Find Me Alastar

He shrugs. “Apparently she went out on Saturday night and was supposed to be meeting friends but

never showed up. Nobody has seen her since.”

“God.” I frown as I pour the boiling water into my cup.

“Haven’t you been watching the news?”

“No.” I frown. “I hope she’s okay.”” I murmur.

A newspaper is on the table and he grabs it and opens it up. “Here she is. Her picture is everywhere.

Poor bitch has probably met a grisly end. She’s dead for sure.”

He holds the paper up for me to see the picture and I frown.

A pretty red head stares back at me. I know that face. Where do I know that face from? I think for a

moment. Hang on, that’s the same pretty red head that was talking to Alastar on Friday night at the bar in

the restaurant.

My mouth drops open.

What?

“Bastards would have raped her. She’s beautiful.” Travis sighs.

I feel sick. That poor girl. Whatever has happened to her?

He shakes his head in disgust. “Some sick fuck has had his way with her and then killed her. I just

hope they find her body for her family’s sake, they have been on the news crying and pleading for any

witnesses to come forward.” He shakes his head in disgust as he heads back to his desk.

Shit. I take out my phone and immediately ring my Irish Fiasco.

“What’s wrong?” he answers.

“Oh my… God,” I stammer. “The police are looking for a missing girl.”

“Yes, I just heard it on the radio.”

“Stop and buy the paper.”

“Why?”

“Take a look at the picture. It’s the frigging girl who you were talking to at the bar on Friday night.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Are you serious?” he asks.

“Deadly.”

“Shit,” he replies.

“Maybe you should go to the police and tell them where she was on Friday night,” I stammer.

He stays silent as he thinks.

“The paper says if you have any information you should contact police immediately,” I whisper as my

eyes dart around to make sure nobody can hear me.

“But I didn’t see her after I left the restaurant. I don’t know anything,” he reassures me.

I bite my thumbnail as I think.

“When did she go missing?” he asks.

“Saturday night,” I reply. “What did you do Saturday night?” I ask.

“I stayed home.”

“Alone?” I ask. Shit, what if they think he has something to do with this?

“No. Thomas was there.”

“Oh, okay.” Relief fills me. I peer out the window and see the managers coming back from their

meeting. “Got to go, babe. See you tonight,” I whisper.

“Looking forward to it.” He smiles and I hang up.

The rest of the day is a boring blur, with the only excitement being when I was on my lunch break with

my notepad and paper, daydreaming of Henry and Elizabeth.

Henry paces back and forth at the stream as he waits for his beloved Elizabeth to arrive. The staff

have told him this morning that Elizabeth’s father arrived home drunk last night and began to abuse

her. When one of the male house servants tried to step in, he had a knife pulled on him, and all staff

were ordered from the house. The word is he is going insane and poor Elizabeth is alone with him.

Is she safe?

He waits for an hour, and still she doesn’t come. What does he do? He needs to know that she is out

of harm’s way. With renewed purpose, he strides to the house and knocks on the door.

No answer.

He walks around the house, peering in the windows. Tables are over turned and glass is smashed

across the floor.

Oh my God. It’s true.

Henry’s heart starts to race in a panic and he walks around to the side of the building that

Elizabeth’s bedroom is on. He picks up a handful of pebbles and begins to throw them at her window.

He stands for ten minutes. Where is she?

Finally, she opens the window and he smiles with relief… until he sees the darkened bruising

around her eye.