The Mirror Man, стр. 63
“What happened?” the clone asked weakly. “What do you mean a car crash? Where?”
“Just down the street, sir,” the male officer told him. “It looks like the car lost control, went off an embankment and hit a tree.”
On the screen, the female officer handed the clone a card. “I’m afraid you’ll need to identify the body at this address,” she said. “We could take you now, or you could go in the morning if you prefer. There’s no rush, sir.”
“N-no, no,” the clone stammered. “My son is asleep upstairs. I’ll go in the morning.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” she said, and her sincerity showed in her face. “You can reach me or Officer Towle at the station if there’s anything you need. If you have any questions. Anything at all.”
“Yes, of course. Yes. Thank you.”
They let themselves out the front door, closing it softly behind them, and left the clone sitting, half-slumped, in shocked disbelief.
“Turn it off,” Jeremiah said.
“Are you sure, Mr. Adams? The clone may be about to speak to your son. You’d want to see that, I think.”
“No. I don’t want to see it. What I want is to be there with my son. Turn it off. Just turn it off.”
He did, and without another word, Charles Scott left the apartment. The door closed slowly but absolutely behind him. Jeremiah didn’t even look up.
Chapter 30
He remained on the couch, unmoving, wondering how it could have happened. Not just Diana, but everything. How could his life have come so undone in such a short span of time? How could he have let that happen? For forty-seven years, it seemed, his world had moved steadily, mostly in a predictable straight line, everything happening pretty much as expected. There were hurdles and hiccups, but nothing he couldn’t see beyond, nothing without an answer. What was it about him, he wondered now, that had so easily swayed him to leave? What kind of weakness was that? What kind of selfishness? How could he pick up the pieces now? How was he supposed to walk back in? What was he supposed to do?
In a way, since this whole thing began, right up to this moment, he’d been able to pretend all of it was happening to someone else. He could look up at that screen and almost convince himself the clone was a different, separate person. But not now. Now he felt buried under all of it. The weight of his own ruined life was crushing. His own blame in that was overwhelming. So, he sat there, unable to move, and wondering why he wasn’t sobbing.
Sometime around 6:00 a.m. Natalie Young knocked once and then came in through the door in his living room. She was dressed in a neat red dress with matching heels, her white lab coat unbuttoned over this, and her hair pulled back in its usual tight knot. She looked every bit as though the world was still exactly as it ought to be. She took a seat across from him, pulling up the chair and sitting on its edge, so that her knees were almost touching his. She waited a few minutes in silence, looking at him with pursed lips and a cool, somewhat studious expression.
“Oh, Jeremiah,” she said at last, and left it at that.
“I don’t want to talk right now.”
“I think we need to.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
He stood up then, tightened the belt around his bathrobe again and walked into the kitchen without looking at her. He switched on the light and busied himself with the coffeemaker, measuring French roast with slow, purposeful movements, and filling the carafe with water from the refrigerator dispenser. He laid the preparations on the counter, and closed his eyes, breathing deeply, putting his hands before him to steady himself. After a moment, she followed him, and stared at his back until he finally turned around.
“Talk to me, Jeremiah. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He was silent. She didn’t want to know what he was thinking.
“I need to make sure you’re coping with all of this. I need to make sure you’re all right.”
“No.”
“We could take the Meld. I can see it that way, if that would be easier for you than talking right now.”
“I’m not taking the Meld. I’ve taken too much of that stuff already. And the last time it was twice in one day. I don’t like letting you peer into me like that.” He hesitated just a moment and looked her hard in the eye. “I don’t think you understand what you’re seeing,” he told her. “I think you made mistakes.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. Jeremiah thought he detected a hint of apprehension in her voice.
“I think you should go, Natalie,” he said, turning back to his coffee. “Please. Just go.”
“Mr. Higgins will be here soon,” she told him. “Talk to him. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jeremiah, for our scheduled session. Please try to get some rest today. If you need me, let me know.”
He said nothing and watched her walk out the door. Without conscious thought, in sure, robotic motion, he got himself showered and dressed. When he came back out to the living room, Brent handed him coffee and motioned him to the couch without a word.
“I told you. I tried to tell you,” Jeremiah said.
“I know.”
“You didn’t listen.”
“I know.”
“She was my wife. What am I supposed to do now? This isn’t even my own life I’ll be going back to anymore. Everything’s just so fucked up now.”
“I know.”
“And Parker. Jesus. What happens to Parker?” Jeremiah could hardly get the words out. He didn’t even try to hide the tears on his cheeks. He just let himself cry. Brent put a hand firmly on his shoulder and said nothing. After a moment, Jeremiah wiped his eyes roughly and pulled himself together enough to speak again. “Parker is alone with that clone now. He needs his father. He