Henry Franks A Novel - By Peter Adam Salomon Page 0,46

them, a branch broke. Henry spun around, slipping in the mud, and fell down next to one of the bodies.

“Justine,” he said, his voice rough and strained, “we need to get help.”

She started to walk over to help him up but stopped after only a couple of steps, her fingers covering her mouth. Most of the color had drained from her skin, leaving her pale and maybe a little green around the edges.

“Call 911,” Henry said, vainly trying to wipe the mud off his pants.

“We don’t even know where we are.”

“They’ll find us, just call.”

After hanging up the phone, Justine cried softly and when he reached a hand out to her, she melted into him.

“We should call your parents,” he said.

She looked up at him and frowned as she took her phone back out. “Mom?” she said, turning away from him.

Even from where he was standing, he could hear her mother’s voice as Justine talked with her. Henry took his own phone out and dialed his father, but there was no answer.

“She’s going to wait for the police,” Justine said when she was done. Tears mixed with the mud on her face. “She’s not very happy with me at all.”

Henry spread his arms and she stepped forward again. He hugged her, stroking her back, and was still holding her when they heard the sirens cutting through the night.

“What are we going to tell them?” she asked.

“You’ll think of something more believable than the truth.”

“I’ve still no idea what the truth is,” she said.

“Welcome to my life.”

Flashlights crisscrossed the marsh, sending shadows around Henry and Justine. They called out to the police, to help them find the clearing. Uniformed officers surrounded them, barking questions over each other as someone else began to rope off the area around the bodies. Bright lights came on, running on generators they’d brought with them.

Justine’s mother ran toward them, calling her name. She wrapped Justine in a hug.

“Henry.” Mrs. Edwards looked at him. There was little welcome in her voice. “I knocked on your door until your father answered. He’s on his way.”

“Thank you,” Henry said.

“What were you doing out here?” she asked, turning to her daughter.

“I’d like to know the answer to that as well, if you don’t mind.” One of the people broke away from the two bodies on the ground. He was dressed in blue jeans and a FLETC T-shirt, a badge around his neck. “Major Dan Johnson, U.S. Army.” He stretched a hand out to them, his grip quick and firm. “And you are?”

“Justine Edwards, my daughter,” Mrs. Edwards said. “I’m Louise Edwards. This is Henry Franks.”

“And I’m his father, William,” Henry’s dad said as he entered the clearing. “What’s going on?”

“Justine? Henry?” Major Johnson asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

Justine looked at Henry, then pushed herself away from where her mother still had her wrapped in a hug. “We got a little lost,” she said, the words hesitant and shaky.

“What were you even doing out here?” her mother asked.

Justine looked at Henry and then turned to face her mother as Major Johnson spoke again.

“It’s a little late for a walk,” he said.

“I thought I heard something,” she said. “In the backyard.”

“So you called Henry and followed?” her mother asked. “In the middle of the night?

“I didn’t feel safe walking in the marsh alone,” she said with a shrug. “I felt safer with him.” Justine looked up at her mother but seemed unable to meet her eyes.

“I’m afraid we’re going to need the clothes you’re wearing, both of you,” Major Johnson said, pointing at Henry and Justine. “Routine, you understand, but just in case. When I have more questions, and I will, I know where to find you. In the meantime, the next time you hear a strange noise in the middle of the night, I’d suggest calling the police.”

Officers escorted them home through the marsh, flashlights cutting the night into sections as they walked in silence, Henry and his dad a few feet behind Justine and her mom. As they came into sight of their houses, the hissing resumed, so loud it seemed to be throbbing beneath their feet.

“Your father leaves in the morning for Savannah, Justine,” her mother said.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know, young lady. He probably won’t be able to get back to sleep tonight. Because of the two of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Henry,” her mother called back to him. The four of them stopped between their houses. “I’m afraid Justine is going to need a rain