[ There were lights blinking next to him, tiny numbers. A range. The lights read est. 340 - 370 day discrepancy. So he knew. He knew, already, but it didn't make sense so he was redoing all his calculations again, eyes darting across her face as he took in every line, every crease, every nearly microscopic difference.

It made the hair on the back of his neck rise. ]

Jack. What's the last thing you remember?