A Bad Day for Sorry

gave it a yank. He had already passed her up in height, but she had the advantage of mass and bulk.

“Hey!”

“Listen up, cupcake, or no snack. You don’t ever let anyone in here without me saying so. And if you ever see anyone hanging around, you go straight home and lock your doors and don’t be coming over here until you see me back here in person.”

“Christ! Okay, okay,” Todd said. When she released his arm he rubbed at it and glared at her. “Isn’t it almost dinnertime, anyway? Maybe we should skip the snack and have pizza or something.”

Stella stared at the boy, shaking her head slowly. “Your mom get hung up late again?”

“Yeah, she called. She’s got to pick up the twins at day care so she won’t be back for another hour at least.”

“What’s for dinner?” Chrissy said, her voice sleepy. “And did you find anything out yet?”

Stella looked at the pair of them, back and forth, and wondered why the Big Guy had seen fit to deliver these pathetic, hungry souls to her house, when all she wanted was to put her feet up and fix herself a giant Johnnie Walker Black on ice. Well, there was no rest for the weary, was there?

“Papa Martino’s,” she said. “You call ’em, Todd. Coupon’s on the fridge. Get a large. Half combo and half whatever you want. Oh, get a dozen wings too, extra spicy.”

“Fuckin’ A!”

“And watch your damn mouth!”

While they waited for the pizza, Todd went back out on the driveway to flip his lanky, awkward body over the skateboard some more.

“I believe I’ll go watch him some,” Chrissy said, rolling forward off the couch. “He’s something to see, ain’t he?”

“Hold up there just a sec, hon,” Stella said, settling down on the ottoman. “I’ve got something to ask you. Something of a personal nature.”

“Sure,” Chrissy said, bobbing her chin.

“It has to do with your ex,” Stella said carefully. “Pitt…”

“Oh,” Chrissy said, her face going a little pale. “It’s that damned Internet, ain’t it.”

“The… Internet?”

“I tol’ Pitt don’t be takin’ them dirty pictures, seein’ as they always end up on the Internet.”

“Pitt… took pictures of you?’

“Yeah, dirty ones.” Chrissy sighed. “I didn’t mention it ’cause I didn’t figure it was, you know, important. And it ain’t, neither—if I get Tucker back I guess I don’t even care what-all anyone wants to put on the Internet about me.”

“Um… were these, ah, recent pictures?”

Chrissy shrugged. “Well, yeah, I guess. I mean it was like, I don’t know, March probably.”

“You’ve been seeing Pitt.”

Chrissy shrugged. “Not regular or anything. Just, you know, sometimes.”

Stella heaved a sigh. “You know, back when you first came to talk to me, I told you that I had to know everything. Remember? Don’t leave anything out, I told you, because every detail counts, even the ones that might not seem important at the time. Well, I surely wish I wasn’t only finding out about Pitt now.”

“I’m sorry,” Chrissy said, staring down at her hands. “It’s just… I didn’t want you to think I was…”

She swallowed and Stella could see her eyelashes fluttering.

“… a slut,” she finished in a whisper.

Stella’s annoyance shrank up to see the girl so remorseful. “Oh, wait, I’m not trying to judge here. I don’t think that, I really don’t. Only, it’s been suggested that, uh, Pitt was the one who hurt you.”

“Pitt?” The tremulous note in Chrissy’s voice gave way to a snort of disbelief. “Pitt ain’t but five foot three on a good day and a hunnert twenty. ’Sides, he wouldn’t never hurt me. He’s crazy about me. We’d prob’ly still be married if I hadn’t taken up with his boss.”

Stella nodded, trying to assimilate all these new details. “How’d Pitt feel about Roy Dean? And Tucker?”

“Well, he pretty much hated Roy Dean,” Chrissy said. “Always threatening to come to the house one day and blow him away. And Tucker—well, he thinks Tucker might be his, even though I’ve told him a million times I was seeing someone else, and besides, anyone can see Tucker’s going to grow up twice as big as Pitt. Ain’t no way they’re kin.”

Stella felt a chill along her neck. Enraged boyfriend, denied not only his woman but the child he believes is his… men had certainly committed crimes for far less.

“People see what they want to see, sometimes,” she said.

Chrissy’s expression sharpened up. “Stella,” she said dubiously, “you ain’t actually thinking it was Pitt stole Tucker, are you?”

“Well… you said he went missing right after Roy Dean was at your house so—”

“But Pitt was there too. I mean, I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about it, but Pitt was over visiting that morning, and when Tucker fell asleep in his playpen Pitt ’n me went back to my room for a spell… and when Roy Dean came to the door, Pitt hightailed it to the guest bedroom to hide out.”

Stella bit back another scolding. Honestly, the girl tried her patience.

“Is that it? Or is there anything else you need to tell me beside the fact that there was a whole other person present when Tucker disappeared?”

“I said I was sorry,” Chrissy said.

“Yeah, okay… just… But why’d Pitt need to hide, considering that you and Roy Dean were split up? You’re free to live your life any way you want now,” Stella said.

“It’s just what we did a couple times back when Roy Dean was still living at the house and he came home unexpected. I guess Pitt was still in the habit.” Chrissy laid a hand over her heart. “Pitt’s just a little sweetie, but he ain’t the most ballsy man. He don’t like confrontation.”

Stella didn’t bother to point out that desperation occasionally moved even un-ballsy men to act. “Was his car gone when you went outside looking for Tucker and Roy Dean?”

“He didn’t have no car. He had a buddy drop ’im, and he was going to just walk back home. He’s in those apartments over by the office park.”

“Don’t you think it’s strange,” Stella mused, “that he didn’t call you later that day?”

“Well, I ain’t got a cell phone.”

“Or stop by? Just to make sure you were okay?”

“It wasn’t like that, Stella,” Chrissy said, crossly. “It was just casual.”

It sounded to Stella like Pitt might not have considered it nearly as casual as Chrissy did.

“I’ll go talk to Pitt,” Stella said.

“Suit yourself,” Chrissy said. Her mood was darkening by the moment. “But it’s a waste of time, you ask me. It’s Roy Dean we got to find. Maybe we ought to see what the sheriff thinks. Get up a search party or something.”

“That’s something to think about,” Stella said, trying to hide her exasperation.

“But Stella… about them pictures. Can you do something?”

“Well, are they in digital format? Did Pitt put them on his PC? Does either of you have an Internet connection?”

“Ain’t neither of us even got a computer, Stella. And they was Polaroids—Pitt likes watchin ’em develop.”

“Well then, I wouldn’t worry too much about them getting online. Listen, the pizza’s going to be here in a minute. Why don’t we eat—it’ll help us think clearly.”

As if on cue Todd came bursting through the door, trailing a young man in a Papa Martino’s T-shirt who was carrying a suspiciously large thermal bag.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Todd said. “I ordered an extra pizza. I was hungry. You need to pay him. Don’t forget the tip, okay?”

By the time she got the kitchen cleaned up and Todd sent home and Chrissy settled into