Henry Franks(33)

She spun around, then jumped, pumping her arms in the air like a prizefighter after a knockout.

She stopped, pulled Henry up beside her and forced the frown back on her face. “Serious enough?” she asked.

“Perfect.”

“Seriously?”

“Very much so,” he said.

“I’m gonna go check my email. I’ll forward what they send me.”

“Thanks.”

“Walk me home?” She smiled, taking his hand and leading him down the stairs.

Justine spread her fingers as they stepped outside, her palm sliding away from his, and looked over at her house.

“Sorry,” she said, not even looking at Henry.

“It’s all right, I guess.”

“Friends?” she asked, walking so close that she kept brushing her shoulder against him.

“You’d be the only one.” He squinted against the sun dipping toward the horizon.

“Friends,” she said.

“I’d like that,” Henry said.

“Me too.”



His computer was waiting for him when he sat back down at his desk after dinner. He explored the Stanford alumni sites, both official and not, but there was nothing of interest to find. Not that there was a Step Two if Step One provided any answers. Knowing where his father went to school didn’t solve his problem, or resurrect his memory or his mother.

From his backpack his cell phone started ringing and he flipped it open. Justine’s voice sounded thin and distant, muffled.

“Henry? I just got an email from Stanford.”

He sank into his chair, staring at the logo on his monitor. “And?”

“It’s not him.”

His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes.

“Henry?” she asked.

“I’m here, sorry,” he said. “Not him?”

“One’s African-American and the other one is deceased, died in 1991. Not him.”

“Thanks for trying,” he said after a long pause that threatened not to end.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought … I mean, I … ”

“It’s okay, Justine. It’s not your fault.”

“There’s Oxford,” she said. “And probably others, and maybe hundreds of high schools, Ridgeford and Washford and Stepford and Fordford, I don’t know, there has to be, don’t you think?”

“Going to call all of them?” he asked, releasing his breath in a long slow stream, almost a whistle.

“I’m sorry, Henry.”

“Me too.” He looked up, moved the cursor to the X in the top right-hand corner of the screen, and closed the Stanford window.

“You all right?”

He shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. “Not really sure what I was going to do with the information anyway.”

She laughed. “You could always just ask him, couldn’t you?”

“We don’t—” His voice cracked on the word. “It’s not that easy.”

Henry turned off the light, crawling on top of the sheets with the phone on speaker lying on his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Not your fault. I’m used to it.”

“Still sorry.”

“Thanks,” he said, then let the silence play out. If he listened carefully, he imagined he could hear her breathing. The breeze blew a stray branch against his window, a light tap, followed by the whisper of her breath that seemed so close it was almost as though Justine was in the room with him.

“Justine?” he said.

Silence, save for the hiss and the tap.

“Hello?”

He picked the phone up in the darkness just as it started to ring.

“Sorry,” Justine said. “Got disconnected. Must have lost the signal there for a minute. Did I miss anything?”

Still, the hissing and the tapping, so close.

“No,” he said. “Nothing. Just the wind.”

“Night, Henry.”

“Good night, Justine.”

“Sweet dreams,” she said before the phone went dead.

Victim of Beating Wakes

Savannah, GA—August 24, 2009: Brunswick Police Department spokesperson Carmella Rawls has confirmed that Elijah Suarez, 27, has recovered sufficiently from his injuries to provide information to authorities.

According to Major Daniel Johnson of FLETC, a growing profile of the random attacks that have occurred in the Golden Isles this summer has been enhanced by the active participation of Suarez.

“[His] back took a beating,” said a spokesperson for Memorial Hospital in Savannah who requested anonymity because they were not authorized to speak for the hospital. “Multiple contusions and breaks. He’s lucky to be alive.”

Patrols on Jekyll Island have, at the request of the Jekyll Island Authority, been supplemented by National Parks Service personnel on loan from Skidaway Island, Crooked River, and other park locations throughout Georgia. In addition, the Georgia Bureau of Investigations has provided logistical support to the task force.

“We continue to support the efforts of all law enforcement here in Glynn County in order to resolve this unfortunate situation as quickly as possible,” said Mayor Monroe.