Seven Minutes to Noon

hard, but try not to ask them too much. The more we can hear from them on the first telling, the better.”

Chapter 39
    Simon took the pickup to look for a parking spot so the Halpern family could walk back to the house together, a single squad car trolling just behind them. Hands linked, they moved slowly, four astride along the damp sidewalk. Though Alice sensed the rubber soles of her sandals hard against the cement sidewalk, she felt as if she was skidding; holding herself fast to this moment on earth was a discipline. Her body had turned gelatinous from the agonizing afternoon. Peter’s small, damp hand tight in hers felt so fragile she could have wept. They had been abandoned for just under two hours. Abandoned in familiar territory, among familiar faces. But no matter how many people you knew in New York City, there were always strangers.
    Yet strangers were not always whom you needed to fear.
    At the other end of the family strand, holding on to Nell, Mike marched along with an energized bounce, still wound up from the chase. He was working hard to get the kids’ minds off the fact that Sylvie had left them alone, and was telling them every knock-knock joke he knew. Their little voices tinkled on the damp air as questions lurched through Alice’s mind. Why had Sylvie left so abruptly during the storm? Her sudden flight was so desperate. That she had taken care to leave the children somewhere familiar, where they were known, told Alice against reason that Sylvie cared about them. Though thatthought sent shivers of disgust through Alice. How could Sylvie possibly care ? She had sewn Lauren’s hair into a pillow and embroidered her miniscule initials over Judy Gersten’s handiwork, such a creepy taunt. Or had the two women worked together? But Judy in her drunken misery didn’t seem capable of any strenuous plan. It had to be Sylvie who had killed Lauren. Why had she? Alice’s head began to pound as they turned up Degraw Street toward Clinton. Why had Sylvie done it? Why had she stayed these past two awful weeks? Did it have something to do with Ivy? Was her plan incomplete?
    Was Ivy still here in Brooklyn?
    As they climbed Simon’s front stoop, Frannie swung open the door, smiling hugely, with Dana at her side.
    “Welcome home! I’ve got some popcorn and lemonade.” She was Aunt Frannie now, suggesting the children change into dry clothes, waiting for them in Simon’s kitchen, making them comfortable before beginning the debriefing.
    “What a storm today, huh?” Frannie leaned forward, arms crossed together on the kitchen table. Her eyes stayed focused on Nell and Peter, offering full, irresistible attention. “What was it like being outside in the rain, waiting for your mom to pick you up?”
    Nell grabbed a handful of popcorn and held it over her mouth, dribbling it in one piece at a time. “Sylvie’s my favorite babysitter. She said I’m practically old enough to babysit too. She said today I got to practice babysitting Peter.”
    “It was fun!” Peter said. “We were big kids.”
    Bit by bit, Frannie teased out the story of their afternoon. Dana sat off to the side, taking notes.
    The children remembered the first phone call, right before the rain. Alice remembered it too: turning to see Sylvie across the street in the park, answering her phone as Peter ran in front of her, hearing the first loud clap of thunder. After the call, she gathered them up and began to lead them toward the Court Street exit in the direction of Simon’s house.
    Then, her phone rang again.
    After a brief call, she told the children to turn around and they walked in the opposite direction toward Smith Street and the Autumn Café. It was then that the sky opened up and they were drenched. Picturing the scene through the detectives’ eyes, Alice now saw it: the café was half a block from the subway. Sylvie had needed to go somewhere quickly. But first she brought the kids to the café, told the girl behind the counter that she had to run out for a minute and would be right back. She gave Nell a ten dollar bill. Then she left.
    As the details unfolded, something began to burn in Alice’s mind.
    Stop or they’re next.
    It had been written some time before she arrived home in the rain. If Sylvie had gone directly to the subway, she couldn’t have written it. And if she didn’t write it, who did?

Chapter 40
    “Julius Pollack,” Frannie said. “We got a print hit a little while ago.”
    “So it was Julius