I'm standing by my window, watching outside as though I was expecting someone. I feel a hand around my shoulder and I turn to look. It's aunt Ruth, draping my shoulders with a scarf.

"A cup of tea for you." She says, handing me a mug.

"You look so pale and sick, Natalie."

"Well, it's because I'm sick, aren't I?"

"You're not. You're only doing this to yourself and the baby. Calm down, have a seat. You standing by the window everyday won't make them get anything on him."

"It's been over a week. How couldn't they have found anything?

"Lucas is a smart man. If he has something to...