Found Missing

I've been doing a lot of running over the past three years, perhaps more mental running than physical, either way I'm certain I've never ran as fast as I'm running now. I run until my heart is in my mouth, until I'm outside of Gerard's house, hammering my knuckles against his front door until my skin turns red. I'm forced to swallow my pounding heart when Gerard's mother opens the door, welcoming my always disheveled self with a warm smile.

"Elfie," She beams. "what's the matter with you? You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards." She means this in the most motherly way, I think. Despite the fact that I'm yet to have a proper conversation with her, I guess she's the type who just can't help herself.

"Hi, Donna." I force her a smile and she lets me in, fussing with my hair as we walk into the house.

"I've always loved how thick your hair is." She tells me. "If you just gave it a brush once in a while-"
"Thanks, Donna. I'd love to chat but I really need to see Gerard." At this, she stops fussing and notes my quaking hands. "Is everything okay, Elfie?"
"It's fine, I'm fine. I just need to see Gerard."

She stares at me; brow creased, hazel eyes welling with concern. "Is it about Martha?" She whispers. I stare back, and I realize how similar she is to her son - the same eyes and the identical ability to break me down.
"Yes." I say. She purses her lips and seats me on the sofa.
"Gerard will be hungover, as I'm sure you're aware." She mutters, seemingly used to the fact by now. "I'll go and wake him up, and make you some chamomile tea."

I grip the material of Donna's sofa, but not with the same tension as I had done two days ago. Two days ago I was in a strange state of bliss, almost, almost daring to believe that we might just be okay. Now that hope has been infected with an ugly tumult of something I had began to suppose would never happen. I don't like to think that, deep down, I longed for Martha's mystery to fade away. I longed to be left alone, with Gerard.

'How selfish of me.' I think, chewing holes into my gums. 'How fucking selfish.' I'm not sure how long I've been sitting here, glaring into a cup of cooling tea. It must have been a while, because when I look up Gerard is sat next to me; hair stuck in all directions, faded-purple rings hung harsh around his eyes and an expression that reflects mine.

I don't need to explain, he already knows. He probably knew the moment his mother dragged him out of bed, he knew that this would be the day for everything to change, again.

He takes my hands in his. "What do we need to do?" He asks. I tell him "We need to go to Staten Island."

*

The drive over Bayonne Bridge seems to take forever. I watch the orange sun sink behind the clouds slowly into the ocean, soon the nearing sparkle of New York will be the only light.

"It was just so strange." I mutter. "She was so strange." Gerard glances at me from the drivers seat, tired eyes struggling to focus regardless for the loud thud of my Nirvana tape we're playing to keep him awake. "So, she told you she knows who Vince is, and then she just left?"
"She didn't just leave, she practically flew out the door. She left her coffee and her wallet." I say, again turning through the contents she'd left behind. It felt rude - emptying a strangers belongings like I had done, but I needed to find something, anything that could help us. Her identification card has done just that. It even has the name of the bar I presume she owns.

"Shady Lady Ranch." I read. Gerard wrinkles his nose and for once, I have to agree.
"Sounds divine." He mutters. "Yea, really classy." I shrug. "By the state of her wallet she can't be doing too well for business, to say the least. Do you think we'll find her? Maybe we should have just told Detective. Woodford, that might have been the logical decision."

To my surprise he croaks a sigh of laughter, keeping his left hand on the wheel he reaches for mine with his right. "Since when has logical ever been our style, Elfie?"
I wear a sad smile in response. He's right, as usual.

"I think she deliberately came looking for us, but something stumped her." Turning my eyes back down at her card I shake my head, running my thumb over her photo; hollow cheeks and fire hair. "Heather Blake, what is it you know?"