Infinite(45)

“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.

“This is a total fluke, Sarah. You may not be able to help me, but you’re my only lead. I’m the events manager at the LaSalle Plaza Hotel, and my assistant took a call today from a woman named Karly Chance who was interested in booking our ballroom for an event next spring. Unfortunately, my assistant must have gotten the number wrong, because my calls won’t go through. The thing is, I remembered that you set me up on a blind date with a woman named Karly Chance a long time ago. I have no idea whether it’s the same person, but I figured it was worth a try. If you were still in touch with her, I thought you might know how I could reach her.”