3:59

TWENTY-SIX

3:45 P.M.

TWO HOURS AGO JOSIE HAD BEEN DESPERATE TO get time alone in the house. Now she would have sold her firstborn to have someone else around.

Nick’s face was very calm. His voice didn’t shake. His arm held the gun steady. There was something unnerving in the casual way he stared at her, as if holding her at gunpoint was a perfectly natural activity for a Tuesday afternoon.

“Who are you?” he asked.

A hundred thoughts raced through Josie’s mind. How did he know? And what should she tell him? Lie? Tell him the truth? Would the truth sound more like a lie than an actual lie? Better not risk it.

“What the hell are you doing?” Josie said, doing her best impression of Jo. “Is this some kind of joke?” She shuffled her feet toward the door in what she hoped was a casual manner.

“Don’t move,” Nick said. Still calm. Still devoid of emotion.

Josie wasn’t willing to give in. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Nick shrugged. “I’m the one holding the gun.”

Josie forced a laugh, desperately hoping she sounded light and airy. “Please. I can tell that thing is plastic from here.”

Nick paused, then in answer he cocked the metal barrel. Definitely not a toy. “Right,” he said. “Plastic.”

Josie swallowed hard. Apparently there was a whole hell of a lot more going on than she could even imagine. She was running out of options.

Nick motioned toward the bed. “Sit.”

“What do you want, Nick?”

“Sit down.”

She could have made a break for it. But Nick was stronger and faster, not to mention the fact that he had a gun pointed at her chest. She probably wouldn’t have made it downstairs, let alone outside, without taking a bullet in the back. And then where would she have gone? The neighbors? Could she trust anyone? Nope. Besides, who would believe her? Josie was out of moves. She dropped the box on the floor and sat down gingerly on the edge of her mattress.

“Good.” Without taking his eyes off her, Nick dragged the desk chair over to the door and sat down, blocking the only exit. “Why don’t you start by answering my question: Who are you?”

Josie laughed again. She couldn’t help it. Nick sounded like he was doing an impression of a Nazi interrogator in every old movie she’d ever seen. “Really?”

“Cut the crap,” Nick said. His voice had an edge to it now. Patience was wearing thin. “Who are you?”

“Josephine Byrne,” she said with a cheeky grin. At least she wasn’t lying.

“Bullshit.”

“Look,” Josie said with a broad smile. “Don’t you recognize me?”

Nick shot to his feet. “I’ve known Jo since we were twelve, and I can say this with one hundred percent confidence: you are not Jo Byrne.”

How did he know?

“I know her.” Nick shifted his feet uneasily. “I know her personality, the way she talks and holds herself. The way she treats people. Ever since yesterday morning at school I’ve had this weird feeling that something just wasn’t right. You weren’t right. Zeke and Zeb told me what happened in physics. Then last night confirmed it. Either you’ve had major head trauma and don’t actually remember who you are, or you’re one of them.” He paused and pointed the gun directly at her again. “And it’s significantly more likely you’re one of them.”

“Who?”

“Do I look like an idiot?”

“Um . . .”

“I wouldn’t put it past them to have you made up to look like Jo. Were you afraid of us? Of what we might discover? Could your secret research really be threatened by a couple of high-school students? That’s pathetic. You hear me?”

Josie was starting to worry for his sanity. “Nick, what are you talking about?”

Nick ignored her question. He stormed up to her and grabbed her roughly by the shoulder. “Where are they? What happened to them?”

“I don’t know who you’re—”

Nick’s fingers dug into the fleshy part of her neck. “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY BROTHER?”

Josie jerked away, trying to free herself. There was something in Nick’s eyes that scared her. Desperation. Fearlessness. Whatever it was, he clearly wouldn’t have thought twice about snapping her neck if push came to shove.

“Tony?” she said.

“Is that why you brought him up at school yesterday, huh? Were you trying to see how I’d react?”

Josie tried to wriggle free. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. Not about Dr. Byrne either.”

Josie stopped struggling. “What about Dr. Byrne?”

“Dr. Byrne? Dr. Byrne?” Nick pushed her down on the bed and climbed on top of her. He squeezed her throat, constricting airflow. “Jo would never call her mom that.”

Josie pawed at Nick, desperately gasping for air. She didn’t even care about the gun anymore, only prying Nick’s hand off her throat. She kicked, trying to free herself, but he straddled her legs, rendering her almost completely helpless. She could feel her face burning, all the blood trapped as Nick methodically increased the pressure around her neck. Josie couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Her lungs burned, her eyes watered, and slowly, her vision began to go dark . . .

Just then, Nick released her. Josie’s head lolled to the side as she gulped in huge mouthfuls of air. Her body felt limp and tired.

“One more time,” Nick said. He’d regained his composure. She felt cold metal pressed against her cheek. The muzzle of the gun. “Who are you?”

Josie was screwed. She was Josephine Byrne—only not Nick’s Josephine Byrne. How could she explain it to him without getting her head blown off?

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“Okay!” Josie said, panting. “You win.”

The gun didn’t move. “Go ahead.”

“Just hear me out,” Josie said. Nick’s face was impassive, his eyes quick and alert, like a tiger hunting its prey. But the knuckles on the hand that gripped the gun were white and tense. He was scared too.

“Quickly.”

“My name is Josie Byrne.”

Nick pressed the gun into her cheek. “I said—”

“Listen to me!” Whether it was the tone in her voice or the look on her face, it made Nick pull back as a wave of hestitation passed over him.

“Josie Byrne,” she repeated. “Not Jo, Josie.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I haven’t had plastic surgery to look like Jo, okay? I am her.” As soon as Josie said the words, she felt her face flush bright red. It was true, sort of, and even with Nick sitting on top of her holding a gun to her head, she felt a rush of excitement at saying those words.

Wow. That was completely fucked up.

“You’re not Jo,” Nick said, turning ever so slightly pink.

Josie ignored him. “We’re the same person. Sort of.”

Nick barked a disbelieving laugh. “Are you trying to tell me you’re long-lost twins or something?”

“No.”

“Then?”

Crap, what was she trying to tell him? “We’re like the same person. The exact same person. Only not.”

“A clone?” Nick sat back on the bed.

“No, not a clone.” Josie pushed herself up to a sitting position. Nick still held the gun pointed in her general direction, but he seemed to have forgotten it was even in his hand.

“Because I wouldn’t put it past the Grid to start cloning us.” Nick looked out the window, clearly lost in his own thoughts.

Again, the idea of making a break for it crossed Josie’s mind, but something held her there. Maybe . . . maybe he could help her? She was going to need an ally if she was ever going to get home.

“I don’t know anything about clones,” Josie said truthfully. “But what I’m about to tell you is going to sound strange.”

“Stranger than clones?”

“Actually? Yeah.”

Nick half smiled. He was still tense, but there was an instant lightness to his face. “This had better be an awesome story.”

Josie glanced at the clock. Five minutes to four. Well, that was the first thing that had gone right for her in the last twenty-four hours. At least she would have concrete, irrefutable proof of the completely insane story she was about to tell her gun-toting not-boyfriend.

“Well?” Nick asked.

It was now or never. Josie pointed to the mirror. “I came through there.”