I checked the pantry, and sure enough, all the vodka was gone, which implied she’d taken off to replenish the stock. But by seven o’clock she still wasn’t back, and I had a bad feeling.
I went to the front window and peered out. I hadn’t seen that familiar black sedan all day—it seemed that my least-favorite agents took Saturdays off. Next, I checked the garage, and thankfully Dad’s vintage T-Bird was still inside. Neither one of us was allowed to drive it because we couldn’t afford the insurance after Ma got her second DUI and lost her license, but Ma refused to sell it even though we really needed the money. She and Dad had had their first date in that car, and I think she was convinced that someday she’d get her license back and come up with the money for the insurance and be back to driving it again. Still, I knew that sometimes, when she was really missing Dad, and she was sick of taking the bus everywhere, she would sneak out and take it for a spin. It scared me because Ma was never sober. She woke up and the first thing she did was pour vodka into her morning coffee. All those agents had to do was call the cops, and Ma would go to jail and CPS would be back at our door.
Donny called my cell as I was pedaling up and down the dark streets looking for her. “I can’t find Ma,” I confessed as soon as I answered the call.
I heard him sigh on the other end of the line. I knew he was pretty tired of conversations like these, and I’d gotten better about not calling him in recent years. “How long has she been gone?”
I blinked hard. It wasn’t just the cold misting up my vision. “I’m not exactly sure, but I think she left sometime after one.”
“Did she take the car?”
“No. It’s still in the garage.”
“Where’re you?”
I braked and came to a stop. I was near the park about a mile from my house. “I’m out looking for her.”
There was a pause, then Donny said, “It’s not even eight o’clock, Maddie. She’s probably at some bar, and she’ll find her way home just like she always does. Go back to the house and get warm.”
I looked up and down the street, my eyes searching for Ma in vain. I knew most of the bars she liked to go to, all within a bus stop or two of the house, but I’d been by them and she wasn’t there.
“Maddie?” Donny said. “You there?”
“She doesn’t have her coat, Donny.” I could feel myself getting emotional, and had to swallow hard simply to talk. I felt guilty about our argument, and I was so tired of this. I wanted Ma to see how tired I was. How worried. How afraid. I wanted her to choose to look out for me for a change. I wanted her to stop pulling stunts like this, because I knew that she knew they were really hardest on me.
Donny sighed again. “Maddie,” he said gently. “I’m more worried about you riding around in the dark than I am about your mom. Go home, sweetheart. I’m all the way over in Jersey tonight, but I’ll drive up in the morning and we’ll have a talk, okay?”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. I was too choked up to reply.
“I’ll be there around ten and we’ll grab breakfast,” Donny was saying. In the background I heard a woman’s voice. “Listen, I gotta go. As long as Cheryl’s not behind the wheel, she’ll be okay. She always is. Go home, take a bath, and get warm. I can hear your teeth chattering.”
And then he was gone. I tucked my phone into my pocket and again looked up and down the street, and that’s when I noticed something weird. Far down the street I could hear the faint rumble of an engine, but all the cars parked along the curb had their headlights off. The light from the lone streetlight at my end didn’t let me see into any of the cars, so it was impossible to tell if someone was inside one of them, but I had the prickly feeling that I was being watched by someone other than Wallace and Faraday.
When I got to the next intersection, I paused at the stop sign and heard that slight rumble behind me again. A quick backward glance revealed a large pickup truck moving toward me with its lights off. As I stared, the truck pulled over to the curb and sat there idling again, as if the driver didn’t want to pass me before seeing which direction I was going to take.
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end. Pushing off, I turned right and rode hard up the hilly street. Behind me, I heard the engine rev, and I knew the pickup had pulled away from the curb and was coming after me. I pumped hard up the hill, and at the intersection I turned the bike around in a tight loop and raced to the right to hop the curb onto the sidewalk. Crouching low, I pedaled for all I was worth and darted past the truck, gaining momentum on the downward slope. I caught only a blur of movement within the cab of the truck as I whizzed by.
Pumping hard again at the bottom of the hill, I rode my bike back across the street, racing through the metal archway that marked the park’s entrance.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw the pickup finishing its awkward turn at the top of the hill, and that’s when its headlights finally came on.
I knew without a doubt that I was in trouble now, because the truck roared down the hill heading straight for me. I faced forward again and pedaled as fast as I could, at last moving past the concrete barriers that kept vehicles out and marked the beginning of the trail. The ride immediately got bumpy, forcing me to focus in the dim light of my headlamp on the terrain. But I didn’t slow down.
Because I had to focus on the dirt path, I couldn’t lift my gaze away to look for the truck, so I kept my ears pricked for the roar of its engine, and I could still hear its loud rumble keeping pace with me in the distance. I was certain the driver was tracking my escape—intent on cutting me off at the opposite end of the park.