Moms Night Out

by Tricia Goyer

  The color drained from Sondra’s face. She looked around as if she’d just lost her best friend in the world. As long as Allyson had known Sondra, she’d done her best to always take care of others and now everything she’d worked for had come to this.

  The door next to the front desk opened, as an officer led a criminal out.

  Seeing her chance to break free from their gazes, Sondra turned to the door that was slowly closing.

  “Com’on, ladies.” Sondra rushed toward it, opening it farther. Then Sondra hurried inside, as if trying to escape their knowledge of her past. But she hadn’t moved fast enough. Allyson had spotted the plea in Sondra’s eyes. The one that had said, Please don’t tell anyone.

  “Wait! You can’t go back there!” the man at the front desk called. Izzy and Bridget followed Sondra. The officer at the desk picked up the phone, and Allyson knew it would take a lot of backup to wrangle those mama bears out.

  Allyson tried to hold back her tears. She’d done it again. She’d tried to do her best but she’d fallen short. She’d ruined everything. She doubted that after tonight they’d want to be her friends anymore.

  She forced back the tears and glanced up at Bones. He was the only still one standing by her.

  “I—I don’t think they want me back there right now, Bones.” She turned and leaned against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. She’d tried to do something right, but things had gone so, so wrong.

  “All I really want to do right now is call Sean and the kids,” she confessed.

  Bones pointed. “There’s a phone right over there by the metal detector.”

  Of course he knew that. Allyson glanced up at him, wondering how many times he’d been in this place. Lots, she’d assumed. And she thought about her own Brandon and Beck. Bones had been a little boy once. Had his mama had dreams for him?

  She didn’t have time to think about that for very long. She hurried to the phone. She wanted to hear Sean’s voice. She needed his strength. She needed his help. She needed his optimism.

  More than anything, Allyson needed Sean to tell her that things were going to be okay.

  ***

  Sondra did the only thing she knew to do. She ran. She ran from their stares, and she ran from the truth as she’d been doing for many years.

  Sondra rushed into the back area, where the criminals were held and the officers worked, with Izzy and Bridget trailing behind her.

  “Sir, we have a situation up here,” he could hear the front desk officer saying into his radio.

  Still that didn’t stop her steps. She needed to—had to—find Zoe. This was her fault. She’d made the mistakes, and now her daughter was going to be the one who suffered. No, she couldn’t let that happen.

  “It’s a maze back here,” Izzy called, weaving through rows of desks.

  Finally they found their way back around to where the desk officer was. She had to talk to him face-to-face. She had to get information about Zoe!

  Sondra raced up to the officer, noting the terrified look in his expression, as if it were Bones, not her who rushed him.

  Maybe he’d overheard about her tattoo. A shiver raced down her spine.

  ***

  Sean leaned over the desk. Around him the walls were plastered with . . . art, he supposed. He looked at the guy with the Afro and the large aviator glasses.

  Ray had driven them up and down 5th, and this was the only tattoo parlor. He winced thinking of Allyson being in here without him. Why had she come? Had Izzy wanted a tattoo? It was the only thing he could think of. Or maybe they’d brought Bridget. After all, Ally had been on Bridget’s phone. But why had Ray’s wife agreed to that? Sean shook his head. Nothing made sense.

  “Did anyone come in here tonight that wasn’t supposed to be in here?” Sean asked the front desk guy.

  “Oh, man, I don’t know.” The man with the large Afro spoke in a slow, easy tone and the words just rolled off his tongue. “I don’t think of asking them those kinds of questions, but I think you’re on to something, ’cause I should inquire more of our patrons.” He straightened in his chair.

  “What about this?” Sean covered his face with his hand, trying not to let his frustration build. “Does the word Bones mean anything to you?”

  The man nodded. “It does.”

  Sean forced a smile, and his eyebrows lifted. “What does it mean?”

  Ray leaned forward. “Is it a person?” He tapped on Sean’s shoulder, urging him to ask that question.

  “Is it a person?”

  The man nodded, as if Sean’s words were finally filtering in. “It is.”

  “Is it a manager?” Ray asked, tapping Sean’s shoulder, urging him to ask.

  Sean stood on his toes so he could lean in a little farther. “Is it a manager here?”

  “You are correct. Correct.” The desk guy pointed to Ray, as if he’d just answered the Question of the Day on Jeopardy. “You’re good at this one.” Then he waved from Sean to Ray. “Keep him.”

  “Did you see any women with Bones?” asked Sean.

  “I did . . . you guys are good at this!”

  Ray’s voice rose, and he motioned to the desk guy. “Do you know where they went? Which direction they went?”

  “No, but I did see them leave,” the man offered.

  “Where did they go?” Ray asked. Sean could tell his patience was wearing thin.

  “To the right.” He pointed to the right with two fingers.

  Both men turned to see where he was pointing.

  “Out and to the right,” the man said.

  They turned back to him.

  “No destination?” Ray looked puzzled. “They didn’t say where they were going?”

  “Well, I think the right is east.” The man smiled, pleased he’d come up with that on his own.

  “Okay.” Ray lowered his head, and Sean could see his mind racing, trying to figure out what questions he needed to ask in order to get what he needed.

  Sean was also trying to figure where to go from here when his phone chimed, telling him he had a call.

  “Hello?”

  “Sean?” It was Allyson’s voice.

  “Hon?” Relief flooded over him. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He stumbled forward slightly and placed a hand over his racing heart. Just hearing her voice took away a ton of burdens that he’d been carrying.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  He wanted to ask her the same question, but he could hear worry on her voice. Most likely worry about the kids.

  “We’re fine, we’re fine. We’re at the tattoo parlor.”

  “What?” shock registered in her tone.

  “Yeah, at the tattoo parlor,” he said. It should be obvious why, shouldn’t it? Since that’s where she told him to go.

  ***

  Sondra hurried toward the officer, and his face registered shock. All she needed was one minute . . . why didn’t he just calm down and listen to her—to them? Somewhere in his jail Zoe sat behind bars. The idea of it made Sondra unable to stop pushing forward. Unable to be still.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” The officer lifted a hand toward them. “Calm down. Just wait a second!” the officer called out to them.

  “Do you know where my daughter is?” Sondra pleaded. “She’s not a hard criminal.”

  “Hold on.” The officer waved his hands, and then he moved behind his rolling chair, as if using it as a shield.

  Izzy lunged forward. “Please NO!” her voice erupted with emotion. She reached a hand toward the officer. “Don’t put them back there. Take me! Take me instead! Just arrest me!”

  Sondra also reached for him. “Do you know how much it scars a teenager to be in here!”

  Then, as if by a miracle Bridget’s phone rang, interrupting the commotion. She whipped it out of her pocked to answer it.

  Sondra barely paused, and then she started in again, seeking answers. Izzy’s voice joined hers.

  “Calm down for a second.” Then
he leaned down and spoke into his radio. “We have a situation here!”

  “Quiet! SHUT UP!” Bridget’s voice broke through, overpowering theirs. “It’s Caprice!”

  ***

  On the other end of the line, Allyson let out a heavy sigh. “It’s just been the worst night ever, Sean. I don’t know how it could get any worse.”

  “Alright, hon. Don’t move.”

  A group of officers rushed past Allyson, toward the back rooms of the police station. She pressed the phone tighter to her ear and shuddered thinking of what type of hardened criminals they had back there. They surely had to be really bad to need backup like that.

  “Alright, yeah, alright,” Sean repeated. “Where are you?”

  “Don’t freak out. I’m at some police station.”

  “With the police?!” He nearly shouted into the phone. At his words a group of bearded men, sitting in chairs in the waiting area, raised their hands and then rushed toward the back area of the tattoo parlor. The front desk clerk sat straighter and lifted his hands, too, looking around.

  Weird.

  Sean listened as Allyson gave him directions to the police station. “Okay, okay we’re coming.” Then he hung up and hurried to Ray. “We’ve got to go. We’ve got to go.”

  “You found them?” Ray’s eyes brightened.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Sean still had more questions than answers, but at least this was a start.

  Ray rushed toward the door. “Let’s do this.” Sean tucked his cell phone into his back pocket.

  Sean moved to follow Ray, and then remembered he was empty-handed. He turned to where one of the tattoo artists was doodling with Beck.

  Sean rushed over and swooped him up. He didn’t know why Beck seemed to stress Allyson out so much. Tonight he seemed game for anything.

  “Uh, thanks very much,” Sean told the guy who’d been drawing with Beck.

  The guy smiled and waved and Sean hurried to the door.

  “Wait, so are the police coming or not?” the front desk clerk called after them as they exited, his arms still raised high in the air.

  Sean decided not to answer. He chuckled, wondering how long it would take him to figure out that answer.

  Then Sean followed Ray into the night, wondering why they hadn’t swung by Ray’s house for his vintage Mustang. Maybe they’d do it next time they came down to this part of town . . .

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Bridget pressed her cell phone to her ear, trying to hear Caprice. “Phoenix is WHERE?” Bridget shouted into the phone. Sondra and Izzy were still talking, pleading with the officer, arguing with him . . . making it hard for her to hear.

  Caprice started to answer and then . . . nothing. Only silence from the other end. Bridget looked to the phone and then realized it was dead.

  “No. No. NO! I HATE YOU!” she shouted into the phone. She shook it and hit it and considered throwing it to the floor, but she didn’t have money for another phone. Like it or not, she had to deal with this one.

  Rage surged within her. “I’m so angry I could kill somebody!” Why did this have to happen? Just when she was getting close to an answer . . . Ugh!

  She growled under her breath, and then she looked up, focusing on the officer who wore a strange expression on his face. He was holding something. It wasn’t a gun, but he was holding it that way. It was a small black device with a handle and trigger. Bridget lowered her hand that held her cell phone to the side.

  “Is that a taser gun?”

  The desk officer pointed it Bridget’s direction. “I will tase you. STAND DOWN!”

  Sondra stepped in front of Bridget. Again Bridget felt cared for, protected by this pastor’s wife.

  “I will tase you, woman!” the officer shouted again.

  “How dare you!” Sondra shouted back at him. She spread her arms wide, as if putting up a shield for Bridget.

  Bridget sucked in a breath, hoping he wasn’t serious. Then she heard footsteps behind her.

  “Sir, they just came in here and—” the officer was spouting off to someone behind them. Bridget didn’t turn to see who it was. Her eyes were locked on that device.

  “My husband is the Pastor of First Ba—”

  Before Bridget could understand what was happening, there was a small popping sound. Then Sondra stiffened, standing erect and straight as a plank. Bridget’s hands jerked up, and she jumped back, just in time to see Sondra fall straight back to the floor with a thud.

  A soft buzzing filled Bridget’s ears and she looked to the officer in disbelief. He held the taser, and he looked as shocked as her. Wires protruded out of it, stuck to Sondra’s chest.

  Sondra lay on the floor still, unmoving.

  Bridget gasped. Izzy’s eyes were as large as mini-pizzas. She swayed, as if she was going to faint, and with frantic motions the office reached up and turned off the taser.

  Everything was silent then. Bridget’s blood turned to ice water within her, still not believing this was possible. She looked to Izzy, who wore a shocked expression.

  “That was an accident.” The wide-eyed officer pointed to Sondra. And behind him, through the front desk glass, Bridget could see Allyson rushing to the front counter, disbelief clear on her face.

  Bridget noticed something else on Allyson’s face too. Guilt . . . as if she’d been the one who’d pulled the trigger.

  ***

  Sondra leaned against the wall of the cell, not even caring if the grime of the walls got on her suit jacket. After getting tased, she supposed she didn’t need to worry about things like that anymore.

  On either side of her sat Izzy and Bridget. Both of them had forlorn looks on their faces. Sondra’s own face felt as if it had been frozen and hadn’t yet thawed. It was numb . . . like how her lips got when she got a filling at the dentist. Only this time it was from forehead to chin.

  She pressed on her cheek with her hand.

  “I can’t feel my face,” Sondra mumbled. Or at least that’s what she tried to say. It sounded more like, “I fant ell my fawce.”

  “Is this a nightmare?” Izzy’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  Sondra turned toward Bridget. “My fawc has no feewling.”

  Bridget didn’t respond. Instead she stared straight ahead, no doubt thinking about—worrying about—her son.

  Despair filled the young woman’s face. Bridget was slumped down, leaning against the wall. Slowly, slowly Bridget tapped the back of her head against the cinder-block wall.

  Sondra’s heart raced . . . most likely from being tased. But it also ached for Bridget. She couldn’t imagine being in the young woman’s shoes. At least Sondra knew that Zoe was in a jail cell somewhere near them. But Bridget . . . she still had no idea where baby Phoenix was.

  Sondra reached over and took her hand.

  “Bi-get. We ah gonna fine ya ba-be. He is saff. He is in the alm of Gah’s hand.” Sondra nodded. Even as she spoke the words they spoke to her heart too. It was as if she was preaching to herself. She was in God’s hands. Zoe too.

  No matter what had happened tonight. No matter how crazy things had gotten, God was watching over them, holding them up. She’d been numb to that, she realized now. For most of the night she’d tried—they’d tried—to handle this night herself, forgotten that God had it all in His hands.

  She wished Bridget could see that. Sondra wished she understood that she didn’t have to face this alone.

  “And you know wat?” Sondra continued. “I wuv you. I wuv you . . . and you know wat. Gah wuvs you.”

  Bridget glanced over at Sondra, and wrinkled up her nose. She tried to smile, but it came across more like a wince.

  “Sondra, you know what?” Bridget’s eyes widened. “Why don’t you just rest?”

  Sondra quieted . . . wanting to say more, wanting to speak truth to Bridget’s heart, but she knew this wasn’t the time. She believed in the Scripture that said God would give you the right words when you needed them . . . but now she understood that so
metimes you needed the right pronunciation and clarity too.

  As Sondra watched, Bridget rose and paced, and then she sat again, looking at the two women. “All I heard Caprice say was that Phoenix was fine, but she didn’t say where he was . . . my phone died.” She released a heavy breath.

  Izzy was still staring ahead, as if in a trance. Sondra glanced over to Izzy and offered her a lopsided smile. She told herself not to say anything. Not to offer any encouragement. For Sondra’s pride it was better that she just keep quiet for a while.

  Not that she had much pride left. Not after tonight.

  ***

  Allyson stood at the front counter of the police station. She hadn’t thought this night could get any worse, but she was wrong. Forever—as long as she lived—she’d never forget that sight of Sondra going rigid and falling backward like a tree being downed in the forest. Never forget her pastor’s wife lying there, unmoving as if she was dead.

  Ally took a deep breath. “Please—”

  “Ma’am.” The desk agent held up his hands. His fingers trembled. He was clearly shaken. “Ma’am, the kids are fine.” He pointed one finger, asking her for one minute—one minute of her time.

  “Just wait,” he said in a near whisper. He backed away from the window with tentative steps.

  Allyson turned back from the window. She stared into the nearly empty waiting room and let out a long, heavy sigh.

  “Tonight played out differently in my mind,” she whispered. But there was no one to hear her. No one by her side.

  The only person who she knew sitting in the waiting area was Bones. He sat reclined back on a metal row of chairs with his arms stretched out over the backs of those closest to him, and his feet kicked up on the tile wall.

  The lights of the waiting room dimmed, and she wondered how late it was. Way past her children’s bedtime, she was sure. Allyson was certain they were worried. Terrified. Were they crying for her right now?

  ***