Wrong Place, Wrong Time

251

During an investigation into a homicide, Starsky and Hutch find themselves in trouble by being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Written in 2020, updated 2024.

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Chapter One

Present time

“Hey, Starsk?”

“Mmm.”

“You still with me, buddy?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Keep talking to me, Starsky.”

“Whatcha wanna talk ‘bout, pal?”

“Anything you like, Starsk. Just keep talking to me.”

“Whatcha doing, Hutch?”

“Trying to find a way out, buddy. I need to get you to a hospital.”

“I hate hospitals, Hutch.”

“I know you do, but we gotta get that leg of yours looked at.”

“Hutch?”

“Yeah, Starsk?”

“Think anyone’s looking for us yet?”

“I sure hope so.”

There was silence: at first for a few seconds and then stretching into minutes.

“Starsk?…Starsk? Say something, partner. You still with me?”

The silence got louder.

*****

Eight hours earlier

“Dispatch: Zebra Three. Show us on duty at 1500 hours.”

“Copy that, Zebra Three.”

Hutch slipped the radio back in its slot and looked out of the half open window.

“Nice day, Starsky, shame we gotta work.”

“My thoughts exactly, pal.”

Starsky turned left on Grant Street and headed towards the seedier end of town. It was one of the sectors that they regularly patrolled just to keep an eye on things and discourage low levels of crime that might escalate into something higher if left unchecked. As they drove past, the two men kept a watchful eye on the possible hypes hanging around the doorways of clubs and bars and the-down-and-outs lurking in the alleyways.

“Hey, Starsky, let’s go check on ‘Lijah. We haven’t seen him for a few weeks.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Starsky agreed.

He made a right at the end of the street and drove for another mile before turning into an alleyway that was just big enough for a car to creep down. Slowing the speed of the Torino, they cruised down the narrow pathway between the worn out buildings and were rewarded by the sight of a hunched, elderly figure rummaging through a bin at the end of the row. The red and white car slowed to snail’s pace as it got closer and Hutch wound down the window fully.

“Hey, ‘Lijah. How are you doing today?”

“Hutch, Starsky. I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Any words of wisdom for us today, Lij’?” Starsky leaned across and asked.

‘Lijah stuck his head on one side and looked thoughtful then he intoned: “Do not fret because of those who are evil. For like the grass they will soon wither. Trust in the Lord and do good.”

Starsky grinned at the worn out old man. “Thanks, Lij’, we’ll do our best.”

Hutch pulled a note from his pocket and slipped into the old man’s thin fingers. “Buy yourself a hot meal tonight, ‘Lijah.”

“Thanks, Hutch, I’ll do that. All right if I take my buddy too? We can dine like kings on this.”

Hutch was moved by the thought of two people dining like kings on a five dollar bill but he didn’t let it colour his voice: “Of course, ‘Lijah. Look after yourself. See you around.”

As they drove away, Starsky caught Hutch’s eye to reassure him that he knew what his friend was thinking even if he hadn’t vocalised it. Sometimes, the number of down-and-outs they saw regularly on their beat was depressing. Especially knowing there wasn’t much they could do to help.

“Zebra Three, Zebra Three. Come in, please.”

Hutch grabbed the microphone and depressed the call button: “Dispatch, this is Zebra Three.”

“Zebra Three. Homicide reported at 3240 Western Avenue. Adam Four securing the scene. Please attend and investigate.”

“Acknowledged, Dispatch. On our way.”

Hutch shoved the mars light on the roof and flipped the switch for the siren while Starsky shifted his car up a gear and hurried it across town. Western Avenue was just on the edge of their patch. It was a mostly residential area: the houses were small and tended to be lived in by low income families but it was a fairly peaceable neighbourhood and not one they got called to very often.

As Starsky pulled the car into the sidewalk with a screech of tires, Hutch killed the siren and hopped out. The coroner’s van was there plus three squad cars. There was also a van which the forensics team used to travel to crime scenes. They could see four officers knocking on doors and taking statements while two officers guarded the premises.

Officer Lutz greeted the two detectives as they walked towards the house and reported: “White Caucasian, mid-thirties, knife wound. Looks like he was knifed somewhere else from the trail of blood. Made it home before he collapsed. One of the neighbours, a Mrs Brown, saw him staggering home and thought to ring an ambulance in case he was ill. Nice lady. She lives in the house opposite. He was dead by the time the ambulance crew got here. They called us in. Units are canvassing the neighbours.”

“Thanks, Lutz. We’ll take a look and catch up with the canvass reports later,” Hutch said as he and Starsky walked up the steps carefully to avoid the trail of blood. The crime scene team were just finishing up their photos and the coroner was jotting notes down on his clipboard.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

“Hi Doc, what you got for us?” Starsky wanted to know.

“Well, two wounds made with a long bladed knife. One to the stomach and one to the leg. Think the attacker probably got lucky with the leg wound. Just nicked an artery, which led to a slow internal bleed and death. Mr Grant here probably didn’t even realise it was happening as the stomach wound would have been the more painful one.”

Hutch grimaced and looked around the room. One of crime scene staff handed Hutch the victim’s wallet which he looked through before handing it back and seeing it tagged and put into an evidence bag.

The blond and brunet made a sweep of the property looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing came to light so they decided it was time to go and talk to the neighbour who lived opposite. Mrs Brown was a small lady with silvery hair. Her bright friendly eyes reminded Hutch of a bobbing Pacific Wren. They held out their badges for her to inspect.

“Excuse us, Mrs Brown, I’m Detective Hutchinson and this is Detective Starsky. We wondered if we could ask you a few questions about your neighbour?”

“Poor Mr Grant! Yes, please come in, Detectives. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you, Ma’am, that’s all right,” Starsky said with a polite smile.

A small Scottie dog wobbled into the room and came and sniffed Starsky’s shoes. He ruffled its ears with a smile.

“Off you go, Penny. Back in your basket. Good girl,” the elderly lady said, as the little dog turned round three times and settled down in her basket in the corner of the room.

Hutch settled on the sofa next to Mrs Brown and asked, “Would you be able to tell us what happened? Why you thought to call the emergency services?”

“Well, let me see now…I’d just come back from walking my Penny. We don’t go too far afield these days because we’re both getting on a bit truth be told. Anyway, I was just hanging up Penny’s lead and I saw Mr Grant coming down the street. He was walking most erratically and holding onto his stomach. I thought maybe he was sick with the stomach flu or something like that. Anyway, he staggered up his front door steps. I saw him unlock the door and go in…but I don’t know, I was just worried and I thought I should ring for an ambulance for him…I suppose I should have gone over and knocked on the door first, shouldn’t I?…But I’ve not got much strength these days and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to help the poor man if he really was sick…Oh dear, poor Mr Grant.”

The little lady pulled a handkerchief out of her cardigan pocket and blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “Forgive me. It’s just he was such a nice neighbour. I should have knocked on the door, shouldn’t I? Maybe I could have helped him? Maybe I should have called you straight away.”

She gave them a watery smile and Hutch patted her hand.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Mrs Brown. You did exactly the right thing and I’m afraid it wouldn’t have made any difference if you had knocked on the door.”

“Oh dear…Oh well…That’s some small comfort I suppose…Poor Mr Grant.”

Starsky said, “Excuse me, Ma’am, but do you think could you tell us the direction Mr Grant was coming from?”

Mrs Brown frowned as she answered: “Yes, he was coming from the left from towards Oak Street.” She continued frowning.

“What is it?” Hutch asked her.

“Oh, probably nothing. Just a foolish old lady making up stories to pass the time.”

Hutch patted her hand again. “Why don’t you let us be the judge of that?”

“Well, Penny and I have noticed one of the houses in the next road has some very strange people living in it. In fact, Penny dislikes going past it so much, we’ve stopped going for our walks there.”

“What’s so strange about it?” Starsky asked.

“Well, I don’t want you to think I’m some judgemental old lady but the people that come in and out of that house…they just look wrong…They’re not a family. There’s a lot of different young men and an older man I’ve seen once…Penny growled at him and he tried to kick her. That’s why we stopped going round there. Penny was quite frightened by him.”

Starsky and Hutch exchanged looks.

Starsky asked, “Could you tell us the number of the house?”

“Well, let me see, it’s about the fourth one along on the right but I’m not sure exactly. It’s got an ugly looking fence, all spiky. The garden’s in a terrible state and I think the front door is green. I hope that helps.”

“Yes, thank you, that helps us a lot,” Hutch said. “Thank you for your time, Ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, gentlemen,” Mrs Brown said as she saw them to the door. “I hope you find out who hurt poor Mr Grant.”

“We’ll do our best, Ma’am,” Starsky promised.

“Yes, I’m sure you will. I can see you’re on the side of the angels,” she added.

Starsky looked a bit taken aback but recovered.

“Well, thank you, Ma’am, we do try.”

“And you do a good job, young man, I can tell. In my experience, good will usually triumph in the end. Bye then.”

As the door closed, Hutch exchanged a bemused look with his friend. “Nice lady.”

Starsky agreed. “Think we should check the results of the canvas. I wonder if it went as far as the next street?”

“Let’s go find out.”

*****

The units doing canvasses had reported back and the coroner had already left with the body by the time Starsky and Hutch left Mrs Brown’s. The canvass had taken in Western Avenue, and the first ten houses on both Oak and Elm Street but nobody had come up with anything suspicious and the full reports were being written up and sent to the Metro Division for Starsky and Hutch to look over later.

“How’d you get on with Mrs Brown?” Lutz wanted to know.

“All right. Mrs Brown had something interesting to say about a house round the corner. Might be something or nothing. We’re just going to follow the blood trail. See Grant’s route for ourselves. Catch you later.”

The two detectives followed the blood trail, such as it was to the corner of Western Avenue and Oak Street. There was nothing conclusive to say whether Grant had come from Oak Street and then turned onto his own road or had walked from lower down on the Avenue or had crossed from Elm Street on the opposite sidewalk.

As they walked back towards Grant’s house and Starsky’s car, they deliberated whether to go back to the office and read the canvass reports first or go and have a quick look at the house Mrs Brown had been concerned about. Other than her feelings of unease they had no reason to look at the house and certainly no reason to re-canvass.

Lutz and his partner were just being relieved of duty and nodded to the pair as they walked past them.

“Why don’t we park a little way down Oak Street and watch it for a while?” Starsky suggested.

Hutch nodded. “Yeah, maybe just for an hour then we’d better go read the canvass reports and get the official report from the M.E. and see where we go from there. We’ll need to get started on a dive into his life, work and friends tomorrow morning.”

“Not too early though. I doubt we’ll get home much before midnight tonight.”

The two of them hopped in Starsky’s car and drove it slowly round on to Oak Street. They spotted the house that Mrs Brown had described. They could see metal fencing with a spiky top to it which would discourage anyone from wanting to enter. At present, the metal entry gate hung open with a chain hanging loosely around the locking mechanism. There was a dirty dark blue van parked on the left-hand side of the building and a wooden gate on the right-hand side blocking the way in to the backyard. Starsky drove on by the property and parked discreetly a few hundred yards down the street. Dusk was just starting to fall and people were heading back from work and kids were heading home in time for dinner.

They sat for a while in silence until Starsky commented: “Nice lady, that Mrs Brown.”

“Yeah, very nice,” Hutch agreed.

“Do you think she was right about what she said?”

Hutch gave his partner a quizzical look. “About what? Us being on the side of angels?”

Starsky snorted. “That goes without saying, partner…No, I meant about good usually triumphing over evil.”

Hutch sighed. “I’d like to say yes but in my experience it doesn’t always work out like that.”

“You know what popped into my head when she said that?”

Starsky’s thoughts were often quite random and Hutch couldn’t always see the connection between them so he didn’t even try to guess. “No idea. What?”

“That sci-fi show with what’s his name…Spock.”

“I think I know the one you mean. What about it?”

Starsky fixed Hutch with his sapphire eyes. They looked about as serious as Hutch ever saw them. “I just got this memory of one line from the Doc on the show. He said something like ‘evil usually triumphs unless good is very, very careful.’”

Hutch gave his partner a long look. “Good job, we’re always very, very careful then, partner.”

Starsky nodded. “Yep, good job.”

*****

Fifty minutes later, the two detectives saw a flurry of activity as five youngsters suddenly came hurrying out of the side gate leading to the back yard. They were dragging bicycles, which they quickly mounted, and toting over the shoulder satchels. The blond and brunet exchanged looks, eyebrows raised.

“I think that counts as suspicious activity, don’t you, Hutch?”

“Yeah.”

Starsky peered after the rapidly disappearing bicycles. “Think those kids are running numbers or drugs?”

“My money’s on drugs,” Hutch said.

“I’ll take the bet on numbers then. Loser buys dinner.”

“You’re on.”

“How d’ya want to play it?” Starsky asked. “We calling it in or taking a look around first?”

Just then, the front door opened and an unkempt, bearded man walked down the steps and across the garden. He started walking up the road towards the downtown area, presumably going out for the evening.

“Think we should we stop him?”

Starsky shook his head. “Nah, I think we should try to get a look inside first and then get a warrant issued. If he’s gone out, hopefully the house is empty.”

“Are we both going to sneak around the back of the property? Or is one of us going to knock on the front door, while the other one has a look?”

Starsky got a coin out of his pocket. “Better be on the safe side, I suppose. D’ya want heads or tails for which one of us does the knocking?”

“Heads,” Hutch said.

Starsky flipped a dime and caught it smoothly then revealed it was showing Roosevelt’s head.

“T’rrific. I get to sneak round the back.”

Starsky reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the two radios and handed one to Hutch.

“I’ll give you a minute’s head start,” Hutch said as Starsky opened the car door. “Remember be very, very careful.”

“You too, partner.”

Starsky slipped out of the car and crossed the street, walking nonchalantly as if he was just out for an evening stroll. He walked along the sidewalk at a steady pace until he reached the open gate then he quickly jogged across the concrete driveway and lawn and sidled his way down the right hand side of the property and through the gate into the back yard.

After a minute, Hutch got out of the car and crossed the street. Purposefully, he walked up to the front door and knocked. Cover story on the tip of his tongue, he waited for a little while but, when there was no answer, he tried the door, which unsurprisingly was locked. He peered in through the front windows. Everything appeared normal, a bit run down but nothing out of the ordinary as far as the living room was concerned. He decided to take a look at the van and then see if he could spot a way to join Starsky round the back.

The van was dusty but the tyres were relatively new and it looked as if they had been used recently. He tried the handles on the side and rear doors but they were all locked. With his hand, he rubbed the dust on the dirty window to try to make a patch to see through. Through a smeary gap, he peered in and could see the interior was empty. He pulled his radio out of his pocket and tried it.

“Hey Starsky, you got anything?”

When there was no reply, he tried again but only heard static in reply. Surely, Starsky couldn’t have got himself in trouble in the four minutes they’d been out of contact? Drawing his gun as a precaution, Hutch slipped around the back of the building, keeping under the line of sight of the windows. The only thing that appeared amiss was a pair of cellar doors which were opened wide. Cautiously, Hutch got closer to the opening and peered in. Below him, he saw the still form of his partner, lying on the hard concrete floor. Hutch looked around suspiciously: expecting to hear a noise that would indicate someone had attacked his friend but the house was still silent. Hutch wondered briefly if his partner had actually tripped and fallen down into the cellar. As he reached for the wooden step ladder to climb down and check on his injured friend, his last coherent thought was that he was supposed to be the klutz of the partnership, not Starsky!

Then he felt something hard hit his head and the world went black.

 

Chapter Two

As he headed towards wakefulness, Starsky became aware his head was pounding and that his throat felt dry and scratchy. He tried to remember if he’d been drinking enough to cause a hangover of this proportion but, as he opened his eyes, he realised that he was lying on the floor in the back of a van and his hands were bound in front of him. Suddenly, it all came flooding back to him and he remembered peering into the cellar of the property that he and Hutch had been investigating and then receiving a severe blow to the head.

Hutch! What about Hutch?

He looked around the van anxiously and saw his partner was lying unconscious behind him. He wriggled to try to get himself round so he could face the blond. Then he heard van doors slamming and the engine start up. He couldn’t see the driver or passenger as there was an opaque panel between the back and front of the van. The vehicle began to rock and shake as if it was being driven at some speed. Starsky got thrown to the side and his shoulder bounced painfully off the interior of the van. Once he’d managed to brace his legs to stop himself being thrown around like a rag doll, he wriggled round further and called his partner’s name. While he was relieved not to be alone in this situation, he was very sorry that Hutch had been caught too. He nudged the blond’s shoulder with his hands.

“Hutch, buddy. You gonna wake up for me?”

There was a groan and gradually blue eyes came into focus. Hutch tried to sit up.

“What happened?”

“Think you got slugged with the same sledge hammer as me,” Starsky said. “How’s your head feeling?”

“Terrible. Yours?”

“Pretty bad.”

Hutch suddenly remembered seeing Starsky lying on the cellar floor. “Hey, did you get hit and shoved into that cellar or did you fall in? I saw you lying there before someone put my lights out.”

“No, I didn’t fall in,” Starsky said indignantly. “That’s more your style. I got hit from behind. If I ended up on the cellar floor, I either fell in ‘cause I was unconscious or someone dragged me down there.”

“You feeling okay? You got any bumps other than your head?”

“Nah, the rest of me feels okay…I think.” Starsky looked down at his hands and said crossly, “Ya know, that really burns me up!”

“What does?”

“Being cuffed in my own cuffs! It’s the ultimate whatchamacallit.”

Hutch smiled at his outraged partner. “Yep, it certainly is! You realise we’ll get ribbed about that tonight…”

The two of them looked at each other, both silently adding: “…if we make it back.”

“At least they’ve made the mistake of cuffing our hands in front or we’d be really screwed,” Starsky said, trying to look on the bright side.

Hutch wasn’t feeling much like his glass was half full. “Yeah, great. I’m sure it’ll be easy to get out of this mess.”

“Hey, come on, partner, we’ve been in worse situations.”

“Name one.”

Starsky ignored his morose friend and started patting at his jacket, trying to feel through to the inner pocket with his hands.

“Dammit, my key’s definitely gone. Hey, Hutch, do you think they found your key to your cuffs? Where’d you hide it today?”

Hutch’s doleful expression lifted a bit as he looked down at his feet. “I put it in my boot.”

Starsky was just about to suggest pulling off Hutch’s boot to take a look when the van came to an abrupt halt causing both of them to crunch against the side of the vehicle.

“Hold that thought, buddy, hopefully we’ll get a chance to find out if it’s still there in a while.”

The van doors were flung open and the bearded man they’d seen earlier was standing there holding a gun aimed at them. He moved it slowly, covering one of them and then the other. His companion was a thick set, well-muscled man with a shaved head. He wasn’t holding a weapon but that didn’t make him any less intimidating. He reminded Starsky of a wrestler he’d watched on the tube last Saturday.

The bearded man spoke: “Get up. Follow me and don’t try anything or I’ll shoot you right now.”

Hutch used his legs to wriggle to the edge of the van and then lowered his legs down to get himself into a standing position. Starsky followed him, doing the same thing. Once they were both standing, the bearded man indicated they should walk in front of him towards a doorway ahead. Starsky and Hutch took the chance to make an assessment of where they were. The building they were about to enter was one of a set of run-down old warehouses that looked as if they’d been unoccupied for some time.

Once inside, the ‘wrestler’ took up the lead and the bearded man followed on behind, keeping his gun trained on their backs and making sure that he was too far away for the two detectives to try anything. Plastic sheeting was stretched across the middle of the warehouse and, when the wrestler pushed his way through, they saw rows of tables covered with scales, plastic bags and what was probably heroin. Starsky counted eight men and women in their twenties who were wearing white masks and weighing out the white powder and putting it into smaller bags.

Starsky turned to Hutch and observed: “Drat! You were right. That means dinner’s on me.”

“Great, there’s a lovely little Armenian restaurant I’ve discovered. You can buy me dinner there this weekend.”

“Armenian, huh? What do they eat? Hope it’s not rabbit food.”

“Shut up both of you,” the bearded man ordered. “You’re in a heap of trouble. ‘Cause of you, we got to move out tonight and set up in a new location. For some reason, the boss wants you alive…for now…but if you annoy me too much, I’ll kill you anyway.” He turned to the wrestler, saying, “Max, let’s throw ‘em in the basement.”

Beardy, as Starsky had decided mentally to call him, waved his gun towards both of them to get them moving in the general direction of the back of the warehouse. The wrestler unlocked a padlocked door and turned on a light inside, revealing a rickety looking wooden staircase that led down to a small storage area in the basement of the building. The floor was piled with defunct equipment, broken chairs, old wooden doors and metal frames that looked like they’d come off some tables. There was so much clutter, broken planks and rubbish Hutch wondered why anyone had bothered to store it. Why hadn’t they just chucked it away?

“You. Down there,” Max said to Hutch and gave him a shove.

Hutch fell against the top of the staircase banister, which creaked ominously but fortunately didn’t give way. He started walking down the staircase slowly and carefully. As he put his weight on each step, the whole frame felt as if it was gradually moving away from the wall. He struggled to keep upright with his hands bound and had to pause a few times to let the wobbly staircase settle back against the wall before he moved on.

“Now you,” Max grunted at Starsky when Hutch was about two-thirds of the way down.

The brunet took a step forward gingerly. Without warning, Beardy suddenly lifted his leg and kicked Starsky hard in his back. Starsky went flying forward, down three steps and landing heavily against the banister. His extra weight made some of the rusted braces, which were the only things holding the whole frame against the wall, snap and the staircase began to disintegrate. Hutch was thrown sideways, the banister gave way and he landed a few feet down, with his breath momentarily knocked out of him.

Starsky tried to grab at anything he could to stop his fall but the steps gave way underneath him and he fell a good ten feet onto the splintered staircase and rusted metal supports. He gave a yell of agony as one of the slices of metal waiting below was jammed into his right thigh by the weight of his landing.

Max looked at the bearded man next to him and growled: “What you do that for? Thought the boss wanted them alive?”

Beardy shrugged. “He said alive. He didn’t say what condition they had to be in.”

“But how are we supposed to get ‘em back up here if he wants to see them.”

“I’ll persuade him, it’s better if we just get rid of them.”

Max shook his head as the two of them retreated from the doorway and shut the door behind them. Hutch managed to drag a lungful of air into his chest and got himself moving. Tripping over broken wood and rubbish, he made his way to his injured partner. He did a quick assessment of his pale friend and swore when he saw the state of his leg.

“What happened to being very, very careful today?” Hutch asked.

Starsky looked at him and said, “Not my fault, buddy. Beardy pushed me, I swear!”

“Beardy, huh?” Hutch laughed. “I think you’re just trying to get out of buying me dinner.”

“Yeah, you got me, that was my plan…How bad does it look, Hutch?”

“I’ve seen worse,” Hutch said as he wriggled himself into a sitting position by Starsky’s side. “I’ll get my boot off then I can get us both un-cuffed and start doing something about your leg.”

“Sure, good plan.”

Hutch struggled for a few moments but eventually managed to get his boot off and the key fell out, slipping between shards of metal and wood onto the concrete floor hidden below. Fortunately, he could still just see it and managed to squeeze his fingers through a small gap to retrieve it. Quickly, he undid his and Starsky’s cuffs and shoved both pairs and the key safely away in his jacket pocket.  As soon as his hands were free, Starsky automatically reached for the piece of metal sticking out of his leg and looked as if he was about to pull it out.

“Starsky! Don’t do that!” Hutch yelled at him.

Starsky jumped and let go of his hold as if the metal was red-hot. “What’s the matter with ya? Ya nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Hutch placed a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Sorry, pal, but that’s gotta stay in. You pull that out and it could do all sorts of damage. At the moment, it’s not bleeding too badly but move it and…”

“Oh.”

“Stay still and I’ll see what I can do about stabilising your leg.”

Hutch took his jacket off and his shirt. Then he dragged his undershirt over his head and started ripping it into strips. He looked at the material he’d got and decided it wasn’t enough for his purposes so started ripping the arms off his plaid shirt. When he was satisfied with the amount of cloth, he placed a wedge of material either side of the offending metal shard and then used the longer strips he had to tie around Starsky’s upper leg in order to hold the donut shape in place. Starsky watched: amazed once again at the way his partner had gone into doctor mode and knew exactly what to do. The two years medical training Hutch had done had saved more than one life on the job in the last three years.

“You don’t ever regret it, do you, Hutch?” he asked, his thoughts spilling out of his head.

“What buddy?” Hutch was still running strips around Starsky’s leg and tying them with tight knots.

“The time you spent doing medical training.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes,” Hutch admitted as he tied the last makeshift bandage. “Sometimes, I’m glad I did the two years.”

Hutch slipped his torn shirt back over his head to keep out the chill of the basement. Now that Starsky’s leg was stabilised, Hutch thought it was okay to move the brunet into a more comfortable position. Gently, he helped him sit up and pulled him to lean against him. He could feel Starsky’s skin was a little clammy and a fine sheen of perspiration covered his face. He grabbed his jacket and laid it over his friend’s chest, trying to warm him up. He was worried that Starsky might be going into shock.

Starsky puffed out a breath with the effort of moving and the pain it had caused him. When he had his breathing back under control, he continued his earlier line of thought: “Like now, Hutch, you’re glad now, right? ‘Cause you knew what to do with my leg.”

“Yeah, buddy. Right now I’m really glad.”

Hutch pulled Starsky closer, trying to share his body heat with his partner. Keeping as still as he could, he tried to survey the space they were in and whether there was any chance of making their way out. On the opposite wall just above head height, he could see two small windows that let in a little light. He wasn’t sure that they were big enough for a man to crawl though. Now the staircase was gone there didn’t seem to be any way to get up to the next floor.

Hutch glanced at Starsky, listening to his breathing, checking his skin colour. He really needed to get his partner out of the damp, cold cellar and to where he could be treated medically before he started to go into shock. He thought about getting up and looking around to see what he could do to improve their situation but he could feel that Starsky was at last warming up and knew it was important to give him a few more minutes to stabilise before he started asking his partner to move again.

Continuing to assess the situation they were in, Hutch could hear occasional footsteps on the ceiling above their heads. He reckoned it would take the grunts another couple of hours to package up the heroin. Then presumably, they would start packing up everything in the warehouse and at that point ‘Beardy’ would probably come back and shoot them. It wasn’t a very happy outlook, knowing that time was running out in more ways than one.

Starsky sat quietly for a few minutes, conserving his energy. Then he said, “I’ve been thinking.”

“What about?”

Starsky spoke softly: “Everything we done in the past, even the things we done wrong, they become part of us…Ya know what I mean?”

Hutch nodded: “Yeah, I think so.”

“And you never know when those things are gonna make the difference when we need them to. Like your medical training…you shouldn’t ever think it was a waste of time, Hutch.”

Hutch nodded again. “I think you’re right, partner. When did you get so smart?”

“Told ya often enough, I’m the brains in this outfit.”

Hutch laughed. “Oh yeah, I forgot. So ‘Brains’, what’s our plan to get out of here?”

Starsky was silent.

“Well?”

“I’m thinking. Give me a minute.”

“Sure…Maybe I’ll think too, if it won’t cramp your style. Not sure how long we’ll have before those turkeys come back,” Hutch observed.

“Okay, how about we both think for a minute and then we’ll share our ideas.”

“Sounds good to me, partner.”

*****

The officer on dispatch looked at her record sheet and realised that Zebra Three hadn’t logged their meal break. Maybe they hadn’t taken it yet but it was getting towards eight o’clock in the evening and Starsky’s need for regular meal breaks was legendary. Officer Holly Spokes checked the afternoon log thoroughly and realised that no-one had had contact with Detectives Starsky or Hutchinson since three o’clock that afternoon, which was unusual even on a day with little or nothing to report. She reached for the mike and pressed the call button.

“Zebra Three, Zebra Three, this is dispatch. Come in, please.”

Holly waited thirty seconds then tried again. Still no answer. After six failed attempts over the next ten minutes, she called up to the homicide squad room and spoke to Detective Johnson who was in catching up on some overdue paperwork. He hadn’t heard from the pair or seen them at all that day. Although he did mention that he thought they ought to have been in that evening as there was a pile of canvass reports waiting for them from the homicide they’d been assigned that afternoon.

Unable to ignore the uneasy feeling in her stomach, Holly called in a relief dispatcher and headed up to the homicide squad to talk to Johnson face to face. When she walked through the squad room door, he looked up at her enquiringly.

“Hi Bill. I think we ought to notify Captain Dobey that Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson have been out of touch for five hours.”

“Is it really that long? They were at a crime scene this afternoon. Uniforms will have seen them there.”

“That’s true. How do we track their movements down from there?”

Johnson said, “I’ll call down to the front desk and see if the Sarge knows who was on this afternoon.”

Holly waited anxiously while Johnson made his call and ascertained that Lutz and Dinkman had been on duty when the two detectives had arrived at the scene. They were just about to head off duty but Johnson asked if they could call into homicide before they went.

When the two uniformed cops came in, Johnson said, “Thanks for coming. We’re just trying to work out the last time someone saw Detectives Starsky and Hutch. They haven’t spoken to dispatch for several hours.”

Lutz exchanged looks with his partner. “Well, they were still at the crime scene when we were relieved around 1600 hours.”

His partner nodded in agreement and added, “They said something about following the deceased’s blood trail up the road…and didn’t they say something about a house?”

Lutz remembered: “Yeah, there was this elderly neighbour of the victim. She’d mentioned something about a house nearby and Starsky seemed interested in checking it out.”

Johnson and Holly looked worried at that and Lutz said, “The neighbour was Mrs Brown. She’ll be mentioned in the initial canvass report but Starsky and Hutch had a longer conversation with her which won’t be recorded anywhere yet. Want me to ask the Sarge to get an officer to go over to Mrs Brown’s and ask her what she told them?”

Johnson nodded. “Yes, do that and I’ll give Captain Dobey a call. Poor Cap only left an hour ago but he’ll be home by now and he’ll want to know what’s going on.”

The two uniformed cops headed out to speak to their superior officer while Johnson picked up the phone and placed the call to his Captain. Holly could hear his side of the conversation.

“Sir, sorry to disturb you but we may have a problem. No-one’s heard from Starsky or Hutchinson for several hours…Officer Spokes brought it to my attention…Apparently they haven’t called dispatch in five hours…Yes, sir, I know Starsky won’t have missed a meal break unless he had to…Well, they were last seen at the Grant crime scene. I’ve got uniforms going to double-check with a neighbour on some information she gave them about a local house…Yes, sir…Yes, sir…Okay, see you in a few minutes.”

Johnson put the phone down and turned to Holly. “He’s on his way and he wants an APB out on them straight away.”

“I’ll tell dispatch,” she said, “I’ll be down there if you need me.”

Johnson nodded as she left and strode over to Hutch’s desk to grab the pile of reports that uniformed cops had left there earlier. He looked through each canvass report including Mrs Brown’s but couldn’t find anything helpful in them. He was just finishing scanning the last one when Dobey came through the door.

Johnson could plainly see the worry on the big man’s face. He knew the Captain, for all his bluster and gruffness, always worried about all his officers but he particularly worried about these two detectives, who seemed to get into more than their fair share of trouble.

Dobey was out of breath from the dash he’d made from the parking garage to the squad room. He wiped a handkerchief over his sweaty face and snapped: “Get me caught up.”

Johnson didn’t waste any time. “Yes, sir.”

*****

When Starsky’s skin lost some of its pallor and was warm to the touch, Hutch decided it was safe to move him so that he could put some effort into looking for a way out for them. He got Starsky up on his feet and moved him as far as possible away from the stairwell and the door that led to the cellar. Starsky did his best to hop where Hutch wanted him to and kept his lips pressed together so that he wouldn’t give any indication of how much it hurt just to move.

Hutch wasn’t fooled in the slightest and was glad when he was able to lower his partner gently into a sitting position against the far wall. He patted his friend’s shoulder in sympathy and then went in search of some objects he’d had his eye on.

With only a little difficulty, he dragged a wooden door he’d seen littering the floor of the cellar, over to where Starsky was propped up against a wall. Then he went back for a second one. Starsky watched him with a bemused expression on his face. Hutch explained that he was trying to give them both some protection. If their two captors came back, he didn’t want to be sitting targets.

He leaned the first door and then the other one diagonally from floor to wall to construct a make-shift hideout for Starsky. Then Hutch went back for a third door and overlapped it across the middle of the others. If the bearded man decided to try to shoot at them, he’d have a double thickness of door to try and get through as long as they were able to shelter near the middle.

Starsky grumbled about not being able to help. “I’m not totally useless, Hutch. I can’t just sit here, nice as this little shelter is that you’ve built me. What do you want me to do? What can I do to help?”

Hutch popped his head round the edge of the door. “Hey, buddy, I never said you were useless. Just don’t want you to do too much and start that leg bleeding.”

“Hmm.”

“Want you mended as quickly as possible, partner. I need you up and around by the weekend so you can take me for my winner’s dinner.”

“Winner’s dinner! How poetic!” Starsky had to smile at that. “All right, I’ll be good and sit still. What are you going to do?”

Just then there were the sounds of heavy items being dragged across the floor above them and more and more rapidly moving footsteps.

“I’ll do a quick recon around the whole basement then I’m going to join you, buddy, just in case your friend, Beardy, starts taking pot shots at us.”

“Don’t be long. I’ll get the kettle on for ya.”

Hutch grinned at his partner then headed off to do his circuit of the room. He was in the far corner of the basement when he noticed a delivery hatch up on the wall above him. He looked around and found a broken table, two planks of wood and a semi-solid shelving unit which he proceeded to drag into the corner of the room. The shelving unit was heavy and he was grunting and puffing by the time he’d managed to drag it where he wanted.

“How’s it going, buddy?” Starsky’s voice sounded a long way away.

“It’s going okay. I’m building a little stairway up to a hatch I’ve found. It’s locked but if I can break the lock we might be able to get out of here.”

“T’rrific.”

Hutch grabbed a thin metal pole and began to clamber up the ramshackle steps he’d made. The he proceeded to ram the metal into the middle of the chain and padlock securing the hatch. He was hoping it would be rusty and ready to break apart like so much in the old warehouse. After a few seconds, he was rewarded by the metal chain snapping in two with screeching noise.

“Yes!”

As he turned to tell Starsky the good news, everything went quiet upstairs and then he heard purposeful footsteps heading towards the basement door. Starsky had heard the footsteps too.

“Hey, partner, think you better get back over here!”

Hutch scrambled down the rickety pile of broken furniture and dashed as quickly as he could across the basement, almost throwing himself behind the makeshift shelter. He was careful not to jostle Starsky’s leg as he made sure his body was out of sight.

The door opened and the voice of the bearded man floated down to them.

“So the little piggies have managed to hide themselves away. I’ll admit I’m disappointed I can’t shoot you but it doesn’t matter. The boss had a better idea. In fact, you’re going to wish I’d shot you.”

To underline his words, the bearded man took one very well aimed shot at where the two detectives were hiding, causing splinters of wood to shower down form the door he’d hit. Hutch was more than glad that he’d thought to make their shelter.

“So long piggies. Don’t bother squealing. No-one’s going to find you.”

The bearded man left without closing the door and Starsky and Hutch exchanged confused glances. Then they heard a rumbling sound.  Something loud, large and heavy was making its way across the floor above their heads. It sounded as if it was ripping out sections of the building as it went. The sound reverberated above their heads and little bits of dust began to drop from the ceiling.

After a few minutes of a constant grinding noise, the sound gradually died away and there was silence. Hutch breathed a sigh of relief and went to stand up but Starsky grabbed his wrist.

“Hold it a minute, partner, I got a bad feeling.”

As if the building had heard Starsky speak, it began to groan and creak as if it was a wounded animal. Then a roaring, thundering sound could be heard coming from high above their heads and there was the sound of tumbling debris as the building slowly collapsed in on itself. The weight of the falling joists and pillars was too much for the ceiling and it imploded, sending tonnes of mortar, wood, metal and glass showering down into the basement. Hutch turned his body to cover Starsky’s, trying to make sure that dust and debris got nowhere near his partner’s wounded leg.

When the dust finally settled, the two of them looked out of either side of the doors that had saved their lives and swore at exactly the same time.

 

Chapter Three

Captain Dobey was one worried and unhappy man. He’d arrived at the house at Oak Street to the sight of Starsky’s car abandoned, where its owner had left it, and no sign of either missing detective at the house to which Mrs Brown had sent them. From all accounts, the poor lady was very upset when she heard that the two men were unaccounted for. Dobey made a mental note to go and visit her later whatever the outcome of the search.

Shoulders slumped; he stood in the front yard staring at the tyre tracks leading away from the property. He might as well have been standing alone on the moon, for all he was surrounded by scurrying officers and flashing lights of squad cars; he was totally lost in his thoughts as he waited for his team in the house or the uniformed officers canvassing the neighbours to come back to him with something he could use to track down his two missing men. That they hadn’t been found dead or injured at the property gave him a momentary ray of hope until the thought occurred to him that the perps probably thought it simpler to get rid of their unwanted guests elsewhere. He sent a quick prayer heavenwards for the two detectives to be alive and safe. They were fast becoming as precious to him as sons and the thought of losing them was unthinkable.

An officer came hurrying up with information: “The neighbour opposite has given us a description of two men he thinks are usually seen coming in and out and he says the van is a 1970 Dodge, A100 series, dark blue with New Jersey plates. He doesn’t know the registration.”

“It’s a start,” Dobey growled. He rapidly headed towards one of the squad cars and grabbed the radio, asking dispatch to send a message to all cars to be on the lookout for the van and giving its details. He spoke to the officer who was hovering behind him: “Is the man willing to go to the station and look over the mug books.”

“Yes.”

“Good, see to it he gets there and let me know as soon as you have something. We can’t afford to waste time.” Dobey was grateful when the young officer nodded and jogged away, keen to do his bit to help recover his brother officers safe and sound.

Dobey muttered to himself: “Where are you boys?”

*****

Present time

“Hey, Starsk?”

“Mmm.”

“You still with me, buddy?”

“Yep.”

Hutch paused in his mission to get back to the hatch he’d found earlier and called back to his partner: “Good. Keep talking to me, Starsky.”

Starsky’s voice came floating through the collapsed sea of wooden floor struts and basement ceiling: “Whatcha wanna talk ‘bout, pal?”

“Anything you like, Starsk. Just keep talking to me.” Hutch returned to moving lumps of debris aside. He’d made it half way across the basement and was looking for big enough gaps to wriggle through so he could get to the corner of the room and see if he could still climb up to the hatch and either make it out or yell for help. From the corner of his eye, he saw a small sliver of light that looked hopeful and started to creep his way between broken joists towards it.

“Whatcha doing, Hutch?” Starsky’s voice was starting to sound a bit reedy and Hutch hadn’t been too happy with his friend’s colour when he’d been forced to leave him to try to find a way out of the mess they were in.

“I’m trying to find a way out, buddy. I need to get you to a hospital.”

Hutch heard his friend coughing before he groaned a reply: “I hate hospitals, Hutch.”

“I know you do, but we gotta get that leg of yours looked at.”

“Hutch?” Starsky’s voice sounded even shakier.

“Yeah, Starsk?”

“Think anyone’s looking for us yet?”

Hutch closed his eyes for a second and wiped a hand over his face. “I sure hope so.”

There was silence for a few seconds. When it threatened to stretch into minutes, Hutch called through the gap behind him: “Starsk?…Starsk? Say something, partner. You still with me?”

The silence got louder and Hutch wanted desperately to crawl back towards his injured partner, but he knew it was highly unlikely that anyone would find them and it was imperative that he get out if he could and go to get help. He started crawling forward, damping down the fear clutching at his heart.

Periodically, he called to his partner and eventually was rewarded by a coughing sound and Starsky’s voice replying weakly: “Still here, buddy…sorry must have dozed off.”

Hutch accepted the lie. “Starsk, I’ve nearly made it to the hatch and I think I can crawl out but…”

“But you can’t drag me all that way with my leg like it is.”

“No.” Hutch didn’t know what else to say. He closed his eyes for a moment.

Starsky was quick to reassure his friend. “That’s okay, pal, go for help. I’ll sit tight.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone, Starsk, but I’m afraid this is the only way we’re gonna make it out of this,” Hutch said, fighting to keep his voice even.

“Hey, you’ll get help and you’ll be back,” Starsky spoke with confidence, trying to give his partner permission to go without him.

“Yes, as fast as I can.”

Starsky nodded even though Hutch couldn’t see him. “Get out of here, buddy. Find help. Just don’t take too long, okay. I’m bored and hungry,” he joked.

Hutch responded in kind: “That’s a bad combination, Starsk! I’ll be as quick as I can. See you in a few.”

“See ya, Hutch.”

Hutch headed up the pile of debris and wriggled his way out of the hatch onto the dusty ground outside. It was pitch black now and he wished he had a torch. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness around him and began to make out the shapes of the surrounding buildings and the pile of rubble behind him. Carefully, he made his way around the edge of the demolished building and over towards the metal fence surrounding the property. Fortunately, the drug dealers hadn’t bothered to close the gate on their way off the property so Hutch was able to walk straight out and begin the long jog down a concrete road towards what he hoped was civilisation.

*****

Captain Dobey was back at the precinct, pacing up and down the squad room waiting: waiting for Mr Wilson from Oak Street to identify either one of the perps; and waiting for one of the cars patrolling Bay City to call in with a sighting of the van.

When a call came through to the squad room, Johnson picked up the phone and practically yelped, “Hutchinson, is that you?”

Everyone in the squad room stopped what they were doing and breathed a sigh of relief. Dobey was at Johnson’s side in a second, indicating he wanted the phone. Johnson passed it over.

“Hutchinson? Where are you?…Are you both all right?”

Dobey listened to the answer. “You sit tight, son. We’re ready to mobilise help. I’ll have Fire Rescue and an ambulance on its way to you in seconds…No, wait there, I’ll come and collect you and take you back to Starsky…Hutchinson, stop arguing with me! I can drive there quicker than you can walk back…Right, good, sit tight, we’ll be right there.”

Dobey grabbed his jacket and slipped it on, giving orders as he did so. “Johnson, get Fire and Rescue and an Ambulance to the old warehouses in the Baker Street District. Starsky and Hutchinson got dumped there and now the warehouse has collapsed. I don’t know the full story but Hutchinson managed to get out to call for help but Starsky’s still underneath the building and he’s injured. Foreign object through the thigh.”

“Yes, sir.” Johnson was already picking up the phone to call the emergency services.

Dobey pushed through the doors. “Now, I’m going to collect Hutchinson from the all-night café on Broad Street before he takes it into his head to walk back the three miles to the warehouses. Get two squad cars out there as well to secure the area.”

The last order was yelled over his shoulder as he hurried down the corridor towards the exit. He knew his order would be carried out immediately: he had a good squad working for him.

As he drove to Broad Street, Harold Dobey remembered to say a quick thank you for his answered prayer. He screeched to a halt outside the diner and Hutch came running out of the building and jumped in beside him. He was covered from head to foot with dust and looked like hell.

Dobey got the car moving again before he asked, “You all right, son?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just w-worried about Starsky.”

Hutch hardly ever stuttered. That he was doing so now meant he was under a great deal of stress.

“How was he when you left him?”

“I-I think he might have been going into shock. I-I’d stabilised his leg as best I could but he’s lost some blood and he’s b-been sitting around with a big slice of m-metal in his leg for hours.”

Dobey patted Hutch’s arm. “I’m sure you did a good job, son. Lucky you know what to do in that situation. I know Starsky was in good hands and the Fire Service will get him out soon. How did you get from the house on Oak Street to the warehouse? What happened?”

Hutch filled him in on as much of the missing pieces as he could and Dobey put a call through to the narcotics squad to make them aware of what the Dodge van might be carrying and get them involved in the search for it. By now they had arrived at the edge of the abandoned warehouses on Baker Street and Dobey could see flashing lights of the squad cars he’d ordered and the first Fire truck just arriving ahead of them.

When they climbed out of the car, he was horrified to see the state of the collapsed building. It was amazing that Hutchinson had made it out at all. He quickly took Hutch over to talk to the fire chief to give him some idea of where Starsky was in relation to the demolished structure in front of them.

The Fire Chief was pleased to hear that Starsky was somewhat protected by the doors that Hutch had set up over him. It would mean that he would have some protection as they tried to move some of the debris above him to try to get close enough to lift him out. He quickly organised his team and the lifting equipment they had with them and started the painfully slow process of rescuing Starsky.

Hutch was desperate to find out if his friend was still conscious. He tried several attempts to get round to the back of the building, planning to shout through the hatch he’d escaped through to make contact with his friend. Every time he tried a fire officer would effectively block his route but it didn’t stop Hutch from trying. After a seventh thwarted attempt, the Fire Chief finally assigned one of his officers to take him round the building and let him try to contact Starsky with a megaphone so that the detective would at least know what they were trying to do and that he needed to stay put inside his make-shift shelter.

Hutch called Starsky’s name a few times before he heard an answering shout. He couldn’t hear what Starsky said as he was too far away but it was a good sign that his friend was still conscious and hopefully meant that he hadn’t deteriorated too badly in Hutch’s absence. Hutch went back to join the vigil with his captain, feeling reassured.

After nearly two hours, there was enough debris cleared to see the top of the wooden doors leaning against the basement wall. The Fire Chief ordered his team to carefully push the doors backwards away from the wall and Starsky’s usually black curly head appeared. His hair and skin was grey with dust but he smiled weakly up at his rescuers as they lowered two firemen down beside him with a board so they could support his leg while they lifted him out of the basement.

Hutch was at his side as soon as the paramedics took over care of the injured man. He took hold of Starsky’s dusty hand as he asked, “How you doing, buddy? Sorry it took so long for me to get help.”

Starsky squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Doesn’t matter how long it took, Hutch. I knew you’d come back, that was the main thing.”

Hutch squeezed his hand in return and held onto it as the paramedics lifted the patient and carried him over to the ambulance. Dobey followed along behind.

Starsky spotted him and called to him: “Hey, Cap, do you know what happened to my car?”

“Don’t worry about that Starsky. I got an officer to drive it back to the precinct. I’m very glad you’re all right, son.”

“Thanks, Cap. Me too.”

Starsky grinned at his captain as Hutch climbed into the ambulance beside him and the paramedics closed the door, blocking Dobey from view. Dobey shook his head at the irrepressible Starsky spirit and a soft smile settled on his lips as he went to give his men instructions before following Hutchinson and Starsky to the hospital.

*****

The following day, Captain Dobey arrived at the hospital for afternoon visiting hours. With Holly Spokes in tow, he made his way up to Starsky’s room and pushed open the door. He was unsurprised to see Hutch already there but relieved to see that the man had clearly been home at some point and showered and changed. When the captain had left the night before, Hutch had been sat by his friend’s bed in the recovery room wearing a pair of borrowed scrubs, which the medical staff had insisted he wore so that he didn’t drop bits of mortar and dust from his filthy clothes all over the recovery room.

Starsky greeted his visitors enthusiastically: “Hey Cap, Holly, thanks for coming to see me.”

Holly moved forward and patted Starsky’s hand. “Glad to see you’re all right. Both of you.”

“How are you doing today, Starsky?” Dobey asked.

“Okay. The doctor said I can probably go home tomorrow as long as I keep off my leg as much as possible for the next few days. Hutch and Huggy are going to take it in turns to check in on me.”

“That’s good news, son.”

“Any news on the van and the suspects?” Hutch asked.

“Yes, the van was spotted at 0300 this morning by State Troopers and they apprehended a Max Henry and Frank Hobson. They’ve been handed over to the narco squad and there’s a bust going down right now to take down their supplier. Seems Max Henry was more than willing to come clean about what was going on. He’d been hired as protection for Hobson but he wasn’t happy about being involved in taking police officers prisoner. He said he tried to stop Hobson from burying you two.”

Starsky nodded. “He probably did…he didn’t seem that happy when Hobson shoved us down in the basement.”

“Anyway, the arresting officers found your guns in the van. IA have got them and they’ll be returned to you shortly. They also found these,” Dobey said.

He pulled two leather cases out of his suit pocket and handing them over to his two detectives. They grinned as they took their badges back.

“I went to see Mrs Brown this morning to let her know that you are both all right,” Dobey informed them. “The poor lady was quite beside herself thinking she’d sent you into danger.”

Hutch said, “I hope you reassured her it wasn’t her fault. Anyway, we came out okay for the most part. I was wondering how soon you knew we were missing in order to get help mobilised so quickly?”

“That was down to Officer Spokes,” Dobey said and indicated to her she should explain.

She blushed a little as she told them: “I realised that you guys hadn’t logged in for a meal break and that was unusual.” She continued in a teasing tone, “I mean, as everybody knows, Starsky needs to eat regularly or he gets cranky. When I realised he’d missed a meal, I tried to contact you, couldn’t get hold of you so I raised the alert.”

“Thank you, Holly,” Hutch said and held out his hand to shake hands with her.

He glanced over at Starsky, who was looking very smug.

“What’s the matter with you, Gordo?”

“Just thinking, Blintz, next time you moan about me being hungry all the time, just remember my stomach helped raise the alarm.”

Hutch rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think it’s sad that everyone knows you get cranky when you’re hungry? What kind of a reputation is that to have? And anyway I’m the one who jogged three miles in the dark to ring in and let them know where you were.”

As Starsky protested Hutch’s assessment of the situation, Dobey and Holly listened to the argument escalate and smiled at each other. It was good to have both of the detectives back safe and sound and acting like their usual selves.

---

Chapter End Notes: Author’s Note: ‘Lijah quotes from Psalm 37 and “I’ve found that evil usually triumphs unless good is very very careful,” is spoken by McCoy to Spock in the Star Trek episode: ‘The Omega Glory.’