They echoed Amy's thought. "Lady, do you have any idea how many black limousines exist in Los Angeles? Now, if you'd managed to get a look at his license plate . . ."

"I did see his license plate," Monica insisted. "I just don't have a good memory. But I'm sure there was a letter J. Or maybe it was G. . . ."

The police officers were shaking their heads. "Sorry, miss." But Monica had just given Amy an idea. And unlike Monica, Amy had a very good memory.

She ran into her house, stood very still, closed her eyes tightly, and concentrated as hard as she could. Gradually the image of a bright blue sports car formed in her head. Slowly details emerged: the nameplate that showed the make of the car, the shape of the headlights, the license plate. State of California. Some letters, numbers . . . Amy whipped out a notebook and scrawled what she saw in her head.

Yes, that was Camilla's license plate number.

The phone rang. For one crazy moment Amy thought it just might be Camilla.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Hi, sweetie."

Amy tried not to let the disappointment show in her voice. "Hi, Mom."

"I just wanted to make sure everything's okay."

"Of course everything's okay."

"Well, fine. I'll be home around seven."

Amy hung up the phone with a grimace. Nancy hadn't called to see if everything was okay. She'd been checking to make sure Amy was home. Amy's mother had lost all trust in her. She was probably lying about coming home at seven o'clock. She'd be there at six just to make sure Amy hadn't sneaked out. For a moment Amy almost wished she had someplace to sneak out to.

But she wasn't going anywhere. So she knew Camilla's license plate number - she didn't have the slightest idea what to do with it. Call the police, maybe? According to the officers outside, they used this type of information to track people down. They could arrest Camilla. But for what? For spying on Amy? That wasn't what Amy wanted. She wasn't sure what she did want - but putting Camilla behind bars wasn't it.

Amy tried to keep herself busy. Making and eating a peanut b.u.t.ter and banana sandwich, with chocolate sprinkles, on white bread with the crusts cut off, consumed twenty minutes. Homework took up another ten. Then she turned on the television and flipped through the channels, not looking at any program for more than five minutes.

When the doorbell rang, an unusual thrill of antic.i.p.ation shot through her. She jumped up to see who had dropped by. But it was just Tasha.

"Can I go online with your computer?" Tasha begged. "My mother's working out vacation plans on mine, and it could take hours."

"Okay," Amy said. They went up to her room, and Tasha sat down at Amy's desk.

"I want to see if there are any answers to my e-mails," she said.

"You can check your e-mail on my computer?" Amy asked.

"Sure. I just have to access my own server."

Amy had e-mail, but she wouldn't have known how to do that. Tasha was a real pro with computers.

"Ooh, there's a response from a talk show!" Tasha squealed. "And two others! Wow, that was fast!" But seconds later she issued a moan that clearly expressed disappointment.

"What's the matter?" Amy asked.

"They're not interested in finding Jeanine's parents."

"None of them?"

"No. Oh well, I'll just have to do it on my own." She turned to Amy with a shrug of resignation. Then her expression changed. "What's the matter with you?"

Amy almost smiled. This was a true best friend. No matter how much Tasha had on her own mind, she'd eventually see that something was bugging Amy.

"Something's wrong," Tasha said. "And it's not just being grounded."

So Amy told her about seeing Camilla the night before.

Tasha's immediate reaction was just like her brother's. "Amy, she must be one of them," she said in a hushed and frightened tone.

Amy shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just don't think she is. But I want to find her."

"Do you know her last name?" Tasha asked.

"No. But I have her license plate number."

Tasha lit up. "You can get her full name from that! Maybe even her address and phone number!"

"How? I don't want to call the police."

"You don't have to. Did you see that article in the newspaper about the teenager who broke into the computer system at some huge corporation and gave everyone a raise?"

Amy gasped. "Are you saying you can break into the police computer system?"

"Probably not. But I bet I can find someone else who's already accessed it and put it online." Tasha started hitting keys on the computer.

"I didn't know you could do stuff like that," Amy said in awe.

"Don't tell anyone," Tasha pleaded. "I'd never do anything illegal. And I don't want anyone thinking I'm a real computer nerd."

It wasn't a simple task. Amy sat on her bed and flipped through old magazines while Tasha worked. It took Tasha half an hour to even find a lead. And it was another fifteen minutes before she let out a cry of triumph. "I think I've got it!"

Amy leaped off her bed and looked over Tasha's shoulder. Tasha typed in the letters and numbers of the license plate and hit Enter. A second later a name appeared on the screen.

Amy held back a gasp that would have been more like a scream. The first name was exactly what she'd expected: Camilla. But the last name came as a total shock.

Jaleski.

8.

"Jaleski," Tasha read aloud, as if they both needed to hear the name to believe it was really there. "Jaleski. Amy, wasn't that the name of the doctor who - "

"Yes," Amy replied. She stared at the screen as the memories flooded back. The first time she'd come across the name had been when she read it on an official doc.u.ment - as a signature on her own birth certificate. But she'd soon learned that Dr. Jaleski was no ordinary doctor. James Jaleski, M.D., Ph.D., had been the director of Project Crescent. He had been her mother's boss at the laboratory back in Washington, D.C., twelve years earlier. He was the man responsible for Amy's existence. So even though Amy hadn't been born in a normal way, he was, in a sense, the doctor who'd "delivered" her.

Not long after first hearing about him, Amy had been able to attach a face to the name. Her mother had decided it was time for Amy to learn about herself, her strengths and limitations. So she had taken Amy to meet the man who knew more about her than anyone else. Amy recalled how secretive the trip had been to the little cottage on the other side of Los Angeles. Dr. Jaleski had been in hiding - from the same people who wanted Amy - and Nancy hadn't wanted to put him in any danger.

Amy had felt a bond right away with Dr. Jaleski, or Dr. J, as she came to call him. He was elderly, white-haired and retired, but he was still lively and energetic, and he had a good sense of humor. She'd felt that he really knew her, really understood her. Later she'd gone on her own to see him when she had a problem, and he'd helped her. She had looked forward to a long and close relationship with Dr. Jaleski.

But it was not to be. Soon after that second visit, Dr. Jaleski was dead.

Automatically Amy's hand went to her throat. Nestled in the curve of her collarbone was a silver pendant that hung from a chain. It was no ordinary piece of jewelry. Dr. Jaleski had made the little silver crescent moon especially for her. It was a replica of the mark on Amy's right shoulder blade, the mark that identified her as a clone. The mark would always be there. As for the pendant, she wasn't superst.i.tious, but she believed it protected her, and she rarely took it off.

Tasha was still fooling around on the computer. "There's no address or phone listed," she was saying when Amy heard the door open and close downstairs.

"Amy?"

"I'm up here," Amy called out to her mother. She heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Quick, get out of that file," she whispered to Tasha. Amy didn't want Nancy to see the name Jaleski on the screen and start asking questions.

By the time her mother appeared at the door, the screen was blank. "Hi, Ms. Candler," Tasha chirped. "Amy was letting me use her computer."

Nancy nodded and smiled, but she said nothing, and her concerned eyes were on Amy. Tasha got the message. "I guess my mom must be putting dinner on the table. See ya tomorrow, Amy."

"Right, see ya," Amy echoed.

"But I won't come by for you in the morning," Tasha said. "I want to get to school when the media center opens so I can use the fast computer."

At least Nancy waited until Tasha was out of the house before she began scolding. "Amy, being grounded doesn't just mean staying home. It means no visitors, either."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?" Amy asked irritably. "I've never been grounded before."

"You've never given me a reason to ground you before," her mother replied.

"So you're just making up the rules as you go along?" Amy asked accusingly. Even as she spoke, she was horrified by her own tone. She had never spoken in such an insolent way to her mother before. She could see that Nancy too was startled, and she fully expected that her punishment would be extended for another week.

But the shock faded from Nancy's face, and she just looked tired. "I have a lot of work to do tonight," she said. "I'm writing a grant proposal, and that requires a lot of research." Amy had no idea what a grant proposal was, and though she had a feeling she should show interest by asking, the anger and confusion that were still seething inside her wouldn't let her speak.

"I'll make some dinner," Nancy said. "Unfortunately, I'll have to work while I'm eating, but I'll leave yours on the kitchen counter."

"Thanks," Amy mumbled. As soon as her mother left, she dived under her bed to retrieve the latest edition of the huge Los Angeles telephone directory. She flipped rapidly through the pages till she got to the J's and ran her finger down the column of listings.

Jaleron, Jalerry, Jalesh . . . Jaleski. There was only one: Jaleski, Mary. Amy knew who that was.

Mary was Dr. Jaleski's daughter. She had been living with her father when Amy met Dr. Jaleski, and she was the one who had brought Amy the silver pendant after Dr. Jaleski died.

Amy amended that thought. After Dr. Jaleski was killed. Because that was what had happened. No one had ever been accused of committing any crime. The cause of his death had been ruled a heart attack, but Amy was pretty sure the people who were watching her had found him and decided he knew too much to stay alive. The fact that he'd had an unlisted phone number at the time hadn't saved him.

Jaleski was an unusual name. Camilla had to be a relative of Mary's. Quickly Amy reached for the phone, but then she put it down. It had been a long time since she'd seen Mary, and though Mary had been friendly and kind the last time they'd met, Amy always wondered if Mary held her responsible for leading the killer to their home.

But Camilla's last name was the only clue Amy had. She picked up the phone again and punched in the numbers. Listening to the ringing, she held her breath. Then there was a click - but it wasn't a person on the other end, it was a machine.

No name was given, but she recognized Mary's recorded voice, announcing that she was out of town and wouldn't be back until the following Tuesday, and that the caller had one minute to leave a message.

Amy didn't leave a message. There was no way she could explain in one minute why she was calling.

"Amy?" Her mother's voice floated up from downstairs. "I need to go online with my computer. Are you on the phone?"

Amy replaced the receiver. "No."

So now the phone line would be tied up. Amy couldn't do any more exploring on the Internet - even if she knew how. She understood the basics of the Internet and the Web, of course, but she didn't know how to do the extensive, complex searches Tasha was capable of carrying out.

It dawned on her that she was hungry, so she went downstairs. Her mother's office was just off the kitchen, in what used to be a pantry. The door was closed, but Amy could see a light coming through the crack at the bottom. Nancy was hard at work.

All her life, Amy had known that all she had to do was knock on the door and announce that she had a problem and Nancy would drop everything to help her. Or at least, that was how it used to be. She wasn't so sure anymore.

At least Nancy had left dinner on the counter for her. It looked pretty good, too - cold roast beef, potato salad from her favorite deli, a fresh green salad with lots of plump red tomatoes. She took the dinner back up to her room and ate in silence. Then she brushed her teeth, put on a sleep T-shirt, and got into bed. She wasn't going to read that night - she wanted to get up particularly early the next morning, and she even reset her alarm clock to ensure that she would.

She was up, showered, and dressed a full hour earlier than usual. Her mother was at the kitchen table, and she was surprised to see Amy ready to leave so early.

"I have to do something in the school media center," Amy informed her.

Her mother didn't ask what, and Amy was convinced it was because she wasn't interested. But at least she didn't tell Amy that being grounded meant she couldn't leave the house early.

Amy's timing was perfect. Just as she closed the front door behind her, she saw Tasha emerging from her condo.

Tasha was surprised to see her. "Hi," she said, yawning. "How come you're up so early?"

"I want to go to the media center with you," Amy told her. "You can help me find out more about Camilla Jaleski."

Tasha grimaced. "Gee, Amy, I wish I could help you, but I'm hot on a trail today. You wouldn't believe what I found out last night, and I have to follow it up. There's this database I can access from the computer at school that I can't get into from home."

Amy glared at her. "You don't have time to help me, your best friend? You'd rather help rotten, nasty Jeanine Bryant?"

Tasha shrugged. "Rotten, nasty Jeanine Bryant is paying me money to get a job done, and I want to get my ears pierced."

Amy raised haughty eyebrows. "So money comes before friendship?"

Tasha grinned. "Come on, Amy, you'd do the same thing if you could get your ears pierced."

She had a point.

"Look, if I find out what I need before the bell, I'll help you," Tasha told Amy as they started to walk.