“Gaaaahhhh!” Keith leapt up from the floor, flinging Cadbury off his chest. “Why is the dog molesting me?” He wiped his mouth. “Ugh, he tastes like fish biscuits….”
Elly made her way into the kitchen, picking up her stainless steel kettle and filling it with water. “What can I say? You’re pretty good-looking. Very molestable. Tea?”
Keith brushed off his shirt and soothed Cadbury by scratching his ears before kissing Elly lightly on the forehead. “Did I tell you that you look gorgeous this morning?”
Elly nuzzled his cold nose. “I know that’s a lie, but thank you. So, would you like tea?”
“I would love nothing more than to sit and have tea with you, but I actually have to run. I have to meet a man at nine to talk about sausage.”
Elly smiled. “Coming from anyone else, that would sound very strange.”
Keith sank down slowly on Elly’s couch with a groan. “Remind me to get an air mattress for the next time you get a creepy backpack left in front of your door. No offense, but your floor is not very comfortable.”
Without a word, Elly pointed to her empty couch. Keith shrugged. “Being in front of the door felt more natural. My protective instincts might not be my most logical ones. How are you feeling?”
Elly pondered it for a minute. While her hysteria had been slept off, her paranoia and unease had remained. The morning light was helping, though, and she could see that perhaps her fears had been exacerbated by the late hour. “I’m okay, I think. I still feel a little nervous, but I think I overreacted about the backpack. I can get … a little anxious sometimes.”
Keith tucked a piece of her crazy morning hair behind her ear. “Elly. You are the most important thing in the world to me right now. If you are feeling apprehensive, I will be here for you in a heartbeat. Besides, I don’t like this, either. There is just something peculiar about the whole thing.”
Elly quickly interrupted him. “I think we should look in the backpack.”
Keith looked confused. “What?”
“I didn’t think of it last night because I was….” Elly’s memory flashed to last night, hysterically crying on the phone to Keith. She vaguely remembered saying the words “serial killer” and “hook-handed murderer.” Oh geez. Keith had rushed over to calm Elly down and to make her feel safe in her apartment. He had also brought his famous black-and-white cookies—and that hadn’t hurt either. Elly gave a sigh. “Yeah, I maybe went a little crazy last night.”
Keith stood and pulled on his jacket while trying to kiss Elly repeatedly. “Don’t apologize to me. If you were concerned, then I am too. There is nowhere else in the world I would have rather slept.” He paused, his tired eyes glinting in the morning light. “Except for on an air mattress. I would have rather slept on an air mattress.”
Elly flashed him a look of adoration.
He grinned. “I don’t think that you overreacted last night. You were unnerved by your experience with this kid already, and to come home in the dark and see that—” he gestured to the disgusting backpack sitting on the kitchen table. “You were well within your rights to freak out. I don’t think you have quite enough material to be on Unsolved Mysteries, like you suggested, but I don’t see the harm in the looking through it. At the very least, we’ll satisfy my curiosity.”
Keith and Elly walked cautiously over to the backpack, which was sitting in the middle of the bare table. He sniffed it, his face contorting with revulsion. “Ugh, this smells like an old burrito. Don’t smell it.”
Elly laughed. “Why did you?”
“I have no idea.” Using a napkin, Keith unzipped the pack and turned it upside down. Keith clutched his heart with mock fear as items fell to the table. “What are we expecting here? Duct tape? Rope?” Keith dropped his voice to a melodramatic whisper. “Is it a serrated knife? It’s always a serrated knife.”
Elly gave a frown as she sorted through the items with a wooden spoon. “It’s more like … Pringles. You watch too many crime shows.” There was a variety of strange items in the bag: a pair of crumpled up tighty-whities, two pairs of stonewashed jeans, a half-eaten Snickers bar, two worn magazines that dealt with video gaming, something called a “A Character Guide to Dungeons and Dragons,” a carefully folded picture of Sarah Michelle Gellar, and a much-loved paperback featuring a half-naked woman straddling a dragon. “What in the …?” wondered Elly, glancing at the book with a look of revulsion. “What does this tell us?”
“It tells us that this kid is a huge nerd who only has one pair of underpants.”
“A serial killer nerd with only one pair of underpants,” murmured Elly as she shook the can of Pringles. Half full. Who did that?
Keith straightened up and gave a horrible impression of a detective. “Based on the contents of the backpack, here’s what I would guess: The kid came back for his flowers, and somehow found his way up to your apartment. He knocked. You weren’t here because you were out with Kim at the restaurant.”
“Oh man, those enchiladas were so good,” Elly whispered.
Keith rubbed her cheek with the back of his finger. “Elly, based on this, I think he just accidentally left his backpack here. I’m pretty sure at this point there is nothing to be afraid of.”
She straightened up and looked at the geeky goods spread out on the table. Elly closed her eyes, feeling his finger brush her cheek. “You’re probably right. I’m overreacting. As usual. The sangria might have helped, now that I think about it.”
Keith picked up the book and thumbed through the pages. “Oh, yuck. This book has illustrations.” He turned the novel over. “I didn’t know that trolls were so well-endowed….”
A small piece of paper slipped out of the book and fell onto the table. Elly cautiously slid it down the table and flipped it over with the spoon. It was a worn out family photo, faded and yellow around the edges. A solemn man stared out from the left of the photo, the agitated look jumping off his face, even from behind thick spectacles. His stiff arm draped over the round shoulders of a cheery-looking, voluptuous woman. Her lap was completely swallowed under the weight of a chubby young boy, who was desperately clutching a plastic Millennium Falcon. While the mother and the boy were obviously at ease with each other, the father looked disinterested and distant. Elly pointed to the picture. “I’m pretty sure this is the kid from the store. Same blond hair.”
Keith tilted his head. “Cute family.”
Elly flicked the picture. “Nope. Weird family. Weird kid, weird backpack.” They both stared at the picture in silence, jumping when the kettle blew its long whistle. “Holy crap,” breathed Elly. It’s official, she thought, I have creeped out my boyfriend. There was a moment where she thought about the word boyfriend. It was so bizarre. Boyfriend? Elly Jordan has a boyfriend? What was she, twelve? She had already been married. Why couldn’t there be a better name? Partner? Companion? Lover? She looked down at the couch pillow lying on the floor. Definitely not lover.
Keith handed her a steaming cup of honey chamomile tea, its biscuit-scented goodness filling up the living room. Elly had the sudden urge to kiss him. She reached for him, spilling hot tea down the front of his brown shirt.
“Oh, that’s really hot!”
“Oh, Keith, I’m so sorry! I just wanted to …,” Elly