pressed the button on the bed, so the frame started to rise electronically, pitching her forward and shifting her painfully upright.
“Hey—what are you doing, girl?”
“Getting you out of here. What do you think? We got to find that Darla. Come on, we only got a couple of hours.”
Stella had, as a matter of fact, been thinking along the same lines, but she hadn’t quite expected to be heaved out of the bed. “Okay, but I can’t just get up and walk out of here with this robe thing flapping around my bare butt.”
“No, Stella, I know that. Don’t be an idiot. I got you some clothes in here. I figured they might have kept your old ones, like for evidence or something. Plus I know sometimes they cut ’em off of victims.”
She dug in the gym bag and pulled out a pair of cornflower blue stretch pants and a matching short-sleeved top that had a deep V neck with embroidery around the edges. As eager as she was to be on their way, Stella regarded the clothes with dread.
“Oh shit, where did you get those things?”
“In your bottom drawer. Why?”
“My sister sent them,” Stella hedged—which Gracellen had, for her birthday, after Stella lied and told her she was a size ten. “They just shrunk in the dryer, is all.”
“Well, we don’t have time to go back,” Chrissy said, “so you might as well get dressed.”
She handed the stack of clothes, a fresh change of underwear on top, to Stella, and pulled a pair of sandals out of the bag.
Stella started tugging off her gown and eyed Chrissy carefully. “Where were you thinking we’d be going, once you bust me out of here?”
“Well, I guess we don’t have no choice but to start with what we know, now do we?”
“I can’t help noticing that I’m hearing a lot of ‘we’ here, darlin’,” Stella said. Telling the girl the truth was one thing; letting her join in the search, with all its risks and dangers, was another entirely. “Did I miss something—did you go getting your P.I. license while I was out cold?”
At that, Chrissy straightened and fixed her with a glare that practically threw sparks. “I don’t really appreciate you being all sarcastic, Stella Hardesty,” she said coldly. “Bad enough you didn’t tell me what was really going on, Tucker being my baby and all. Like I couldn’t handle it or something? Shame on you, I’m his mother. Well, cat’s out of the bag now, I guess, so you ain’t going to be able to get rid of me no more. We’re in this together. ’Sides, last time I looked, you didn’t have no license either, and plus, you done way more law-breakin’ than I plan on.”
Stella paused with the shapeless garment pulled down around her waist and looked Chrissy over carefully. The rebuke was the most impassioned speech she’d ever heard out of the girl, and it occurred to Stella that she might have been treating her more like a child than an adult. She chose her words very carefully.
“Chrissy, you’re right. I have kept things from you, and as my client, you have a right to expect better. I promise I’ll be straight with you from now on.”
“And I’m coming with you,” Chrissy said in the same no-nonsense tone. “We’ll make a plan and then I’m coming along. I want my baby back, and once I get him, I’ll help you whup these—these—
“I don’t know if—”
“I ain’t asking, Stella,” Chrissy said with an edge to her voice that made Stella take notice.
Silently, she hooked her bra on and slipped into the T-shirt, tugging it over her belly, trying to stretch the fabric a little larger.
Chrissy wasn’t asking. She wasn’t going to be denied.
Every fiber of Stella’s being resisted the idea of taking the girl along. Stella worked alone. And even more important, she didn’t risk women’s lives. Not anymore, not since Lorelle.
“I’m happy to have you come along to this Darla’s place,” she said softly. “And I don’t suppose hunting down Pitt’s really going to involve any special dangers. But this other bunch—they’re ruthless. There are at least four armed men that we know about. Maybe more. There are two of us.”
“Yeah, but we got the advantage.”
“Yeah? How do you figure?”
“First of all, they ain’t expecting us,” Chrissy said calmly. “And second—we’re moms. We’re wired special to be fearless. They have no idea what kind of hell we can raise when we get provoked. Ain’t that right, Stella?”
Stella opened her mouth to speak but realized she had little to add. “Well,” she said, “I guess that’s that. I can promise you, though, this ain’t going to be any walk in the park. It’s gonna be plenty dangerous and someone might end up getting hurt even worse than this.”
“Stella,” Chrissy scolded. “You’re talking to a woman who married Roy Dean Shaw. I got myself hurt every single day. I think I can handle what a bunch of amateurs want to dish out, don’t you?”
At that, Stella couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry, you’re right,” she said. “Now get on out of my way so I can put my pants on.”
With Chrissy playing lookout they were able to slip out of the hospital room and down to the elevator without anyone noticing. Stella left a note for the nurse, written on the back of the dinner menu she hadn’t bothered to fill out: “Sorry, I had to go. I’ll be back to settle up a.s.a.p. P.S. Don’t worry, I’m feeling fine. Best regards, S. Hardesty.”
On the ground floor Stella started to gain confidence. They went out the front door without attracting any attention. In the parking lot she was surprised to see her Jeep.
“Sheriff had one of his guys bring it on home from the golf course,” Chrissy said. “They took the car keys out of your pocket. And I figured, with what all we got ahead of us, it might make more sense to bring your car than mine. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No—good thinking,” Stella said. She wondered if Goat had noticed her little lockbox. There was a reason she used a combination lock on it—a key did no good. “You go ahead and drive. I’m still a little fuzzy from them happy pills they gave me.”
Chrissy slid into the driver’s seat and turned to Stella. “Well, I guess this is my first lesson,” she said. “How do you find someone when you don’t know much about ’em? You know someone down at the courthouse or something, can look up all the Darlas in the county?”
Stella snorted. She wished—that would be a handy contact to have. “No, but I got something about as good. Head us over to the Popeyes.”
“Why—you got a hankerin’ for biscuits or something?”
“No, you’ll see.”
From the way Chrissy lurched out of the parking lot, Stella figured she was still getting used to the handling. A thought flashed through her mind—Ollie would have had a fit to see Chrissy snugging the tires over the curb—and she laughed. It hurt, but it felt good, too.
“What’s so funny?” Chrissy asked, cutting her a glance.
“Nothing. I just didn’t expect to be chauffeured around today.”
“Well, get used to it. We got to save your strength.”
Stella closed her eyes and settled back and wondered what exactly Chrissy expected her to do. “They got my gun,” she said after a moment.
“Oh, I got that took care of,” Chrissy said. She reached behind and patted a cardboard box sitting on the backseat. “Picked up a few things from my folks’ house. Go ahead, take a look.”
Stella reached for the box, the type used to hold a ream of paper, and pulled it onto her lap. It was surprisingly heavy. She lifted the lid and found herself staring at an eclectic arsenal of weapons.
Lying on a pile of old rags was a grimy, blocky old steel handgun. There was also a wicked-looking big hunting knife with a hook, two smaller knives, a couple of holsters, and three boxes of cartridges, one open and half empty.
“Holy shit, Chrissy,” Stella said. “Your folks some kind of survivalists or something? Fixing to hunker down for the big standoff with the FBI?”
Chrissy’s face hardened and she didn’t look at Stella. “I don’t appreciate that,” she said after a moment. “My
