

“The police don’t know what’s going on. They have no clue. Roscoe, this other Dylan has already killed again. The woman in the park, Betsy Kern. Another woman who looks just like Karly—”

I stopped.

Restlessly, I got up from the bench and paced back and forth in the aisle under the long sweep of the arched ceiling. My sharp footsteps sounded like the crack of bullets. I understood what was happening now, and my terror increased a thousandfold. My doppelg?nger was here. He knew I was following him. By killing Betsy Kern, he was sending me a message.

“Oh, my God. He’s going to kill her.”

“Who?”

“Karly. That’s what this is about. That’s his plan. I need to stop him before he finds her. I’m the only one who can save her.”

Roscoe shook his head sadly. “Is that what you’re trying to do? Save her?”

“Of course it is. Don’t you see? I’m the only one who even knows she’s at risk.”

“I know that’s what you’re telling yourself. But it also gives you a convenient excuse to meet her again, doesn’t it? You can meet her and make her fall in love with you. You can have the life you lost. That’s what you really want.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it? Dylan, whether or not your story is true really doesn’t matter. You can’t live two lives at the same time. No good will come of it. You’ve already hurt people. The longer you stay on this path, the worse it will get. If any of this is real, then the best thing you can do is say the word infinite right now and go back home. Let us worry about our own world.”

I put my hands on Roscoe’s shoulders. “I can’t do that. I failed Karly in my other life. I let her die. I should have been the one who died, not her. I’m not going to fail her again. This time, I’m going to keep her safe.”

“That was your responsibility in your own world,” he replied firmly. “Not here. In this world, you have no connection to her at all. Wherever Karly is, she has her own life, and you don’t belong in it.”

Roscoe knew me well, but I knew him, too. The truth always showed in his face.

“My God. You know her, don’t you? You know Karly. You know where she is.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, you know something about her. What is it?”

“This is a mistake. You should let it go.”

“Roscoe, please. You have to tell me.”

My friend sat down in the pew again. He exhaled with a heavy sigh. “I can see you’re not going to give up. One thing is consistent about every Dylan Moran. They disregard all of my good advice.”

I waited impatiently, but Roscoe could never be rushed.

“Almost ten years ago, I set you up on a blind date,” he went on. “Do you remember that?”

I thought back. “Yes. You had a married friend who was a religion major at Northwestern. I met her and her husband at Thanksgiving dinner at your mother’s house. Afterward, she told you that she had a girlfriend who’d be perfect for me.”

“Did you meet up with her girlfriend?”

“No. I said thanks, but no thanks. I had no interest in blind dates. Why?”

“Because in this world, you did go,” Roscoe told me. “The two of you went out to some dance club, and she didn’t like you. There was no chemistry. That was it. The two of you never went out again. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but so far, there don’t seem to be a lot of coincidences in your worlds, Dylan. The thing is, I remember the woman’s name, even after all this time. It was Karly.”

CHAPTER 18

I drove to the north side of the city, where Karly’s parents had their house. When I got to their upscale neighborhood in Wilmette, it was obvious that they’d never lived there. There was no dollhouse in the back of the estate where Karly had nursed me back to health after the accident. The mansion itself was unchanged, but it was no longer a testament to the real estate empire built by Susannah Chance. The woman who answered the door was a stranger who had never heard of the Chance family and who had owned the house since the 1980s.

When I did research on my phone, I learned that Chance Properties didn’t exist. In fact, I couldn’t find any indication that it ever had. Whatever Karly’s mother had done with her life, she wasn’t in the local real estate market. I searched for Karly herself, but I got listings for different women all over the country, and nothing gave me a clue about how to find the Karly I wanted. I didn’t know where she was living or working or whether she was still in Chicago at all. In fact, I didn’t even know whether Karly Chance actually existed in this world. The blind date I’d had ten years ago might have been with a different person who just happened to have the same first name.

But I didn’t think so. I thought Roscoe was right. Fate had a way of making our lives converge across different worlds.

Finally, I called Roscoe’s friend Sarah, the Northwestern alum who’d originally suggested I meet Karly. She was now a homeschool mom living in Elgin. As I dialed her number, I tried to think of a way to explain my interest in finding a woman with whom I’d had a single disastrous date nearly a decade earlier. The truth was clearly not an option.

When Sarah answered the phone, we exchanged pleasantries, which didn’t take long. Roscoe was the only thing we had in common, so we talked about him and his parish work for a minute or two, and when that well ran dry, I explained the reason for my call. I hoped she’d believe the lie.