Seven Minutes to Noon

Frannie’s words. We had to test you, Alice.
    They stared at each other in silence. Alice knew she was the one who had to surrender her point of view. Despite her rage at the manner of Lauren’s death, despite her pained frustration at the utter disappearance of Ivy, despite the possibility that she could be the next target — despite all that, she knew quite simply that Dana was right.
    The women locked gazes, and then simultaneously took a breath.
    “I’m sorry,” Alice said.
    Dana half smiled. “I’d keep it to myself, but Hank saw you go in.”
    Hank. The man in the gray Ford.
    “Do you think he’ll tell her?”
    “I know he will,” Dana said. “He probably already did.”
    A quick call to Frannie confirmed it. But by the look of alarm that swept Dana’s expression, it wasn’t professional reproach she was hearing. After the call, Dana took Alice by the elbow and led her quickly along President Street toward Court, away from the playground.
    “Wait a minute! I have to get my kids!”
    “That sitter have a cell phone?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “Call her. Tell her to bring the kids to Simon’s. We’re going straight there.”
    Dana took Alice’s bags so she could get her cell phone out of her purse. She could actually hear Sylvie’s phone ringing inside the playground. Twisting back to look, Alice saw Sylvie answering her phone, her eyes trailing Peter as he ran in front of her.
    “Sylvie, it’s Alice.” She tried to control her voice,keep it calm, but the tremor of anxiety was unmistakable. “Change of plans. Can you bring the kids over to Simon’s house?”
    “Sure,” Sylvie said. “Shall I bring them now? It looks like rain.”
    “I’ll meet you there.” Alice ended the call and dropped her phone back into her purse. “What’s going on, Dana. Tell me.”
    As they crossed Court Street against the light, the sky quickly darkened.
    “Frannie said Pollack’s on a rampage. He’s been calling people, telling them the cops entered his apartment unlawfully. Then he ran out of his house.”
    “Where is he?”
    Dana clenched her jaw and shook her head; she didn’t know.
    “Wasn’t Hank watching him?” Alice hurried beside Dana the best she could; her body felt heavier than ever, slow, uncooperative.
    “His assignment today was you,” Dana said. “We’re understaffed, Alice. We’re doing our best, trust me.”
    “Can’t you arrest Julius?” Alice struggled for breath; they were moving too fast. “He threatened me. Isn’t that enough?”
    Dana’s hesitation was Alice’s answer. Julius Pollack couldn’t be arrested without a solid, verifiable reason.
    “Frannie’s got a call in about that, but Alice, you broke the restraining order when you ran up those stairs.”
    As the image of an enraged Julius Pollack blossomed in Alice’s consciousness, the sky opened up and a deluge began. Hurrying forward along President Street, toward Clinton, Alice fought an urge to turn back to the playground. Nell and Peter were going to get wet. She wanted to go to her children, usher them safely home.
    “I’m going back for my kids.” Alice turned around. “They’ll get soaked.”
    And what if Julius Pollack sought them out at the playground? What if?
    “Alice!” Dana shouted. “Let the sitter bring them home; they’re probably on their way already. Frannie’s gonna meet us there as soon as she can get back from Jersey. Come on!”
    Having ignored Dana’s advice to such dramatic ill effect just half an hour ago, Alice decided to follow orders. Dana was right; Sylvie was perfectly capable of bringing the children home and it would be smart of Alice to be there when they arrived. Then they could lock the doors and huddle inside, waiting for Julius to be located. Waiting for all of this to finally end.
    “Why is Frannie in New Jersey?” Alice asked as they hurried through the pounding rain. “What’s she been doing there so much?”
    “Later,” Dana answered.
    Lightning and thunder raged overhead. It was the kind of flash storm that hit so ferociously on summer afternoons, then dissipated like a forgotten drunken rage. The sidewalks had cleared, with only a few people running through the storm for shelter; otherwise there was no one around. By the time they reached Simon’s brownstone, the storm was starting to clear, leaving behind an eerie silence draped in heavy fog. And the shadow of a message finger-drawn on Simon’s front window:
    STOP OR THEY’RE NEXT
    Dana had the