Moms Night Out

by Tricia Goyer

  “Get me off of this crazy train!” Kevin shouted right into Marco’s ear.

  “Everyone just hold on!” Marco shouted. Then, with every ounce of strength in him, he jerked the van, hard right. The van whipped around the corner, the backend fishtailing.

  Behind him the chopper was still nowhere to be seen. And then he heard the sound of the cop car screeching through the intersection.

  He’d done it! As he continued on down the road Marco realized he’d done it. He’d evaded them all!

  Victory! The word pulsed through his mind. Finally free!

  ***

  Allyson’s body hung out the side window of the cab. The cold wind blasted her face, and she motioned to the trooper.

  She waved her arm, pointing ahead of her. Her hair flew back behind her, and her words seemed to fly back and hit her too. “That’s my van! That’s my van!” she screamed.

  If she ever was going to have a mommy moment, she was going to have it with the van thief. She knew her van. It had never had that much pep before. Whoever was behind the wheel had to be professionally trained. Her breaths came harder and faster. They had to get that van!

  The cop motioned for her to get inside the cab, and then he zoomed ahead of them.

  Allyson pulled her body into the cab. Ahead, the van screeched around the corner, trying to evade them, and the cop car slammed on his brakes. Smoke rose up from its back tires, yet the cab didn’t slow. The cab was headed straight for the back of the police car!

  “I don’t want to DIE!” she screamed, the words ripped at her throat as they escaped. Sean’s face flashed in her mind. Then the kids’ faces—Brandon, Bailey, Beck. No, she didn’t want to die like this.

  She reached over for the steering wheel, trying to get the cabbie to swerve to the sidewalk on their side. He pulled against her, trying to swerve into ongoing traffic.

  No!

  His grip overpowered hers, and the cab jerked into the oncoming lane.

  They slid past the cop car on their left and straight toward an oncoming car. She screamed again, and the screams of her friends filled her ears. They can’t die either. What would happen to their kids? All of their kids.

  The oncoming car slammed on its brakes and fishtailed, just missing them by inches. The children . . . all she could think about was their children who needed their mothers.

  The cab swerved to the left, and cars flew by on their right, one, two, three. Their headlights strobed by like disco lights, and Allyson thought she was going to be sick. Then, seeing more cars ahead, the cab swerved onto the sidewalk.

  Tires hit the sidewalk and a loud explosion erupted.

  Their cab flew toward a trash pile and hit. Trash flew everywhere, like a pinata being split open. Cans, bottles, milk cartons, cereal boxes flew up and splattered over the top of the car.

  Her body flew forward, and Allyson braced herself. From the corner of her eye she saw Cabbie’s head jerking forward, and then it hit the steering wheel with a smash.

  They were stuck . . . stuck here in this pile of trash.

  Cabbie reached forward and turned off the engine.

  Then, as if the world around them had just been muted, all the noise around them stopped. There was no roaring of motorcycle, blaring of siren, or screeching of tires.

  Allyson looked to the cabbie, who now held his nose. And she was certain she saw more blood.

  “That’s gonna smart,” he mumbled.

  Her eyes darted to the women in the backseat, and thankfulness flooded her heart. They were alive, unhurt! Their hair was tousled, and they looked like they were in a waking coma, but no one appeared injured.

  Sondra looked to Bridget and then to Izzy. Izzy checked them out too.

  Their wide eyes displayed their fear, and Allyson didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. They’d found her van. They’d found her van! She just hoped that the trooper was able to catch the thief . . . and make him pay for this night!

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Marco looked back over his shoulder. A huge grin filled his face, and then he felt it fall. He expected to be free of his pursuers. Instead, he spotted the police car once again following him. Gaining fast. Sirens still blaring.

  “Why are you still following me? Why are you still following me? Why are you still following me?!” He did the only thing he knew to do and pulled over to the side.

  Marco’s heartbeat jumped as he watched in the side mirror. Slowly, tentatively the trooper stepped from his car and paused behind his door, as if for protection.

  Marco rolled down his window and leaned out. “Good evening, officer.”

  “Put your hands out the window!”

  Marco jumped in his seat, sure the trooper was mistaken. Wasn’t it that motorcycle driver—or that cab—who the cop had been after?

  Marco stretched both hands out, unable to hide their shaking. “Now exit the vehicle slowly.” The trooper’s voice was low, firm through his loud speaker.

  The trooper’s spotlights were on him, and his lights continued to flash, yet the trooper didn’t move from behind the door. Marco could see the man’s hand on his gun and he told himself not to faint. This was all a misunderstanding.

  Marco climbed from the van. “Did you get that biker back there?” He pointed down the road and moved toward the police officer.

  “Stay where you are, sir,” his voice was sharp. The officer’s flashlight shone on him, and his hand was still on his gun. Surely, the man didn’t understand; it was the other guys he was after. Marco knew he had to explain.

  Marco took another step forward.

  “Stop where you are!”

  Marco froze in his steps. He stretched his hands out in front of him, straight out, putting his hands in full view.

  “Back up three paces and turn around to face the light!”

  Marco turned forward, and then realized that there were more red lights behind him. He turned back around.

  “Turn around, toward the light!” the officer shouted.

  Marco pointed to the streetlight. “That light?”

  “To the other light. Turn and face the light!” The trooper’s tone was sharp, direct. “Now get down on your knees now! Put your hands behind your head.”

  Marco did what he was told. He sunk to the ground. The gravel on the road poked through his jeans, biting at his skin, sinking in.

  The trooper approached. His flashlight cast a spotlight around Marco. The cold of the night bit at his skin, but the goose bumps that rose were from fear. Fear!

  The trooper cleared his throat. “Sir, is this your vehicle?”

  “No sir.” Marco didn’t understand. What was happening? He glanced over his shoulder.

  “Stay right there!” the trooper barked.

  “Okay!” Marco turned back around, and put his hands back on his head.

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “No sir,” he answered flabbergasted.

  “Is there someone else in this vehicle?”

  “Yes!”

  “Stay where you are.”

  Marco didn’t move. He heard the door open, and then the screeching of the kids. “Ah! Hi! Hello!”

  Marco followed the officer’s gaze, into the van. Some of the kids had gotten out of their car seats and were piled on top of Kevin.

  “Sir, is this your vehicle?” the trooper asked Kevin.

  “No, sir!” Bailey answered for him.

  “Thank you, my dear.”

  “Is this your Daddy?” He pointed the flashlight to Marco.

  “No, sir!” Brandon called.

  He shined the flashlight onto Kevin. “Is that your daddy?”

  “No!” Sean’s kids called again, with Bailey being the loudest.

  “Who’s your daddy?” the officer asked.

  “He’s in the hospital!” one of the kids answered.

  “What’s going on here?” the officer asked.

  “He’s taking us to his house where we don’t want to go,” Bailey piped up. />
  “Where you don’t want to go.” The officer jumped back slightly. “That’s very bad. What else should I know?”

  “He killed their Mama!” Bailey called out.

  “He what?” The officer’s voice raised an octave.

  Marco knew how bad this sounded. He couldn’t just sit there and listen. “I can explain!”

  Marco jumped to his feet and turned. “You see, Mama’s the name of the bird.”

  It’s then he saw it. The trooper’s gun drawn and pointed at him—right toward his heart.

  Marco reached his hands toward the man. Why wasn’t he listening? Why wasn’t he trying to understand?

  “Down on your knees now. Face down. Face down!” the trooper’s words split the air.

  “No, don’t shoot!” Marco dropped to his knees. His hands stretched out as if they could shield him. He felt light-headed all of a sudden. Dizzy. “Don’t shoot!” he cried again.

  The trooper’s shouts intensified. “Dispatch, I need backup now!” The trooper called over his radio. “Ten units now.”

  Marco hit the ground, splaying his arms and legs out as far as he could reach them. The road smelled of asphalt and gasoline, and he thought he was going to be sick. “I’m down. I’m down. I’m down!”

  Even without seeing it, Marco could feel the trooper’s gun pointed at the back of his head.

  And then a single voice broke through the drama, as clear and controlled as can be. Kevin’s voice. “Guess what, kids? We’re all going to jail.”

  “Oh man, I hate jail!” Bailey called out.

  “Me too.” Marco wept into the asphalt. “Me too . . .”

  “We got a felon!” the trooper shouted, and Marco wondered if he’d ever be able to survive the big house.

  ***

  Allyson stood beside the taxi with trash strewn by her feet. This is what her night felt like. Like a crash. Like a dump heap. She still had no way to get a hold of Sean. They still hadn’t found Phoenix. Surely things couldn’t get worse, right?

  On the other side of the cab, Sondra did her best to bandage up the cabbie’s nose. After hitting the steering wheel it was bleeding even more, and she wondered if it was possible to add a “pain and suffering” tax to a cab fare. Izzy tried to help Sondra, dabbing Cabbie’s face with her baby wipes.

  Bridget stood beside her, quivering in her tennis shoes. Allyson wanted to reassure her, but no words came. Every time she’d thought they were close to finding Phoenix they’d come to a dead end. Or in this case, a trash pile.

  Then, in the distance, she heard the roaring noise of a motorcycle’s engine breaking through the night. She jumped slightly, not with fear, but expectation. Sure enough a few seconds later Bones pulled up, parking his motorcycle beside them.

  “What happened?” Allyson called to him. She hoped he had good news. What she needed—really needed—was good news.

  Bones glanced over to them. “Sorry for the flight mechanism, ladies. I lose control when I see them flashin’ lights.” He offered a sheepish smile. “I have a checkered past.”

  Allyson spread her arms wide and took a step forward, “Okay, what—what about my van?”

  “Quite a mess up there.” Bones turned and looked over his shoulder. “Got as close as I could. Hauling the criminals off now.” He removed his helmet and placed it on the handlebars. “It seems it was stolen by a mentally unstable man with some kids, and some other dude. The first dude was Hispanic . . . I think . . . I’m sorry if that sounded racist.”

  “Marco!” Izzy’s voice split the air. She raced around the cab toward Bones.

  She looked from Bones to Allyson.

  Allyson was trying to process it all. Could that really have been Marco, driving like a wild man . . . with their kids in the car? Tension tightened her gut.

  Allyson looked to Izzy. “Why is Marco driving my van?”

  Instead of answering, Izzy’s eyes grew wide. “Where are my kids?” Izzy looked from Allyson to Sondra, and back to Ally again. “What if they’re in jail?

  Bones stretched out a hand toward her, trying to reassure her. “I don’t think they can book a baby,” Bones said calmly. “I could be wrong, but I don’t think they can.”

  Their British cab driver dipped his head, as if in defeat. And Allyson approached him.

  “To the police station?”

  He didn’t answer for a few seconds, and then he slowly lifted his head, looking at her.

  He pointed to the cab. “Get in, ladies. The next stop on our Tour of Destruction is about to embark!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Ten minutes later the cab pulled up at the police station, and the women jumped out.

  A gasp escaped Sondra’s lips, and Allyson followed her gaze. There, parked in the parking lot, was Ray’s vintage mustang parked under a streetlamp. Allyson chuckled under her breath. Did he really think it would be safe . . . even there?

  “She took her daddy’s car!” the words exploded from Sondra’s lips, talking to no one in particular. “I told Zoe that if she went to that rave that she was going to learn the hard way. Her daddy is going to kill her when he finds out she’s in the clink.” She threw up her hands. Then she slammed her hands against her legs and leaned back against the door.

  Bridget was still inside the car. She was trying to get out, but Sondra was leaning against the door.

  “Clink? Really?” Bridget pushed on the door harder. “Can you please move?”

  Izzy waited by the front door. “Come on!” Allyson could read the worry on Izzy’s face. She had to get her babies out of prison . . . now!

  Allyson leaned down to talk to the cabbie. “I think you can just leave now,” she told him.

  He smiled up at her. “Oh no, darling. I’m totally committed to this. I want to see how it ends.”

  If that’s what you want.

  She personally wanted to see how it was all going to turn out too. Not only did they still not have Phoenix, but now she was also worried about her own children. Who had them? Were they safe?

  Allyson followed the other women into the police station. They quickly hurried through the metal detector in a single-file line. They rushed up to the front desk officer.

  “Are you taking my children?” Izzy asked, rushing forward.

  “Do you have my daughter?” Sondra called frantically. Her hair was tousled all over her head and her clothes now looked as if she’d slept in them . . . or as if she’d been in a high-speed chase and crashed in them.

  “We need to file a missing person’s report,” Bridget called out.

  Allyson rushed ahead, and then she looked back to see Bones entering. Instead of walking through the metal detector, he turned and walked around the side of it. The security guard didn’t seem to notice. She was too distracted by the commotion of the women, all talking at once.

  “Do you have my van?” she asked the police. Allyson’s voice joined in with the rest.

  The young handsome officer eyed them, trying to figure out what had just happened. Trying to make sense of their words.

  “Can you tell me which foster care home you took my children too?” Izzy asked.

  “She’s just going through a phase,” Sondra explained.

  “I’ll find whatever foster home you took them too . . .” Izzy’s voice grew louder.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” The young officer held up his hands, trying to calm them. “Just hold on. Hold on.”

  Bridget leaned forward, the mama bear emerging. “What do you mean HOLD ON? I have a MISSING child!”

  Ally nudged past her. “Look. What’s she’s trying to say is—”

  Instead of letting Allyson talk, explain everything to the officer, Bridget pushed Ally out of the way. Ally staggered backward, and then caught herself, steadying herself.

  “NO, ALLY! Stop. Okay, nothing you’ve tried to do tonight has helped in any way. So just stop trying to fix things.” She waved a hand in Allyson’s face.

  Bridget’s face was beet red. Ang
er flashed in her eyes. Allyson sucked in a breath, not remembering the last time someone had ever treated her this way. At least she was trying . . .

  Emotion filled in her throat. Trying to help.

  Before Allyson had a chance to catch her breath from Bridget’s words, Sondra leaned forward. Anger flashed in her eyes too, causing Allyson to pull back.

  “This is what happens when you take away people’s cell phones!” Sondra seethed. Then rolling her eyes she directed her attention back to the front desk officer and started in, trying to find out information about Zoe.

  “I want to talk to your boss!” Bridget’s voice rose to near shouting as she tried to talk over Sondra and Izzy. “If you’re not going to help me then I want to talk to your boss!”

  Sondra placed a hand to her forehead. “Where’s my daughter? Do you have my daughter?” She turned her back to the others. “I knew this would happen,” she mumbled under her breath. “This is God punishing me for the Woodstock Reunion.”

  “Woodstock Reunion!” Bones called out, pointing. “You were in the caravan. I never forget a face. Sarah? Hmmm.” He scrunched up his face. “Sandy?”

  Izzy turned to her. Her face registered shock, horror. “Sondra?” Izzy cried out.

  “Sondra!” Bone’s face broke into a smile, and he seemed pleased with himself. “I love your tattoo.”

  Tattoo? Allyson scrunched up her face and looked to her pastor’s wife. She waited for Sondra to laugh. She waited for Sondra to deny what Bones was saying, but from the look on Sondra’s face Allyson saw it was true. True!

  Sondra gasped. And then a small cry escaped her lips.

  Izzy’s jaw dropped, and Allyson could see that she already looked at Sondra differently.

  Ally tried to take it all in. Not only had everything else failed tonight, but now Sondra’s reputation was ruined. She was called out—found out—by some tattooed biker. This was even worse than the Dance Cam incident and that was bad. Real bad.

  Allyson felt like running, escaping. Her stomach ached and it had no relation to her hunger.

  They were right. It was all her fault. All of this. If it wasn’t for her . . . none of this would have happened. She had wanted her way. She had pushed and pushed . . . and look what it had done to all of them. There was nothing peaceful about this night. She’d drug her best friends into this ordeal only to have Izzy starving to death, and to have Sondra humiliated.