Nothing But Bones

9: The House

Still walking, she glances down at her phone. The five days' worth of texts starts with (from her), "I FINALLY got the letter there. I delivered a fucking baby." It ends with, from him and from two days ago, "Maybe you should stop eating grapes if you're allergic to grapes."

So Bryce Baker is a buzzkill about fresh fruit. That's not a crime.

She could probably do this with one hand if she tried, but she gets the feeling that Kepler knows too much. He's too close; he can probably feel her heart beating out of control when he's against her chest like this. Kepler knows her neuroses better than she does. Dead girl's leather can't mask it any more than living girl's skin can.

She sets Kepler on the ground and hooks his leash to her belt like she always does. It attaches between the first and second belt loops from the right; there's a near-permanent scuff on the striped material from all the times this has happened over the past year and a half.

Sometimes she wonders what it means, that he "likes the way she smells." What was it that he picked up on that night he crashed to Earth? Was it grief? Was it knuckle-blood? Was it apple dandruff shampoo and cartoned eggnog? What does he know about her that she hasn't gleaned from his eyes yet? Does the house know something she doesn't, too?

The machinations of Kepler's mind aren't her concern right now. Ignoring anything going on with Elton and the manor, she bends down to remind the rat, "Come on. Behave, will you? Don't pull me along."

He squeaks defiantly.

"Fine. I'll pull you later. We'll find some mud or something. Just hold on a sec. I need to do something and I need both hands."

A crucial part of that something is walking away, so she shoots off the text before she scrambles to catch up to him: "Hey, Bryce. Guess where I am."

Bryce Baker texts back almost immediately. Maybe he was looking something up, fumbled, and accidentally sent her, "gump shrimp real."

He then immediately texted back, "IGNORE THAT!"

She rolls her eyes as much as she can at a phone and waits for him to finish typing.

"But where?"

"Gump Shrimp, I guess."

"My dad said the shrimp empire from Forrest Gump was real and I needed to fact check him."

"Likely story. Just guess where I am."

She waits a moment. Before he's even done typing, she's already sent the next text.

"I'm in Canada." Sent with it is a characteristically-Tiff snapshot of the scene: an angle of about one-hundred-ten degrees, trees framing Elton's grinning face at the exact moment he and his worn-soft Modest Mouse shirt turn around to make sure she's still following, Kepler and the dog stretching off down the bold lines of their leashes. It's hard to get a good shot with a phone, but it isn't like she had her DSLR with her (and it isn't like she can rip photos from it onto her phone so easily).

She follows it up with, "He says you're friends."

For a long stretch of time there is no response from Bryce. Elton starts waving her forward.

When he notices her taking a picture, he gives her a quizzical look. "The house is over there, Tiff."

Bryce finally messages back, "Oh god. Nonono. Tiff, what the fuck? What the actual fuck are you doing with him?"

"Paranormal shit?"

"I'm gonna fucking THROW UP"

After a string of question marks, all she can think to say is, "We're at a haunted house. Are you not actually friends or something? If I fucked up, you legally have to tell me. It's the law."