An incident from Hutch’s past comes back to haunt him when they work on a case involving child murders. Starsky learns something shocking about Hutch’s past as Hutch is forced to relive it.
Originally published in Venice Place Times III in 2002 and published by Keri T.
The car slowed as it approached the shoulder, the wheels crunching and spewing gravel as it coasted to a stop behind the patrol car. It was morning, but still dark enough for headlights, which added an eerie glow to the carnival-like mix of rotating beams from the cruisers. Hutch killed the motor, snapped off the lights and watched as another set of headlights came to a stop behind the LTD. He stepped onto the pavement and gave the Ford’s testy door a shove with his foot. Really gotta fix that one of these days.
“Hutch?” He turned at the sound of the familiar voice. “What’s up?” Starsky croaked, still not fully awake from the early phone call that brought an end to a peaceful night’s sleep.
“Dunno, Dobey just said to get over here. He didn’t offer any explanations.” Hutch scrubbed at his eyes. “Not that I was in any shape to ask for any.” For once the temperature was actually cool enough for sleep. “He did say somethin’ about it being Simmons and Babcock’s case, but they’re on a stake-out over on Wilshire.”
Starsky nodded as he followed Hutch around to the trunk of the battered Ford and watched as his partner wrestled with a giant bag of potting soil. “What are you lookin’ for?”
“Flashlight.” Hutch smiled, holding it up. He tested the batteries then started down the steep incline to the crime scene. “What’s the time, Starsk?” he called over his shoulder.
“Two hours before my alarm goes off, that’s what time. When the hell are you gonna get yourself a decent watch?” Starsky whined, regretting the snap reply instantly. It wasn’t Hutch’s fault that his nice, cozy bed was at home and he was here, tromping through four inches of dirt and brush bordering on jungle. “It’s four-twenty,” he muttered, hoping the unspoken apology was understood—though he thought Hutch didn’t seem to notice anything irritating about the remark. Together they stepped around an out-cropping of rock then skidded down the last few feet to the base of the ravine.
Five men stood in the clearing, heads bowed, flashlights aimed at the blanket-covered form. Starsky recognized the three officers standing with Dobey. Don Parks, a rookie just six months out of the Academy; his partner, Barry Nichols; and Tom Landry, the CSU photographer. The other man he and Hutch knew all too well-Crime Scene Investigator Calvin Garrett. The slouched shoulders were unmistakable, the result of hundreds of scenes just like this one—each never quite preparing the tormented man for the next. It was a good thing Garrett was retiring in a few weeks, Starsky doubted he had much left to give to the job.
“Starsky? Hutchinson?” It was Dobey.
“Yeah. What ya got?” Starsky asked grimly. The smell was obvious.
“Are you two familiar with the case Simmons and Babcock have been working on?”
The partners exchanged a quick glance. “The missing kid?” Hutch asked cautiously.
Dobey nodded toward an elderly man standing by the fence at the edge of the clearing. “The old man found the body on his way back from his shift at Durant’s Food Warehouse. He’s the night watchman. He takes a shortcut through the ravine to his place over on Fenton.”
They watched as the older man sat down and leaned wearily against the chain-link fence bordering Durant’s property. Garrett brushed past Starsky and knelt next to the body. He gave them all a quick look before the blanket was pulled away.
“It’s probably the Echlin kid,” Dobey confirmed. “We’ll have the family in for a positive…but we’re almost certain it’s him.”
Starsky’s eyes were drawn away from the boy’s body as a flashbulb intruded from somewhere just behind him. It illuminated Hutch’s face for a split second. Paler than usual, Starsky thought. It was always harder when the victim was a kid, but it certainly wasn’t the first time they had a case like this. He studied the features across from him-more drawn than Starsky thought he’d ever seen them. It was then that he realized the blond was scarcely breathing. Suddenly, Hutch’s eyes caught Starsky watching him. The flashbulb blinked again from a different angle this time, and Hutch turned away, starting back up the embankment.
Dobey was talking but only Garrett seemed to be listening, and Hutch’s sudden departure unnerved him. “Hutchinson…we’re not finished here…” Starsky’s hand on Dobey’s arm and the worried expression that followed were all the captain needed to understand. “Make it fast, Starsky.” Signaling for Starsky to go after his partner.
Halfway up the hill he spotted Hutch, leaning against the hood of the Torino, arms outstretched, head down. He approached slowly, not sure if he should intrude. But he knew he would; he’d never been able to stand back and not help when Hutch was hurting. As he got closer Hutch looked up, noticeably upset. Starsky reached out, placing his hand reassuringly on Hutch’s shoulder. “What’s up?”
“I’m okay.” The reply came too fast. He was trying to shrug it off.
“Yeah? Then what happened to all the blood in your face?” Starsky said, trying to ease the tension.
Hutch tried for a smile but failed miserably. “Maybe I need some sun.” Even in the dim beginnings of early morning light, the pallor was evident.
“Hutch?” he asked again, refusing to be put off. “Really. I’m okay. It just shook me, that’s all.”
Starsky nodded, trying to gauge Hutch’s mood. “Boy, you got that right. Nightmare time, huh?” He could still see the tiny form, the boy’s fair hair matted against the skull by blood and dirt.
Hutch no longer seemed to care if his discomfort showed. “Hutch…what is it?”
The blond slowly shook his head. “I don’t know, Starsk. I just…just couldn’t breathe.” He stopped, capturing Starsky’s eyes. “I freaked and I don’t know why.”
Starsky’s hand slid down Hutch’s arm to cover the cold fingers. “Hey, you just woke up. You didn’t expect it to be a kid. It was a shock, that’s all. Just ’cause we see this sorta stuff every day, doesn’t make us immune. Just forget it, okay? We’ll take the details and read the rest in Nichol’s report in the morning. Simmons and Babcock can handle it from there.” Hutch nodded meekly, wanting to accept Starsky’s explanation, but still unsure of the reason for his reaction.
“You ready for a second go ’round?”
Hutch sighed, “Yeah.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a long, slow puff before turning to follow Starsky back down into the ravine.
In spite of Starsky’s pep talk Hutch felt out-of-place-like an uninvited guest-but thankfully the body had been covered. His mind wasn’t on the case, and he found himself blocking out Dobey’s information. He wasn’t even going through the motions. There were questions he should be asking, details he should be checking, but he was letting his thoughts wander and letting his partner handle it. Of course, Starsky didn’t seem to mind and be took on the duties without question, as if it were a given that he protect his partner from the ugly details. Hutch had done the same for Starsky on occasion, but it made him all the more uneasy—embarrassed that he was unable to explain his conduct to Dobey, to Starsky or even himself.
Simmons and Babcock made a brief appearance at the station shortly after 7:00 and took over the reports. They’d had the case from the beginning. It would be up to them to notify the family and arrange for the identification. No ransom had been demanded over the week the boy was missing, and no leads had materialized either. Starsky was more than happy to hand over their portion of the report. The way this thing was affecting Hutch was more than good enough reason for them to cut and run.
He watched Hutch pour another cup of coffee, his fourth, noticing the slight tremor as he replaced the carafe. They’d been working long hours on a case Narcotics handed them. No doubt Hutch was just over tired. He looked pretty beat when they’d logged out the night before. Starsky wondered vaguely, just what the average allotted sleep time was for a Homicide cop.
~*~*~*~
With an impatient flick of his wrist, Starsky glanced at his watch then squinted toward the still closed door across the street. “Hurry up in there, buddy.” The mid-afternoon sun was blast-furnace hot and poured through the windshield, assaulting his senses and making him acutely aware of the dull ache that was taking up permanent residence in his head. The unexpected call from Dobey in the early hours left him too keyed up to go back to sleep, and he’d spent the remainder of the morning thinking about the case and how it was affecting Hutch. It was taking a lot more time than either he or Hutch ever expected; in fact, they’d been working double shifts just to keep the paperwork under control. Days were spent undercover and making the usual rounds. It was a crazy set-up that left very little-if any—time for a social life, not to mention sleep.
He fidgeted, trying to find a more comfortable position, and gave the horn a tap in hopes of speeding up his dawdling partner. Probably slept in. Hutch was usually waiting on the curb by the time the Torino rounded the corner onto Ocean. Starsky sighed, his mind automatically returning to the assignment. It should’ve been fairly simple to get one of them set up in Montgomery’s organization, or so they’d thought at the beginning. With any other man it probably would have been a cinch, but Alex Montgomery was a shrewd businessman and, unlike most of their more recent busts, well educated, wealthy, and disturbingly suspicious of anyone trying to work his way up the ranks. Montgomery hadn’t amassed a fortune in the drug trade by trusting people, and Hutch’s attempt to enter his operation, even through the back door, was no exception.
He sounded the horn again, camouflaging the loud rumble from his stomach. Thinking back over the past few weeks, everything was running as planned, if not a little too slow for his liking. Hutch made several contacts with Mike Alverez, one of Montgomery’s top pushers, gaining the man’s trust and building his cover. It had taken over three weeks of fast talking on Hutch’s part, but Alverez was finally beginning to accept Hutch as a down-and-out college student, trying to scrape together the kind of cash needed to support a growing drug habit on nothing more than a G. I. loan. Hutch had become what he un-affectionately called an “apprentice pusher,” and followed Alverez around the USC campus like a puppy on a short leash. It was becoming more and more his least favorite pastime. The Chicano doled out enough drugs in one afternoon to desperate, over-worked med students to put most pharmacies to shame, and knowing nothing could be done about the creep until Montgomery was under arrest only added to Hutch’s discomfort.
Starsky swallowed uneasily. He could see Hutch tear himself apart with guilt after each undercover job, believing he personally was contributing to some poor college student’s early demise. That alone was enough to put Hutch in the deep depression he seemed to be in, but Starsky somehow knew the case wasn’t the cause of it all. Maybe once the Montgomery case was all sewn up, Hutch would be able to work through whatever it was that was dragging him down. For now, all they could do was wait for the right moment. All they needed was an “in” for Hutch, either from Alverez, or if that failed, from Salverda. One way or the other, Montgomery would end up behind bars and, hopefully, for Hutch’s sake, it would be soon. They had to be careful though; no matter how anxious they were to pull it off, it would be nothing more than stupid to rush into this one ill-prepared. Hutch’s cover had to be tight, or a lot more than the collar could be in jeopardy.
The passenger door swung open and Hutch slid in beside him, looking, Starsky thought, more rested than he had any right to be. He slouched into the bucket seat and shut the door, winding down the window as he tried to find a more comfortable place for his legs. “Good morning!”
Starsky snorted at him in disbelief and shifted the car into gear. “What’s so good ’bout it?” Then with a questioning look, “You takin’ those vitamins again?”
“Aw, come on, Starsk, it’s not that bad,” crooned Hutch. He ran a hand through the mess of shower-damp hair and gave Starsky one of his you-gotta-look-on-the-positive-side looks.
“Yeah? Well, ya couldn’t a proved it by me last night.” They drove another block in complete silence.
Hutch’s smile had disappeared immediately. “I said I was okay, Starsky,” he answered finally keeping his attention on the traffic. It was obvious whatever bad spooked him the night before was still bothering him in the light of day.
Starsky made the turn onto Washington and gave Hutch another questioning look. Now that the smile was gone, Starsky realized the “everything’s-wonderful” impression Hutch was trying to give, was a sham. “You also said we’d talk about it in the mornin’, and in case you haven’t noticed, it’s afternoon already.”
Hutch turned to look out the window at the traffic along Washington Boulevard, trying to wipe away the scene that suddenly appeared in his thoughts. “Starsk… I…”
There is something bothering him. “Hey, no more excuses. Is it the case? If it is…we’ll go to Dobey… ” Starsky knew all too well what the sight of drugs did to his partner, and for him to be handing them over to those kids… well, he knew what that cost Hutch.
“It’s not the case, Starsk, it’s.. I don’t know wh… damn… watch the guy in the Corvette, he just cut off that pick-up!”
Starsky braked gently and gave his partner a quick glance before pulling up behind the Corvette. The traffic settled to a more even flow and the Corvette disappeared harmlessly around the corner at the next intersection. Hutch was stalling. There was no way Starsky wanted to spend another day like yesterday, so he dropped it. At least Hutch had admitted there was a problem, which was a step in the right direction. His stomach chose that moment to begin its grumbling again, and he threw his arm across it in an attempt to silence it.
Hutch smiled, the subject was effectively and obviously changed. “What’s up? You’ve usually mashed half a load of trash by now?”
“Rough night,” Starsky offered. “Speaking of which… what the hell were you doin’ up there? Re-decoratin’?” They had this daily ritual thing down to a fine art. It was unlike Hutch to keep him waiting. On the other hand, Starsky realized he quite often had to be dragged out of bed when Hutch was the one driving.
Hutch’s smile faded abruptly again, as he tried to hide the guilty look. “Nope… rough night.” He exchanged a knowing look with his partner. Rough nights were an unwanted side benefit of the job.
Starsky frowned, understanding, covering yet another growl. “Yeah… I think my body-clock’s all screwed up.”
“Oh… ? Just the clock, huh?”
Starsky glared at him through half-closed eyes. “Talk about things bein’ screwed up… when’s that snitch of yours gonna earn his money? I’m gettin’ really tired of these double shifts.”
Hutch’s smile faded slowly. “Yeah, well, it can’t be much longer. If he doesn’t come up with something soon,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “we’ll pay our good friend Rico a little visit and rattle his cage.”
“You sure Salverda’s still in town? Haven’t heard from him since you passed him that last wad’a bills.”
Hutch sat up straighter in the seat, trying to uncramp his legs. “He’s still around… he’s… he’s just bein’ careful.”
“Careful?! Hutch, he’s been stringin’ us along for almost three weeks now. Are you sure you can trust him? If Alverez doesn’t give us somethin’ soon, that little twerp Salverda’s our last chance.” Having the case hanging on the likes of a junkie like Salverda wasn’t exactly Starsky’s idea of a cozy situation.
Hutch shrugged and wiped a hand across his face. “He’ll come through, Starsk. He’s a professional.”
Starsky nearly choked on a half-stifled laugh. “Did you hear what you just said?” He laughed again at the incredulous statement. “Buddy, you’re further gone than I thought.”
Hutch crinkled his nose and laughed to himself. Professional snitch…cute, Hutchinson…real cute. But when it came right down to it, that was probably the most accurate job description anyone could ever give Rico Salverda.
~*~*~*~
The squad room was already buzzing when they finally trudged in after fighting the heavier than usual traffic from Venice. All they wanted was a file and a cup of coffee before they headed out to USC. Starsky gave the tar-black liquid a doubtful look and reached bravely for his cup. “D’ya think this stuff is drinkable?” He ran a finger around the inside of his cup to shake out the dust from the night before and picked up the carafe. He gave it a little shake and noticed the grounds swimming around in the bottom. No wonder his stomach was rebelling. Somebody in this office needs to learn how to make decent coffee.
Hutch was wrestling with a stack of uncooperative files at Starsky’s desk and glanced at the pot. “Why don’t you just wait ’til we get the file from Minnie? We’ll grab some fresh stuff at Mugg’s. I had my stomach pumped once; it wasn’t a pleasant experience.”
Starsky timidly took a sip from the cup. “Yech… forget this, it’d peel the rust off that rollin’ scrap heap of yours.” He looked around the sparsely occupied room. “Who’s the assassin that made this stuff, anyway?” No one owned up to it. Dobey’s door burst open at that moment, and Starsky nonchalantly pushed the full cup back onto the filing cabinet, hiding it behind a stack of files.
“Little late this morning, aren’t we boys?” growled Dobey.
Starsky gaped at the clock, then at Hutch. It was only twenty minutes past starting time; they’d been a lot later than twenty minutes before and had less reaction from him. Dobey looked as if he were about to implode, his stance was anything but relaxed. Something was up.
“Um… uh… just leavin’,” sputtered Hutch, holding up a small stack of yellow message forms and a pen.
“Not yet you’re not,” said Dobey. “In here,” motioning them into his office with all the finesse of a death-row guard. Dobey sank into his chair behind the desk. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to the elbow and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He’d been in the office for hours now, and it didn’t look like they’d been pleasant ones.
“If it’s about those reports, Cap… Hutch and me, we’re gonna get at ’em just as soon as we… ”
“Shut up, Starsky.”
Hutch exchanged a quick puzzled look with his partner. The captain was upset about something all right, but it had nothing to do with late reports or late detectives. The heat of the last few weeks was taking its toll on everyone. It seemed the hotter it got, the more crimes were committed. The whole squad was being run off their feet, and Dobey was apparently no exception.
“How’s the Montgomery case coming?” Dobey demanded, impatiently tapping his pen on the desk blotter.
Starsky cleared his throat and sat down in the chair next to Hutch’s, looking at him as he did so. “It’s comin’.”
There was an impatient slap on the desk then Dobey grunted. “That’s what you told me last week!”
Starsky shrugged helplessly. “You know snitches, Cap. The flakier they are the slower they get.” It was a poor excuse for an answer, Starsky knew it, but that was the way it was with almost ninety percent of their tips. Hurry up and wait. He watched as Dobey fussed with the file on his desk and waited for the inevitable tongue-lashing.
“The chief wants some action on this thing. He wants it wrapped up. That kid last night… his family has connections. They want some answers as to why their son was kidnapped from a supposedly ‘safe’ city playground and murdered. They also want to know why the LAPD hasn’t done anything about it yet.”
Hutch didn’t need to be reminded. He’d been pretty unsuccessful at forgetting the early morning call. “He’s been positively ID’ d then?” Hutch asked.
“The Echlins were down this morning… it’s him.” It came as no shock; they were pretty positive at the scene; the confirmation was merely a formality.
Starsky slid his eyes to his partner. Hutch was taking a sudden interest in the floor.
“Simmons and Babcock have handed in the missing person report. It’s officially a homicide now. Calvin’s getting back to me later this afternoon with his report.”
“Simmons and Babcock handlin’ the homicide, too?” Starsky asked, as he continued to watch his partner.
“Yes, but they’re still working the Mackie/Stout case. I want you two to do some of the legwork… IF YOU’D EVER GET THIS MONTGOMERY CASE WRAPPED UP!”
“Easy, Cap,” Starsky said, attempting to calm the older man. Dobey was definitely being pressured from higher up. “We’ll do what we can ta help ’em out… but the Montgomery case is this close… we can’t just drop it now.” Even though dropping it had been exactly what was on his mind just moments before.
Dobey took a deep breath, and then another. He shook his head and held it in his hands as if it were aching from the stress of the whole situation. “The chief’s on my case. The Echlins are putting on pressure, and now it appears this might not be the first homicide we can tie to this guy.”
Hutch’s bead shot up. “Are you saying we have another one?” Hutch asked, no longer fascinated with the floor, but interested in the file Dobey had in front of him on the desk.
“Rampart bad a similar kidnapping/homicide a year ago…same MO, a kid about eight kidnapped mere yards from his home. His body was found in a wooded area not far from there. And this,” Dobey opened the file he’d been thumbing and pulled out an 8xl0 crime scene photograph, which Starsky quickly intercepted from Hutch. “Simmons and Babcock, just now, managed to tie this homicide in with one from a couple of months ago. Never clued in before this, since the boy was from out of county. If it is the same guy, he has a definite preference. All of these kids were blond, blue-eyed and about the same age.”
Hutch was standing now, looking at the photograph over Starsky’s shoulder. Starsky heard the noticeable swallow and felt him lean against the chair. Hutch cleared his throat. “Does the guy have a calendar, Captain?”
“If he does, he’s moving the dates closer together. Simmons and Babcock are checking with other divisions and cities for missing kids and descriptions. It’s quite possible he’s been a lot busier than we’d ever want to know,” Dobey said, throwing the pen into the cup on his desk.
Starsky could feel the tremor where Hutch’s hip rested against the chair. “What do you want us to do, Cap?”
“What I want you to do, Starsky, is get this Montgomery case wrapped up ASAP before it hits the media that we have a serial killer in the city.”
Starsky stood and placed the photograph back on top of the file folder. “We’ll get right on it, Cap.” He turned, grabbed Hutch by the arm, and pushed him toward the squad room. He could tell by the look on Hutch’s face that it was best to hustle his partner out now.
“I want that report on my desk tonight, Starsky… not tomorrow night, do you hear?” Dobey bellowed.
Over his shoulder, on the way out the door, Starsky called, “Yeah, Cap… consider it done.” He quickly shut the door and raced to catch up with Hutch who was already in the hall. “Hey, Hutch, wait up!” Minnie thrust the file they’d come for into his hand, as he squeezed through the swinging doors to follow Hutch. “Thanks, Minnie.. I owe, ya.” It was an impatient statement. His eyes never left his partner.
Minnie pushed her sliding glasses up into place and sighed dramatically. “Sure ya do, Starsky… but will I ever collect?” But Starsky never heard her; he was already gone.
~*~*~*~
They never did make it to Mugg’s for coffee. Hutch was quiet on the drive to the meet and Starsky didn’t feel it was the right time to push. One thing at a time, and right now Montgomery was that one thing. Hutch didn’t need the aggravation. Not right now. They pulled into a seldom-used section of Hazard Park to fit Hutch with the wire and wait.
Starsky watched in silence as Hutch precisely and thoroughly shredded a Styrofoam cup he’d found on the floor. It was driving Starsky crazy. We gotta talk.
“What time is it, Starsk?”
Starsky sighed and stretched his cramped body. The talk would have to wait. “Two-twenty… we’d better get ya ready.” He reached under the seat and pulled out the brown paper bag containing the battery pack and the wired microphone. They leaned against the car, discreetly scanning the secluded area for onlookers, making sure it was clear before rigging the wire. Starsky hastily looked into Hutch’s eyes, trying to judge his frame of mind. These trips around the campus with Alverez were a lot tougher on Hutch than he’d thought they would be. Over the past few weeks, he’d seen fleeting glimpses of pain on his partner’s face and heard the apprehension in his voice every time he went under. “Well, maybe Alverez will come through with something good today and we won’t have to go dig up Rico.”
Hutch sighed. “Yeah,” pulling his lanky frame up straighter and lifting up the front of his shirt. “You got the tape?”
Starsky cringed. “Yup, right here.”
Hutch rubbed casually at the red marks on his stomach where the tape had irritated his skin. “I’m getting’ damn tired of this tape, too. My skin’s startin’ to feel like raw meat.”
“Well, you know the alternative.”
“What…have you followin’ me all afternoon? Starsk, no offense, but you’re not exactly the Ivy League type. They’d spot you in a New York minute.” Hutch smiled at Starsky’s forged, hurt feelings. “Go ahead, then… but try not to use so much tape this time.”
Not the Ivy League type, huh? Starsky grinned devilishly, pulled off a long strip of white surgical tape and fastened the wire securely to Hutch’s abdomen. While Hutch pinned the small transmitter to the inside of his t-shirt, Starsky added another larger piece of tape to secure the battery pack to the small of his partner’s back. The bulk of the battery pack was then tucked snugly under his belt.
“Okay… give us a test, Kemosabe.” Starsky bounded around the Torino and dropped in behind the steering wheel. “Okay, go for it.”
Hutch tucked in his t-shirt and walked a short distance away before testing the sound. “TESTING… TESTING… ” Starsky gave him the high sign and he wandered back to the car.
“Okay?” Starsky asked, joining Hutch at the far side of the Torino.
Hutch nodded. “Sure. Let’s get on with it.” Suddenly unsure of himself, he asked, “Starsk?” “Yeah?”
“I really hate this assignment,” he whispered.
“I know, buddy… but today’s the day… l can feel it, “Starsky said, rubbing sympathetically up Hutch’s arm. “Not much longer.”
“I sure hope so.” Hutch unbuckled the Magnum and wrapped the harness around it as he handed it to his partner. “I sure hope so.”
“Okay, then? You want me to drop you closer to the campus?”
Hutch pulled his gaudy Hawaiian shirt from the back seat and slipped it on. It was almost too hot for even that one more layer of clothing, but it would help disguise the bulge of the battery pack. “Nah, I think I’d rather walk… no sense messing up now. Besides it’ll give me less time to screw up their lives.”
“Hey!” Starsky grabbed Hutch’s arm as he turned to leave. “It’s not your fault those kids are messin’ up their lives… if Alverez wasn’t sellin’ ’em the stuff, someone else would… it’s up to us to make sure the guy supplyin’ ’em with the junk is nailed… right?”
Hutch took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his jitters. “Right,” he nodded, “… you’re right,” smiling as he absorbed some of Starsky’s confidence. “Where you gonna be?”
“Thought I’d park my ass outside the maintenance building; it’s close enough to see what’s goin’ down, but if anybody asks, I’m just thinkin’ about applyin’ for a job.”
Hutch laughed weakly. “Hey, if we don’t get this thing wrapped up soon, we both might be applying for jobs there…for real.”
Starsky snorted. “Well, it’d be a lot less stressful.”
Hutch squeezed Starsky’s arm. “Meet you back here later.” Then took off at a slow walk toward the park exit.
~*~*~*~
Starsky pulled the car behind a cluster of dogwood bushes in the rear of the maintenance building, at an angle that would allow him full view of the campus but would still provide him protection from curious eyes. He leaned forward in the seat and adjusted the squelch on the radio. There was a spurt of static then Hutch’s voice filled the car. “Here comes Mr. Wonderful now.”
Starsky sat up, scanning the immediate vicinity until he spotted Alverez swaggering toward Hutch. Show time. Again the radio hissed. “Hey, Hunter, how’s it shakin’?”
“Mike.” Hutch barely managed to contain his revulsion.
“Okay… let’s get goin’… we’ve got sales to make and cash to rake. The boss wants you handlin’ this route by yourself by next week, so get your ass in gear. I ain’t got time for any of your damn questions today. Just keep quiet and don’t rattle me.” Alverez was slightly more surly than usual and Hutch wondered if it had anything to do with his little promotion. They’d discussed his possible new job description the day before, and Alverez seemed less than enthused with the prospect. He made no secret of the fact that Hutch was a thorn in his side, even if he was Montgomery’s new golden boy.
“Just when do I meet the boss?” Hutch asked, trying to keep the information flowing.
“You don’t. Unless the boss wants you to, so shut up about it.”
“… just thought I should… ”
“Look, man… you’re not paid to think. You want this job or not? ‘Cause if you don’t, I can find lots of eager replacements… maybe even some that can do what they’re told.” Hutch could see Alverez was his usual belligerent self. It was obvious the man was unimpressed by the help. Alverez glanced back toward the administration building. “There’s our first customer now, so shut up and listen, you’ve got a business to learn.”
Hutch had seen the young male student before. Alverez had been selling the kid “uppers” off and on, for the past couple of weeks that he knew of, but probably longer. The guy looked nervous and stressed out, no doubt ready for another buy.
Alverez stretched out his hand, as if the student were a long-lost buddy. “Hey, Doc… how’s it goin’?”
The young man backed slightly away from Alverez’ grasp, not wanting to make contact, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. “Alverez, I told you before, I’m not a doctor, yet…and I won’t be if I don’t start doin’ better. That last batch of pills you sold me were crap… what are you doin’ sellin’ me placebos?”
Hutch could tell by the look of the kid that that wasn’t the case. He had a constant tremor and his eyes darted between Hutch and Alverez like he expected the two of them to attack him, and in Alverez’ case that was probably true.
Alverez turned to Hutch and smiled, then glanced around the immediate area to make sure no one was within earshot. “Are you sayin’ you think I’ve been sellin’ you bad stuff?” Suddenly the tone changed to a chilling quality, and Alverez grabbed the front of the student’s sweat stained t-shirt. “Is that what you’re sayin’, Doc?”
There was an edge to Alverez’ voice that sent a chill down Hutch’s spine, and he tensed wondering where this scene might go. But the kid backed down, instantly realizing the vulnerable position he’d put himself in.
“No way, man… the pills just aren’t workin’ the way they used to, that’s all… I can’t concentrate… I got this big exam comin’ up and I can’t afford to mess up another class.” The kid’s hands were clutching at Alverez’ wrists where they twisted the t-shirt tightly at the boy’s neck.
Alverez seemed to take some satisfaction in that. “Well, Doc, I do have something that might give you a little edge.” He smiled and released the handful of shirt that was close to choking off the kid’s air.
Hutch’s stomach was climbing into his throat; he knew what Alverez was up to.
There was silence for a minute and the only sounds Starsky could hear over the radio were Hutch’s quick breaths and the sound of a pill bottle being rattled.
“What will it be, Doc? Reds? Yellows?” Alverez was playing the moment out, toying with the kid, and he was enjoying it.
The kid looked around nervously, then back to Alverez. “I was thinkin’ about that offer you made a couple’a weeks back. I’ve got a biology mid-term comin’ up… and the reds just don’t cut it anymore.”
Hutch went cold.
“Oh, well, Doc… I’ve got just what you want, but it’ll cost ya.”
Hutch forced himself to appear calm. It’ll cost you more than you think kid. Say no. Please, say no.
“I’ve got the money, Alverez… just hand the stuff over, will ya? If I don’t pass this exam, I might as well kiss it all good-bye anyway. My folks will cut me off for sure.”
Starsky watched as Alverez dug into the backpack he’d been carrying. Hutch’s breathing was loud, and Starsky could tell it was all his partner could do to keep it together. Be cool, Hutch.. Just a bit longer. Be cool.
“Is this what we’re talking about, Doc?” Alverez held out a small box. From inside his pocket, he pulled a small plastic bag and dramatically placed it on top of the box. The two men quickly exchanged looks and the kid nodded.
“Same price we discussed before?” the kid asked, hesitantly.
Alverez smiled at him, then Hutch. “Yeah, same price, Doc, and I’ll throw in another bag free of charge, since you’re such a good customer.”
Hutch wanted to grab Alverez by the throat and wipe the vile grin from his face.
“I save this for all my best customers, Doc…” Alverez uttered. “It’ll even give you a chance to brush upon your injection technique, how ’bout that…a side benefit!” The grin was pure evil, and Hutch clenched his jaw to keep from saying something to the kid or decking Alverez.
The kid took the box after the money was exchanged and tucked it slyly into his waistband. Hutch wanted to scream. The stupidity! How could he knowingly put himself through that? Hutch was clenching and unclenching his hands to control the anger.
“Thanks, Doc… you should get a lot better mileage outta that stuff.” Alverez grinned. “Good luck on your exam.”
The kid nodded nervously and turned away. “Thanks,” he mumbled, as he headed back toward the student residence. Hutch wanted to go after him. Stop him before he did what they all knew he was about to do.
“See ya later, Doc,” Alverez called after him. He kid didn’t answer.
~*~*~*~
The next hour was spent much the same way, making sales and trying to look inconspicuous to the wrong people. Just when Hutch was about to give up on the whole afternoon, a car coasted to a stop beside the student residence they’d been camped out at.
“That’s the boss. Shut up and mind your own business, Hunter. I’ll do the talkin’.” Hutch nodded, feeling a prickle of anticipation.
Starsky could hear Hutch’s breaths through the radio. This is it. Damn…this is it. Not much longer now, babe.
The heavily tinted window on the Lincoln slid down, and the older man in the front passenger seat motioned to them. “Alverez.”
Alverez was acting like the teacher’s pet. “Yes, sir, Mr. Montgomery.”
Bingo.
The older man nodded toward Hutch and motioned for him to step closer. “Is this the young man you’ve been telling me about, Mike?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Montgomery.”
“Hunter, isn’t it?” Montgomery asked, as he slid his dark glasses off. Hutch took a step closer to the car, extending his hand. “Yes, sir… ”
Hutch recognized the man from the pictures Wong and Jeffries, from Narco, had passed around at the preliminary meeting a month ago. Montgomery was a distinguished-looking man of about sixty, with salt-and-pepper gray hair. He was dressed to the teeth in the latest fashion, and Hutch could tell the man was aware of his appearance.
“Get in… Hunter. I’d like to talk to you about your new position.” Starsky stiffened. Hutch, don’t do it. You know the plan…stick to it.
But Montgomery was insisting. Hutch wanted this to come to a conclusion. Maybe speeding things up a bit would make that happen. He stepped closer, as Starsky watched from the maintenance parking lot. Hutch?
“Get in, Hunter.” The demand was more adamant, and Hutch wondered just what the man really had in mind.
Hutch knew this wasn’t part of the plan. He and Starsky both agreed that he’d stay in sight; it would be too hard to tail him in a vehicle. In spite of that, he couldn’t help thinking that this may be their only chance to get anything on the guy. While he was trying to decide if he should go for it or not, the decision was made. Alverez kicked him, hard, in the center of his back and shoved him viciously into the back seat, pinning him to the floor of the car with all the strength he had. The position and the pain prevented Hutch from escaping the hold.
“When Mr. Montgomery asks you to do something, Hunter, you do it… you hear?” hissed Alverez, close to Hutch’s ear. The black Lincoln immediately started moving out of the administration parking area. With Hutch inside.
Danm… Hutch this wasn’t the plan! Starsky turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the lot at high speed. It would take him a few minutes to drive to that part of the campus. He turned up the volume on the radio just in time to hear a thunderous roar of static and a groan of pain from Hutch. Shit.
Starsky drove frantically through the back parking lot of the campus toward the administration building, trying desperately to keep an eye on the luxury car whenever alleyways allowed. When he reached the main campus thoroughfare, the car was nowhere in sight. Damn! Knowing just how many black Lincolns there were in LA, he slammed bis fist against the steering wheel.
~*~*~*~
Hutch was struggling to get his breath, but Alverez still had him pinned to the floor of the car, and each intake for air wasn’t quite enough to fill his lungs. Finally, Montgomery ordered Alverez to get off him and Hutch slowly shifted further onto the rear seat. The center of his back was throbbing from the attack, but he gingerly leaned toward the side door so that Alverez wouldn’t spot the bulge the transmitter made at his belt line. He hoped the kick didn’t damage the thing, but if his back was anything to compare it to, he figured the pack was probably out of commission.
Man, Starsk…I think I’m in a little trouble here.
Hutch wanted badly to glance out the rear window to see if the tomato was back there, but he couldn’t chance it. He sucked in a lungful of air and finally managed to clear the pinpoint stars from his vision, but the excruciating pain in his back was still there.
It was obvious from the expression on Montgomery’s face that he was unimpressed with the way Alverez handled the situation. “I’m sorry for my employee’s rudeness, Mr. Hunter.” He gave Alverez a pointed look. “It was totally uncalled for.”
Hutch could tell Alverez was humiliated by the remark, but the Chicano did nothing more than stare out the window. He’d been effectively put in his place.
“I hope you weren’t injured, Mr. Hunter?”
Slowly, Hutch sat straighter in the seat, trying to manage the pain. Better move this thing along. “It’s Ken… ” he answered, through clenched teeth. Maybe if they were less formal, the information would be more forthcoming.
“Ken, it is then.” Montgomery smiled, and Hutch wondered how many other people had fallen into the trap he was setting. The friendly neighborhood supplier. Until you crossed him.
Hutch’s eyes moved to the rearview mirror, hoping to see the road behind them, but all he could see was the driver’s ugly face. He’d seen the driver before, when he’d first hooked up with Alverez. He’d thought then that there was something about the man that seemed vaguely familiar, but Hutch knew he’d never arrested him before. He would’ve remembered this one. The guy was a little on the swarthy side, mid to late fifties and pretty confident of his position. Hutch intended to take a look through the mug books when he got back to the station. That was, if he got back to the station. He glanced back to Montgomery, waiting for the conversation to continue.
“Mike’s been telling me you’ve become quite helpful to him… isn’t that right, Mike?”
Alverez shifted in the seat and pulled himself out of the sulk he’d been in. “Yes sir,” Alverez said, trying to get back in Montgomery’s good graces. “Ken’s been a real big help.”
Hutch sensed a touch of sarcasm in the statement and wondered just what their working relationship would be now that Alverez really hated him. His stomach was doing its best to make a nuisance of itself; it was all he could do to keep his mind on the conversation and off the possibility of further ticking these people off by tossing his last meal all over the back seat of the Lincoln. “Last meal” was a bad choice of words.
Montgomery motioned to his driver to turn down Mission Road, and Hutch realized now that they were heading out of the city. Once again, he wondered if Starsky had managed to follow. I hope you’re back there, buddy. He glanced carefully into the rearview mirror, but there was no way he could see the road behind them.
~*~*~*~
Just as Starsky pulled out of the main gates, he caught sight of the Lincoln a block ahead. He managed to keep the car in sight until they left the busy downtown area, but he slowed down once the traffic lightened. He couldn’t chance the driver spotting him by following too close. He could still hear the conversation through the radio, but the transmission was weak and staticky. He could tell by Hutch’s raspy speech that he’d been injured, but he couldn’t tell how badly. Things were taking a turn for the better, though. In spite of Hutch’s discomfort, he managed to shift the conversation back to the case. Starsky checked the recorder to make sure everything was working properly, then radioed the back-up vehicle that Narcotics bad supplied—to let them know Hutch seemed to have things under control.
Starsky still wasn’t convinced that this was a good idea, but he’d sit tight for the time being. He decided, at the first sign of trouble he was going in. Anything could happen in the length of time it would take to catch up to Montgomery’s car. They were getting some good stuff, though. Enough to implicate Montgomery in the drug trade, but they still needed a location for the warrant.
The radio hissed with static, and Starsky adjusted the squelch again so the transmission was less garbled.
“I’m pleased with your work, Hunter. I’d like you to take over at the campus for Mike.” Montgomery gestured toward the pouting man in the rear seat beside Hutch. “He’s needed elsewhere, right now.”
Hutch pulled himself up straighter in the seat, trying desperately to ease the overwhelming pain in his lower back. He was determined to make sure Alverez got no satisfaction from the attack. But in spite of his intentions the pinpoint lights still danced in front of his eyes, and he prayed that he wouldn’t pass out before he could get out. He mustered his strength and replied to Montgomery’s compliment and offer. “Thank you, sir.” The politeness nearly stuck in his throat. You do what ya gotta do, he remembered Starsky saying when one of his partner’s undercover gigs had gone sour. Okay, Starsk… you do what ya gotta do.
Montgomery motioned the driver to pull over and Hutch momentarily panicked, realizing they were now on a pretty desolate section of Monterey Road. A great place to dump a body, he thought uncomfortably. Hopefully, that was just his experience and imagination working overtime.
“Get out,” Montgomery said, putting his sunglasses back on, effectively ending further conversation.
Hutch laughed nervously. “Here?”
The driver turned around and met Hutch with a determined stare. “The boss said, out, Hunter.” Hutch examined the driver’s face, wondering if it would be the last one he’d see.
“I expect you on the campus at three tomorrow afternoon, Hunter… don’t be late. When you’re done there, I’ve got some work for you to do for me out at the ranch.”
Relief flooded Hutch. This wasn’t his last moment on earth… just one of the most uncomfortable ones. He attempted to open the side door but had to wait for the driver to unlock it before he could finally leave the confines of the car. As he shut the door, Montgomery yelled to Hutch, “Sorry we can’t take you back into the city, Hunter, but I have an appointment. Three tomorrow. We’ll discuss the rest then.”
Hutch stood for a few seconds, watching the Lincoln disappear further down Monterey. He figured it was possible for the car to make a U-turn and circle back, and he didn’t want to summon help if that were the case. He doubted the transmitter still worked, but he thought there was no harm in trying.
“Hey, Starsk… I’m along the side of Monterey Road… ’bout four miles out… along the open stretch… just before ya get to Arroyo Seco… Park.. J … ” he gasped, “I… think Montgomery’s headed toward Pasadena, but hold back for a few, just in case. I’ll start walkin’ out.” He prayed the battery pack hadn’t bit the dust, because he didn’t feel like walking all the way back to USC. The pain in his lower back was crippling, and every step he took made it worse. He was prepared to hit the ditch if Montgomery and his men came back; he wasn’t up to another confrontation.
It seemed like he’d been walking for miles, but he knew that wasn’t the case. The pain was increasing with every step, and he finally succumbed to the nausea just as Starsky pulled up.
He leaned heavily against the guardrail and waited until Starsky came to him. He wasn’t walking another foot.
“Dammit, Hutch… what happened? I been sweatin’ bullets!” Starsky took one look at Hutch and quickly helped him toward the car. “You okay?” he asked, now aware of just how badly Hutch was injured.
“I thought he busted the damn transmitter,” Hutch groaned. “Did you get anything?” He started to pull his shirt loose to get at the battery pack, but Starsky was already there.
“Yeah.. .I got it…loud ‘n clear… the creeps.” As Starsky pulled the shirt up and out of the way, he could see the reason for Hutch’s pain. “Oh, man, Hutch… what did they hit you with? Your back’s a mess.”
“Not they… Alverez. I don’t think he likes me, Starsk.”
Starsky was gently starting to peel the tape away. “No kiddin’. Damn… this is gonna hurt when I take the pack away. Hang on… it’s broken the skin.” Hutch yelped, and the tape and pack were tossed into the rear of the Torino. Starsky grabbed him just as his knees buckled and eased him into the car.
“Starsk… he sold that kid heroin.”
Starsky folded the long legs into the passenger seat and closed the door. “Yeah, I figured that’s what it was.”
“Maybe we can go back to the campus… find the kid… before he shoots up.” Hutch was grasping at straws.
Starsky had to look away from the pain filled eyes. “We can’t do that, babe… it’d blow the whole collar. You know we wouldn’t be able to hold him on anything more than possession, and he’d probably go straight to Alverez the minute he got out.”
Hutch nodded slowly, realizing Starsky was right. There was a lot riding on his cover, and he couldn’t let anything blow the whole set-up. But he felt so damn guilty. “Take me home, huh? … big day tomorrow.”
“Hutch, I think you should… ”
“Home, Starsky… no hospital.” That was the end of it. No hospital.
~*~*~*~
After Starsky dropped Hutch off at Venice Place, he headed back to the station. There was still the little matter of unfinished reports to be handed in, and he also wanted to leave the tape with Minnie so she could arrange a transcript for the file. He managed to find her just as she was about to leave and asked if she could find someone to type it up as soon as possible. They’d need the transcript to get the warrant. All that was lacking now was location, and things would be moving right along. Hopefully, Hutch would get that tomorrow. Stubborn fool, Starsky sighed, should’a been checked out. Alverez did a real number on his back.
Hutch’s back bad already started turning black and blue and the vivid red gash where the battery pack had bitten into the skin was raw and weeping. Should’a stayed and made sure it was cleaned up at least. Damn. What he and Hutch really needed were a few days off to regroup and get some rest. They were running on empty, and for cops, that wasn’t good. They’d already made a mistake today that could have been fatal.
The coffee in the machine looked just as disgusting as it did earlier in the day, so he decided to skip it and get straight to work. The reports wouldn’t take long. There weren’t even that many. It had just been a matter of finding the time.
Starsky decided he’d polish them off, then get home and try to catch up on some much-needed sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long one.
“How’s your back?” Starsky asked, struggling around a mouthful of dry meatloaf.
“Fine.” Hutch was aimlessly pushing the mediocre meal around his plate. “How’s your dinner?”
“Fine.”
“Hey.” Starsky poked his fork toward Hutch’s plate.
“What?”
“I’ll bet you were pretty darn good at that when you were a kid,” Starsky mumbled, motioning toward his partner’s plate again.
“What?” Hutch asked, puzzled.
“If ya push it around enough, ol’ Mom can never be quite sure if you actually ate any of it or not.” Hutch sheepishly sat the fork down. “Guess I’m just not very hungry.”
Starsky took in the overall appearance of his partner and decided as soon as Montgomery was booked and this Echlin case was under control, they were taking a vacation. Hutch’s choice. They needed to recharge.
“I phoned the station before I left home. Minnie’s got the transcript ready and Dobey’s arranging for the warrant. As soon as you get the location, we’re in business.”
Starsky pushed his empty plate aside and took a gulp of his Dr. Pepper. “Is Alverez gonna be on the campus this afternoon at all?”
“I hope not,” Hutch answered. “I don’t know how civil I could be. I can’t take much more of him, Starsk, he’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of a Buick.”
“Yeah,” Starsky laughed, “well I got a feelin’… ”
“Starsky, don’t say it. The last time you said that things just about went sour.” Hutch was growing impatient with the whole deal.
“Yeah, well as soon as you find out Montgomery’s place of business this thing is history and you and me are takin’ some time for ourselves.” Starsky waved to the waitress across the diner. “Can we have our check?”
“Starsk, Montgomery may not let me in on that little bit of information. We can’t even hope that this thing will end that easy. I mean, it’s obvious Alverez hates my guts, why would Montgomery trust me with information like that?”
“Hutch, I listened to that conversation yesterday, too. I got the distinct impression Montgomery isn’t all that thrilled with your buddy Mike’s attitude.” Starsky’s eyebrows rose to emphasize his point.
“Yeah, well it could use a little adjustment. Care to do the honors?” Hutch asked dryly. “We’ll see how things work out soon enough, I suppose,” said Hutch, taking a sip of his iced tea.
They sat for a few minutes while they waited for the check, and finally Hutch brought up what was on his mind.
“I’m not wearin’ the wire this time, Starsk.”
“The hell you are!”
“Starsk, it’d be a dead giveaway, my back’s still sore and any place else, if they pat me down they’ll find it.”
Starsky gave Hutch his “I knew it” look but admitted bis partner had a point. “Well, how d’ya wanna play it?”
“I guess you’re gonna have to hang close.”
Starsky nodded. The thought of Hutch going out there without a wire unnerved him. But the chance of Montgomery discovering the wire would be just as dangerous, if not more so.
“Okay, but we’ll have to have some sort of signal, in case you need a quick escape. I sure as hell won’t leave you out there otherwise.”
By the time they’d reached the Torino, they’d formulated a little plan to notify Starsky of any potential problems. Hutch would simply remove the crummy Hawaiian shirt be had on over his t-shirt, and Starsky would have the place swarming with troops. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be until Hutch got the information they needed.
The rest of the afternoon was boring as hell. Starsky had parked the Torino behind the student residence and was sprawled under a tree reading the book Hutch had supplied. Serpico…cute…as if I need more stress. In return, Hutch promised to stay within sight and keep his business dealings in the general area of the residence.
Starsky grinned, remind me, the next time we wanna quit, that you’re not a great salesman, babe…your heart’s just not in it. Starsky had to give bis partner credit for putting on a good show, though. He was convincing, without actually handing over an enormous amount of drugs.
It was 5:30 and there was still no sign of Montgomery’s car or Alverez. Maybe something came up. Maybe, being a lowly pusher, Hutch would be the last to know about a change in plans. Maybe the afternoon was an incredible waste of time.
~*~*~*~
By 6:30 the campus was slowing to a crawl, and Starsky decided to give the day up. He stood, casually brushed the grass off his jeans, and shoved the book he’d been skimming into his light windbreaker. Starsky threw his arms out at shoulder height and stretched dramatically—their sign to call it a day. They would meet at the car, then head back to the station to see Dobey before going home.
Hutch nodded as Starsky passed him on the way to the student residence. He’d hang around a few more minutes just so it didn’t look like they’d left together.
Damn, Hutch thought, why can’t anything just go easy? He started off toward the residence, down the path between the rows of bougainvillea vines that lined the two buildings. And then he heard the voice.
“Things are so much clearer in hindsight, aren’t they… Hutchinson?”
Alverez.
He’d stepped from the alcove to a fire exit just to the left of Hutch, and he wasn’t alone “I think you know my friend, Tony.”
It was Montgomery’s driver, Hearne, the one with the ugly face. Hutch didn’t know if it was the sheer size of the man, but shivers ran from head to toe at the sight of him, and he suddenly felt very worried.
Hutch turned slightly, trying to think of a way he could move closer to the corner of the building. He could see the Torino from where he stood, and if he moved slightly to his right, Starsky would be able to see him as well.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Alverez,” he bluffed. “The name’s Hunter.” With that, Hutch took a tentative step toward the corner of the building.
You‘re screwed, Hutchinson, he thought.
“Stay where you are,” Alverez growled.
“Look, I’d like nothin’ better than to stand here and play catch-up, but I’ve got an appointment,” Hutch added angrily, taking another step closer to the parking area. But with that, the two men slammed Hutch against the wall, cutting the side of his face on the bract-laden vines covering the building. He started to reach for the Magnum before he remembered it wasn’t there. He would’ve been too late anyway. By then, Hearne had his right arm pinned painfully to the wall.
When all else fails, fight dirty, he heard Starsky’s voice say in his mind, and abruptly kicked at Alverez with all the strength he had, sending the smaller man crashing into the wall behind. It was a triumphant moment until the driver twisted Hutch’s arm viciously backward. Alverez raging now, charged headlong into Hutch’s ribs with a sickening crack that forced every ounce of air from his lungs.
The last thing Hutch saw was Hearne’s arm coming down and an explosion of red.
~*~*~*~
Starsky sat forward seeing a flash of pale hair in the alleyway. Hutch? He got out of the car and crept quickly forward so he could see further down the walking path. Hutch, you should’a been here by now. He ran the short distance to the back wall of the building and quickly peered around the corner. The alley was empty. Shit! Staying close to the side of the building, he worked his way toward the interior campus. Just as he reached the far end of the alley, he spotted Alverez getting into a dark blue car.
Starsky darted for the Torino; he only had seconds to get to the car and make it back to the front of the residence before he would lose sight of them. He knew by instinct that Hutch was in the Caprice. Dammit, Hutch, twice in two days. Next time I go under.
Starsky rounded the corner of the building, just as the taillights of the Caprice left the campus gates heading north.
He grabbed the mic. “Zebra Three to Adam Eight.”
The radio hissed. “Ten-four… go ahead…Zebra Three.”
Starsky was struggling to control the panic. “Adam Eight… call off the stand-by. I repeat…call off the stand-by. I’m in pursuit of a ’72 to ’74 Chevy Caprice, dark blue… California plates, partial numbers 4-6-5. Two suspects. No lights, no siren.”
He threw the mic on the seat to make the corner at Daly and Riverside. The mic slipped to the floor under his feet and it took him a minute to fish it back out.
“Zebra Three to Control.”
“Control… Zebra Three. What is your location?”
“Just past the bridge… west on Riverside. Patch me through to Captain Dobey.”
“Ten-four… Zebra Three.”
It would be getting dark soon; if he was going to do something he had to do it fast. He threw the Torino into overdrive and passed a line of four cars in one shot, ducking in front of a pickup seconds before meeting the oncoming traffic. He could see the Blue Caprice ahead. There were three vehicles between them, but in the dimming light along Riverside Drive he had to fight to keep the car in view. The car directly in front of him slowed to turn on to a side street and he nearly lost sight of the Caprice for a minute. There were only two cars between them when Dobey’s voice finally boomed through the radio.
“What do you have, Starsky?”
“I’m following Montgomery’s goon, Alverez, up Riverside… he’s got Hutch.”
“Do you want a roadblock set up?” Dobey asked quickly.
“Plain brown wrapper, Cap… at the entrance to the freeway.”
“Ten-four… Starsky?”
“Yeah, Cap’n?”
“Is Hutchinson in control of this situation?”
Starsky held the mic tighter and took a minute to answer. “I hope so, Cap… but I … I don’t know for sure.”
“Starsky! What are you two up to?”
“Cap, have the Narcotics car follow me up Riverside. If they’re heading to Montgomery’s place I’ll need back-up.”
“I’m sending Narcotics and two unmarked patrol cars-no sirens, no lights. Keep in touch.”
“Ten-four, Cap’n.”
Starsky threw the mic onto the dash and craned his neck to see if the Caprice had slowed or changed speed. But the car seemed to be traveling with the flow of traffic. Starsky didn’t think he’d been spotted. All he really wanted was to pull them over and make sure Hutch was safe, but he had to play it like a cop in case Hutch did have things under control, which was quite possible. If Hutch had just worn the wire, he’d know for sure. Starsky was now driving at a respectable sixty miles per hour. The Caprice was still two cars ahead and didn’t seem to be in any rush. Riverside was becoming less and less populated the further they drove out of the city, and Starsky suspected they were heading for one of the secluded roads bordering Griffith Park.
“Zebra Three to Control.”
“Ten-four. Come in… Zebra Three.”
“Call off the unmarked cars at Glendale and Riverside… the guy’s passed the exit.”
“Starsky?”
“Yeah, Cap’n?”
“Do you want a car at Hyperion?”
Starsky keyed the mic again. “Just passed Hyperion, we’re heading toward Grif … hold it…” He dropped the mic to keep from wiping out on the hard left, then immediate right, turns. The taillights were a couple of blocks ahead now, with no other cars between them. He had to hang back a little further, but not so far that he’d lose sight of them altogether.
“Cap? I’m on Griffith Park Boulevard. Damn… make that…uh… Cromwell.”
The residential area was dark, and there seemed to be too many little cul-de-sacs and blind drives. Starsky had to slow down and keep his distance. He could barely see the taillights up ahead.
“Starsky?”
“It’s a residential area, Cap… heading northwest toward Vermont Canyon.” As an afterthought, Starsky keyed the mic again. “Cap, have a car at Western and Los Feliz… in case they’re tryin’ ta ditch me.”
“Okay, Starsky. Keep me informed.”
He followed slowly, keeping the taillights of the Caprice just barely in sight. A car following too closely in this area might tip Alverez off. The streets were typical California canyon—winding, dark and secluded—a good spot for Montgomery to store and move drugs without too much attention.
The Caprice turned right up ahead and Starsky sped up so he wouldn’t lose them. When he got to the street he figured the car turned into, there was no sign of the taillights.
He was panicking again.
“Zebra Three to Control.”
“What is it Starsky?” It was Dobey. He obviously had decided to monitor the situation himself.
“I’m on Vermont, heading north. I lost sight’a the Caprice… I’m gonna follow Vermont… I have a feelin’ they’re headin’ for the canyon.”
Dobey replied instantly. “I’ll have an unmarked vehicle at your location in case he doubles back.”
“Thanks, Cap,” Starsky said as he replaced the mic.
His stomach was in a knot and his head was pounding from the tension. The only thing he could do now was check out the side streets between here and the canyon and hope the Caprice would be visible from the street. The bust was the last thing on his mind; all he could think about was Hutch’s safety.
~*~*~*~
Someone was trying to pull his arms out of their sockets, and for some unknown reason he was letting them.
“Get him out of there,” the garbled voice demanded. “Why didn’t you just bring the damn Lincoln like I told ya?”
Hutch would have helped if he could have, but the pain in his midsection was unbearable, and every tug on his arms sent searing pain through the entire length of his body. They were trying to drag his limp body between the small space behind the front seat and the doorframe, and for once he regretted the long limbs that on occasion sabotaged even him. Maybe it was the pain—or the fear, or both—but he couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped when he thought of the comical scene they must be presenting. He wondered vaguely if there was anyone to witness it.
“What are you laughing at?” a familiar voice demanded.
Alverez?
Suddenly everything came back to him, vividly-the scuffle in the alleyway and the dazed ride in the back seat of the car. He managed a glance up to the person doing such a fine job of pulling him from the car and realized it was Hearne, Montgomery’s driver.
Alverez was taking perverse pleasure in this. The blond made a fool of him in front of Mr. Montgomery, and now he was going to pay.
Hearne finally succeeded in separating body and car, but Hutch’s legs wouldn’t hold him, so Hearne threw him forcefully into the side of the car.
Hutch screamed in pain as the doorframe dug sharply into his already injured ribs.
“Stand up!” growled Hearne.
“Maybe you won’t find what I have in the trunk so funny, Hunter… or Hutchinson… whatever your name is.”
It was Alverez, shining a flashlight into his blurry eyes.
He motioned for Hearne to bring Hutch closer to the rear of the car.
“There’s something I’d like to show you. Maybe you’d like to say good-bye to your friend before we dump the body.”
Hutch sucked air into his lungs through clenched teeth, trying to clear his vision so he could focus on Alverez.
“What are you talkin’ ’bout?” Hutch asked. He couldn’t think straight. His head was pounding from the blow Hearne had given him in the alley.
Alverez was putting a key into the trunk lock and making a production of it.
“Well, I think it’s only fair that you get one last look at the person that gave you up. I mean, I heard you two are… ” Alverez stopped, shook his head and laughed. ” … were very good friends.”
The last statement got Hutch’s undivided attention. “No,” he whispered. Starsk? His heart was racing. No… please… no.
Hearne grabbed a handful of Hutch’s hair and pulled his head roughly forward, but he couldn’t bear to see what he’d already imagined in his mind.
“Look in the trunk!” Alverez yelled again, waving the flashlight into the depths of the car. “See what happens to people that cross me!”
Hearne pushed again, until Hutch thought his neck would snap. “Open your damn eyes!” Hearne cursed.
He fought the command, willing to stand the pain to avoid another deeper one. His worst fear.
No! I can’t.
Hearne shoved his weight against Hutch’s back, forcing him further toward the trunk opening. His knees buckled where the bumper caught, forcing him forward. Instinctively, his eyes opened and he could see smudges of red along the lip of the trunk then he was face-to-face with the body.
Salverda!
He sobbed. It was Rico Salverda.
He was elated, he was hysterical, laughing and sobbing at the same time.
…not him… it’s not him… you’re going to go to Hell for feeling so much joy.
His vision was closing in, and the voices behind him were distant murmurs. He couldn’t think about any of that, all he could think about was how relieved he was.
~*~*~*~
He’d been driving up and down Vermont Canyon for over an hour, and there was still no sign of the navy Caprice. It was dark now, and the chance of spotting a dark car in one of these tree abundant lanes was next to impossible. Fatigue was catching up with him, and the growing terror that knotted his stomach and stabbed at his eyes was crippling.
He’d started stopping at the end of each lane and running a short distance toward the buildings to check for the Caprice. So far, he’d seen nothing even resembling the dark car, but it was his only chance.
Dobey radioed that no cars matching the Chevy’s description had left the area, so it had to be here. It had to be. He wouldn’t quit looking until he found it. The most important person in his life was depending on him. He couldn’t even let himself think that it might already be too late.
~*~*~*~
He woke to semi-darkness. The smell of mildew and stale air hung around him, but he knew by instinct that the heavy air wasn’t the reason he was having trouble breathing. Every attempted breath was accompanied by stabbing pain that shot from his back and up into his chest. The room was spinning slightly, and he knew if he opened his eyes he’d be sick. Starsky! He suddenly remembered Salverda’s lifeless, blood-soaked body crammed inside the car’s trunk. Not Starsky. Again, the urge to laugh and cry at the same time came over him. Not Starsk… not Starsk He began repeating the words over and over in his head… like a heartbeat. It was the only comfort he had. He moved his head slightly and almost cried out in pain as the raw gash on his face scraped against the gritty cement floor. The pain cleared his head, though, and he cautiously opened his eyes.
The room was spinning, but not too bad. He closed his eyes tightly to slow things down and tried again. This time the room was a little more steady. If he didn’t move he could manage the nausea, but he had a very limited view of his surroundings.
Hearne was sitting about ten feet away, perched on a chair, the back propped against the wall, with the front legs of the chair off the floor. Hutch watched the man quietly for a couple of minutes. Hearne looked ridiculous—massive on the too-small chair. There was a copy of The Enquirer stuck in front of his face, and Hutch was held by the fact that the hulk hadn’t turned a page once. Inquiring minds want to know. Unless the rag he’d thumbed through once at the grocery store had taken on a new image, it was safe to say Hearne only had brawn going for him. Considering the condition Hutch was in, the odds still weren’t in his favor.
He couldn’t just lay here and wait for them to kill him. But amazingly, they hadn’t done that yet, and he began to wonder why. If Salverda blew his cover, why didn’t they just kill him and dump his remains along with Rico’s? They’d never actually mentioned him being a cop. Was it possible they still didn’t know that important piece of information?
His head was spinning again and he was still nauseous. Carefully, so Hearne wouldn’t notice he was awake, he moved his hand across his left side from waist to ribs, knowing there was something very wrong deep inside. The cement floor was cold and he realized he was shivering. Damn, Starsk, I think I’m in big trouble here. At least he knew his partner was still alive. That was a comfort. He wondered if Starsky tailed them from the campus, though he still wasn’t sure he’d even been able to signal he was in trouble. He had to believe Starsky would come.
He lay there a bit longer, pretending to be asleep, trying to build up the strength he’d need to get out of this. Hearne still hadn’t turned a page, and Hutch wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Something about Hearne still bothered him. Hutch was sure he’d never come across him until the day he hooked up with Alverez, but there was something about the man that struck a chord. Probably a mug shot from some old case file he’d read at one time. The guy was at least fifty-five, probably older from the look of him; no doubt he’d been working the wrong side of the law more than a few years. Probably had a rap sheet a mile long. He could’ve come across his sheet a dozen times while searching for something else.
His meager plan came to him all of a sudden. Well, actually, snuck up on him. He tried to relax, think it out. He had to be mentally and physically ready, Hearne was a big man. The size difference had already been painfully pointed out to him once today.
Hutch began to moan and Hearne looked in his direction. He put down the paper and let the chair settle on all four legs.
“Finally woke up, huh? The boss’ll wanna see you when he gets here.”
Hutch poured it on, but he realized that he didn’t have to do much acting to make it convincing. Hearne stood and walked across the room. Hutch hoped his act was realistic enough for the man to let his guard down. He’d have to put everything he had left into the attack. It was all he had to go with.
“What’s the matter, boy? Never could take a beatin’,” Hearne laughed and crouched down closer in Hutch’s view. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Hutch’s plan was suddenly on the back burner. Don’t remember me? “What’re you talkin’ ’bout?” Hutch slurred. He realized then, just how bad off he was. He couldn’t even lift his head from the cement floor long enough to look at the man above him.
“I didn’t recognize you at first either, kid. Not ’til your buddy, Rico, told us your name. It’s been a long time, huh? A lot’a years. You’ve changed a bit from the last time we met, but I remembered the name.”
Hearne nudged Hutch’s hip with the toe of his boot. Hutch turned his face toward the floor, trying to quell the nausea. “I don’t know what you mean. I… I…” The room spun like the amusement park ride Starsky had forced him on last summer.
“I can’t believe that. I thought I’d made a pretty big impression on you at the time.” Hearne laughed at his own cryptic joke and returned to the chair.
Hutch had no idea what Hearne meant, and searching through the mug shots in his head was the last thing he felt like doing. In fact, the only thing he wanted was for the nausea to stop.
~*~*~*~
Starsky pulled into a darkened driveway at the far end of the canyon. It was a large cul-de-sac with only three, maybe four, residences, all of which were spread a fair distance apart. He’d chosen the one with the FOR SALE sign out front and tucked the Torino in amongst the overgrown shrubs bordering the property. There was a slight breeze, the first cool night since the heat wave turned sleeping into a struggle. He keyed the mic to make sure he could still get a clear transmission in the canyon. Dobey was right there to answer.
“Anything new, Starsky?”
“Not yet, Cap’n. Anything from the Narco car… anybody seen the Caprice?”
“No sign of it. All the exits to the canyon are sealed. No one’s left in the last hour.”
Starsky suddenly had a thought. “Any cars come in?”
“Nothing’s gone in either. Do you still want the roadblocks?”
“Yeah, but tell them to keep out ‘a sight, I wouldn’t want ’em scaring off Montgomery if he’s not already in here.”
“Okay, what’ve you got in mind?”
Starsky could read the concern in Dobey’s voice; the two of them had been through this before, and it didn’t get any easier.
Quickly, his eyes scanned the surrounding area. Streetlights were few and far between and the cul-de-sac was virtually dark.
“I was gonna take another tour through the canyon, but I have a feelin’ about this spot It’s pretty desolate… a great spot for Montgomery to have a place. I’m gonna get out and take a look around… check out a few lane ways. I’ll get back to ya.”
“Okay, Starsky. Keep me posted. I’ll let the cars know to keep an eye open for Montgomery’s Lincoln.”
“Thanks, Cap.” Starsky started to set the mic back in the cradle when Dobey’s voice came over the speaker again.
“Starsky?”
“Yeah?”
“Let me know if you find anything; I can have a car out there in no time. Don’t try handling this alone.”
“Sure thing. Hutch’d kill me if I screwed up a good bust at this point.” He knew that’s what he had to do, but the urge to go in like John Wayne and rescue the home team was very, very strong.
He’d already disabled the dome light and turned the volume on the radio down low-no sense in attracting attention. He carefully eased the door shut and reached inside his light jacket to check the automatic. The hairs on the back of his neck were prickling; he had a feeling this area held some promise.
He stuck his head out from the bushes and surveyed the street. All was quiet, except for the sound of crickets and the odd bat that swooped down from the trees above. Why would anybody wanna live in a creepy place like this unless they had somethin’ ta hide?
He walked the short distance to the lane directly across the street and, sticking close to the shrubbery, worked his way up to the house. The yard was in darkness, and there was only faint light coming from somewhere deep within the older ranch-style house. There was no car parked out front, and nothing in the attached carport. He decided, because of the light, maybe someone was home. His options were fewer and fewer; he had nothing to lose by checking the back of the property.
He walked quickly and quietly around the side of the carport to the smaller of the two outbuildings at the back of the yard and ran the last few feet across the opening and stood on his tiptoes so he could peer in the window.
His chest tightened and he thought he would burst with joy when he spotted the navy Caprice parked in the garage. Quickly, he crept around to the side of the building and tried the door. It was open. A careful check inside assured him that, indeed, it was the Chevy he’d followed from USC. The plate confirmed it. A closer check on the interior came up empty and when he tried the trunk, it was locked.
Where are ya, Hutch?
Starsky quickly ran to the house and took a couple of quick looks in windows as he went past, but the rooms all seemed empty and dark.
First things first.
He made his way back to the Torino and slid in behind the wheel. “Zebra Three to Control.”
“Ten-four, Zebra Three.”
“Get me Dobey.”
The Captain must’ve been standing right there, because he answered almost immediately. “What do you have, Starsky?”
“I found the car. Navy Caprice, California plate.. .4-6-5… O-N-J. It’s parked in a garage at 2347 Vermont Canyon Road.”
Dobey came right back. “Narco just radioed that Montgomery’s Lincoln just turned off Riverside Drive heading into the canyon. I’m going to have Narco tail them and meet up with you there.”
“Cap, tell ’em to stay way back. I don’t wanna tip Montgomery that we’re on to him. The place is at the very end of Vermont Canyon… the Torino’s parked across the road. Hey, and Cap?”
“Yeah, Starsky?”
“You’re not gonna believe this, but there’s a chopper pad out back, and a Quonset hut the size of Burbank.”
Starsky spotted them both on his way to the garage. At first, he’d thought it was a tennis court, but it was much larger than that. The property backed onto Griffith Park, and there were no neighbors, to speak of, to ask questions. The whole area was surrounded by trees and hidden from the street. The perfect place for Montgomery’s business dealings.
~*~*~*~
It was ironic-now that Hutch finally had the answer, he couldn’t do anything about it. Here he was, right where he’d wanted to be for the last month, and he was virtually helpless. The pain in his back and chest had only intensified since he’d woke the first time, and when he ran his hand up his left side now, he could feel a definite swelling. He knew what that could mean and it scared him.
Any time now, Starsk…bring in the cavalry.
He felt lightheaded and the nausea was still there with a vengeance, making it impossible to move without passing out. Any plan he came up with was automatically dismissed. His body was bound to betray him. All he could do, with any amount of skill, was cling to the floor.
Across the room, Hearne was watching him intently, like he was coming to some kind of decision about Hutch’s future, or lack thereof.
Hutch looked around his surroundings cautiously. He was confined in what appeared to be a cement block basement—no window, and only one door, which was up a flight of seven or eight stairs. There was a small landing at the top, surrounded by a steel pipe railing. Nothing he could use as a weapon, except maybe the chair across the room from him, and it was occupied at the moment.
Hutch moaned as a wave of pain spread through his body, and he knew he was in serious trouble. He had enough medical knowledge to know he was probably suffering from shock. He had all the symptoms. The reason for the shock and the extent of his injuries, only a doctor would know.
It was possible he had a slight concussion from the way his head felt, and a broken rib from the slam Alvarez gave him in the alley was a definite possibility. At this point, it seemed he had nothing to lose by making conversation with his captor.
“Why’d you kill Rico?” he hissed, finding if he closed his eyes, he had the strength to force the words out.
Hearne smiled. He seemed almost glad Hutch had finally decided to talk to him. From Hutch’s experience, this was the part nearly all criminals enjoyed the most—the bragging.
“Rico? He was nothin’ but a leach… always wantin’ more. Alverez got sick ‘a carrin’ ‘im and cut ‘im off.” Hearne laughed, using his thumb-and-finger revolver to demonstrate his point.
“He would’a done it… on ‘is… own… once he didn’t ‘ave… the junk.” Hutch panted, “Ya didn’ ‘ave ta kill ‘im.” It was getting harder and harder for him to talk.
“But this way was so much more interesting,” Hearne added lightly, spreading his arms. “He gave us you. Mr. Montgomery’s not happy when people try takin’ over his territory.” Hearne got up from the chair and walked a few steps toward Hutch.
“Who do ya work for, anyway? Stone? Chan?” Hearne looked closer at Hutch. “You can bet Montgomery’s gonna wanna know.”
Hutch’s eyes flew open and saw Hearne’s boots directly in front of his face.
What? They think I’m the competition? Hutch thought. No wonder Alverez can’t wait to spill that little piece of dirt to the boss.
Hutch tried for a deep breath but it was a bad idea. He ended up coughing painfully and curled into a ball to protect his ribs. The cement floor in front of him was wet. He was coughing up blood. That, above everything else, terrified him.
“I need a doctor, Hearne.”
The man laughed out loud. “Not where you’re goin’.”
Hearne laughed again and headed for the stairs. When he reached the top landing, he turned around. “I’m gonna get myself a beer… ” again the humorless laugh. “… can I get ya one?” he asked sarcastically. “Maybe when I get back I can finish what I started when… ” Hearne stared at Hutch lying on the cement floor below him. “Nah, it wouldn’t be the same.”
With that Hearne left, snicking the lock behind him. Hutch couldn’t believe the turn of events.
Salverda hadn’t told them he was a cop. He was amazed. The snitch tried to protect him and got himself killed in the process. A new thought came to Hutch. Rico didn’t tell them I was a cop and it’s my fault he’s dead. He felt like one enormous ball of misery. Who they thought they had made little difference. He was going to come to the same pathetic end anyway.
~*~*~*~
The waiting was the hardest.
Starsky took his eyes off the street long enough to rest his head against the steering wheel. His temples throbbed. Every minute he sat there was another minute Hutch was in Alverez’ clutches. There was no reason to believe Hutch would be kept safe until Montgomery got there. Maybe Alverez had already settled his score.
Starsky wanted to run into the house, search it and find his partner. Just sitting here waiting for Montgomery to show was pure torture.
Dobey radioed that Montgomery was on his way from Riverside eighteen minutes ago, and eighteen minutes under these circumstances seemed like a lifetime. Starsky picked up the mic.
“Zebra Three to Control.”
“Starsky?”
Starsky had been following Narco’s transmissions and knew they were following the Lincoln at a safe distance, but he’d finally decided to ask Dobey to call a 10-13. Starsky thought, if Montgomery was on his way here, chances were slim he’d double back and see the patrol cars. The “Officer Needs Assistance” code was one all cops hated to use. It meant one of their own was in trouble, and Starsky had hoped all along that that wasn’t the case. There was no denying it now.
“Cap’n? Make it a 10-13.”
Starsky rubbed his eyes and found them damp.
“You’d better have an ambulance on standby, too. It’s nearly ten, there’s no tellin’ what could’ve happened by now.”
The radio was silent, and Starsky knew Dobey was trying to think of something reassuring to say, but they both knew the score. It had been too long since Hutch first disappeared from the campus. The odds weren’t in their favor.
“Okay, Starsky, let me know the minute you spot Montgomery’s car. Narco has the warrant with them; they’ll be the first on the scene.”
“Thanks.”
Starsky was wound tight, anxious to get this thing over with and find Hutch. Find him alive and well.
~*~*~*~
There was no more time. Hutch had to make a move, no matter how pitiful it was—this could be his one and only chance to help himself. If he could make it to the landing, he might be able to surprise Hearne when he came back, and Hutch had no doubt he’d be back.
With blurry vision and a throbbing head, he stiffly got to his feet but immediately sank to his knees. He tried again but ended up half crawling, half dragging himself toward the stairs.
~*-*~*~
Nothing moved on the street for what seemed like ages. Finally, the faint glow of bouncing headlights shone into the cul-de-sac, and Starsky immediately alerted Dobey and readied himself. His muscles were tense and aching from the strain of the whole thing. This was what he’d been waiting for. The black Lincoln loomed in front of him, then turned into the driveway across the street.
Starsky waited until the car was well into the yard before getting out of the Torino and walking to the street. The Narco car would be along any minute. He wouldn’t go in until Jeffries and Wong were on the scene.
He could hear the faint sound of the unmarked car as it came closer. Its lights were off as it pulled into the driveway Starsky was standing beside.
“You got the warrant?” Starsky asked.
“Got it,” replied Jeffries. “Sorry to hear about Hutch.”
Why’d he say it like, like Hutch is already…?
Starsky looked away toward the house, not wanting the other two detectives to see how upset he was.
“Yeah-Hutch’ll be fine. Let’s do it.”
Wong grabbed Starsky’s arm before he could start across the street-he wanted to make sure the detective was prepared for other possibilities-but when he saw Starsky’s face, he just couldn’t do it.
“What?” asked Starsky, as he turned to face Wong.
“Nothin’…the other cars will be here any minute.” It was the truth. At least four other cars were en route, plus the ambulance Dobey had standing by at Riverside and Griffith Park Boulevard.
“Okay,” replied Starsky with a quick nod, “let’s get it done.”
Wong and Jeffries followed Starsky, quickly and quietly up the gravel driveway toward the house. Behind them they could hear the almost silent arrival of the patrol cars and the faint mumble of the additional officers as they took their positions.
Starsky motioned toward the front entrance of the house, and Jeffries crept to the side of the door to wait. Starsky and Wong went around to the rear entrance. Jeffries would make the first move.
The lights were on in the rest of the house now, and Starsky could hear the sound of angry voices from inside. Carefully, he edged his way past the door and peered in through the grimy window on the back patio.
It was Montgomery and Alverez arguing.
“Why’d you bring him here? You fool, Alverez! I won’t be a part of your little vendetta!”
“But boss,” Alverez was pleading. “I thought…”
“Dammit, Alverez—that’s just it, you didn’t think; you never do! What am I gonna do if some cop stops the Chevy? How are you gonna explain the body? I won’t have it buried on this property! As for… ”
The front and rear doors crashed open at the same time. Jeffries, Starsky, and Wong, all with guns drawn and badges out, entered the kitchen area of the house.
“Hold it right where you are, Montgomery!” yelled Starsky. “We have a warrant to search the property.”
Starsky was shaking; the little bit of the conversation he’d heard inflamed him. It was all he could do to make sure the situation in the house was under control when the uniformed officers arrived on the scene.
He didn’t know where to look first, or what to hope for.
“Where’s my partner, Alverez?” demanded Starsky.
Alverez looked totally confused.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he pleaded.
“Sergeant Ken Hutchinson… Hunter. Where is he?” Starsky was right in Alverez’ face, grabbing the smaller man by the collar.
Alverez looked around the room from officer to officer, but no one seemed inclined to help. They all knew Hutch. They wouldn’t deny Starsky this.
“He’s a cop?” Alverez asked. He was sweating, and with good reason.
Before Starsky could question him again, one of the patrolmen ran into the house.
“We’ve just popped the trunk on the Chevy out back, Sergeant—there’s a body in it.”
Starsky tore from the house, nearly falling in his effort to get to the garage. The light was on now, and the navy Caprice suddenly looked very ominous. Starsky stopped for a minute in the doorway to catch his breath, then slowly stepped around the officer on the scene to examine the contents of the trunk.
His heart finally started beating again. It wasn’t Hutch.
“It’s Rico Salverda, Hutch’s snitch,” he said to the officer. “Make sure no one touches anything until Garrett gets here.”
The officer nodded, but Starsky had already left.
Wong met Starsky in the middle of the yard just as Dobey arrived.
“We just searched the house Starsky. There’s no sign of him. No sign of any drugs either. As a matter of fact, except for the kitchen, the house is pretty much empty.”
Starsky impatiently looked all around the yard, setting his sights on the Quonset hut out back. “Anybody checked the outbuilding yet?” he asked, as he started walking toward it.
“Not yet, Starsky. I’ll get the men over here with some lights.”
It was all Dobey could do to keep up with Starsky’s half-walk, half-run. The Quonset hut was the most probable location for the drugs and Starsky’s last hope of finding his partner alive. Dobey knew he should stick close.
Three officers joined Starsky and Dobey at the small side entrance to the Quonset hut. They would all go in together then spread out once they were inside.
“Ready?” whispered Dobey.
Pressing his back against the metal wall, Starsky reached for the door handle. To his amazement, it turned easily in his hand and with a slight creak, opened. They quickly slipped through the door, leaving it open.
Starsky could feel the perspiration rolling down his back and wiped quickly at the wetness blurring his vision.
“Let’s see if there’s some light,” Dobey said, as he searched the wall just inside the door. Immediately, the large building was flooded with fluorescent glare. There, in all its glory, was the helicopter that Montgomery used for bringing the drugs into LA. It was on some sort of trolley contraption that would allow them to keep it out of sight when not in use.
There didn’t seem to be anyone in the building, and Starsky was becoming desperate. “Spread out. Hutch has to be here someplace.”
Dobey headed toward the back of the building with Starsky, calling over his shoulder for one of the patrolmen to alert Wong and Jeffries. The helicopter and its contents were their territory. By the looks of the shelves and boxes lining the makeshift hangar, Narcotics Division was going to be busy for the next few days.
Dobey couldn’t help wonder if the cost to his men was going to be too high.
You’d better be here, Hutchinson. I don’t want to handle Starsky alone if you’re not.
They weren’t having any luck. Metal shelving units and boxes lined the walls of the Quonset hut and because of the curved shape, they had to check behind the shelving as well. There was a space approximately five feet wide between the back of the shelving and the exterior wall. Empty boxes and litter filled the space and they checked all the way along to make sure it was clear. Finally, they’d reached the back of the building, and they still hadn’t found any trace of Hutch.
One of the patrolmen searching the far side of the building, rummaged around in the back corner, shifting empty boxes piled near the back wall.
“I found a door!” he yelled. “Looks like a basement entrance.”
Starsky ran to the far corner of the building, where the patrolman was still moving boxes out of the way. Starsky tugged at the padlock on the frame.
“Find something to pry this thing open,” Dobey yelled.
A minute of searching produced a crowbar lying on top of one of the crates.
Starsky’s dwindling hope was renewed as he struggled to pry the hasp from the doorframe. Please, be here, babe. He tried to breathe without choking on the lump in his throat, and when the lock finally flew off he was shaking.
Starsky quickly turned the knob. They’d already made enough deafening noise to alert anyone of their presence. There was no sense waiting.
The door swung in and to the right, and Starsky stepped down onto the dark landing. There was a sudden movement and a rush of air as someone flung himself at him from behind. Starsky turned just in time to catch Hutch’s body before it fell toward the stairs.
“HUTCH! It’s me!”
Starsky’s voice was urgent when he realized that the powerful body attacking him seconds before was now sagging in his arms.
Slowly, Starsky eased them both down to the landing. He could hear Dobey ordering someone to have the waiting ambulance respond, and to make it fast.
~*~*~*~
They landed in a tangle of limbs on the landing, with Starsky cushioning Hutch’s fall the best he could. He was now jammed uncomfortably against the metal pipe railing surrounding the cement pad, with Hutch’s considerable weight resting on his chest. He could feel his partner’s shallow, rasping breaths against his neck, and panic welled up in him again.
Starsky held his breath, willing himself to remain calm, but the nauseating anxiety wouldn’t go away. He had to see for himself.
“What’s the matter, huh? Tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded urgently.
The cops standing in the doorway moved to one side to allow more light from the hangar to shine onto the basement landing.
Hutch moaned softly at the intrusion and squinted as the fluorescent glare stabbed at his eyes. “Starsk?”
“Yeah, Hutch… right here… take it easy. You’re gonna be all right.”
Starsky stole a look at the too-pale face lying against his chest and his stomach knotted. The light did nothing to relieve his fears. Hutch looked terrible. His skin tone was gray, with dark smudges under each eye; a vivid red gash streaked his right cheek.
“I’m right here,” he said again, cradling Hutch’s head in his hand.
Dobey loomed in the doorway. “The ambulance will be here any minute now, Starsky. Let me help you up,” he offered.
“No. I’m fine, just leave him be… no tellin’ what’s wrong.”
Starsky’s fingers found the gash along the side of Hutch’s face and wondered what other damage had caused Hutch’s total collapse.
“What hurts, huh, babe?” he asked, rubbing continuously along Hutch’s shoulders. In spite of Starsky’s conscious effort to remain as still as possible he couldn’t help but attempt a better examination.
The slice out of Hutch’s cheek would require stitches; there was no doubt about that. But that was the least of Starsky’s worries. He could feel the violent tremors and knew by touch that Hutch’s body temperature was at a dangerous low. Oh, babe, how’d you get so bad, so fast? Starsky wondered, then knew instinctively that Hutch was in shock.
Starsky couldn’t see any visible wounds but was upset to find traces of blood on Hutch’s shirt and hands. Something was very wrong; he could feel it.
Starsky continued his inspection, carefully sliding his hands over the prone body, searching for open wounds. When his hand slid across Hutch’s rib cage, he knew immediately what the problem might be.
Hutch whimpered and drew back instantly, trying to protect the injured area.
“I’m sorry, Hutch,” Starsky said softly. “I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out the sound of the pain as he petted gently through Hutch’s tangled hair.
“I fucked up, Starsk.” A whispered admission, barely audible even to Starsky.
“No, you didn’t, babe. We got ’em…we got ’em good.”
“Yeah?” Hutch seemed surprised and relieved. He obviously hadn’t counted on that. “You got all of ’em?” he asked breathlessly.
“Yeah, them and a whole hanger full of evidence. You did great. Jeffries and Wong are already plannin’ your party.”
Hutch gasped and sat upright just in time for his stomach to heave over the edge of the landing. The pain accompanying the sudden movement was too much for Hutch to handle and he collapsed against Starsky.
Oh, God!
Starsky realized then where the blood came from. Hutch was bleeding internally. He’d been captive for almost five hours now. They had no time to spare.
Hutch’s breathing came in sharp, irregular gasps now, and Starsky’s careful plans to remain calm became undone. This was Hutch. This shouldn’t be happening to them.
“Where’s the damn, ambulance?!” he shouted, gripping tighter onto Hutch’s hand for comfort. Who’s comfort he wasn’t sure. Worst case scenarios had haunted Starsky for the last several hours, and having Hutch bleed to death before his very eyes was one of them.
“Tell them to hurry, Cap’n,” Starsky mouthed quietly, holding tighter to Hutch.
A damp breeze chilled them both, bringing with it the sound of the siren as the ambulance turned into the lane.
Starsky hung on as tightly, and for as long as he could, before the attendants finally pried them apart.
~*~*~*~
Dobey knocked gently on the door, swinging it open. “Are you okay, in there, Starsky?”
The public washroom across from Admitting was unoccupied, except for the two of them. His detective’s sudden disappearance from the waiting area caught Dobey’s attention, and his innate cop instincts brought him here.
They had been hustled into the nearby room the moment the county paramedics wheeled Hutch through the Trauma Unit doors, and no amount of pleading on Starsky’s part would allow him entrance. A few minutes of frantic pacing ended abruptly with the mad dash to the men’s room down the hall.
Starsky was just washing up when Dobey found him. He slowly rinsed his face, dried it with paper from the dispenser and looked at himself in the mirror.
He was a mess, physically and mentally. Hutch’s blood spattered the lightweight jacket, and dirt from the tumble on the stairway dusted any remaining once-clean areas.
“I’m okay, just a little queasy,” Starsky answered, as he removed his jacket. “Have you heard anything?”
Dobey reached out and took the jacket from Starsky’s hands, noticing the mild tremor and slightly green complexion. God, how he hated times like these.
“Nothing yet, Starsky. Do you want to go back and sit down?” he asked, holding the washroom door open.
Starsky nodded. There was nothing else he could do but wait. It was still unclear how long Hutch had been bleeding, or even why he was bleeding. The paramedics wasted no time performing the routine emergency examination at the scene. It was fully apparent to everyone in the Quonset hut that there was no time to lose. It was an unfortunate fact that almost half of all trauma patients never made it to the hospital alive.
Starsky did manage to ride into the city with Hutch, although he was restricted to the front seat of the ambulance. There was just no room for emergency treatment and hand holding. He’d felt a million miles away from Hutch at that point, and when he wasn’t allowed close once they arrived at the hospital, his adrenaline and hope plummeted.
Dobey followed Starsky into the hall and back to the waiting area, where they found Ted Wong slumped in one of the orange plastic chairs circling the room.
“Starsky,” said the slightly balding Narco detective, handing over the keys to the Torino. “How’s Hutch? We’ve all been wonderin’ how he’s making out.”
“Thanks for bringin’ the car down, Ted,” Starsky said, shoving the keys into his pants pocket. “We haven’t heard anything. I don’t know what’s takin’ so damn long! The least they could do is keep us informed!”
With each sentence Starsky became more and more agitated, until Dobey finally reached out to put a quieting hand on Starsky’s shoulder.
“They’ll tell us as soon as they can,” he offered. “Do you want a cup of coffee? It could be a while yet.”
Starsky shook his head. The last thing he needed was something in his stomach.
Wong stayed until his partner came to pick him up a few minutes later. He and Greg Jeffries were on their way to Parker to question Montgomery and Alverez about the body found in the trunk of the Chevy. It seemed whoever put Rico’s body in there hadn’t even bothered to wipe it down for prints. It was a foolish move on their part, but a godsend to the investigation.
Half of Narco squad was still out at the Vermont Canyon scene searching for more evidence and taking photos of various areas of the property. It was going to be an all-nighter for quite a few of LA’s finest. No one would do anything to jeopardize a case where a fellow officer had been injured.
“We’ll have to get a report from you, Starsky, but it can wait until Hutch is out of the woods.” Wong shook Starsky’s hand. “You guys did a fine job. Tell Hutch the take on this was even better than we’d imagined.”
Starsky nodded, “I’ll tell him that, thanks.”
Wong and Jeffries turned to leave. They were a good team and had a few close calls of their own; they knew the meaning of a successful partnership, and Hutchinson and Starsky had one of the best. Everyone who knew Hutch would be pulling for him. The sheer number of cops that were showing up wanting to donate blood was testimony to that.
~*~*~*~
Starsky looked at his watch. It was nearly three. He debated calling Duluth but Hutch always told him not to worry them unless it was absolutely necessary. They both agreed to that particular set of rules early in their partnership. Only under extreme circumstances was either of them to contact the other’s family from a hospital waiting room. Starsky still held out hope that this was one of those non life-threatening situations that they’d been through so many times before. In fact, when it came right down to it, he was afraid if he made the call to Hutch’s folks, he would somehow jinx the outcome. He’d wait until he had more specific information on Hutch’s condition. Hopefully, by then, he wouldn’t have to make the call at all.
Captain Dobey left over an hour earlier to check in at the office, saying he would be back before morning. But with no one to talk to, Starsky started thinking, and thinking led to pacing, and pacing… Starsky was working himself up to a nervous breakdown. He went to the desk several times to ask if they had any news, but all they would tell him was that the patient was still in surgery. They would inform him the minute he was out. All he wanted was some reassurance that Hutch was okay, but they wouldn’t even give him that.
By 5:00, the captain returned, bringing with him coffee and bagels. “Any news?” he asked, handing Starsky a steaming cup.
“Nothin’.”
The long hours were taking their toll, and Starsky’s patience was at a minimum. He rested for a while, but now that Dobey was here he started pacing again.
“Sergeant Starsky?”
Starsky spun around to see a doctor in green scrubs approaching from the direction of the elevators.
Immediately, he handed his coffee back to Dobey and went to greet the man, extending his hand out of habit. Starsky had only one question on his mind, nothing else at that moment was important.
“Yeah, I’m Sergeant Starsky-how’s my partner?”
The doctor must have come straight from surgery, judging from the appearance of the scrubs. He looked tired and his expression was hard to read. Starsky braced himself for the unthinkable.
“As you know, Sergeant Hutchinson was taken straight to emergency surgery as soon as he was brought in.”
Starsky nodded, he was getting impatient. “Yeah, how is he?”
“He’d lost a fair amount of blood before he came in…”
Starsky just wanted him to get on with it. Why did doctors feel the need to prolong the agony? Why couldn’t he simply tell him what he wanted to know? He nodded that he understood, hoping the doctor would move it along.
Finally, Starsky grew impatient with the dialogue, “Is he okay, Doc?”
“Yes. Or, at least he will be, if all goes well.”
Starsky let out a visible sigh of relief.
“It was touch and go for a while. As I said before, your partner lost a great deal of blood before he was brought in. We did exploratory surgery to find the reason for the blood loss, but it took us quite a bit longer than anticipated to find the problem.”
Starsky nodded again.
“It seems Sergeant Hutchinson received a major blunt trauma to his lower back, which caused a small tear in a portion of his spleen.”
“His back? That happened two days ago. You mean he’s been bleeding for two days?” Starsky was shocked.
The doctor shook Dobey’s hand as he joined the two of them, then went on to explain further. “We found signs of clotting, which tells us that the original injury had healed itself. A more recent trauma to the ribcage probably started the bleeding again. We’ve managed to salvage the organ and repair the tear. We don’t like to remove the spleen unless it’s absolutely necessary. I don’t foresee any major complications, but we’ll be keeping a close watch on him for the next couple of days.”
“Can I see him?” Starsky asked, trying to digest all of the information as well as the realization that the back injury two days before was what nearly killed Hutch.
“He’s just been taken to the Post-anesthesia Care Unit. We’ll be monitoring his vitals there in ICU for the next few hours. You can visit with him if you wish, but I doubt he’ll be out from under the anesthetic for a while yet.”
“Do you expect anycomplications, Doctor… um?” Dobey asked.
“I’m sorry.. .it’s Doctor Hanover. No, but we’ll keep an eye open for any change in pulse and temperature, or any sign of abdominal swelling. I don’t anticipate any serious problems ahead for him. It was a small tear. Your partner should have an uneventful recovery.”
Starsky grasped the doctor’s hand and shook it. “Thanks, Doc. Next time he tells me he doesn’t need to see a doctor, I’m not gonna listen.”
The doctor smiled. “The nurse at the reception area on the third floor will show you to ICU. I imagine he’ll be in his own room by tomorrow.”
Relief washed over Starsky, leaving him lightheaded, but it couldn’t dim the wonderful smile spreading across his face.
“Thank you.”
~*~*~*~
Their footsteps echoed in the empty hallway outside ICU. It was an eerie sound that did nothing to calm Starsky’s nerves. Even though Dr. Hanover gave them good news, Starsky still felt a chill that made him shiver deep down inside. He and Dobey stopped outside the glassed cubicle across from the nurses’ station. They could see Hutch-pale and surrounded by a menacing amount of hospital equipment meant to monitor his vitals. It frightened Starsky all the more.
Hutch seemed so fragile, so dependent on the technology around him. So unlike the formidable man he had become since they first met.
One of the nurses from the desk joined them by the window.
“You can go in for a few minutes, but he probably won’t be awake for another hour or so.”
Starsky stopped staring at Hutch and the equipment long enough to take note of the middle-aged blonde woman standing beside them.
“Does it have to be so bright in there?” he asked, thinking how much trouble Hutch always had dozing during ’round-the-clock stakeouts.
The nurse smiled. Everyone visiting ICU asked her the same question.
“He won’t mind, Sergeant.”
Starsky nodded. It was a stupid question, but all he wanted to do was make Hutch as comfortable as possible.
He opened the door and left Dobey to talk to the nurse about Hutch’s immediate care. For now, he was only interested in being close.
Hutch was so pale. The gash on the side of his face had been stitched and covered with a clean white dressing, making the dark shadows around his eyes all the more evident. He was still receiving the last of the blood transfusion that began during surgery, as well as antibiotics through another IV.
Starsky was relieved to see the relaxed appearance of Hutch’s face after the tortured expression that was so evident back at the Quonset hut. He would feel so much better if he could only talk to Hutch. The few moments they’d had at the scene just weren’t enough to answer the questions Starsky had racing through his head. How did they mess up so badly?
The past hours suddenly caught up with him, and he abruptly dropped into the chair next to Hutch’s bed and waited for the lightheadedness to pass. But it was too late, both the nurse and Dobey already noticed. She’ll hustle me out for sure now, he thought.
“Why don’t you go get something to eat and rest for a while? I’ll have you paged the minute he wakes up,” she offered. She was aware they were partners. The nursing staff in Admitting had told her all about the two cops. She’d experienced this sort of connection before with close family members.
Starsky nodded, as he was unwillingly escorted back into the hallway.
“Come on, Dave, let’s go get some coffee and something to eat. You haven’t had anything for hours. I’m sure these ladies will take good care of him.”
“Yeah, okay, but I’ll be right back. I gotta be here when he wakes up.
~*~*~*~
Amazingly, the coffee and sandwich helped, and Dobey’s reassurance that Hutch would be okay gave Starsky a double dose of strength.
They walked quickly back to the second floor, still well within the hour time limit the nurse had given them. As they neared ICU a squealing alarm brought the nurse behind the desk to her feet.
Hutch?
Dobey and Starsky followed closely behind when they realized the screeching was coming from the monitor in Hutch’s room. Before Dobey could stop him, Starsky raced into the room where two nurses were struggling to restrain their patient.
“No!” yelled Hutch, who was thrashing and fighting against the two nurses.
There was blood everywhere, and Starsky’s newly found resolve quickly disappeared, leaving him shocked and frightened.
“Oh, God… what’s happening?” Hutch! Starsky went weak at the sight of the blood that covered the bed and dripped to the floor.
Dobey quickly pulled Starsky to one side, out of the way of the busy nurses.
“Call Dr. Hanover,” one of them said calmly to a nurse at the door. It was taking all the strength she had to hold Hutch still.
The IV had been ripped out and was draining blood rapidly onto the clean white sheet. Hutch was showing an unbelievable amount of strength, fighting against the nurse’s attempts to re-insert the IV.
“No…” he was sobbing-clawing at the damaged needle that still remained in his arm. “I don’t want it.”
Starsky ignored Dobey’s presence and the glance the nurse gave him, as he squeezed past her to stand by Hutch. He couldn’t stand to see him like this.
“What is it, Hutch? What’s the matter?” he asked urgently.
“I don’t want this stuff in me!” he sobbed.
Hutch was barely conscious, or at least not very aware of anyone around him, not even Starsky. He continued to reach for the needle. “LET GO OF ME!”
“We’ll have to strap him down, Carrie. He’s going to hurt himself.”
“No!” Starsky yelled. “Give me a minute? Let me talk to him. He just doesn’t know what’s happening.”
The nurse gave him a skeptical look but didn’t stop him from leaning in close to talk to Hutch.
“Hutch, it’s Starsk,” he said, grabbing hold of Hutch’s shoulders.
Again, Hutch struggled, trying to dislodge the hands that were holding him down. “HUTCH! You’re all right. I’m here.”
Starsky was gently smoothing the hair back from Hutch’s face, hoping the gesture would calm him.
Hutch’s eyes found Starsky, and for a moment he seemed confused.
“Starsk?”
“Yeah, partner… what’s the matter, huh?” Starsky smiled, trying not to let his fear show. “You with us now? You’re givin’ these two ladies a hard time, buddy.”
“I thought…” Hutch closed his eyes, swallowing the terror he’d woke to. “I thought…”
Hutch relaxed completely and the nurse let go of him. The sheet was covered with the contents of the IV bottle, and the needle hung precariously from Hutch’s forearm.
The younger nurse held his arm down to remove the damaged IV needle, and immediately Hutch grabbed for her hand.
“Hutch? What?” Starsky asked, pulling his hand away. Their eyes met again, and Hutch sluggishly shook his head.
“I thought…” he took a breath and sighed, as reality began to sink in. Guiltily, Hutch covered his eyes with his free arm.
The nurse quickly bundled the ruined sheet and replaced it. “What happened, Carrie?”
“I was changing the IV and noticed the catheter was loose. When I tried to adjust it, the patient started pulling at my hands.”
Carrie was shaken by the episode but helped to tidy the bed.
Hutch took a few wavering breaths and turned away from the nurses as they removed the damaged needle.
“I’m sorry… I thought…” a small painful sob escaped. “I don’t know what I thought,” he admitted weakly.
Starsky glanced up to see Dobey behind the nurse, his face pure misery. They both realized at the same moment what Hutch was thinking when he woke up. Another legacy of Ben Forest. The creep.
“It’s okay, babe… you’re safe, now. I’m here.”
Hutch continued to hold Starsky’s hand until the procedure was completed and the nurses were gone, not once turning to watch as they replaced the catheter and re-started the new IV.
Dobey whispered to Starsky that he’d be back. It was obvious the big man was uncomfortable with what had just happened. He hadn’t been there when Starsky found his partner after the Forest incident, and the brief insight was unsettling. Hutch’s reaction to the IV needle was a painful glimpse into the horror he’d been through. Dobey had no idea he was still so troubled by it.
~*~*~*~
Hutch was standing at the window, already dressed for the trip home, when Starsky walked into his room. The blond’s arms were wrapped tightly around his ribcage, his thumbs rubbing almost obsessively at the nap of his sweater. His lunch sat untouched on the tray by the bed, and Starsky could tell by Hutch’s body language that he was impatient to leave.
You’re not ready, Starsky thought, noticing Hutch’s lack of awareness. You still look like something the cat dragged in. Even though Hutch’s recovery had been ‘uneventful’ just as the doctor had predicted, he still had a decidedly ill look about him that worried Starsky. He wasn’t eating properly. But, hell, the food in this place was enough to make you sick if you weren’t already. Once he was home devouring his godforsaken liver shakes, everything would be fine.
Hutch didn’t acknowledge Starsky’s arrival, choosing to keep his attention on the children playing in the courtyard immediately below his window. Starsky wondered what the attraction was. It wasn’t the first time he’d come in and caught Hutch doing the exact same thing. He decided it wasn’t especially odd for his partner to be watching the kids play, there wasn’t much else to do, but it was the almost vacant look on his partner’s face that caused Starsky’s concern.
Starsky cleared his throat so he wouldn’t startle his partner.
“Hey, ya want some of this juice?” Starsky asked casually, hoping he could coax Hutch into eating something before they left.
Hutch took a deep breath, looking away from the window for the first time since Starsky arrived. “No.” The answer was flat, and Starsky could sense the unease as Hutch sat in the chair next to the window and started aimlessly thumbing through an ancient copy of Newsweek.
“How ’bout some pudding then?” Starsky asked hopefully.
“No.”
“Can I have it?” Starsky shrugged, there was no sense in letting it go to waste.
Hutch looked up from the magazine, and frowning, he tossed it in Starsky’s general direction missing him by mere inches.
“Hey… watch it…you nearly hit me!”
Hutch launched himself out of the chair and started pacing. “I guess I’m out of practice,” he mumbled under his breath.
Starsky frowned. “You meant to do that, didn’t you?”
Hutch didn’t answer. “They said after lunch, right?” he asked, impatiently looking down the hospital corridor toward the desk.
“Hey, settle down,” Starsky said, as he took a last swipe at the banana pudding and set the metal dish back on the tray. He watched Hutch walk from window to door and back again.
“Are you supposed to be movin’ around?”
Hutch stopped in the middle of the room, bands on hips, puzzled eyes boring into his partner. “Starsky, I’m well enough to go home. Why the hell shouldn’t I be moving around?”
Starsky shrugged. He was getting somewhat used to Hutch’s restless mood. The blond was anxious to flee the hospital and had been from the first minute he was coherent enough to think straight. Not that Starsky blamed him. Hospitals were the bane of their existence. He knew from experience Hutch must feel like a caged animal by now.
Starsky cringed meekly and tried for a change of subject. “Wong tells me the take on the canyon deal is an all-time high. They’re thinkin’ about makin’ you a saint.”
No reaction. But he wasn’t surprised. Hutch hadn’t wanted to discuss the case to any extent. He’d been pretty much out of it for the first few days after surgery, and whenever Starsky tried to talk about what happened between the last time they’d seen each other on the campus and Hutch’s rescue, his partner would dodge the question.
“Ya know we’re gonna have to get on top of that report for Wong and Jeffries soon. It’s gettin’ to be a real hot topic with them.”
They wanted to talk to Hutch two days ago, but surprisingly, Dobey told them to hold off a little longer. Starsky knew that the scene in ICU the night they’d brought Hutch in had shaken their captain. No doubt Dobey was just cutting him a little slack.
Hutch walked toward the open door with an air of determination, and Starsky knew something was up.
“Where ‘ya goin’ now?” Starsky sighed wearily.
“I’m going to find somebody to get me out of this place.”
Geez. Hutch was in his unstoppable mode. He was going to gnaw on this until he got what he wanted.
“Sit down, will ya… you’re makin’ me nervous. They’ll spring you when they’re ready.”
“Starsky!” Hutch shouted, showing just how exasperated he was with the whole situation.
“Hutch, give ’em a minute, huh? They said after lunch, it’s only… ” he glanced quickly at his watch, trying to lower his voice, “11:45.”
Hutch forced himself to stay put. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he just couldn’t be in this room a minute longer. Just as he was about to beg Starsky to find somebody with some authority, Dr. Hanover knocked on the open door.
“Ken, I see you’re ready to leave us,” the doctor said, shaking Hutch’s hand as he entered the room.
“Yeah, Doc… more than ready. Where do I sign?”
Dr. Hanover was well aware of Hutch’s eagerness to leave. He’d been pestered every day for the last week to sign the release.
“I’m still not convinced you’re ready, but since you’ve promised me you’ll behave and leave the heroics to someone else for awhile… ” The doctor continued, eyeing Hutch skeptically, oblivious to the smirk Starsky couldn’t quite control. He didn’t, however, miss the baneful glare Hutch threw his amused partner. “I’ve provided the station with the papers they need and your partner already has the prescription, so I guess there’s no reason to hold you up any longer.”
“Thanks, Doc, I… ” Hutch said, somewhat humbled by the fuss he was making. He didn’t want the doctor to think he wasn’t grateful. “I’m sorry I’ve given everybody such a hard time. It’s just… you know,” Hutch laughed nervously, “a guy just can’t get any sleep around this place.”
The three of them had had this conversation already, two days ago, when Starsky made it clear to Hutch just how bad off he’d been when he was brought in the night of the bust.
“Well, I’m leaving you in the hands of your partner,” he said, gesturing toward Starsky. “I’ve already told him the ground rules. I expect you to follow them, or you’ll end up back in here by the end of the week.”
“He’ll follow ’em, Doc.” Starsky gave Hutch a quick look to prove the point.
“Okay, get out of here. I don’t want to see you again-either one of you-until your final check-up.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Hutch said, shaking the man’s hand enthusiastically. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done… ” Hutch ran a shaky hand through his hair and added,”… that everyone’s done.” He looked pointedly at his partner—who was always there for him—and wondered why he couldn’t calm the clawing fear that kept nagging at him. It was over, why was he still-even now that he was safe-so on edge?
The obligatory wheelchair exit was almost more than Hutch could take, but he put up with it at Starsky’s insistence. He was finally going home, where hopefully, after the report was complete, he could put the whole Alverez situation behind him once and for all.
~*~*~*~
“Aw, shit.”
Starsky’s left fist pounded on the dashboard, and he winced both at the pain and his own stupidity. He’d stormed out of The Pits over thirty minutes ago, and he still couldn’t bring himself to put the key in the damn ignition. What the hell happened in there?
Huggy’s back alley was cool and dark. Quiet, except for the faint beat of music and the laughter of Huggy’s late-night crowd.
He shifted forward in the seat, resting his arms and forehead on the steering wheel. The slight buzz he felt from the beer was wearing off. He was more than capable of driving, but still, he sat in the haven of the Torino, unable to move.
Hutch had been in a rotten mood all day. What else was new? Hutch’s mood had been questionable for the last month. He must be tryin’ for some kinda record, Starsky thought.
They’d been back working together for a week now, and Starsky was hoping that once Hutch had something to keep him occupied, the moodiness would be a thing of the past. But that didn’t seem to be the way things were working out. The trip to Hutch’s doctor last Friday was supposed to be a turning point—his final emancipation from sick leave and the boredom that came along with it. Even though he was given permission to return to work, Starsky was concerned enough with Hutch’s appearance to corral the doctor afterward.
“Are you sure he’s okay, Doc? He still looks… I don’t know… just, not right.”
“The examination went fine, Sergeant. Keep an eye on him, it’ll take a while for him to rebuild his stamina.” Okay, Doc, whatever you say, but you’re not the one whose back he’s covering.
Hutch began the day irritably and it went steadily downhill from there. He answered Starsky in as few words as possible and spent the rest of the day just coping in silence.
When Starsky’s suggestion to stop by The Pits after their shift was accepted, no one was more surprised than he was. Hutch’s moods weren’t a new phenomenon by any means, but Starsky knew the reasons for most of them. This one had him stumped. His partner had the uncanny ability to make the slightest thing more complicated than it ever needed to be. Only because he seemed to feel everything depended on what he himself did to resolve the problem-of-the-day. Whether it was the bum on the corner who looked like he hadn’t eaten for a while, or the hooker that was just plainly dealt a bad hand. Somehow, Hutch felt it was up to him to at least make a bit of a difference in their miserable lives. When will he learn?
Starsky leaned his head against the headrest and tried to figure it out. The only thing he could think of that would set Hutch into a tailspin lately was the Montgomery case. When Hutch was finally well enough to compare notes with Wong and Jeffries and realized Hearne had somehow avoided arrest, he went ballistic. When Starsky discovered Hearne was the one who had helped Alverez snatch Hutch in the first place, he joined him.
They spent days looking through mug books for Hearne’s photograph, with no luck. Hutch was almost certain he’d seen the guy before, but even a search through old case files turned up nothing. Of course, the name was an alias. DMV drew a blank.
Surely, Hutch isn’t stewing over the-one-that-got-away?
Starsky learned years ago that Hutch seldom offered an explanation for his moods without coercion. He tended to hold things in until they reached explosion point. In most cases, Starsky survived the prying, but tonight was a different story. No amount of cajoling would elicit any kind of response other than temper, and Hutch, finally, in no uncertain terms, told Starsky to mind his own business and not necessarily that polite.
Then he went and did exactly what had Hutch intended him to do. He threw down money to pay for the beer and stormed out to the Torino in a snit.
“Shit.” You knew I’d had just enough to drink to do just what you wanted. Damn. What’s with you, Hutch?
It wasn’t in Hutch’s nature to be intentionally cruel. Well, not really cruel. They had both pulled the stupid, asinine stunts expected of them, but this was something different. Hutch was hurting or felt cornered. Either way, he didn’t know how to handle it. It just wasn’t Hutch’s nature to ask for help, and Starsky wondered just why that was.
Starsky saw the flash of fear in the blond’s eyes as he turned to leave. Hutch was driving him away at every turn but was terrified when Starsky actually decided he’d had enough.
Starsky sighed. Damn. He locked the car and headed for Huggy’s back door. They’d had their share of problems over the years, fewer than most partners, but they’d always been able to work them out before. He had to give it another shot.
Starsky worked his way past Angie’s mess in the kitchen to the back booth where he and Hutch had been sitting earlier, fully expecting to see the blond still there.
“Hey, Hug… ”
Huggy was leaning over the table, gathering up the empty pilsners and wiping the wet rings left on the table. He turned, cigarette dangling from his lips, squinting through the smoke as he spoke.
“Well, if it ain’t the evening’s enter-tain-ment. If you’re back for a second act, you’re too late. Your other half’s already made his exit.”
“He’s gone?”
Huggy shrugged, whimsically teetering glasses, rag, and cigarette at awkward angles. “Ain’t that what I just said? Guess he wasn’t up to a one-man show.”
Starsky nodded guiltily and looked around the smoke-filled room, as he followed Huggy back to the bar. “Did he say where he was goin’?”
“Didn’t exactly look like he was in a partyin’ mood.”
Starsky closed his eyes, remembering the sight of Hutch as he’d last seen him. “Yeah.” Like he’d lost his best friend. He had to find him and make it right. “See ya, Hug.”
Starsky walked back toward the kitchen, turning when Huggy called to him. “Rough day?”
“Yeah,” sighed Starsky, “aren’t they all.”
~*~*~*~
The first place he tried was Venice Place. The LTD was parked out front, right where they’d left it earlier in the day. At least he’s not drivin’ around. It was small comfort. He jogged up the stairs and let himself into the apartment. It was empty.
He relocked the door, tucked the key back in its hiding place and headed for the street. He had a feeling his partner wouldn’t be too far from home and decided to try the Jazz Club a little farther down Ocean. It was a place Hutch liked to wander to every once in a while in the evening when they were off duty.
He got lucky on the first try.
It was dark in the small club, but Starsky didn’t have any trouble spotting his tall, blond partner leaning against the bar. Their eyes met uncomfortably for a moment, as Starsky gently pried the shot glass from his partner’s hand. Hutch turned to leave, swaying slightly, and clutched at the bar rail to keep from falling.
“You’re drunk,” Starsky scolded, throwing an arm around Hutch’s waist, steering him toward the exit. Hutch leaned closer, tears glistening now.
“Plastered,” Hutch sighed, then tried to pull away, suddenly ashamed-but Starsky only held on tighter. Starsky’s tone was soft as he guided him toward the exit.
“Come on, I’ll take ya home.”
“Let go of me, Starsky!” Hutch demanded, trying to pull away.
“If I let you go, you’ll fall on your ass, ya big jerk.”
“Or worse,” Hutch whispered. He was standing absolutely still, clutching Starsky’s shirt with his left hand and the doorframe with his right.
“What’s worse than fallin’ on your ass? Huh?”
A young couple entering the club jostled around the blond, and Hutch grabbed for the doorframe with both hands to keep from toppling sideways.
He clung there for support, unwilling to let Starsky help him, unwilling to admit he couldn’t handle the situation himself. He swayed again, then clamped his eyes tightly shut. He opened them for a minute and shook his head back and forth. “I’m sorry, Starsk.”
Starsky sighed. “I know, babe. Come on… let’s get ya home.”
“Starsk?”
“Hmm? What is it?” Starsky was suddenly supporting the blond’s full weight again.
“I… I…I think I’m gonna be… sick.”
“Oh, shit… outside.”
Together, with no help from his loose-limbed partner, they made it to the alley.
At least he picked a quiet bar to drown his sorrows.
“Aw, Hutch,” Starsky sighed, rubbing the long back. “Why d’ya do it, huh? You know you can’t handle the hard stuff.” He wanted to add, when you‘re down, but this wasn’t the time for a lecture. Violent retching occupied Hutch at the moment. Starsky would drag him home, clean him up—then they’d talk. Hutch leaned against the wall while Starsky continued to offer what little support he could. “Think ya can make it home?”
Hutch shied away from Starsky’s prying eyes and nodded.
It was a good thing Venice Place was within walking distance. It was at times like these Starsky wondered why Hutch ever moved from the cottage; at least it didn’t have all these damn stairs to contend with. Hutch drunk was about as easy to maneuver as… well, he just couldn’t think of anything as uncooperative.
The steps were the bitch they always were.
“Damn, Hutch, next time get a place with an elevator.”
“I’m sorry, Starsk,” be choked.
They were both panting by the time Starsky pushed the door shut behind them, sandwiching Hutch between him and the door. The tears were back and so was the peculiar color he’d noticed in the bar.
“You okay?”
Hutch nodded. “Sure.” He closed his eyes at the slight movement and darted for the bathroom.
Hutch didn’t often get drunk—not really drunk. A few beers usually brought out the corny jokes and invariably freed a few inhibitions, but the high-octane stuff did just the opposite, and he usually ended up hugging the john.
Starsky wet a face cloth, rung it out until it was just damp, and knelt beside his partner to wipe some of the perspiration from the too-pale face and neck.
“Better?”
Hutch nodded weakly, but bis head remained cradled on bis arm, which was gripping the toilet. “Room’s spinnin’,” the muffled complaint was barely audible.
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Starsky soothed, wiping the damp hair back from Hutch’s brow with the cloth.
“I’m sorry, Starsk.”
“Hey, you wanna quit sayin’ that…it brings out the worst in ya.”
Hutch smiled weakly. “I see what you mean.” He sat up straighter and leaned back against the tub. “But I am… sorry, Starsk.”
“I know, that’s what you keep sayin’. I just don’t know why. You’re the one who’s takin’ the shit kickin’.”
Starsky couldn’t help wonder why Hutch was punishing himself this way. And then it finally dawned on him. That’s exactly what you’re doing, isn’t it, babe? Punishing yourself. But why?
“You want me to start the shower?”
Hutch looked down at his clothes and took an experimental sniff. “Yeah.”
“Need any help?”
Hutch shook his head. “I’m okay… but, Starsk?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t leave, okay?”
“Sure. I’ll put on some coffee.”
~*~*~*~
It was nearly midnight when Hutch opened the bathroom door, water still dripping from his hair, an orange towel wrapped securely around his middle.
“Ready for that coffee?”
“Yeah.”
“Hit the sheets. I’ll bring it.”
Hutch nodded and obediently did as he was told, dropping the towel on the floor as he crawled under the covers.
Starsky was there, handing him the steaming mug. “Tired?”
Hutch shrugged, rubbing drops of water from his forehead. “How long’s it been?”
“How long has what been?” Hutch asked, puzzled.
“How long’s it been since you’ve slept?”
Hutch swallowed uncomfortably. He was being hypnotized. He could feel Starsky’s eyes looking right into his soul, and he couldn’t not answer.
“I sleep.”
“Sure you do.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are. That’s why you’ve got those dark circles under your eyes, and come to think of it—look at you—you’ve lost weight.”
“Starsky… ” he was going to say, mind your own business, but that’s what got him into this mess in the first place.
“Why?” Starsky asked, determined to get an answer.
“Why, what? What’s with the twenty questions?” Hutch was getting pissed.
But Starsky wasn’t going to let go of it this time; Hutch had been avoiding him way too long. They didn’t work this way—on the job, or off.
“Why aren’t you sleepin’? And don’t tell me you are, ’cause I can tell when you’re lyin’, Hutchinson, and you know it.”
“I don’t know, maybe it’s been a rough few weeks… ya know?” Hutch said sarcastically. “Don’t you ever have a few nights when you can’t sleep?” Stupid question, of course he did, and Hutch knew it for a fact. They’d spent quite a few of them together.
Hutch stared out into the greenhouse trying to think of a way to avoid talking. Reinforcing crumbling walls.
“Hutch, talk to me.”
Suddenly, all of Hutch’s anger melted away, and Starsky grabbed for the cup that nearly tipped from his partner’s grasp.
“I can’t sleep, Starsk,” Hutch whispered. His face was pure misery.
Carefully, Starsky deposited the cup on the night table, reaching to still the trembling hand with his own.
“We got that far already. Why can’t ya sleep, hmm?”
Hutch nodded, trapped by the vivid blue eyes again. “The dream. It’s the dream.” His tired eyes were confused and lifeless.
“The Montgomery case?” Starsky asked. “That’s it, isn’t it?” He was sure of it now.
“Partly.”
“What else?”
“A bunch of stuff.” Hutch stared at their clasped hands, as Starsky’s thumb stroked the back of his hand. “Alverez. Forest, that kid we found in the woods… ” he glanced back up at Starsky. “… and this guy… ” Unsure of what Starsky’s reaction would be, he hesitated, “… this guy… with no face.”
Starsky was rubbing Hutch’s leg through the blanket, trying to relax him, trying to keep him talking.
“No face, huh? You been watchin’ the Fright Night movies without me again?”
Hutch laughed nervously and shook his head. The smile departed. “Nope. Thought this one up all by myself.”
“This guy… with no face… he’s a real ghoul, huh?”
Hutch shook his head slowly from side to side, his eyes drifting as if he were seeing the faceless man on instant replay.
“He’s cold, Starsk. He scares me like nothin’ I can ever remember, and I don’t know why.” Hutch’s voice sent shivers up Starsky’s spine. They were going to need to talk some more.
~*~*~*~
Something heavy and oppressive was holding him down. A sucking undertow dragging him deeper and deeper under the water. The pain in his lungs and tortured limbs was unbearable and he panicked, nearly giving in to the strange peace waiting to release him—but he fought it …fought with all the strength he had left. The lumbering wall of water held him down, powerless. He thrashed frantically to reach the surface.
Help me. Help me.
The black waves rolled over him, driving the remaining air from his lungs, crushing him. He knew he could never make it, his arms and legs felt like stone. He began to sob, fighting for each tortured breath. He heard himself crying, still moving through the water, blindly toward the surface…
He woke with a start to the sounds of his own gasping breaths as he fought for air. Coughing, he clutched at his throat, trying desperately to suck in air. Cold perspiration covered every inch of his shaking body, making him shiver uncontrollably in the cool dawn temperature. He gasped again, trying to still his racing heart, trying to calm his shaking limbs.
A dream. THE dream, he corrected mentally. The same dream—or at least a portion of the same dream—he’d been having for over a month.
Still gasping, he swung his legs around and sat on the edge of the bed, trembling from the after-effects of the nightmare. Something caught his attention and he jerked to his left, just as Starsky rounded the foot of the brass bed and slid to a crouch on the floor beside him.
“Hutch! Hutch… What?”
Starsky, dressed only in briefs, wasn’t fully awake. Quickly, things were becoming more clear in Hutch’s mind. His stupid drunken display and their heart-to-heart afterwards. Starsky evidently thought it necessary to babysit. Hutch knew where he was, but his continued lack of air was scaring him, and he gulped frantically for breath.
“Hutch… what’s the matter?”
Starsky was panicking, too. Hutch was pale and shivering and becoming more and more agitated with each second he couldn’t breathe.
Starsky grabbed him by the arms, trying desperately to help. But he didn’t know what to do. “Easy, babe, relax… just relax!”
Starsky stood and climbed onto the bed, pulling Hutch into his arms, trying to calm him so he could breathe normally. His thoughts were racing for an answer. He’s just hyperventilating… that’s all it is. He hoped that’s what it was. He wanted nothing more than to reach for the phone and call for help. He was about to do just that, when he noticed Hutch was calming and—more importantly—his breathing was returning to normal.
Starsky held him for a few more minutes, letting Hutch compose himself before he pulled him further onto the bed.
Starsky was shaking, too.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he soothed, wiping damp wisps of hair from Hutch’s face.
Most of the previous hours had been spent watching Hutch sleep, while he questioned what he could, or should do, to help. After several hours of peaceful sleep on Hutch’s part, Starsky finally gave in to his own fatigue and parked himself on the couch. He’d just fallen into a restless sleep when Hutch’s thrashing began. Should’a known this would happen. I should’a watched him.
Hutch’s breaths eased, but he continued to cling to Starsky as if his partner’s presence was the only reason for it.
Starsky kept up a gentle massage across his partner’s smooth shoulders until Hutch finally pulled away and crawled under the covers.
“I’m sor… ”
Starsky held up his hand to stop his partner’s apology. They’d been through this already. Right now, what Starsky really needed were answers. Answers to why his otherwise in-control partner was developing a penchant for hysteria, with damn scary side effects.
Hutch was sitting cross-legged with his head resting back against the brass rungs of the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing almost back to normal. ‘
“Man,” Starsky said, “you scared the shit outta me.” Hutch didn’t move.
“Do you want a drink?” Starsky asked, needing to do something.
Finally, Hutch’s head came forward and their eyes connected for a second before he swallowed uncomfortably and once again focused his attention on the greenhouse and the lush plants on the other side of the window. Not a word was spoken.
Starsky tucked the covers around his partner and headed for the kitchen. Maybe Hutch didn’t need a drink, but he sure did. His own heart rate was just now reaching a healthy level, as he reached for the bottle of brandy under the sink. He felt like he’d been in a gunfight.
Instead of opening the bottle, he stood, leaning against the counter, head down, wondering what the hell they were going to do. They were logged out for today. Maybe they could make some sense of it all before Hutch got one of them killed. They couldn’t continue like this.
~*~*~*~
Starsky insisted that Hutch get some sleep. It was a scheduled day off; they had nothing that needed doing that couldn’t wait. Hutch’s health was more important than laundry or tennis, or washing the car, or any of their other off-duty pastimes. About nine, Starsky decided to slip home for a few minutes to grab some fresh clothes, collect his mail, and stop off at the grocery store. The next couple of days were going to be just for them. And the time off was going to be as uneventful as he could possibly make it.
He considered calling Dr. Hanover, but he knew Hutch wouldn’t agree to it, and he couldn’t go behind his partner’s back. He’d done that before, when he’d done some checking on Nancy Blake’s fiancé, so he knew how Hutch would react.
By the time he got back to Venice Place, it was nearly noon. He decided they deserved a treat and slipped into Chez Helene’s.
Micheline was delighted to see him and eagerly packed him a special order of wiener schnitzel, for two—to go. She treated Hutch like family and was upset to hear he’d been hospitalized. He and Starsky sometimes spent evenings on her back patio, sipping beer and unwinding. She felt safe with the big cop living upstairs.
Starsky carefully balanced the cardboard containers, letting himself into the apartment as quietly as he could in case Hutch was still sleeping. He closed the door and silently crept toward the kitchen. He wanted to have everything ready before he called Hutch for lunch.
But Hutch was already awake and dressed, and apparently so wrapped up in what he was doing he hadn’t heard Starsky come in. He stood in front of the easel, sketching hastily with a charcoal stick.
Curious, Starsky deposited the containers on the kitchen counter and continued through to the bedroom alcove to see what his partner was up to.
“What are you workin’ on?” he asked softly. “Can I see?”
Starsky put an arm across his friend’s shoulders and turned to look at the masterpiece in progress. There were dark slashing sweeps of charcoal covering what looked like an outline of a portrait. The original sketch began in Hutch’s own discernible style, but clearly he was not happy with the way it was turning out.
The shape of the face was there, it was definitely male, but the facial features were missing. Starsky turned deliberately from the easel to observe Hutch’s expression. “Is that him?”
Hutch finally turned away from the sketch and met Starsky’s questioning eyes. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Starsky frowned. “Yeah? What am I thinking?”
“You think I’m having some sort of breakdown.”
Starsky grabbed Hutch by the arms and turned him so he could look at him. “Why would I think that?” he asked-meaning it.
Calmly, Hutch stared at his partner and answered, “Because I do.”
Starsky pulled him into a hug and held on. “It’s gonna be okay, Hutch. You’re not having a breakdown. That’s not what’s happening here.”
Hutch pulled out of the hold Starsky had on him and turned toward the kitchen. He had to get away. He needed breathing room. His thoughts were jumbled and he couldn’t concentrate enough to figure out what he wanted to say. He just knew that everything that used to be right wasn’t anymore.
Starsky followed him, grabbing hold of Hutch’s arm to turn him around, but Hutch pulled away again. “We gotta talk about it,” Starsky stated flatly. Hutch didn’t answer. “It’s just something simple, you said yourself it has something to do with the case. If we go over it, we’ll figure it out.” Starsky was grasping at straws.
Hutch turned then—angry. “I’ve been going over it, Starsky! Over it and over it until I can’t think straight!”
“Then we’ll go over it again… together!”
“You weren’t there!” Hutch yelled.
Starsky turned away from the painful expression on Hutch’s face, waiting until he composed himself before speaking.
“If I’d been there, this would’ve never happened! I should’ve been there for ya, Hutch! You’re my responsibility!” Starsky was angry now. “I should’ve never let you go in without a wire. I should’ve made you see a doctor. I knew what this whole thing was doin’ to you right from the start. I should’ve pulled the plug.”
Hutch shook his head back and forth, unable to move. He couldn’t let Starsky take the blame for all that bad gone wrong. It wasn’t his fault.
“Starsky?” Hutch was near tears, reaching out to his partner. “Starsk, I don’t know what to do! I’m afraid I’ll mess up again.”
Starsky turned back to his partner, shocked at the state he was in. “You didn’t mess up, Hutch. It wasn’t your fault! It was Alverez. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I was scared, Starsky,” Hutch admitted guiltily.
“I know, babe, you had good reason.”
Hutch continued to shake his head. “You don’t understand.”
Starsky was puzzled. “What don’t I understand, Hutch? Explain it to me.” Hutch let his partner come closer and touch him.
“I was afraid of Hearne. I’m a cop. I’m not supposed to let creeps like him intimidate me. He… he… ” Hutch stuttered, pulling out of Starsky’s grasp.
“What?” Starsky asked, holding tighter.
Hutch turned his face away, but Starsky turned it back. “Tell me.”
“He said some stuff in the basement, just before you came… and I don’t know what he meant.”
Hutch had Starsky’s undivided attention now. “What did he say, Hutch?” It was like pulling teeth.
“He said he knew me, before. Wanted to know if I remembered him. He said it was a lot’a years since he’d seen me last and he didn’t recognize me at first, until Rico told him my name. The last time, just before he left, he said he was gonna come back and finish what he started years ago.”
“Aw, Hutch, they all say crap like that. They get off on it.”
“No.” Hutch was shaking his head. “You don’t understand… he… ”
“What? What is it, Hutch?” Starsky encouraged.
Hutch swallowed and glanced away for a second, then found the courage to continue. “I think he’s the man in my nightmare.”
Starsky hugged Hutch close. How could the big blond be so dense? “Well, of course he is, babe, he terrorized you, he beat you and left you to die in that crummy basement. Why wouldn’t he give you nightmares? I’ve got a few characters like him starring in some of my own all-time favorites, too.”
Hutch smiled slightly, then sobered as he continued. “Starsk, I’ve been having this dream since I was a kid.”
Starsky was puzzled. “What’re you talkin’ about? You have this dream all the time?”
Hutch shook his head. “No… that’s not what I meant. I mean, I used to have it when I was a kid, and now it’s back.”
The implications of the last statement were confusing to them both. Just when Starsky thought they’d found the answer, everything was more fucked up than ever.
~*~*~*~
The two take-out dinners from Chez Helene’s turned into four meals, since neither of them felt much like eating. The larger-than-most restaurant portions were more than enough to satisfy them for lunch and later on in the evening while they watched the news.
Starsky was grateful to see Hutch actually eat something, even if it wasn’t an enthusiastic experience. But be could sense a change. The cranky Viking he’d been stuck with for the last month seemed slightly more at ease, and slightly more willing to talk about what was bothering him. A personal decision bad been made within the last few hours, and Starsky no longer felt like the outsider he’d become since Narco handed them the Montgomery case.
It was like that with Hutch. Sometimes it took him a while to warm to an idea, but once he made a decision, there wasn’t a more loyal or dependable person on the planet.
“Micheline sent up a huge slab of that Black Forest cake you like. D’ya want some?”
Hutch turned from the local news program he usually watched and cleared bis throat. “Sure.”
Starsky wondered just how much of Hutch’s attention was actually on the broadcast and how much be was still thinking about the nightmare.
“Maybe tomorrow we can take a ride down PCH,” Starsky said hopefully, “or maybe just take a walk on the beach. What d’ya say? We’re not on duty ’til late.” Starsky was trying desperately to draw Hutch into some conversation, and he watched Hutch’s reaction carefully.
“Sure. That sounds good.” Hutch actually smiled. It was obvious Hutch liked the idea of Starsky playing big brother. Knowing someone else was in charge for awhile was even worth the question-and-answer session that was bound to follow.
Starsky searched through the kitchen drawer for a knife to cut the cake, occasionally chancing a glance toward the couch where Hutch sat watching TV. They’d made some progress in the communication department, now if they could only solve the problem.
As he reached for the plates on the shelf, the phone rang, and he could hear Hutch clamber off the couch to catch it on the second ring.
“Hutchinson.”
Starsky watched Hutch curiously from the kitchen, as he sliced into the cake, plopping a piece on each of the two plates. That better not be the station. Should have taken the damn thing off the hook.
Hutch stood absolutely still, not saying a word, staring wide-eyed at the small, seldom-used portable TV on the desk.
There was something about the expression on Hutch’s face that prompted Starsky to stop what he was doing and go into the living room. Hutch’s face was pale, and the receiver hung loose in his hand.
“What is it?” Starsky asked, as he sat the two dessert plates on the coffee table.
Hutch barely acknowledged the question, though he did—almost unaware—turn and hand the phone to his partner.
“Who is this?” Starsky asked into the phone.
Click.
Hutch stared at the TV screen, the images blurry and unrecognizable.
Starsky quickly sat the buzzing phone back onto the cradle and moved closer. Hutch looked shell-shocked and there was a slight tremor that seemed to be getting more noticeable as the seconds ticked by.
Starsky’s eyes moved slowly from Hutch’s face to the TV screen, and the news update that he seemed so absorbed in.
The studio announcer was talking to a reporter at what appeared to be the scene of a crime. The darkness and treed location made it difficult to tell what was happening until the reporter started to speak, but Starsky knew instantly something terrible had happened.
“A little after five this afternoon, this reporter received a phone tip at our affiliate here in the city. The informant, an unidentified man, reported that a body could be found next to this drainage culvert behind me.”
The reporter motioned over her left shoulder in the direction of the cement, brush-covered structure.
Starsky doubted the young woman had ever been this involved with the seamier part of the news before, even in the glare of the TV lights her complexion looked ashen.
Crime scene tape was already visible in the background, and plain-clothed and uniformed officers alike were busily securing the area.
Lights from an approaching LAPD patrol car cast a glare on the reporter’s somber face as she related the story to the news anchor. Her voice was shaky as she continued with her segment, and Starsky imagined she’d probably been the one who had found the body.
Starsky discreetly glanced sideways at his partner. Hutch’s attention was riveted to the set, with the same combination of terror and shock on his face that had been there when Starsky had walked in on him earlier in the afternoon.
The anchorman was asking the reporter to explain the facts about the young boy’s disappearance the day before, as a picture of a tow-headed youngster was flashed across the screen. The reporter’s voice could be heard in the background.
“Little, eight-year-old, Cameron Nielson, disappeared from his backyard sometime Friday afternoon, Ed. There was an all-out search launched by the family and neighbors almost immediately, and the police were notified shortly after that. The message our station received earlier this afternoon from an unknown male caller, reported the boy could be found along the bank of Raliana Creek… ”
Hutch’s legs gave out on him, and he dropped heavily into the wooden armchair behind him.
“No!”
“What?” Starsky sank with him, afraid his partner was about to pass out. “Hutch?” Hutch’s shaking was worse, his complexion ghostly white. “Who were you talking to?” Starsky was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, his hands resting on Hutch’s thighs. “What’s going on? Who was on the phone just now?”
Hutch started to speak then turned to look again at the newscast. Starsky gently forced Hutch’s head around, away from the scene on the TV.
“Who was on the phone, Hutch?” Starsky demanded, trying to stay calm. “What did they want?”
Hutch looked at him then. “It was Hearne. I’m sure of it. He wanted to know if I was watching the news.” Hutch’s eyes were pleading with Starsky for understanding. “He… he wanted to know if I remembered what it was like?”
“What?”
“He said… he said, he did it because of… me!” The last was a choked sob.
Starsky reached out to grasp Hutch’s arms to try and calm him, but Hutch paid no attention; he was beyond reasoning with.
“Oh, my God… he killed that kid because of me!”
The violent tremors were all consuming now, and he gulped air to keep from vomiting. Starsky grabbed the waste basket just in time.
Oh, Hutch. It was all he could do to keep from crying.
What’s happening? What does Hearne have to do with this? Maybe Hutch is having a breakdown. The thought terrified Starsky. Not Hutch.
The nightmare caused the same out-of-control symptoms as the phone call. Was it possible the two incidents were connected? The tremors, the difficulty breathing and being physically ill, were a constant. How long had those symptoms been going on? No wonder he’s lost weight. Were they part of the package that came with the dream? But Hutch said he’d had the same nightmare when he was a kid. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. The stress from the last month has just been too much. He’s overtired. But something in that reasoning didn’t sit well with Starsky.
He had to talk to Dobey. Tell him about Hutch’s phone call and the connection to the kid’s death. But he couldn’t leave Hutch, not right now-not in the condition he was in.
~*~*~*~
They sat leaning together on the couch until Hutch was calm enough to talk. They both agreed it was time to speak to Dobey. Nightmares were one thing, but Hearne had again turned this into a police matter.
Hutch was beside himself with guilt and grief, but Starsky finally managed to persuade him to lie down on the bed. Dobey would be in a meeting with the commissioner until seven but would meet them later at Hutch’s apartment. Dobey reluctantly agreed that Hutch should stay put. The captain had learned from experience to listen to Starsky when it came to Hutchinson’s welfare. If Starsky said his partner wasn’t well enough to make the trip to the office, Dobey had no reason to doubt him.
Starsky sat at the kitchen table where he could watch his sleeping partner. The first sign of a nightmare and he’d be right there this time. He listened to the gentle rhythm of Hutch’s breathing, trying to make sense of the day. The whole damn month! Hutch had been through so much since Alverez and Hearne got the drop on him at the campus.
Starsky rubbed his forehead to ease the ache. Hearne? What the hell is this all about? The guy was scot-free, why draw attention to himself by committing a murder? And why brag about it to a cop? None of it made any sense. But then, these types of crimes seldom did.
He closed his eyes. Here it was, weeks later, and he still couldn’t get the vision of Hutch’s battered body lying in that basement out of his mind. He scrubbed at his face realizing he had a few nightmares of his own to deal with.
Nothing was cut-and-dried. The case was still open until Hearne was arrested. He had probable murder and attempted murder of a police officer charges waiting for him. And if Hutch was right about it being Hearne’s voice he’d heard on the phone tonight, attempted murder was the least of the creep’s problems.
~*~*~*~
A light tap on the door announced Dobey’s arrival close to nine o’clock, and Starsky rushed over, hoping he could let Hutch continue sleeping a bit longer. Starsky quietly opened the door for the captain and immediately put his finger to his lips.
“He’s asleep, finally,” he whispered, “I’d rather not wake him just yet.”
Dobey didn’t look pleased. It had been another excruciatingly long day and all he really wanted was to get home to Edith and his dinner, which was now several hours late.
“What’s this all about, Starsky?” The big man looked around the sparse apartment, spotted a chair and settled himself. He was exhausted. The commissioner was still on his back about the Echlin case, and now, since dinner, they could add another name to the list of possible victims. “You said you had some information about this Nielson murder.” The captain looked impatient. “Can you tell me why your time is any more important than mine, Starsky, and why I had to drive all the way out to godforsaken Venice?” He rubbed a meaty hand over his eyes and sighed deeply, “I’m beginning to forget what my wife looks like.”
Starsky’s attention was dueling between his captain’s obvious frustration and his partner’s well-being. He motioned with his bands for Dobey to keep the volume down, but it was too late, he could hear Hutch stirring.
“Starsk? Who’s out there?”
Starsky grimaced and admitted defeat. “Umm, Hutch…the captain’s here.”
Hutch appeared around the corner of the wooden room divider, rumpled and tired, slipping into his shirt as he joined them in the living room.
“Sorry, Cap’n, for making you come all the way out here. I should’ve… ” But his apology was cut short.
“Hutchinson, what’s the matter with you? You look like hell!” Dobey loosened his tie and looked uncomfortable. Starsky had told him over the phone that his partner wasn’t in any shape to come to the station, but being told something and having it dramatically shoved in your face were two different things.
Hutch shrugged and sat on the couch. “Thanks, Cap’n. Must be true… Starsky’s been telling me the same thing.”
Dobey huffed and sat straighter in the hard chair. “What’s this all about, you two? Starsky, you said something about having information regarding the Nielson case.” Dobey gave Hutch another cursory once over, not liking what he was seeing. He’d been worried about this particular detective since the end of the Montgomery case. The fact that Hutch wasn’t back to his fighting weight hadn’t escaped him.
Starsky looked from one man to the other, not knowing quite where to start or how much of Hutch’s personal involvement to reveal. After a quick glance at his partner, he decided to shoot the bundle. It was time to get the whole thing out in the open where they could do something about it.
“Cap’n, we think Hearne had something to do with the murder of that kid tonight,” Starsky began hesitantly.
The statement caught Dobey off-guard. “Hearne? As in Montgomery’s driver? What are you talking about, Starsky?”
Starsky glanced at his partner. Hutch wasn’t up to this, but it couldn’t wait. “Hutch had a phone call tonight, during the news.”
Dobey nodded that he understood and motioned for Starsky to move the story along. He was tired and grumpy. He had little patience left for one of Starsky’s obscure stories. “Get on with it, Starsky.”
Starsky swallowed, noticing Hutch’s preoccupation with the buttons on his shirt. Anything to distract his mind from the thought of the phone conversation.
“Hutch is positive it was Hearne. He asked if Hutch was watching the news. Then he said… ” Starsky wanted very much to go to Hutch and tell him it was okay, but it would have to wait until Dobey left. “He said he killed that kid because of Hutch.”
Dobey said nothing. He looked from one detective to the other, hoping for further explanation. But there was nothing Starsky could add that would make things any easier to understand.
~*~*~*~
They stopped at a little place on Figueroa, not far from Vinnie’s Gym, where they could grab a quick breakfast and figure out just where they should start looking for Hearne. Over the years, Mugg’s had become one of their favorite morning stops, as they could both indulge in the food that would suit their varied tastes. But this morning, the most Starsky could talk Hutch into was coffee. By rights, they should’ve been off until later in the afternoon, but nothing would be gained by it; Hutch was determined to find an answer to his problem.
At eight, they dropped by the squad room to pick up their messages, then headed straight for R&I. Hutch wanted to go through the mug books one more time. He knew if they could find a shot of Hearne, they would have a better chance of getting something useful when they went to interview the Nielson boy’s family later in the afternoon.
It was officially Venice Division’s call, but because of the similarities to the recent murders in Metro’s area, the case was automatically placed in Simmons and Babcock’s docket. Hutch convinced the captain he had a special interest in the case, and Dobey, against his better judgment, gave them permission to do some snooping as long as it didn’t interfere with their regular caseload. Luckily, since Hutch’s return to work, they didn’t have a lot of urgent cases pending.
The fact that the boy’s body was found mere blocks from Hutch’s apartment hadn’t escaped them, either, and they wondered if that was a coincidence or a planned element on Hearne’s part.
Starsky grabbed an armful of mug books from Minnie and slid them across the table for Hutch to plunge into. He’d been through over half of them so far, and he wasn’t having any better luck this time around.
“He’s just not here, Starsk.” Hutch leaned back in the wooden chair and ran both hands through his longish hair. He was exhausted and it wasn’t even noon yet.
“Is there anything else, Minnie?” Starsky asked, knowing the answer.
Minnie shook her head. “That’s it, Starsky.” She pushed her sliding glasses back up and sat on the edge of the desk. “The only other thing we could try is the out-of-state loony file.” She wasn’t kidding.
“Why not?” sighed Starsky. “This guy’s about as loony as any of the locals.”
For a few moments, there was silence in the room. Hutch slumped in the chair, head back, staring at the ceiling.
“Well, he’s sure not in any of these.” Hutch gave the book in front of him a shove, sounding discouraged beyond words.
Minnie frowned. “How old did you say this guy you’re lookin’ for is?”
Hutch sat up and Starsky looked at him, trying to judge from memory. “Uh, I don’t know; mid to late fifties? Hutch?”
Hutch thought a second and agreed. “Yeah, I’d say late fifties. Why, Minnie?”
“I don’t know, just wondered. Could be all new at this life of crime,” she shrugged.
“Or real old and just lucky as hell.” Starsky dropped into the chair across from Hutch and propped his feet on the corner of the desk.
“We already tried OMV, Minnie,” Hutch scrubbed at his tired eyes, “… nothin’.”
“Hmm. Well, maybe he is from out of state. They’re just as entitled as the rest of us to their fair share of wackos.” She started stacking the books neatly to one side of the desk. “Would the ldent-kit give you a good enough composite?”
“I never really got a good close look at him, Minnie,” Starsky said. “Do ‘ya think you could remember him good enough, partner?”
“It’s not a face I’m likely to forget.” Hutch rubbed his eyes again and propelled himself out of the chair to stretch. “We’ve got nothin’ to lose by trying, I guess.”
“Well, the only other alternative is to go talk nicey-nice to Alverez or Montgomery.”
Hutch snorted. “From what Jeffries tells me, they’re not even talkin’ to their own lawyers.” Hutch sat back down. “Let’s try for a composite. It’s better than we’ve got now.”
Minnie slid down off the desk, straightened her skirt, and marched over to the office door. “Be right back. There’s one in the cabinet in Berkowitz’ office.”
Starsky sighed as the door clicked shut behind her. It was a long shot that Hutch would be able to duplicate Hearne’s face from something as vague as an Ident-kit, and even if they did get a picture to show the Nielsons, what would it get them? Hearne already admitted he did it. At least to Hutch. In a damn phone conversation, which would be tossed out of court in a second, even if they could find him.
Hutch must have been thinking along the same lines. “It’s not gonna do any good, Starsk. Unless we can get a name to the face, we’ll be no further ahead.”
Starsky hated to agree with him, but Hutch was right. They’d have to trip over the guy as he turned himself in, at the rate they were going.
Minnie returned fifteen minutes later, carrying a tray of Styrofoam coffee cups and the composite kit under one ann. “I thought maybe you could use some nourishment.”
Starsky reached for the tray and set it on the desk between them. “Hey, thanks, Minnie,” he said, dumping a few sugar packets in one to make it drinkable.
Hutch was already thumbing through the combinations of facial features that filled the box. There seemed like an infinite number of combinations, and he didn’t know where to start. “Too bad they don’t have boots in here,” he grumbled. “I seem to remember seeing those quite a bit.”
Starsky laughed halfheartedly. It was anything but funny.
“Start with the shape of the face. Huh?” Starsky shrugged. He didn’t know how to help. Whenever Hearne had been around, the Torino was always halfway across the campus. All Starsky could really identify with any credence was the guy’s voice. Terrific.
Starsky threw his empty cup into the trash and paced over to the window and back again. His nerves were on edge and not being able to help was driving him crazy.
“Why didn’t Jeffries or Wong check this guy out at the time? That’s what I’d like to know. This was their deal. They said they had everything under control… just needed you for the pay-off.”
Hutch looked up from the face he was creating on the table and rolled his eyes. “If you’re gonna say this was all their fault, don’t. You know as well as I do we could’ve done the same damn check. We didn’t think Hearne was a threat and neither did they. And if you start hinting that you did or didn’t do something to cause this, I’m gonna deck ya.”
They stared at each other for an uncomfortable few moments, before Minnie loudly cleared her voice and reminded them why they were there.
By one o’clock, Hutch succeeded in finding a fairly close likeness of Hearne, though there was something that wasn’t quite right. He exchanged eye portions at random but couldn’t seem to find quite the right combination.
“It’s not right,” Hutch sighed. “It’s something with the eyes, but nothing I try works.”
Minnie shuffled through the box looking for something close to what Hutch had pieced together. “Maybe he needs more age lines. You said he’s in his late fifties.”
Starsky leaned over Hutch’s shoulder, looking at the features Hutch had spread out on the desk in front of him.
“That’s probably what it is, Hutch. He’s just not wrinkled enough to give him the age you’re looking for.”
Hutch reached for another card to try, but these were even younger looking.
“Well, that’s not right,” Minnie offered. “Maybe there’s another one.” She started to reach for the newest card to put it back into the box, but Hutch held her wrist to stop her.
“What?” she asked.
“That’s him.” Hutch looked puzzled.
“You mean we just need to prune him up a bit?” Starsky asked.
“No, that’s him,” Hutch said again, more certain.
Starsky stood back and squinted. “Well, I guess if you try, you can imagine him older. I wish I’d gotten a better look at Hearne up close.”
“Not Hearne,” Hutch said, impatiently.
“Hutch, what’re ya talkin’ about?” Starsky was confused.
Hutch covered his eyes with the tips of his fingers, leaning his elbows on the desk.
“What?” Starsky asked after a few seconds had passed without a word from his partner.
Hutch stared at the face he’d created once more and nodded. “Starsk, this is the man in my nightmare.”
“Huh?” Starsky frowned. “You mean the guy with no face?”
“Yeah,” Hutch said breathlessly. “But he’s got one now.”
“Are you sure?” Starsky asked, trying to remember the brief glimpse he had of Hearne from the Torino. “It sure looks similar to the guy driving Montgomery’s car, but…”
Minnie examined the picture on the table, then exchanged the eye portion with the older pair she’d just picked out of the box.
There, staring at them from the table, was the man they were looking for. It was most definitely Montgomery’s driver.
“It’s Hearne,” Hutch nodded, surprised.
Starsky moved around to Hutch’s side and again replaced the eye portion with the younger eyes.
“Oh, God.” Hutch stared up into Starsky’s uncertain face. “Starsk, it’s the same guy. The man from my dream is Hearne.”
They switched the eyes back and forth and agreed that they were one and the same person.
“It’s just one of those… what do ya call it when your brain plays a trick on you?”
Hutch was out of the chair, pacing back and forth, stopping frequently to stare at the picture.
“No. No, that’s not what it is, Starsk. I remember this face from when I was a kid. It’s not what you think. I haven’t just got Hearne mixed up with him, it is him. Only younger.”
“Shit!” Starsky dropped into the chair Hutch had just vacated. “You mean he really did know you before? Just like he said he did?”
Hutch stopped pacing and stood absolutely still, staring at his partner. “Yeah,” he sighed. “He knew me when I was a kid.”
“Hutch?” Starsky didn’t know what to think. “What’s this all about? What are you saying?”
“Starsk?”
Starsky grabbed Hutch by the elbow, pulling him toward the door. “Minnie, be a doll and make us a couple’a copies? One of each. We’ll be back for ’em later.”
“Sure thing, Starsky.” She couldn’t take her eyes off them. Other than finding a clue to a possible suspect, she had no idea what else had just happened. The door slammed shut behind them, and she gathered up Hutch’s composite and put it in the file to Xerox. Those two were just too tight for their own good sometimes, and weird to boot. She decided she might have to rethink why she found Curly so fascinating.
~*~*~*~
“Where’re you dragging me to, Starsky?!”
Hutch was pale, but Starsky had to admit he did seem to be functioning better than he had back at the apartment the night before.
“Look, I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on with you, but once and for all, we’re gonna talk about this. If Hearne has some connection to you, I wanna know about it, and I wanna know about it now!” They’d stopped just inside the parking garage, Starsky looking around to make sure they couldn’t be overheard.
“Look at you! You’re a mess. If this has something to do with him then I gotta know. How can I protect you if I don’t know what the hell’s going on?”
“You don’t need to protect me, Starsky!”
“Hutch?” he pleaded, frustrated by his partner’s stubbornness.
Hutch couldn’t face him. He looked around timidly to see if anyone else had heard his outburst. He sucked in a lungful of air then, blowing it out slowly, turned back to his partner. Starsky’s eyes were begging for understanding, and Hutch suddenly realized he couldn’t handle it alone.
“Okay. But not here,” he said quietly.
Starsky sighed with relief. “Okay, okay, not here.” He looked around until he spotted the Torino parked against the fence. “Let’s take a drive.”
Not a word was spoken, block after block, and Starsky was beginning to think Hutch was going to back out yet again. He could almost see the thoughts running through Hutch’s mind, every one of his emotions playing out for Starsky to see.
Restless, Hutch turned to the window, watching the pedestrians along Pico Boulevard out of habit. Watching for the slightest thing that might mean trouble, but scarcely seeing his surroundings at all. He hardly noticed when Starsky pulled the car up in front of Venice Place a short time later and turned off the Torino’s engine.
They climbed the narrow flight of stairs to the second-floor apartment in silence, pausing just long enough for Hutch to feel above the lintel for the key and unlock the door.
“Do you want something to eat before we head out?” he asked Starsky. They still had an appointment with the Nielsons later in the afternoon.
Considering his partner’s deplorable interest in food lately, Starsky knew a stall tactic when he heard it.
“We’ll grab something later. I wanna talk.”
Hutch nodded, walking over to one of the living room windows, he adjusted the slats of the shutters so he could see the traffic on the street below.
He felt Starsky hovering behind him, even before he spoke. “Hutch?”
“I don’t know where to start,” he said nervously.
Starsky’s heart leapt into his throat He’d been hoping this was going to be something simple, like he had imagined before. That it was just Hutch’s sense of duty working overtime because Hearne escaped custody when the others were arrested. Suddenly, he knew this was going to be much more complicated than he had ever thought.
He raised his left hand and gently rubbed it up the length of Hutch’s arm, continuing to stand behind him, so his partner could still have this tiny bit of distance.
Hutch’s whole body tensed; Starsky could tell instinctively this wasn’t easy for him. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” he suggested quietly.
Hutch nodded tightly, holding back until he was more in control. “I’m not sure where the beginning is, Starsk.”
“Well, then, we’ll figure it out together.”
Again, the barely perceptible nod followed by a deep, but shaky, breath. “Something happened when I was a kid. I don’t even remember most of it.”
Starsky nodded, then realized Hutch couldn’t see him. “What happened, Hutch?”
Hutch’s eyes never left the window, though he no longer watched the traffic. “You know my folks were divorced when I was seven?”
Starsky nodded again, “Sure, that must’ve been tough for a kid. Seven’s pretty young.” They had talked about this before, but never to any extent. It came up in passing conversation, but at the time, Hutch didn’t seem willing to elaborate. “And you lived with your mom afterward.” Starsky was aware of that much.
“Yeah,” Hutch sighed. “I lived with my mom and stepfather at his house in town.”
Starsky was only vaguely aware of the circumstances surrounding the Hutchinson’s divorce, but he did remember Hutch saying that his father and stepfather were once business partners in Duluth. “Did you see your dad much?” Starsky wasn’t sure how much he should push.
Hutch shook his head. “Not too much… not at first, anyway. He was pretty busy trying to keep the firm going, I guess.” His father had become the sole owner of the architectural firm after he and Eric Jurgens dissolved their partnership. Hutch had shared this much with Starsky during an all-night stakeout the first year they were partnered. The fact that Starsky immediately noticed a similarity between Hutch’s mother and Vanessa would never, ever, be mentioned. It seemed, in Starsky’s opinion, that both Hutchinson men were doomed to be wounded by their choice in women. Reason enough to leave the subject alone.
“You must’ve been pretty lonely, huh?” Starsky asked. He watched Hutch’s jaw muscles bunch and spasm.
“It wasn’t so bad; I had friends come over once in a while.” He wiped his face with his hand, taking a deep breath. “I was only there a year.”
Now that part, Starsky didn’t know. He knew Hutch had been bounced back and forth and grew up on the farm, but he had no idea he’d been with his mother for such a short time.
“Dad married Mom… Katherine.” He thought of Katherine as his mother. She’d been the only one he really remembered. “And they thought it would be better for me in the country, I guess, I…”
“What?” Starsky reached to try and soothe the noticeable stiffness in Hutch’s shoulders and back.
“I don’t remember a lot that happened that year.”
“How come?” Starsky asked, genuinely interested.
“Something happened and… ” Hutch was running his finger back and forth across the slat of the shutter. ” … and… ”
“What happened, huh?” Starsky asked, trying to urge Hutch to continue.
“Somebody took me—they say I blocked it out—I can’t remember much about it; nobody ever talks about it.” It all came out in one breathless, painful sentence.
“Took you?” Starsky’s heart was racing. “You mean a stranger?” Starsky stopped the back rub to pull Hutch around to face him. “Can I ask why you never thought to mention this before?” Starsky turned away and tried to calm down.
Hutch was shocked at Starsky’s reaction. “Starsk, I’ve spent my whole life trying to forget it, I just…” Hutch dug his fingers into Starsky’s arms, turning him so they could face each other. “I just… don’t remember a lot… that’s all. And what I do remember I’d rather forget.” Hutch was pleading with Starsky to understand.
Starsky stared at his partner, feeling guilty for thinking of himself. “Come on, let’s sit down.” Why am I getting mad at him?
“It’s not like I was keeping it from you, Starsk. I just avoid thinking about it, that’s all.”
Hutch was stumbling over an explanation, but it wasn’t what Starsky needed to hear. His instant of feeling left out was gone, especially now that he could see how he’d hurt his partner.
“Hey, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter.” Starsky tugged Hutch over to the couch. “You can tell me now.”
Hutch sat for a moment, slouched forward, trying to sort out what he wanted to say. He’d never really talked to anyone about it before, at least not since he became an adult. He wasn’t sure why that was. Even after the incident, no one had really talked about it. He’d always felt it wasn’t allowed.
Starsky sat quietly, waiting for Hutch to make the first move. It had to be up to Hutch. No matter how much Starsky wanted to know what happened, he knew it was Hutch’s decision.
“It happened in the fall, right after my eighth birthday.”
Starsky nodded. “Is this why you have the nightmares?”
Hutch looked up then, eyes wide and glistening. “That’s when they started.”
Starsky swallowed uncomfortably but continued. “You said someone took you. Who? Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know. They never found the guy. My father paid the ransom and Luke found me in some abandoned cabin.”
“Luke?”
“Yeah.”
Starsky was totally confused. “Luke Huntley?” He was the only Luke he knew. Hutch nodded.
Shit.
Starsky had heard some of the stories Luke told about Duluth, how he’d been a rookie cop there before he and Doris moved to LA. Hutch always said Luke had a great deal to do with him becoming a cop, but apparently Starsky had no idea just how much. He felt like he’d just been pole-axed.
“I don’t understand, Hutch.”
Hutch leaned back against the couch cushion, willing his body and mind to relax so he could remember as much as possible.
“It was September, just after school started. I was gone all week at school and came home for the weekend… ”
“Wait a second?” Starsky interrupted. “Wait just a second. Are you saying you went to boarding school?”
Hutch half laughed at Starsky’s shocked expression. “Only for a few weeks, Starsk. After… afterwards,” Hutch stammered, “when I went back to the farm, I went to the local school.”
“And your mother was okay with the boarding school?” Starsky questioned. “I mean, geez, Hutch, you were only a little kid.”
“Sure,” Hutch shrugged, “it was a really good school.”
“And when you came home for the weekend?” Starsky asked.
“That’s when it happened,” Hutch said quickly. “My dad paid the money they wanted, and then they let me go.”
“They took you because your dad had money?”
Hutch just shrugged again and nodded. “He ended up losing the house in town to the bank to pay off the huge loan. Every cent he owned was tied up in the business. He had to sell the firm back to my stepfather; there wasn’t much cash, at least not as much as the kidnappers thought there was. My stepfather put up the rest of the money. That’s why Dad and Katherine live on Granddad’s farm now. He lost everything because of me.”
Starsky shook his head at the last statement, trying to assimilate the new information he was learning.
“But Jack said you had money.” Why’d I say that? “Hey, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that.” Starsky apologized.
“It’s okay. My stepfather paid for school; Jack had no way of knowing that. I didn’t even know until my second year of college.”
“You said they let you go… what did Luke have to do with this?”
Hutch turned his head to look at Starsky. “I guess they didn’t actually let me go. Luke stumbled onto the cabin with his partner during a search.” Hutch looked down at his hands. “Maybe the guy would’ve never let me go.” Hutch shrugged and looked at Starsky, his eyes wide with wonder, like he’d only just realized that fact himself.
Starsky’s stomach was in his throat. He had a question on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to ask it so badly he could hardly hold it back. Did he hurt you? Ah, God, babe, did this guy hurt you? His throat tightened around the words, and he decided he couldn’t handle the answer right now. Starsky shoved the question away for later; another one begged to be answered. “Was it Hearne?”
“Until a few minutes ago I would’ve said no. But now, I’m not so sure. Starsk?”
Starsky swallowed. He had to know—the thought wouldn’t go away. He didn’t know how to ask the question, but he had to know for sure. “Did… did he hurt you, Hutch?”
“I… I can’t remember anything before Luke carried me out of that cabin. I don’t even remember the ride to the hospital.”
“Maybe if we talk to Luke… ” Starsky suggested. “Maybe he’d be able to… ”
“I don’t think he knows any more than I do, Starsk. No one was ever arrested.”
Starsky was up and pacing. It was too much information in too little time. All he could do was remember the few pictures he’d seen of Hutch as a child—a timid, tow-headed kid, with big, sad, eyes. Oh, God. He felt his stomach flip.
“Starsky!” Hutch sat straight as an arrow, starring into his partner’s eyes. “Starsk, that was 1951. Do you think… do you think it really could’ve been Hearne?” Hutch’s breaths were coming in little gasps. “Oh, my God, Starsk… do you think he’s been doing this since then?”
Starsky had stopped to stare at his partner on the couch. The color had drained completely from the blond’s face, and Starsky could tell by Hutch’s appearance something major was about to happen. He was losing a hold on the fragile control he’d been fighting to maintain since they were with Minnie, and if what Hutch just said was true… Hutch was about to crash dramatically.
Starsky slid closer, putting his bands on each side of his partner’s face.
“Hutch… Hutch listen, stay calm… don’t fall apart on me now, babe. We’ve got some serious talking to do. Okay?” He smoothed his fingers back through Hutch’s hair over and over, trying to calm them both. They didn’t have time to let this take over. Not yet.
Hutch was nodding. He wanted to follow Starsky’s wishes, but he kept picturing the Echlin kid, battered and bloody, covered with a tarp in that dark ravine.
“How many, Starsk? The Echlin kid? The Nielson kid? At least two others. How many more?” Hutch was rocking back and forth, holding tight to Starsky’s forearms. He looked into Starsky’s damp eyes. “Is he reliving it over and over because he didn’t get to kill me?” Hutch’s grip tightened on Starsky. “He said back in the cellar that he didn’t have a chance to finish what he’d started! Starsk… ”
With that, Starsky was holding him tight as Hutch fought the reality of what he’d just said. There was nothing else he could do.
~*~*~*~
They were nearly late for their appointment with the Nielson boy’s parents. Starsky wanted to reschedule, but Hutch insisted on keeping it. He wanted to see this through. But even with all of his good intentions, the photocopied composite of Hearne was of absolutely no help. The Nielsons hadn’t seen anyone out of the ordinary in their neighborhood that day. The park their son played in was only a block from home. A safe distance, they thought, for an eight-year-old to travel on his own.
Starsky was proud of the way Hutch handled the interview. He couldn’t have been more compassionate if he’d tried. Not once did he let his own feelings for Hearne interfere with the case. Not even when James Nielson insinuated that the LAPD had botched the investigation from the start. By the time they drove away, Starsky was certain Hutch was once again thinking like a cop. Although he wondered if that would be the case by the time they were finished talking to Dobey.
Hutch had called ahead from Venice Place to arrange a meeting with the captain for later in the afternoon. It was well past time to let Dobey in on what they suspected and why. Even though Dobey had agreed the telephone call Hutch received was most likely from Hearne, it didn’t automatically make the man a killer. Starsky knew it wasn’t going to be easy for Hutch to bring his childhood ordeal back into the open. He’d barely had time to sort it out himself.
“You okay?” Starsky asked, as he watched Hutch sign the last of the in-triplicate reports, while waiting for Dobey’s meeting to end.
Hutch shuffled the papers into a neat stack, then leaned gingerly back in his chair, nodding. He looked directly into Starsky’s eyes, hiding nothing.
“I feel better, Starsk,” he looked down at his hands, rubbing the carbon ink from his fingers. “I should’ve told you about it. I just… ”
Starsky leaned forward across their desk, closer, so the remaining detectives in the squad room wouldn’t overhear them. “Hey, don’t do that,” Starsky soothed. “I understand why you didn’t say anything.”
Hutch looked up then, chewing nervously on his lip. “I wish… ” he looked away.
“What?” Starsky asked quietly. Concerned.
“I wish I’d known you back then… ” The blue eyes were sparkling with dampness. “There wasn’t anybody that really… ”
Suddenly, Starsky couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat.
The sound of Dobey’s door opening and the conversation between Dobey and Captain Ryan postponed Starsky’s reply. What could he possibly say that Hutch hadn’t heard a hundred times over? Starsky would do anything to keep him safe, and would have then, too, if he’d been given half a chance. But Hutch’s unfinished sentence hung in the air, and Starsky had a niggling feeling that what wasn’t said was more important than what Hutch had reluctantly revealed.
“Okay, Harold, keep me posted. The chief is just as eager to see the end of this as we are.”
Starsky watched as Captain Ryan shook Dobey’s hand and left the squad room. Ryan was a good man. There were some you could trust and some you couldn’t. Ryan was one of the ones you could. They’d learned that the hard way when Sharon Freemont decided to abuse her DA privileges.
“Hutchinson… Starsky? How did you make out with the Nielsons?” Dobey asked, as he motioned them into his office.
“Not so good, Cap’n. They couldn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know,” Starsky explained as he helped himself to a cup of water from the cooler. “The neighbors knew even less.”
Hutch handed Dobey the typed report, as well as the composite drawing Minnie had photocopied for them, then settled himself carefully in his customary chair. He was willing to let Starsky go through the preliminary stuff.
“We still can’t find a file on Hearne, but Hutch managed to get us this sketch from memory. It’s not much, but it’s all we have.”
Dobey picked up the composite and examined the drawing in front of him. “Did you show this to the Echlins?”
“Uh, no, Cap’n, we didn’t,” Hutch offered. “We’ve got an appointment to see them tomorrow afternoon.”
Starsky filled another paper cup from the cooler and banded it to Hutch. If he couldn’t get food into him, water would have to do.
He sat on the edge of the chair next to Hutch’s, watching as his partner downed the water. I wish I had some aspirin to go along with that, babe. Starsky bad noticed the involuntary winces and stiffness Hutch had been trying so hard to hide all afternoon. The fact that his back was acting up was no surprise to Starsky. The kick Alverez gave him weeks earlier had left a permanent reminder. Maybe later, when they were home, Hutch would give in to some mothering, but not yet.
“Uh, Cap’n, Hutch has another composite.” Pulling a folded paper from his jacket pocket, he handed the slightly creased page across the desk to the captain.
Dobey looked at it for a minute, then placed it beside the one Hutch bad banded him with the reports. He looked up, not sure what Starsky was implying. “Are both of these sketches of Hearne?”
Starsky looked at his partner for a brief second before answering. It was obvious Hutch was willing to let him continue. “Yeah, Cap’n… that’s the way Hutch remembers him.”
Dobey was still puzzled. The sketches looked very much the same, but one was noticeably less aged than the other. “Do you want to explain?”
Hutch started to speak, but Starsky beat him to it. “Cap’n, Hutch has seen Hearne, or whatever-his-name-is, before.”
Dobey was aware of Hutch’s earlier confusion over the mug books and his insistence that they hadn’t arrested the man before. It was good to know he’d finally remembered something. This case needed all the help it could get.
“So you had crossed each other’s paths before then?”
Again, Hutch started to answer, but Starsky was determined to make this as stress free as possible. Hutch just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, when Hutch was a kid.”
Dobey sat straighter in the chair, looking from one detective to the other. “Starsky, will one of you just explain?”
~*~*~*~
A call was made to the Duluth Police Department immediately. They all knew it was a long shot, but after speaking for a few minutes to a Captain “Buzz” Murphy of Duluth PD, Dobey was amazed at how much the man actually knew regarding the ancient case.
Dobey tried not to let the information he was hearing show on his face, but he was shocked to his core that Hutch had been put through this at such a young age and had still grown into such a compassionate, caring cop. Maybe it was because of what had happened that he was so eager to help the ones who couldn’t do for themselves.
As Murphy read some of the more pertinent details from the file, Dobey stiffened in his chair. The similarities to the Echlin and Nielson homicides were striking. The biggest and most puzzling difference being that there had been no ransom demanded in either of the LA kidnappings. There were other questions that Dobey needed answered, but he wasn’t sure how to address what was on his mind with Hutch sitting across from him.
“Buzz, I’d like to send a couple of my detectives out there to speak to you and take a look through any evidence you might still have.”
The partners exchanged glances. They hadn’t expected this turn of events, and Starsky silently wondered if Hutch was up to this much involvement. Dealing with it in LA was one thing but taking it back to Duluth was an entirely different matter.
“No, problem there, Harold. This case has gone unprosecuted for twenty-six years. I’ve kept it open all this time, mainly for selfish reasons. I was on it from day one. You might say it’s been a real thorn in my side that this case has never made it to the courts.”
“Thanks, Buzz. I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve made the travel arrangements for Officers Hutchinson and Starsky.”
“Did you say Hutchinson? That’s quite a coincidence.”
“Well actually, Buzz, it’s not a coincidence.”
~*~*~*~
He’d never really been a hundred percent comfortable in an airplane. It probably had something to do with an overactive imagination. The thought of all those tons of nuts and bolts and wires and machinery, not to mention gallons upon gallons of highly combustible jet fuel, yearning for just one tiny stray spark, didn’t help. But on this trip, it was his partner flyin’s-safer-than-driving-the-coke-can-Hutchinson taking the white-knuckle tour.
The flight to Duluth was uneventful, save for the fact that Hutch seemed to be a bundle of nerves. They’d discussed how they would handle the investigation once they arrived, but Hutch’s own feelings were not up for grabs. Starsky could sense him shutting down, closing himself off, so that whatever they had to face during the next few days could be done without eroding Hutch’s carefully constructed walls.
This worried Starsky. Hutch had just managed to bring these partial memories out into the open, locking them tightly away again didn’t seem like the right path to take. Talking about it was apparently not allowed either, Starsky realized, after his one and only attempt had been shot down shortly after they took off from LAX.
“Here,” Starsky said, shoving a couple of white tablets into Hutch’s hand.
“What’s this?”
“Aspirin. Take ’em.” Starsky handed his soft drink to Hutch at the same time.
“I don’t need… ”
“Hutch, just take ’em.. .I can tell you’re hurtin’. And don’t tell me it’s just a twinge.”
Hutch frowned and swallowed the tablets, it was easier than fighting about it; he didn’t have the strength. He didn’t want to be doing this, he would rather be any place else, but on a plane flying to a place he’d rather not be, discussing a case he had no wish to discuss, with people he’d just as soon forget. He felt like crawling in a hole and covering it over just so people would leave him alone.
Starsky knew Hutch was pissed with him. It showed in the angle of the jaw, the way the muscles tightened and clenched, as Hutch returned the empty glass to Starsky’s tray.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
Hutch turned from the window, staring straight into Starsky’s questioning eyes.
“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” Hutch hissed. He saw the hurt in Starsky’s eyes, then said more quietly, more calmly, “Please, Starsk…I can’t, not right now.” Hutch’s eyes slid to the window and quietly offered his apology. “Later, okay… I just…”
Starsky’s fingers found Hutch’s clenched on the armrest, and he squeezed gently. “Okay, babe, later. You’re not alone in this, you know.”
Hutch nodded, and the rest of the flight was concluded in silence.
They were halfway across the country before Starsky realized they’d missed their appointment with the Echlins.
~*~*~*~
Starsky stood at the fifth-floor window of Captain Murphy’s office, looking out at what he could see of Duluth. The city looked different when it wasn’t covered with snow, he thought—a little more welcoming. He could just barely make out a lake freighter leaving the harbor as it made its way along Superior toward its final destination. The last time they’d been here was February—seven months ago. Hutch had shown him the lift bridge and canal, but the huge freighters had long since stopped running for the winter.
That trip had only been for a long weekend, though. Hutch said he couldn’t hack the cold weather anymore, and three days would be more than enough time for his blood to gel. Even then, it had sounded like an excuse. It was the first true vacation they’d had in some time, and Starsky delighted in the time they could spend together. After Hutch’s close call in Topanga just weeks earlier, Starsky had learned to appreciate every minute they were given. Hutch was strong and healthy again—no thanks to Humphries or Slater. The cast had come off a few days before their trip and Hutch still walked with a slight limp when he was tired. It was a constant, visible reminder of how close it had been. Nearly losing Hutch had set Starsky’s priorities, and it was more important than ever to make sure Hutch survived this latest ordeal equally well.
In the background, he could hear Hutch explaining to his stepmother that they were in Duluth on business and would stop by later. The trip from the airport and their preliminary meeting with Captain Murphy had taken longer than they’d hoped. It would be dark before they made it to the farm.
“Don’t worry about it, Mom,” Hutch said, “don’t make a fuss. Say hi to Katy and the kids for me. We should be there by eight.” He was smiling, playing with the telephone cord as he spoke. “That’s okay… we’ll grab something on the way.” A small laugh told Starsky all he needed to know. “Yeah, Starsk spotted a steakhouse not far from here.” He smiled again. “Yeah, okay… ‘bye.”
Hutch replaced the phone on Murphy’s desk and sat down. The office wasn’t much different than Dobey’s except for the view. No smog-congested city, no salt-laden air… nothing but a fresh breeze blowing in from the lake and the beautiful orange glow of the sunset through the Duluth skyline. But at that moment, in spite of his cheerful conversation, Hutch missed LA something fierce… smog and all.
“Everythin’ okay?” Starsky asked from his vantage point by the window. He was pleased to see a tiny smile still lingering on his partner’s face.
“Yeah,” Hutch snickered. “She said to give you a hug.”
He looked at Starsky and blew him a kiss, trying desperately to keep from laughing and spoiling the effect. But Starsky, without even blinking, threw one back just to prove he couldn’t be flustered. It was all Hutch could do to hide his barely controlled grin behind his hand. The little joke had misfired big-time in his partner’s favor, and the smug look on Starsky’s face was the proof.
“Anythin’ else she wants you to tell me?” Starsky teased innocently. Hutch rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. Incorrigible.
“No,” he assured, with a slight smirk. What would he do without his partner to make things more bearable?
“I guess we should’ve called before we left home, though. Katy’s there with the kids for the weekend… it’s gonna be a full house.”
Starsky roamed back to the matching chair beside Hutch’s and plopped down into it. “Well, we can always get a motel room,” he reminded hesitantly.
They’d already discussed that possibility before the flight. Although Starsky secretly opted for the farmhouse, the idea of the motel room hadn’t been dismissed by Hutch. It was up to Hutch; Starsky wasn’t about to push things any further than they’d already been pushed, but he had a feeling they would need to find a lot of missing pieces in the next few days. Where better to look than home?
Hutch wriggled in the chair, trying to work the kink out of his lower back without Starsky noticing.
“Nope… we can’t… she’d never forgive me if we didn’t show up now.” Hutch grinned, the first real honest-to-God grin Starsky bad seen in weeks. Talking to Katherine had worked wonders.
She’d been his stepmother since he was eight—and his only mother since age nine. Starsky never had heard all the details of Hutch’s mother’s death; maybe that would be one of the things they’d have to deal with this weekend, as well.
Starsky smiled, thinking how good it was to see his partner happy for a change. Hutch didn’t mention his family often, but he always had warm things to say about his stepmother and her daughter Katy. If anyone could help sort through this mess Hutch found himself in, maybe it was them.
The door to the office opened with a start, catching them both off guard. “I found that other file we were talking about, fellas,” Murphy said, as he settled himself behind the old mahogany desk. “There’s another file you might wanna look at, too, but I won’t be able to get that one for you until sometime Monday. The really old case files are kept over at the Grand Avenue station and the office closed at five for the weekend.”
Hutch checked the wall clock and took the folder from Murphy’s hand. He placed it on top of the small stack of files beside his chair without opening it. “Thanks, Captain… you don’t mind if we take these with us?” Hutch obviously had decided to wait until they were alone before going through them.
“No, that’s fine. Just make sure you stop at the desk and have Harvey sign them out before you leave. I’ll arrange to find you some desk space if you need it.”
“Thanks, but I think we can manage; we’re going to be staying with my family. It’d probably be just as easy to work from there,” Hutch explained. He felt uncomfortable discussing the contents of the files with strangers. Maybe later, once he and Starsky had a chance to look things over, he would feel better about asking for help.
There was an awkward silence, then Murphy cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Hutch. “I’ve often wondered how you made out, Ken. I’ve always felt derelict that we didn’t clear this damn case up years ago.”
Hutch squirmed in the chair again and nodded. “Yeah, well, maybe we can help each other if we can link this in with the cases we have back in LA. There are a couple of families back there that need some answers.”
Starsky noticed how smoothly Hutch had shifted the conversation away from himself. He was good at that. Just like he thought he was good at hiding his discomfort from his partner.
Murphy nodded, deep in thought as he watched the young detective across from him. “The last time I saw you… ” His voice trailed off, and the older man seemed miles or maybe years away. Starsky wished he could glimpse just a portion of what the man knew.
Murphy visibly shook the memories away, then continued. “Luke Huntley and I joined the Duluth force the same year. We were both rookies back in ’51. Your case was the biggest thing that had happened around here since we’d started patrolling and we took it personal. We were gung-ho—sure we were gonna solve the thing the first day.” Murphy frowned. “Do you see much of Luke, Ken?”
That seemed to bring a smile and a sparkle to Hutch’s eyes. “Not so much now—we work out of different precincts—but he showed me the ropes when I first joined the force. Taught me everything I know. He’s probably the main reason I’m a cop at all.”
“Hey!” Starsky said, laughing. “I thought I taught you everything you know.”
Hutch smiled at his partner. Starsky had taught him more than everything he knew, and had given him more as well. Especially lately.
“No, Starsk, you taught me everything you know.”
Starsky started to gloat then realized the wording of the sentence prompted a snicker from his partner. Damn, it’s good to see him smile, Starsky thought. He’d let Hutch score that half-assed point.
~*~*~*~
Hutch pulled the rental car up to the white wooden gate across the laneway. In the distance he could see the farmhouse, exactly the way it had looked all his life, and probably years before that, when his grandfather had built it. Its white frame exterior was plainly visible against the windbreak of dark pines that surrounded the yard and separated the house from the barn. He felt like he was twelve years old again.
“I’ll get it,” Starsky said, as he hopped from the car and undid the heavy metal latch. It wasn’t a gate to keep trespassers out, but livestock in. Nothing pretentious about it, just down-home common sense, even though it had been years since they’d kept cattle.
Hutch pulled the dark green Duster through and waited for Starsky to re-latch the gate. Hutch turned in the seat to watch him saunter back to the car. It suddenly struck him that the rental looked just like a green tomato minus the stripe.
It was dark now, and the welcoming glow of the farmhouse lights was a beacon that welcomed Hutch, in spite of his chaotic feelings. He’d always loved it here; maybe that wouldn’t have to change. Maybe nothing would have to change.
He eased the car to a stop in front of the house and turned off the engine. They sat motionless, staring at the house, until Starsky’s hand slid along Hutch’s shoulders and rubbed gently at the back of his neck. “You gonna be okay about this?” Starsky asked quietly. He knew as well as Hutch that this weekend was going to bring a lot of the past out into the open, and he wondered again if Hutch was up to it.
Hutch stared straight ahead, relaxing gradually into the comforting touch. He drew in a deep fortifying breath. “I don’t know…” he sighed finally, letting the held breath out in a puff. “We’ve never talked about this stuff before.” Hutch turned slightly away from Starsky to stare into the darkness toward the barn.
“Why not?” Starsky asked quietly, as he continued the gentle massage. He knew instinctively what Hutch needed and could see his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggled to put his jumbled thoughts into words they both might understand.
“I don’t know, Starsk.” Hutch turned, eyes wide, his emotions just below the surface. “I really don’t know. It was like it was a forbidden subject or something, you know? There was so much I couldn’t remember… so much I wanted to know. But… ” he shrugged, ” …I knew I couldn’t ask them. Maybe they thought they were doing me a favor.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s been so long, I don’t know if I can cope with… the truth.” Hutch stared into Starsky’s soul.
The truth. It was a scary reality they had both been avoiding since Hearne’s telephone call. They’d both seen enough since making detective to know they might have a lot more than a simple kidnapping to deal with—if there were such a thing as a simple kidnapping. There had been no ransom demanded in either of the LA cases, but the fact that both boys had been assaulted before being murdered weighed heavily on Starsky’s mind. He was sure that detail hadn’t escaped Hutch, either, and was probably a big factor in his partner’s emotional state. Starsky decided they would cross that particular bridge when and if they came to it. He could distance himself from details of the cases back home, but he didn’t dare think about Hutch in those terms. Not yet. Not until they were absolutely sure.
“Hey,” Starsky said, rubbing the blond head harder. “We’re together on this don’t forget. Me and Thee… okay? Just like on the streets.” The dark eyebrows rose, questioning, waiting for Hutch to acknowledge his wishes.
Hutch nodded, mesmerized by Starsky’s eternal optimism. There was no denying the sincerity of the words. Starsky meant every one of them and always had. He was the one constant in Hutch’s life. Hutch nodded again. “Yeah… Me and Thee, partner.”
“Okay then,” Starsky sighed, clenching tightly to the back of Hutch’s head. “We’d better get out of this damn car, before your folks start flippin’ the porch light off and on. Wouldn’t want them to think I’m out here stealing your virtue or somethin’.”
Hutch snorted at the suggestive comment and reached for the door handle. “Ass.” Didn’t Starsky know his virtue had been stolen years ago?
By the time the trunk lid slammed, Katherine was already on the porch, arms outstretched, welcoming them. They dropped their bags on the top step, and Hutch eagerly moved into her embrace. She was tall, still sturdy, and strong for her nearly sixty years; her dark hair still only lightly streaked with gray. Hutch had to bend to place a kiss on her cheek.
She held him at arm’s length for a time, then scolded, “So, it takes business for you to find time to come and see us?” She was teasing, but Starsky could sense a slight change in Hutch’s demeanor.
Starsky was positive Katherine hadn’t noticed, but just as he was about to say something to break the tension he felt, Hutch’s father came out of the kitchen onto the porch.
Hutch turned, smiled nervously and shook his father’s hand. “Dad,” he said, simply.
There should have been more after all these months, Starsky thought. The formalness he’d noticed in February was still there, and it still confused him.
~*~*~*~
Now that Katy had taken the children upstairs to bed, the kitchen seemed too quiet, and Starsky took time to examine Hutch a little more closely. While the kids were the center of attention, the room had been lively and happy. But now that it was just the four of them, Starsky could feel a cloud creeping over Hutch’s mood and the evening.
“Would you like some more coffee, David?” Katherine asked, already bringing the pot to the table.
“Uh, sure, just half,” he answered, though he was sure there was more than enough caffeine in his system to keep him awake for days.
Richard held out his cup for seconds, but Hutch refused, easing his hand over his still full cup, while his other hand traced the blue check squares of the tablecloth.
Katherine ran her fingers through Hutch’s longish hair as she passed to return the pot to the stove. “It’s so nice to have both my boys back home,” she said happily.
Starsky grinned at the way she’d automatically included him and watched as she sat down across from them at the big farmhouse table. Her eyes hadn’t left Hutch for a moment, and Starsky could sense her concern.
“You look like you’ve lost some weight, Ken. Have you been eating all right?” She looked at her husband who seemed to be noticing the same thing.
“It’s probably that job,” Richard added. “Too many hours and not enough time to relax and eat properly. You have to take better care, son.”
“I’m fine, Dad. Nothing worse than a fat cop.” Hutch patted his stomach and laughed, trying to make light of the situation, but Starsky knew his folks would see through it. Hutch was slimmer than the last time they’d been here, but it was the dark circles and haggard appearance they were bound to notice.
“We’ve been working on a couple of really tough cases for the last month or so. I guess they’ve taken a lot more out of us than we thought,” Starsky said, keeping his eyes on Hutch to check his reaction.
“A tough one, eh?” Richard asked. “Is that why you’re in town?” He seemed genuinely interested in their work.
“Yeah, part of it,” Starsky answered. “There was a similar crime here. We think we might be able to link them together. We just spent the afternoon talking to Captain Murphy. He gave us a few good comparisons to run with.” Starsky nodded toward the ominous box of files still sitting next to the door.
“Oh, my goodness,” Katherine said, frowning. “I can’t remember reading anything recently in the papers.”
Starsky exchanged a quick look with Hutch before answering. He knew Hutch wasn’t ready to do this tonight, but he doubted there ever really would be a good time. “This is a really old case—from the fifties.” He looked at Hutch again and waited for the pair to ask the next question. They must have pieced it together by now. He could tell by the look on Richard’s face that he was suspicious.
Richard stood and started pacing the large kitchen. He walked to the porch door then back to the table, running his hands through his thinning hair, the way Starsky had seen Hutch do so many times.
“Why are you doing this? There’s nothing to be gained by bringing all this up again. You’re not going to do anything but bring back bad memories.”
Katherine’s slight gasp and shocked expression told Starsky that she’d finally realized what Richard had already figured out.
“What memories?” Hutch announced, as he rose to stand by the table. “I have no memories. I have all these… feelings… ” Hutch’s hands were in front of him, holding something puzzling and imaginary. ” … these fears, but I have no memories! I need to know what happened to me,” Hutch pleaded. The last barely above a whisper.
Richard moved forward, scrubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers. “Why now? Why after all these years? No good will come of it,” he said, shaking his head.
“I have to know,” Hutch said, more determined. “Not just for me. If it’s the same guy, he’s still hurting kids… killing kids. We have to find out who it is. We have to stop him.”
Starsky, standing now, watched while Richard stared at his son, letting the words sink in.
“I don’t want you hurt again,” Richard argued. “It’s ancient history… it should be forgotten.”
“I can’t do that, Dad. I know you were just trying to protect me, but I have to know what happened. I need to know everything. Not just for the case, but for myself.” Hutch drew a deep breath. “I can’t go on the way I have been,” he whispered, stifling a small catch in his voice.
Richard glanced at Starsky, asking silently the way Hutch often did, if what his son was saying was true.
Starsky nodded, trailing a hand down Hutch’s arm. “I think it’s way past time.”
“He’s right, Dad.” It was Katy, standing in the kitchen doorway. “Ken has a right to know. Look at him!” She moved closer to them, snuggling in under Hutch’s other arm. She’d been twelve the summer it had happened, and even though having a little brother was a new experience for her she’d taken to him instantly. The fact that they lived in two separate households that first year did little to lessen the instant bond they’d felt when their parents married. She pulled Hutch to her and gave him a long hug. “I’ll help you any way I can, sweetie. You’re the only little brother I’ve got. I have to take care of you.” She grinned and Hutch squeezed her closer, kissing the top of her head.
“They’re right, Richard,” Katherine reached to take her husband’s hand. “He’s not a child anymore… he wants answers, just like we always did.”
Starsky frowned and looked from face to face, a little dumbfounded. “Well, we were kinda hoping you guys would have some of the answers.”
“David… I… I wish we did,” answered Richard, hesitantly. “The truth is, I just don’t think we know much more than Ken already remembers. He was taken by a person or persons unknown, we paid the ransom, and the police found him in a cabin along the north shore, purely by accident. There were no clues; the ransom note was intentionally obscure. I’m sure if Ken hadn’t been rescued, we would’ve never seen him again.”
There was a muffled sob from Katherine, and Richard pulled her closer. “It was a terrible time, David.” He gave his wife a smile and a reassuring hug.
Starsky nodded and spared a quick glance in Hutch’s direction. He could feel the pain emanating from all of them. “It hasn’t gone away,” Starsky said, certain. “I think it’s time you all faced the fact that it won’t until you resolve this, once and for all.”
“You’re right, David. You’re absolutely right.” Richard held his wife close as he looked at his son and stepdaughter huddled together across the room. “Whatever you want to do, son. We’ll help you however we can.”
Hutch closed his eyes tight, to keep the tears from escaping. Nodding, he hugged Katy tightly. “I’m gonna need your help, Katy.”
“Anything, hon… anything at all.”
Starsky let out a long-held breath. It was a good start.
~*~*~*~
Hutch threw the file he was reading onto the old blanket-box that doubled as a coffee table and stalked toward the porch door.
“Ken?” Katy stood to go after him, catching hold of the sleeve of his denim shirt. She could tell he was upset. He stopped, holding the door handle, but didn’t turn to face her. “What’s the matter?” she asked, but he shrugged out of her grasp and left the den without answering.
Starsky gently took hold of her wrist and pulled her back. “Let him go. He just needs a breather.”
“But he’s upset.”
“I know. I’ll talk to him. Just give him some time, okay?”
She looked doubtful as the screen door slammed and Hutch scuffed down the porch steps and across the side yard.
“What was he reading?” she asked, picking up the folder that had spilled across the table.
“Probably nothing,” Starsky said. “Just like the rest of this stuff. There’s nothing here, Katy. Nothing that’s gonna help us, anyway.”
“There has to be something. My God, David, look at the files. There has to be something here in all of this that can help you.” The bulk of paper gave an inaccurate impression of information.
“Murphy was right. There’s lots of paperwork, all right, but none of it leads to anything.” They must have interviewed half of Duluth. “I don’t think we’re gonna get anywhere this way, and I think Hutch knows it.”
Starsky tossed his file with the others and rubbed at his bloodshot eyes. Sky-blue pink with a rainbow border, as Hutch would call them.
The three of them had been reading most of the morning and right through lunch, hoping to find something that would lead to an answer. Any answer.
“At least now I know what happened,” he sighed, wearily.
“He never talked to you about it?” Katy asked in amazement.
“Not ’til a few days ago,” Starsky sighed. “Damn. I was hoping coming out here would solve this. He can’t take much more, Katy.” He shook his head, knowing he should go after him, make sure he was okay. “You can see the way he is. He’s not eating, he’s not sleeping. And if he does finally manage to get some sleep… ” He shrugged. She could take what she wished from the unfinished sentence. He figured Hutch deserved at least that much privacy.
She put the file her brother had been reading with the rest on the table and leaned back into the softly cushioned wicker chair. “I don’t understand, David, why all of a sudden? He’s never mentioned this was bothering him before. Never in all these years.”
“I don’t think it was bothering him before. At least not this bad. It’s just…” he didn’t know where to start,”… recently he’s had a lot of things to remind him.”
“What do you mean?”
“The cases we’re working on back home, for one thing.” Starsky wondered how much Hutch would want her to know. “He’s had a pretty rough time for the last month. Some things happened that we think are tied into all of this,” Starsky said, indicating the stacks of folders in front of him on the table.
“How could something that happened twenty-six years ago have anything to do with what you and Ken are working on now?” She shook her head. “I still don’t understand what Ken meant last night.”
Starsky stood and walked over to the window. This portion of the porch had been closed-in since the house was originally built, to make a cozy sitting area, and the wall of windows and the angle allowed him to visually scan the whole yard. He couldn’t see the tall blond anywhere and hadn’t noticed exactly what direction Hutch had taken when he’d left the yard. He’d give Hutch a few more minutes before going after him. He knew he hadn’t gone far; all three cars were still in the driveway.
“David?”
Starsky jumped. His mind had been back at Venice Place and the morning Hutch had told him about the kidnapping. Hutch had been as tightly wound as he’d ever seen him. Just thinking about the kidnapping had nearly incapacitated him.
“Sorry… was just thinking.”
“What does all of this have to do with your work?”
He turned to sit back on the couch, just as Katherine arrived with a tray of lemonade and brownies. She set the tray down on a clear part of the table and joined him on the couch.
“Where’s Ken? And what’s this about work?” she asked.
Now I’ve got both Hutchinson women badgering me, he thought. Hutch!
“Ken’s gone to get some fresh air, Mom,” Katy explained.
“Okay, that answers one question,” Katherine said, handing Starsky a glass of iced lemonade. “What’s the answer to the other?”
Starsky sighed. He didn’t know why he found this so hard to talk about. It wasn’t like it was a secret or anything, but it still felt like he was betraying a confidence. He knew if he was going to get into the case in any detail, Hutch’s hospital stay was bound to come up, and then there’d be hell to pay for not telling them about it sooner. There was no way of getting around it. At least now he knew who Hutch got his stubborn streak from.
He took a sip from his glass and placed it back on the tray. Hutch is gonna kill me for sure.
By the time he was through explaining about the Montgomery case and Hearne, both women were a little more aware of the seriousness of the situation. It was all Katy could do to keep her mother from going out and dragging her brother in for a tongue-lashing. Starsky grimaced at the thought of what Hutch would have to say later on when they were alone.
“So you think this man, Hearne, is the same man responsible for taking Ken?” Katherine asked.
“We do. All we have to do now is prove it,” he replied. It sounded so simple.
“And all of this isn’t any help,” Katy said, looking around the den at the piles of paperwork.
“Doesn’t seem to be,” he shrugged.
“Then we’ll just have to look harder,” she said with determination.
“That’s the way I see it,” he answered.
Starsky smiled. Katy looked nothing like her stepbrother—dark hair, dark eyes—but the attitude was all Hutchinson.
Off in the depths of the house, they could hear the baby starting to cry.
“There’s Amy,” sighed Katy.
Katherine started to leave, to fetch the baby from her nap.
“I’ll get her, Mom. You talk to David.” She could tell her mother was still mulling over the fact that Ken had been injured and not said anything to them about it.
“I know what you’re thinking, Mrs. H,” Starsky said.
“Do you, now.” It wasn’t a question.
“We should’ve told you, but… ”
“David, I know it’s your job to look out for Ken, but what if…?”
Starsky sucked in a deep breath. Boy, I’m in trouble now. Why suddenly could he see his own mother sitting in front of him, chewing him out for losing his homework?
“We know we should’ve told you. But we made a pact years ago when we first were partnered that we wouldn’t call and worry you or my ma, over every little scrape.”
“David Starsky! Nearly bleeding to death is hardly what I consider a little scrape!”
Starsky grimaced. She had him there.
“Promise,” he said, holding his left hand up in a quasi-Boy Scout salute. “Next time we’ll call you.”
“Next time?” she said. Exasperated, she just shook her head.
Starsky cringed. Just thinking about having this same conversation with his own mother terrified him.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping lemonade and watching the sparrows fighting in the hydrangea bush outside the window.
Starsky’s eyes drifted to Katherine, wondering how he should broach the subject that had been taking up most of his thought processes for the last week.
“Uh… could I ask you something?”
She turned, facing him. “What is it, David?”
She seemed to know what was on his mind but was waiting for him to actually say the words.
“We’ve been reading these files all morning, but there isn’t a medical report in there anywhere. Murphy said there were some files he couldn’t get until Monday, and… well…” He hesitated, not sure how to word his request.
“And you want to know if Ken was hurt in any way.”
He nodded. “We see a lot in our line of work, we know what can happen, we know what did happen to those kids in LA. We… I mean, I…”
She placed her hand on top of his resting on the cushion and squeezed gently. She knew how much David cared about her son. She’d understood for a long time now. “It’s all right, David. You have every right to wonder. Is this what Ken thinks? That he was molested by this monster?”
Starsky stared at her. There, it’s finally out in the open. She did know what was on his mind. He realized it had been there ever since last week, when they had connected Hearne with the Nielson boy’s murder. He knew Hutch was thinking the same thing. The coroner’s reports on the two boys and Hearne’s own cryptic threats in the cellar were enough to plant the seed.
“I know it’s on his mind. Mine, too, I guess.”
She smiled, grateful that Ken had such a compassionate friend. “No, David. Ken was examined thoroughly when he was taken to St. Luke’s. There was no sign of anything like that.”
Starsky sighed audibly. The more he’d thought about what had happened to Jimmy Echlin and Cameron Nielson, the more his mind had imagined its own tragic outcome. But if all three crimes—and God knew how many others—had been committed by Hearne, why had he changed his MO? Starsky thought back to what Hutch had not written in the Narco report for Waldon and Jeffries. He said something to the effect that Hearne had threatened him. Starsky thought, trying to remember Hutch’s exact wording. He said Hearne acted like he knew him, and maybe he’d finish what he’d started. It was all so vague at the time. Starsky hadn’t thought any more about it… until now.
“Did you ever see the medical report?” he asked, puzzled by the inconsistencies in the files.
“Yes. The examination was done by our family doctor. David, he wasn’t molested. He was malnourished and covered in bruises, but he wasn’t hurt that way.”
Starsky could tell it was still painful for her to talk about the details. “What about…I mean… what about psychologically? He’s managed to block out everything that happened before he arrived at the hospital. Didn’t the doctors think that was cause for concern?”
Katherine leaned back heavily against the couch pillows, suddenly very weary. “That worried us all. That and the fact that Ken didn’t talk for quite a while after he was found. The doctors said that was to be expected after the trauma he’d been through. But it troubled us all the same.”
“Did they offer any sort of therapy? Any…” He wasn’t sure what he really wanted to know.
“David, you have to remember this was the fifties, there wasn’t… ”
He motioned that he understood. It was just a few months ago that they’d learned more than they ever wanted to know about child abuse and trauma during the Mayer case. Why did he expect things would have been handled any better twenty-plus years ago?
He looked at her, puzzled by what she had said earlier. “You said Hutch didn’t talk about it?”
“Not just about the kidnapping, David. He didn’t talk at all. I worked with him for a good two months before he said a word to anyone. That’s part of the reason Richard finally got total custody. By that time, Olivia’s drinking problem had gotten so out of control she couldn’t look after herself, let alone an eight-year-old son who needed special attention.”
Starsky nodded, thinking how strange it was to find out all of these new things about his oldest and dearest friend.
There was a grouping of photographs displayed on a large round table in the corner that suddenly caught his eye. School pictures of Katy and Hutch, taken at various ages, in an eclectic mix of silver and brass frames. Family shots taken at a lake. Wedding pictures. Baby pictures of Hutch, Katy and the grandchildren. It didn’t escape Starsky that a wedding picture of Hutch and Vanessa was noticeably absent from the grouping. Off to one side, tucked in amongst the rest of the family photos, Starsky saw a large snapshot of him and Hutch taken the last time they’d been to the farm. Its inclusion in the family grouping made him feel strangely contented and he couldn’t help but smile.
Katherine had been watching him, and he wondered if he’d actually blushed or if he just felt warm on the inside.
“Family’s important,” she said, as if she’d been reading his mind. “I like to have every one of you where I can keep an eye on you.”
He smiled and swallowed the lump of emotion that threatened to make itself known. Starsky suddenly realized that she knew how much he and Hutch really meant to each other. More than Hutch and Van ever did. He’d been accepted into the fold, no questions asked.
~*~*~*~
Halfway across the yard he spotted the dark silhouette high above, leaning against the opening to the barn’s loft. How long have you been sittin’ up there, huh? Starsky didn’t say anything as he made his way into the barn and across the straw covered floor. The smell of the hay tickled his nose, and he rubbed at it to keep from sneezing. Wouldn’t make a very good country boy.
He wanted to call out to Hutch, but for some reason he didn’t want to break the silence that surrounded them. He could see why Hutch had come here. It was peaceful.
He crossed the nearly empty barn that was used mostly for storage now, to the heavy wooden ladder, and made his way up to the second floor. Abandoned hay bales still occupied parts of the loft, and he had to weave his way around them to find Hutch.
Starsky knew Hutch had seen him come in. The blond had a bird’s eye view of the whole yard from where he sat.
“Hutch?”
He was sitting on the floor with his back against the hinged wooden door. “You okay?”
Prolonging the moment, Hutch continued staring out at the familiar surroundings, reluctant to break the mood.
“I think we should drop it,” he finally said.
Starsky sank down on the floor beside him and leaned back against the door.
“Drop what?”
Hutch’s gaze moved slowly to his partner, before he answered carefully.
“Dad was right. Digging all this stuff up again is wrong. We should just leave it alone.” He pulled his knees up and rested his arms across them, waiting for Starsky to agree with him.
“Hutch, you know we can’t do that.”
“Why not? What are we going to gain, huh? It’s not like it’ll change anything. I’ve hurt them enough, already. They have just as much right to forget it as I do.”
“What about all the families Hearne might destroy in the future?” Starsky continued smoothly.
Hutch bent his head to rest on his arms. There was no way around it. To get Hearne off the streets they were going to have to dig up every horrible thing the bastard had ever done.
“I know you’re discouraged, babe, but I think you need to see this through.”
Hutch wouldn’t look at him, and Starsky could tell by the ragged breaths that it was taking all Hutch had to control his feelings.
“I had a talk with your mom just now.” Starsky held his breath then plunged ahead. “I suppose you noticed the lack of a medical report in with those files.”
Hutch didn’t change positions other than to turn his face away.
Out of the corner of his eye, Starsky noticed “Ken” scratched into the surface of the weathered barn board. He suddenly had a vision of the little blond kid from the photographs in the den, sitting up here all by himself, just the way he was sitting now. Starsky’s heart was breaking for all the lonely hours he must have spent here.
“I asked her about the hospital report.”
Hutch’s head turned back but didn’t lift up from where it was cradled on his forearms. “She said you were given a thorough examination—there was no sign of any abuse.”
Hutch raised questioning eyes to Starsky.
Starsky continued, hoping he was doing the right thing. “She said you were suffering from malnutrition, and you were covered in bruises, but there was no sexual assault.”
Hutch’s face showed his disbelief. In little more than a week, he’d convinced himself it had happened. Just like the cases they’d been working on back home.
“That can’t be right. That’s Hearne’s MO.”
Starsky was encouraged that Hutch was at least talking to him again. “Or maybe he just never had a chance… just like he said in the Quonset hut.” Starsky’s eyebrows rose, hoping Hutch would think it through. “Huh?”
Hutch sat up, continuing to stare at Starsky’s optimistic expression.
“It’s the same guy, Hutch, if that’s what you’re thinkin’, and I think it’s time we took the guy off the streets.”
Starsky could tell by Hutch’s thoughtful expression that he was still doubtful but knew it was the only thing they could do.
“Hey,” Starsky said eagerly. “How ’bout I take you and the kids into town for some ice cream?”
Hutch did a small double take. “You think food fixes everything, don’t you?”
“Hey, I’m hungry, it can’t hurt.”
Hutch smiled, shaking his head in exasperation at his partner’s attempt to amuse him. It had worked, as it always did.
Starsky patted Hutch’s knee. “What d’ya say, huh? Banana split or hot fudge?” Wiggling his eyebrows, Groucho-style he continued. “I personally like the idea of the hot fudge.”
Hutch chuckled. “Okay, hot fudge it is, Gordo.”
Starsky jumped to his feet and pulled Hutch up with him, giving him a hug as they turned toward the ladder.
“What would I do without you?” Hutch asked quietly.
“Well, for one, you’d have a hell of a lot less fun.”
“Yeah, I guess I haven’t been much of that lately, have I?”
“You’ll do,” Starsky grinned, hugging the tall blond again. “You’ll do just fine.”
They shuffled their way around the bales to get to the ladder, Starsky nearly tripping as he came up short behind his suddenly immobile partner.
“Hey, put a signal on next time, will ya?” Starsky teased.
Hutch stood trance-like, looking over the edge of the loft to the ham area below.
“Hutch?”
Still no answer.
Get down from there boy! Hutch shook his head, confused by the sudden memory and the cold chill that accompanied it.
“Hey, what’s up?” Starsky asked. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly afraid of heights, ’cause I’m not carryin’ ya down.”
It was obvious to Starsky, by the expression on Hutch’s face, that he was only half-listening.
“Are you okay?”
“What?” Hutch asked vaguely.
“You okay?”
Hutch turned to face Starsky. “Yeah… Sure.” Faking a smile, he gave Starsky an elbow to the ribs as he turned to climb down the ladder. “Let’s get that ice cream, huh?”
~*~*~*~
“Excuse me, but why does Hutch get out of drying dishes?” Starsky complained to Hutch’s mother, as he wiped the white linen across yet another dinner plate.
Katy grinned, taking the plate Starsky handed her. “Ken always found something that had to be done when it was time to do the dishes, isn’t that right, Mom?”
Starsky smiled at the bits of Hutch he was discovering. He could never hear enough or be surprised enough by his best friend and partner. The guy could be like a clam at times. Starsky had spent the time before dinner thumbing through old photo albums in the den, while Daniel offered a childlike commentary on the family history. The glimpses into the original strong and silent type’s past were fascinating.
“Hey, that’s not fair!” Hutch said, indignantly. “I’m working!” He helped his father lift the heavy wooden clock down from its place on the kitchen wall and carefully rested it on the table.
Hutch’s mood had definitely changed for the better since their trip to town. Amy and Daniel made sure of that. Trust a kid to get right to the big blond’s heart. Ice cream and a game of catch with a six-year-old and his partner were good for what ailed Hutch’s spirit. Of course, the talk he’d had with his partner in the barn had no doubt relieved a lot of built up anxiety, too.
“That’s women’s work, Katy,” Richard said, as he used the screwdriver to undo the back of the clock. He smiled and winked at Hutch in amusement.
“Yeah, Starsk. That’s women’s work,” Hutch mocked.
Starsky glared at him. “Well, how come you’re always washing my dishes then?”
Hutch laughed. “Because eating at your place is adventure enough, without some of the things I’ve seen growin’ in your sink.”
Starsky stuck out his tongue as he wiped the last plate. “Well, what’s growing in my sink is probably a lot better for ya than some of that stuff you whip up every morning.”
Hutch laughed, as he took the oil can to the clock mechanism and wiped away the excess oil with a rag. “There, that should work better, Dad. Want to give it a try?”
“I’ve been meaning to do this for a while now. One of those things I just never got around to. I miss having your help around here.”
The comment caught Hutch off-guard, and he smiled as he watched his father fasten the back to the large oak timepiece.
“This clock is older than I am,” Richard grinned, as the two of them lifted the heavy antique back onto its honored place. “It was your granddad’s. It came with the house.”
Hutch leaned lazily against the kitchen doorframe, rubbing traces of oil from his fingers with the rag.
“Do you ever miss the house in town?” Hutch asked, out of the blue. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but he’d been thinking about it all day. Maybe most of his life.
His father stood back to straighten the clock and set the pendulum into motion. “The place in town? Heavens, no! That wasn’t my choice… your mother’s the one that wanted the big fancy house. I’ve always been happiest here,” Richard said, treating Katherine with a coy smile.
“But, I… I thought you loved that house,” Hutch stammered.
“No,” Richard said, with a chuckle. “This is where I always wanted to be, ever since I was a kid.”
“But if it hadn’t been for the… money… you’d still be there,” Hutch finished, positive his kidnapping had been the reason for the loss of the stately Duluth property, and the reason his father now resided in a hundred-plus-year-old farmhouse.
Richard frowned, seeming to understand what his son was thinking. “Do you think we moved to the farm because there was nowhere else? Are you blaming yourself for that?” Richard laughed. “Hell, no! I hated that house, always did. It was a gothic monstrosity. Your mother always went for flash above reason.”
Katherine threw her husband a disapproving look. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Richard. Olivia was Ken’s mother.”
Richard focused on his son. “You’re right, Kath, but Ken’s the best thing that came of that marriage, and what I gained by selling that damn place is worth more to me than anything I could ever buy with money.” He rubbed his hand across the top of his son’s shoulders and smiled contentedly.
Starsky grinned at them. He could tell Hutch bad never taken that particular bit of information about his father into consideration. Worry wart. So willing to take the blame. He also noted Richard’s unexpectedly frank appraisal of Olivia Hutchinson. Again, Starsky made the mental comparison between Vanessa and Olivia and wondered what it was that drew these two very alike men to pick such very alike women.
They all jumped as the kitchen phone rang.
“There’s the telephone. Can you get it, Ken? My hands are wet. It’s probably Mike wanting to say goodnight to the kids.”
Hutch was already reaching for the wall phone as Katherine spoke. It had been ages since he’d talked to his brother-in-law.
“Hello.”
Starsky hung the tea towel over the stove handle and sat down at the table. Watching Hutch was something he never tired of and seeing him relaxed and happy was something he’d missed a great deal lately. The fact that Hutch just had one of his famous guilt trips blown out of the water was something to savor. It didn’t happen often enough.
“Hey, kid. Long time, no hear.”
“Who is this?” Hutch asked, the smile slowly leaving his handsome face. It wasn’t Mike.
“I tried to call on you the other night, but you weren’t home. Thought maybe we could get together again, for old time’s sake. Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving town? You didn’t tell me you were a cop, either,” the voice said, suddenly sounding malicious. “That wasn’t very nice, keeping something like that from me. I had to hear it from a mutual friend of ours. Puts a whole new angle on our last meeting. I’m not happy about that…Ken.”
“Hearne?” Hutch’s eyes snapped up to catch Starsky’s attention and motion him to the phone.
“I saw you in the park this afternoon. Cute kid. Have you seen him lately?” Hutch’s face drained of color as Starsky grabbed for the falling receiver.
“DANIEL!”
Hutch raced into the living room where the boy had been watching TV earlier, nearly stumbling in his haste to find his nephew.
“Hearne?” Starsky heard nothing but a loud dial tone. He dropped the phone onto the cradle and followed Hutch and Katy into the other room.
The boy was perfectly safe, lying on the floor with Molly, the cat, playing with his toy cars.
“Hutch?” Starsky questioned, reaching out to put his arm around his shaking partner. “What did he say?”
Hutch turned, his eyes wide. “He was watching us at the park, Starsky. He’s here. He’s here in Duluth.”
~*~*~*~
Footsteps echoed below him and he could hear strange rasping noises, and a dog whining close by. A horrible, painful noise that frightened him and made him feel cold in the late afternoon breeze. He’d fallen asleep in the loft, reading the book his father had given him for his birthday, and it was nearly dark outside. Even darker inside. He was going to be in big trouble for missing dinner. Timidly, he felt his way along the inside wall, scrubbing at his eyes in an attempt to see more clearly in the darkening haze that hung like a veil around him. The desperate noises below grew more and more frantic, and he knew he should find out what was wrong with the dog. “Maybe a car hit it.” He wondered if it would attack him if he tried to help. His breaths came faster and faster as the terrified animal continued to cry. “It must be hurt real bad.” He’d have to find someone to help. Curious, he looked down into the slightly brighter area below the loft and saw a man crouched over the animal. He was relieved that someone was there. Whatever the man was doing must be helping, the painful cries had finally stopped. He stood for a moment, squinting into the shadows, trying to see what was happening. The dog had stopped whimpering at least, maybe it would be okay now. He gulped in a breath as the large man stood slowly and moved out of the way. Then turning quickly, the man looked up to where he stood watching a few feet above.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THERE, BOY? GET DOWN HERE!”
He couldn’t move as the burly man moved closer, unable to take his eyes off the scene below. He was frozen in place, gasping, gasping for air. Finally, he managed to choke back a sob and suck in one tiny breath. He thought his heart would stop beating as the man grabbed for him and pulled him down by his bare legs. His back scraped painfully across the rough wooden floor where his shirt rode up, then he was flung over the man’s shoulder to the dirt floor below.
“NO…!”
“Hutch!”
Starsky scrambled out of his bed in a flash, just in time to grab his partner as he sat up.
“Hutch, what is it?”
Hutch’s eyes were clenched tight, his hands clawing at his throat, each strangled breath sounding more painful than the last. Starsky knew instantly that it was the dream. He always woke unable to breathe.
“Hutch, wake up!” He rubbed vigorously across Hutch’s shoulders. It was a gesture meant to calm his partner, but it was full-fledged panic that propelled him, he had no idea what to do. He pulled Hutch close to him, continuing the frantic massage as he tucked the blanket closer around them. “Come on, babe. You’re okay.”
Hutch’s eyes opened and he grabbed for Starsky’s hand, holding it tight until gradually his breathing returned to a more normal rate. They sat like that for a while, just rocking together until Hutch relaxed enough to speak.
“You okay, now?” Starsky asked, trying to peer into his partner’s face in the darkened room. Hutch’s childhood room. Moonlight caught the blond strands as Hutch nodded and rubbed a shaking hand across his face.
“Okay?” Starsky asked again.
“Yeah.” A breathless sigh.
“The dream, huh?”
Hutch turned his face toward his partner. They sat huddled together on Hutch’s bed, still hanging on to each other. “It wasn’t the same one.” Hutch sounded puzzled.
“What?”
“It was different.” Hutch’s eyes were moist in the moonlight. “He grabbed me. I could feel his hands on… my… my legs. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. And the dog… the dog was crying. It wouldn’t stop crying.” Hutch shook his head and sobbed. “I couldn’t help him.”
“Who grabbed you? Hearne? Was it Hearne?”
“I don’t know.”
~*~*~*~
Starsky slid silently from the bed, tucking the covers around his sleeping partner, before grabbing clean clothes from his suitcase. They’d spent a good part of the night trying to figure out the vague new dream. Talking seemed the only thing to do when sleep wouldn’t come. Finally, around four, Hutch had drifted off, exhausted from the long day and even longer night. It was easy to picture the skinny little boy from the photo album curled up in the too short bed, and Starsky filed the image away to take out later when he could savor it again. He pulled the curtains tighter so the sunlight wouldn’t wake Hutch, dressed, then slipped quietly from the bedroom.
In the kitchen, he ran into Katy feeding the baby from a bowl of very undesirable looking mush.
“Hey, you’re up early. Wanna help feed the crew?” She smiled as she spooned another mouthful into Amy’s happy face.
Starsky gave the bowl a once-over and screwed up his nose. It was worse than the stuff they’d tried to feed him the last time he was held hostage at Memorial.
“Uh, I think I’ll pass.” It looked like paste. “Does she really like that stuff?”
He watched as another spoonful went into the eager mouth.
“What do you think?” Katy said, laughing as Amy cried when she took too long with the next portion.
He grinned at the antics. “I still think I’ll pass.”
Katy laughed at him. “Bachelors.”
He watched as the mush was replaced by something slightly more appealing, but if it was truly peaches, like the label said, he would be surprised.
“Where’s Ken? Are you guys ready for some breakfast? We’re nearly done here, aren’t we, Amy?” The baby slapped her tiny hand on the highchair and grinned happily, squishing strained yellow fruit from the corners of her tiny, toothless grin.
Starsky laughed. “I think you’re losin’ the battle there, Katy.” He grabbed a cup from the counter and filled it from the coffeepot on the stove.
“Um, Hutch didn’t sleep very good last night. Thought maybe I’d sneak out and let him get some more rest.”
The nightmare hadn’t been mentioned, but he could tell by the look on Katy’s face that she knew what the problem was. She wasn’t about to let on to Starsky that her brother’s outcry in the middle of the night had kept more than the two of them awake. He’d always had a propensity for nightmares; she wasn’t surprised that he still did, especially under the circumstances.
“Uh, where’s Daniel?” Starsky asked, looking around, suddenly remembering the phone call from Hearne.
“It’s all right. He’s with Mom and Dad in the garden.”
He nodded, managing a quick glance out the kitchen window to check.
“Katy, I’m gonna go into town for a bit. Will you keep an eye on Hutch? Tell him I’ve gone to check with Murphy about the files he was waiting on. Tell him to take it easy, and I’ll be back in a couple of hours. There’s no sense in us both going, I’ll bring whatever I get back here for us to go over.”
She nodded. “Sure.” She wiped Amy’s face and handed her a bottle of milk. “Is he okay, David?”
Starsky didn’t want to get into it. He was getting more and more worried about Hutch the longer this thing dragged on. The strain was taking its toll on all of them, but mostly Hutch.
“I don’t know, Katy. I’ve never seen him like this before, and he’s been through lots. I just don’t know. I’m gonna try and get some answers today. I thought maybe I’d stop by Eric Jurgen’s place in town. He’s the only family member we haven’t talked to yet. It can’t do any harm. You wouldn’t happen to know the address off hand would you? I can’t remember which file I saw it in.”
“Sure thing, I’m sure it’s still in Mom’s address book; he never could move away after Olivia died.”
He watched as Katy searched through the kitchen drawer for the address book, wondering if he should ask her what had been on his mind. She found the book and quickly printed the address on an old envelope for him.
“Katy?”
“Hmm?”
“How did Hutch’s mother die?”
Katy handed him the address, which he quickly tucked into his shirt pocket.
“After the kidnapping… well, you know… it was really hard on her.” Katy shrugged. “It was hard on everyone.”
“Even you. Huh?”
“Yeah. I was just a kid, but I remember everything that happened that fall. Everything. Olivia started drinking. It got so bad that Mom and Dad were worried about Ken living there. She wasn’t taking care of him, and… ”
“That’s when Hutch moved out here?”
She nodded. “Yeah, there wasn’t even much of a battle. She willingly sent him away.” Katy looked into his blue eyes, more like her brother’s than her own. “She fell down the stairs one night and never regained consciousness. The coroner said she’d been drinking, probably tripped on her long robe.”
Starsky gave her a peck on the cheek and thanked her. Halfway to the door he turned.
“Tell Hutch I’m gonna give our captain a call from Murphy’s office to find out if he’s heard anything more on the Echlin interview. I’ll get back to him as soon as I can.” He reached for the screen door and turned back again. “Keep a close eye on Daniel, huh, Katy? This Hearne guy’s bad news.”
Katy quickly glanced into the yard where Daniel was helping pick tomatoes, and lifted Amy from the highchair. “You don’t think he’d come out here, do you?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart, but tell Hutch to stick close, just in case, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She followed him out onto the porch and waited until the green Duster was out of sight.
~*~*~*~
On the way into town, Starsky began having second thoughts about leaving Hutch at the farm. Hearne’s call the night before had spooked them both, but in the light of day he had felt better—for a while. The sunshine brought a sense of peace, and he was confident until he remembered that both of their weapons were still locked in the trunk of the rental he was driving. At the time, the trunk seemed like the safest place for them, with Katy and the kids in the house. But now, with several miles between them and Hearne on his mind, Starsky was feeling an unwelcome sense of dread.
He would just get the bell on with what he had to do in town and get back to the farm as quickly as he could. There was no telling what a psycho like Hearne might try. It wouldn’t take long to tie up the few loose ends, and it wasn’t as if Hutch and his father were incapable of taking care of things. After all, Hutch was a cop. A cop without his gun, Starsky reminded himself guiltily.
He punched the elevator button for the third time, but the door remained stubbornly closed. It reminded him of the decrepit ones in the seedier hotels back in LA—the ones that looked like they’d been operating since the Gold Rush—the ones he and Hutch avoided like the plague for exactly this reason. He was grateful when the elevator finally groaned open and deposited him at Captain Murphy’s floor. A quick glance to his right, toward the main desk, showed a flurry of activity, so he immediately turned left toward Murphy’s office, foregoing the proper procedure. He didn’t have time to be put on hold in a hallway.
Just as he reached the office, the door opened and he ran squarely into “Buzz” Murphy’s more than ample frame. The Minnesota Viking version of Dobey, he thought smiling.
“Detective Starsky… I was just about to have someone call you.”
They shook hands briefly and quickly stood to one side of the busy hallway.
“I was hoping you’d be around this way this morning. I have those files you need.”
“Good, I’d like to get right on… ”
“I have to run down to the mayor’s office for a meeting.” Murphy quickly glanced at his watch. “I’m already late… but you’re more than welcome to use my office.” It was obvious Murphy was in a hurry. He was already back-stepping down the hallway as they spoke.
“The desk sergeant just called and said the files arrived a few minutes ago; he’s bringing them up now.”
“I’d like to take them with me if that’s okay with you,” Starsky said. “I wanna get back to the farm. We had a little trou… ”
“Yes, of course… no problem.”
Again, Starsky was cut off. There was no sense wasting his breath. Murphy just didn’t have the time to talk.
“Is it all right if I use your telephone? I’d like to check in with my captain.”
Murphy was waving and nodding as he headed for the open elevator door. He no doubt knew he had to take advantage of the elevator’s cooperative mood.
“Certainly… go right ahead. Temple will be right there with the files.” With that the captain gave the elevator button another hard rap, and the door screeched and shimmied shut.
Starsky entered the office, chewing on his lip; he decided he’d take the stairs when he left. He’d make his phone call to Dobey and be out of there as soon as the files arrived. His urge to get back to the farm was getting stronger and he never took those feelings lightly. Not where the safety of his partner was concerned.
He grabbed the telephone from the desk and sank down into the same chair he’d occupied two days earlier, dialing for an outside line as he swung his feet up onto Murphy’s oak desk. Metro’s switchboard was busy as usual, and he was relieved when Temple, a young clerk, dropped off the files for him to leaf through. A couple of things caught his eye, but before he could read any further, his call to Robbery/Homicide connected.
“Dobey here!”
Starsky grinned to himself. The captain sounded frazzled, and for a minute Starsky felt an emotion that could almost be described as “homesick.”
“Uh… Hi, Cap’n. Rough day?”
“It’s only 7:00 a.m. and I’m already in the office, what do you think?” Dobey bellowed. So much for feeling homesick. “Is that you, Starsky?”
Starsky cringed Damn! He’d forgotten about the time difference. “Yeah, it’s me. You got anything new for us, Captain?” He could hear Dobey in the background barking orders to some poor soul, then the muffled voice was clearer.
“Yes.” Dobey’s voice took on a new tone. “Those two sketches you and Hutch brought in here the other day hit the jackpot.”
Starsky swung his feet back to the floor and stood up, resting the base of the telephone on his thigh. “What do you mean, Captain?”
“I had Simmons and Babcock take them along on the interview you two had set up with Mr. and Mrs. Echlin.”
“And they made an ID?”
“No, but their neighbor two doors down did. He took one look at the more recent version of Hearne and positively ID’d him as the man he’d seen loitering around the park that morning when he walked his dog. He remembered Hearne because there’s never anyone else around that time of day. It sounds like Hearne’s our man.”
Starsky blew out a deep lungful of air as his eyebrows rose. He could hear puzzle pieces clicking into place. But not the right ones… yet.
“You’re not going to believe this part, then” Starsky said, shaking his head.
“What?”
“Hearne called Hutch at the farm last night. He said he watched us playing with Hutch’s nephew at the park yesterday.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone line, and Starsky began to wonder if Dobey had heard him.
“Have you talked to Captain Murphy about this?”
“Haven’t had a chance, Cap’n… he just rushed out to a meeting as I got here.”
“Do you have any idea what’s going on with this guy Hearne, Starsky?”
“Not a clue.”
“See what you can find out then. And Starsky?”
“Yeah, Cap’n?”
“Keep me posted.”
“Sure thing.”
“How’s Hutch holding up?”
Starsky could hear a difference in Dobey’s tone. He’d suddenly switched from commanding officer to father figure in a matter of seconds. The change always slightly unnerved Starsky, but at the same time, he found it comforting.
“Not so good. He’s at the farm keeping an eye on the kids.” Starsky took a deep breath. “Hearne made a threat, Cap’n… about one of the kids. This guy’s outta control… he’s been outta control way too long, and Hutch is right in the middle.”
~*~*~*~
Starsky’s first stop was the Duluth Tribune archives at the local library. He didn’t even know what he was looking for, but when he flashed his badge and asked at the desk for the microfiche for September 1951, the archivist automatically handed him a whole raft of the stubby little film reels to look through. When he questioned her about the number of reels, she told him it hadn’t been the first time a cop had searched through them. She apparently knew just what he’d be interested in.
After a quick lesson on running the machine, she left him to scour the headlines alone. The reels started in November 1950, with the wedding of Eric and Olivia Jurgens. All the headlines seemed to dwell on the happy couple, although there was mention of the bride’s former marriage to architect, Richard Hutchinson, and the rather messy divorce that had ended their marriage just a mere month earlier. Several reels were nothing more than society column fillers, until September 1951 when the less than noteworthy articles turned into front-page news. The disappearance of little Kenneth Hutchinson had made the front page seven days in a row, with the last showing a rather youthful looking Officer Luke Huntley photographed at the rescue scene the following day.
Starsky’s stomach was somewhere around the vicinity of his heart, and he suddenly found it difficult to swallow. The day’s headlines seemed larger than life, and the photograph of Hutch at age eight—that he’d just seen displayed in the den the night before—was now staring back at him from the front page of the local paper.
He forced himself to read through every article, and by the time he was finished he felt like he’d run a marathon. Quietly, he removed the last spool from the machine and returned the box to the main desk.
“Did you find everything you were looking for, Officer?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “More than enough. Thanks.” He could feel the slight tremor that seemed to live in every part of his body getting stronger as he walked through the building and out to the Duster. It was fifteen minutes before he was calm enough to drive.
~*~*~*~
He woke with a start at the sound of his own voice. The room was semi-dark, and he could tell by the sunlight streaming through the uppermost opening of the curtains that he’d slept late. He slipped his pocket watch off the nightstand and turned it over in his hand until, by feel, he knew he had it in the proper position to read. Nearly one. He couldn’t believe he’d slept that long. Memories of the fitful night before explained the hour and he slowly sat up. The timepiece was comforting, as his fingers moved smoothly over the age worn shape. It reminded him of his grandfather. Time is a wonderful thing, Kenny; it makes everything better. It was hard to believe. He sat the watch on the nightstand and pulled on a too short robe. He’d have a quick shower then find Starsky and thank him for letting him sleep. You’ve been doing a lot for me lately. He wasn’t sure when he’d be able to repay his partner. It seemed he was becoming more and more dependent on Starsky as the days went on. He’d have to do something to return the partnership to the proper balance before the dependency became a habit.
Twenty minutes later, freshly shaved and showered, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen, slightly more prepared for the day. The room was empty, but a quick inspection of the yard pointed him to what he was looking for. He walked soundlessly down the porch steps toward the flowerbed, where his stepmother was pruning rose bushes.
“Good morning!” she called easily when she spotted him.
“Good afternoon is more like it,” he laughed shyly.
“You needed the sleep.”
“Yeah, well… I guess I did.” He glanced around the yard. It seemed too quiet. “Where is everybody?”
“Katy’s putting Amy down for her nap.” Katherine pushed the strands of hair, escaping from under her sun hat, back from her face and smiled at him. “I think your father’s out in the barn, spinning some tales for Daniel.”
Hutch snorted and laughed. “Things never change around here, do they?”
She smiled up at him, clutching his large hand. “No. They don’t change. Any time you need to come back, we’ll be here… just the same as always.”
He gave her a hug and thanked her with a kiss. She’d never asked any questions, but she seemed to know when something was bothering him.
He didn’t know why he avoided coming home. Once he was here it was the safest place on earth. But for some strange reason, it was also the most confusing.
“Where’s Starsky?”
Katherine pulled off her remaining garden glove and dropped them both into the basket, keeping an eye on Hutch as he continued to visually search the yard. “He said he was going into town to pick up the papers you were waiting for. He didn’t want to wake you.”
Hutch nodded, a slight frown spoiling the handsome features.
She took both of bis bands in hers now, coaxing his eyes to hers. “He said he’d be back just as soon as he could.”
The statement was innocent enough, but Hutch sensed that Starsky must have been worried about something. I guess I’m not the only one thinking about Hearne these days.
“What time did he leave?”
She closed her eyes trying to remember. “Must’ve been close to nine-thirty by the time he finally got away. He should be home any time now.” She smiled and pulled him into a hug. “Why don’t you go out and join them in the barn? Your father would like that.”
Hutch’s smile faded, suddenly feeling a little unsure. “He’s with Daniel. I won’t bother them.”
“Kenneth Hutchinson,” she scolded, looking up into his bewildered face. “Your father isn’t going to be here forever. When will it be the right time to talk to him?”
He started to pull away, unprepared for the conversation. “He’s busy.”
“He’s never too busy for you, Ken. Talk to him.” She pulled back a bit so she could look into his face, noticing the deepening frown. “You both have things to say that should have been said years ago. You’re not the only one hurting.”
Hutch glanced away, wondering how she knew him so well when he didn’t understand himself at all. “I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know how to tell him I’m sorry.”
Now she was puzzled. He had nothing to be sorry for. “What is it, dear? What is it that keeps you so distant from him?”
Hutch swallowed, trying to think of a way to explain his mixed-up feelings. “He… he had everything, and he lost it all because of me.” His eyes were bright when he turned back to her.
“You’re wrong, Ken. He has everything, because of you.”
Hutch drew in a shaky breath and shook his head, not totally convinced.
“Go talk to him,” she said again, giving him a slight nudge toward the barn. “And tell Daniel I have some cookies waiting for him in the kitchen.”
He nodded absently and started a leisurely, albeit apprehensive, walk across the yard.
~*~*~*~
Starsky drove slowly past the large Victorian house and pulled the rental to a stop around the corner. It was always wise to pick a less than obvious place to park an undercover car when it was painted like a Coke can, even though he hated to admit it to Hutch. The green Plymouth received the same treatment today—old habits were hard to break. He wished he had the Torino now, though, or at least a radio. He should have called the farm before he left the library, but the seething rage that kept him from breathing apparently kept him from thinking clearly, as well. Now, after reading firsthand what had happened to his best friend all those years ago, he could think of nothing else. He was more determined than ever to catch Hearne and lock him away where he belonged.
He snagged his jacket from the rear seat before closing and locking the door. The warm fall morning was turning into a cool afternoon. It had been a long time since the seasons were so clearly defined for him. He was about to slip into the jacket when he remembered the automatic in the back. On an impulse, he unlocked the trunk and shrugged into the harness, securing the strap to his belt before sliding his jacket on. He checked the clip and tugged the zipper up a few inches to camouflage the bulge of the weapon along his right side. Somehow, wearing the gun made him feel more in control about leaving Hutch unprotected. The sooner he talked to Eric Jurgens, the sooner he could get back to the farm and fix the situation.
Eric Jurgens’ house was a huge, two-story, brick place with a white wooden porch that wrapped itself all the way across the front and down the far side. Starsky tried to picture Hutch running across its length, but all he could sense was intense loneliness. Looking up, he could see the ornate gingerbread trim along the roofline and gables, that made the house look even more impressive… and old. It wasn’t the type of place he’d choose to live in. The clean lines of his canyon home suited him just fine. Maybe that’s why Venice Place appealed to his partner so much. The building was plain, but homey. Probably the closest thing bis partner could find to the farm—besides the little yellow cottage—in the whole of LA. Like father, like son, Starsky thought again fondly. Those two were more alike than they even knew. Or would ever admit. He smiled, remembering Hutch’s shocked reaction to Richard’s little confession the night before.
Starsky turned into the front sidewalk and sauntered up the porch steps. There was no one else on the street, but halfway to the door he heard voices corning from the rear of the house. He followed the porch to the left, around the corner and down the steps to the backyard. He turned to his right, past the thick shrubbery, and stood for a minute to listen. He could no longer hear the voices that had caught his attention in the first place. Opening the tall wooden gate to the back patio proved there was no one around. It was probably just a neighbor. He turned, pulling the gate closed behind him to start back up the steps when a vice-like grip closed viciously around his neck, cutting off first his air and then his vision. Instinctively, his hands flew to the massive arm, his fingers digging into the tightening limb to pry it from his throat. He fought with everything he had, but he was already weakening from lack of oxygen, and the awkward position and size of his attacker were against him. He knew it was too late when his whole body was flung violently sideways and his head connected painfully with the brick corner of the house. His last thought was of Hutch.
~*~*~*~
“Hi, Uncle Ken!”
Hutch glanced up at the sound of the tiny voice and spotted his father and Daniel sitting in the loft window. I guess it’s not just my favorite spot, he thought, grinning.
“Come up with us!” Daniel’s little arms motioned eagerly.
Hutch slipped past Katy’s yuk-yellow Datsun and climbed the ladder into the loft.
“Hey, what’ya doin’?” Hutch asked, ruffling Daniel’s dark hair. He looked just like Katy. The same dark eyes and hair that always fascinated him when he was a child and made him feel slightly out of place.
“Just talkin’,” Daniel said matter-of-factly, as he plunked his little body into Hutch’s lap. “Granddad said this is your special place.”
“He did?” Hutch answered, catching his father’s eye. Hutch didn’t think anyone but Starsky knew about the loft.
“Yup. He said you used to come up here a lot to think about stuff.” Daniel scrunched sideways across Hutch’s leg to trace his finger over the name Hutch had carved there when he was a child. “See? Here’s your name.”
Hutch nodded, still watching his father, wondering what else the man knew about him that he thought he had kept secret.
“Do you have a favorite place in California?” Daniel asked innocently.
“Yeah, I have a bunch of favorite places,” thinking immediately of the beach and his greenhouse. But the place he felt happiest was with Starsky.
“Can I come and see you sometime?”
“Sure… maybe Granddad will bring you, huh?” Hutch’s eyes never left his father’s, and he was rewarded with a smile. “Granddad and I have a lot to catch up on,” he added quietly.
“Could we, Granddad?” Daniel asked.
“We’ll ask Mommy.” But it was plain on Richard’s face that the invitation pleased him.
Hutch smiled and nodded. “That would be nice.” It wasn’t a big step forward but it was a start. Maybe Katherine was right. Had he spent a lifetime holding himself accountable for something imagined? His parents both insisted that losing the house in town, and the business, and the money meant nothing to them. Why did he still feel so responsible? How could he be anything but when they had lost those things because of him? He didn’t want to think about it.
“Gran tells me there’s a plate of cookies in the kitchen with your name on it.”
Daniel spun around, grinning at Hutch’s announcement. “Wanna share?”
Hutch burst out laughing. “You sound just like Starsky!” How many times had he heard his partner say those exact words? “Sure,” Hutch grinned, “let’s go.”
“We can save some for Uncle David, too,” Daniel said, running toward the ladder.
Hutch scrambled to his feet, diving the short distance to catch hold of Daniel’s arm. “Whoa, slow down, it’s dangerous up here… you don’t want to fall!”
Richard caught up with them and took hold of Daniel’s hand. “I’ll go down first,” he said. “You know how to do it.”
“Yeah,” Daniel said, “just don’t look down.”
Hutch waited silently in the loft until his father had Daniel safely down the ladder.
“Okay, Uncle Ken… your turn.”
Don’t look down.
Daniel and Richard stood at the bottom of the ladder waiting for Hutch to step down, but he remained motionless, staring down at them.
“Ken?”
Nothing.
Richard stooped down to talk to Daniel. “You go and tell Gran that we’ll be right in, okay?”
The boy nodded and ran out of the barn toward the house, leaving Richard staring up into the loft. Hutch seemed unaware of his father talking to him and remained unmoving until Richard started back up the ladder. Without warning Hutch jerked back from the edge, nearly falling as he stumbled over a lose board, struggling backwards away from the edge and his father’s outstretched band.
“Ken?” His father stepped from the top rung of the ladder and carefully approached bis son. “What’s wrong?”
Hutch was breathing fast and seemed confused. Richard reached out to touch him but Hutch jerked away.”Ken. It’s Dad. What’s wrong?”
Hutch turned his face toward the voice and seemed to focus on the familiar features. “Dad?”
“Yes, Ken. What is it?”
Hutch’s eyes were wide with fright. “I saw him. I saw him standing over the dog. He grabbed my legs… ” Hutch rubbed unconsciously at his legs, “… he pulled me over the edge and threw me on the floor.”
Hutch’s hand scrubbed back and forth across his forehead, trying to erase the memory…or was it the nightmare?
They sat in the loft, leaning against a hay bale until Hutch was calmer. He told his father about the dream he’d had the night before and the childhood vision it bad become when he went to step down onto the ladder.
“I’m so sorry, Ken. I’m so sorry for all the things that happened.. . I’d do anything if I could’ve spared you all that.” Richard spread his arms, defeated. “All of this. That’s the least a father should be able to do. You were so young. There should’ve been something I could’ve done to protect you. To save you from that… that monster.”
Hutch chewed on his lip, unsure what to say. His father had never mentioned the kidnapping. It had been the family’s choice to continue with their lives as if nothing had happened.
“We thought if we didn’t talk about it, you’d forget in time. I see now that wasn’t the best way to handle it. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
“No.” Hutch shook his head. “I guess I did for awhile, but… ” he closed his eyes. “I just want it to go away, Dad. I just want it all to go away.” The last month was taking its toll, he didn’t know how much more he could take.
Richard pulled Hutch close, hugging him tight, shoulder-to-shoulder. “Maybe it will. Maybe now’s the time for us to find out what happened.”
Hutch nodded and rubbed at the moisture in his eyes. “Yeah.”
“How ’bout we go see what Daniel’s up to?”
~*~*~*~
Something woke him from his fuzzy haze, and he turned his aching head away from the hands pulling at him. He realized too late that the hands had taken his gun. When he tried to speak he ended up with a mouthful of dry, musty-smelling dirt that made him cough and choke. Damn, he moaned. What had he walked into? And he’d been worried about Hutch being unarmed. It would have been funny if he hadn’t felt like shit.
Carefully, he moved his hand up to the left side of his head. There was a knot there the size of a Buick. And blood. It took him a minute to recall the attack, then he realized why his neck felt like he’d been wrestling with the Omaha Tiger. It’s a wonder he could still breathe at all.
A boot prodded his hip and he turned to look up at his attacker. Hearne. Why was he not surprised?
“Keep still cop and you might get to live a little longer.”
The man yanked his arms roughly behind his back and fastened them securely with a section of wire.
“We’re on to you, Hearne. We know you killed those kids in LA. Don’t make matters worse by killing a cop.”
Hearne laughed and shoved him cruelly against the wall, kicking more of the loose powdery dirt into his eyes and mouth. As much as Starsky wanted to jump up and take this jerk on, he knew his body wouldn’t cooperate. He felt dizzy and nauseous from the blow to his temple and he could feel the blood oozing from the open wounds where the wire was already biting into his wrists.
“Well it ain’t gonna matter what you know. Not where you’re goin’. Once I’m done, I’ll be gone. I disappeared before and I can do it again. You cops are all the same.” He gave Starsky another kick to make sure he was immobile. “Now, I have some unfinished business with that blond partner of yours. He cheated me twice; he won’t cheat me again.”
Starsky’s blood froze at the brazen threat to Hutch’s life, and as Hearne turned to leave Starsky kicked out with his legs, catching the man behind the knees. Hearne yelled in pain nearly going down from the force of the blow. In the second before the man turned on him, Starsky felt a moment of pure, but short-lived satisfaction.
~*~*~*~
Hutch was getting restless. There were only so many times he could reread these files and not feel frustrated. There was an abundance of written information, from interviews with family members—which he found both fascinating and terrifying—to leads that went nowhere. No one had seen anything. He’d come home from school that Friday and disappeared without a trace. And not so much as a memory to help him along. Except for the dog and the man grabbing his legs, the only other thing he could recall with any amount of clarity, was a sudden memory of Luke Huntley and his partner wrapping him in a scratchy army blanket and whisking him off to the hospital with sirens wailing.
The vision he’d experienced in the barn had been almost identical to the dream he’d had the night before. He was positive now that it was real. That the man had been Hearne. But anything more than that was a mystery that his brain kept stubbornly locked away.
“Do you want some more coffee, Ken?”
He jumped at Katy’s question. He hadn’t heard her come into the den.
“Uh… no thanks, I think I’ve had too much already.” Normally he and Starsky could down the worst imaginable concoctions and still need more. But his stomach was upset and his head ached from the stress of the last few days; the thought of anything in his stomach at the moment was unwelcome.
“What time did you say Starsky left this morning?” He was getting worried, and lonely. His dependence on Starsky was becoming obvious to him.
“About nine or maybe nine-thirty. Why?”
“Did he say what time he’d be back?”
“No… don’t think so. He said he was going to pick up the files you were waiting on and a few other things, and he’d be back when he was done.” She sat down beside him, her hands on her knees, staring at the files on the table. She wasn’t about to tell her brother Starsky had told her to keep an eye on him. She didn’t think he’d accept that bit of information graciously.
It was nearly six. Katherine was keeping Starsky’s dinner warm in the oven.
“Something’s wrong.” Hutch was thinking out loud.
“He’d call if he had trouble with the car,” Katy offered.
“No. Something’s wrong.” Voicing it out loud seemed to seal it. The hairs on Hutch’s arms tingled with something close to fear. It was a sensation he’d experienced many times before. It wasn’t something to ignore.
“Where else did he say he was going in town, Katy?”
She looked at him, sensing his concern. “Well, he said he was going to pick up the files from Captain Murphy’s office.”
Hutch had already called Murphy around four o’clock. Knowing that Starsky had arrived there safely did little to calm him since he had no idea where his partner had gone from there.
“Think, Katy… did he say anything else?”
She shook her head. Starsky really hadn’t given her his plans. “He did ask for Eric’s address.”
“Eric?” He’d never had too much contact with his stepfather after his mother’s death. There was no reason to. He’d really only been a part of Hutch’s life for a year.
“Does he still live in the same house, Katy?” He was desperate for something to check. He could feel the panic building with every minute Starsky was gone. He wasn’t sure if it was worry for Starsky or his own runaway fears of Hearne, but the panic building in him was reaching an explosion point. “Can I borrow your car?” He would have asked for the keys to his father’s larger car, but he’d left for his office in town an hour earlier to pick up some blueprints he’d forgotten.
“Of course you can, but I’m sure David will be home soon. I think… he wanted you to stay here.”
“Please, Katy. There’s something wrong.”
He followed her into the kitchen and waited while she got him the keys.
He motioned toward the living room where his mother and Daniel were watching TV. “Lock the doors. If Starsk calls, tell him where I’ve gone. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She watched as he grabbed up the keys and rushed out the door.
“Katy? Where’s Ken off to in such a hurry… ”
~*~*~*~
Starsky woke wondering where he was. His head throbbed to the sound of garbled voices. He closed his eyes and lay perfectly still, and things finally started to creep back into his mind. It was Hearne that was responsible for his splitting headache, and as his senses sharpened and he started taking better stock of his situation, he remembered the creep taking his gun, too. Not good.
“He’s outta the way,” Hearne said, clearly now, close by, “what more do you want?” He sounded defiant, but a little unsure of himself.
“You fool!” a second voice said harshly. “This is what got us into this mess in the beginning. Why don’t you think for a change? I paid you once; I’m not paying you again. You were supposed to do the job, take the money… and leave!”
Starsky wasn’t alert enough to decide if he recognized the new voice, and the ringing in his ears didn’t help.
“You had more than enough money to disappear and stay out of trouble… but here you are. You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”
“He knows.” It was Hearne again.
“He doesn’t remember anything.”
“He’s a cop!”
Oh…like that explains everything, Starsky thought sarcastically.
“He didn’t remember then, he doesn’t remember now. If he knows anything it’s because of you. You brought this on yourself.”
“I tell you, he knows… he’s a goddamn cop, and him and his partner here, are on to us.”
Starsky kept his eyes closed, hoping if they thought he was still out, he’d have time to think of a plan. Of course, the plan would have to involve wire cutters and a rescue team. He was in deep shit.
~*~*~*~
Hutch turned the car around when he realized he’d overshot the cross street. Starsky hadn’t left much in the way of an itinerary for his day, and his stepfather’s home was Hutch’s one and only clue to his plans. It had been too long since he was last in this section of town, and he finally had to pull over to get his bearings.
Frustrated, he climbed out of the Datsun and struggled with the stubborn seat mechanism again. His knees were rubbing on the dash, and every bump left another bruise. The seat of Katy’s compact car was never intended for anyone as long limbed as himself, and even now, with the seat back as far as it would go, there was only slightly more room. He wished he could have taken his father’s car. If there was trouble, he didn’t think Katy’s little Japanese grocery cart would be able to handle it.
He wanted to tell himself there wouldn’t be any trouble, that Starsky probably just lost track of time. But his cop’s intuition was working overtime. Starsky would never take off this long without checking in with him, especially after his own stupid stunt during the Humphries case. Starsky’s emotional lecture was still clear in his mind.
He rested his head on the steering wheel for a minute, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Just relax. At the farm, the memory of Jurgens’ house was clear in his mind, but things had changed in the residential area since the last time he’d been here, and the usual landmarks just weren’t there. Panicking won’t help Starsk if he’s in trouble. He took a deep breath and then another, hoping to find some control. Get it together, Hutchinson; you’re acting like a scared kid. He was letting this stupid childhood fear of Hearne take over and turn every simple thing that happened lately into a life or death situation. Don’t panic…think like a cop, dammit! He’s probably just pumping Eric for embarrassing kid stuff to blackmail me with later.
He drove another two blocks before spotting something that clicked. By chance, he turned left onto a tree-shaded street and finally saw a street name that sounded familiar. A little farther down the street, he saw what he was looking for. His hands were damp on the steering wheel as he read the street sign. Maple Avenue. Now all he had to do was hope he could still remember the house. Why didn’t I ask Katy for the address? He’d been so sure he’d be able to find it without any trouble, but neatly manicured lawns and trimmed shrubs made every old Victorian house look exactly the same as the next.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and unexpectedly caught a glimpse of the green Duster parked just around the corner on the last side street. He’d almost driven past both the house and the car. A closer look at the nearby house brought the memories flooding back.
His stepfather’s house sat slightly further back on the large lot than the rest of the homes, making it a little less noticeable from the curb, but the wide white porch and gingerbread trim hadn’t changed since he was a child. He remembered how excited his mother was the day they’d moved in.
Hutch pulled the little mustard-colored car in behind the Duster and cut the engine, quietly closing the door as he got out. The car he and Starsky had rented from the Hertz dealer at the airport was locked, and when he placed his hand on the hood it was cool to his touch.
He peered through the bushes bordering Jurgens’ property, hoping to see something that would confirm Starsky’s presence, but there was no sign of anyone or anything out of the ordinary. He was halfway to the corner when he remembered the Magnum and walked back to check the trunk. It was locked. His mind tried to tell him he was being melodramatic-there was no need for the gun. But the little voice in the back of his head was telling him differently.
A dog barked as he approached the house, and he heard it scratching on the tall, wooden fence that separated the neighbor’s yard from his stepfather’s driveway. He walked lightly up the front steps and eased open the screen door. The interior door was locked, and a quick check through the windows showed the two front rooms of the house were unoccupied. He’d check the back of the house before knocking, but it looked like no one was home. Where are you, Starsk?
Quickly, he walked down the steps and across the front lawn to the red brick driveway, silently thanking the neighbor for taking the noisy dog into the house—his head was splitting. He walked close to the bushes along the side of the porch, deciding to check the carriage house for a car.
There was a tightening pressure building in his chest, which, along with his already upset stomach, made him terribly uncomfortable. What the hell’s the matter with me? he wondered. As he got closer to the carriage house, he realized his hands were shaking, and beads of sweat chilled him in the cool evening air. He was beginning to question his own ability.
He walked across the driveway to the far side of the carriage house to check inside. The building was large enough and ornate enough to be considered a charming canyon home back in LA.A sudden childhood memory of spending time here distracted him slightly, as he slipped past the solid wood door toward the back of the building for a look in the grimy window. It was getting dark enough outside that it was difficult to see, and a look inside showed the interior of the carriage house to be in darkness as well. He could just barely make out a vehicle with a dust cover over it parked against the far wall. But the area directly underneath the overhead storage and behind the large garage door was vacant. It probably meant Jurgens wasn’t home. Maybe he and Starsk went someplace together? he thought. But where?
He walked back to the side door and tried the knob. It turned easily, so he pushed the door open and went inside. Lights would have been a plus, but he couldn’t remember where the switch was. He stood against the interior wall, letting his eyes get accustomed to the shadows before working his way to one of the support posts for the floor above. His heart was beating like he’d just completed his early morning run.
A slight movement and sound from the far front corner of the building caught his attention, and he stepped quickly behind the inadequate protection of the support post.
“We thought you’d never get here, Ken.”
Hutch froze, clinging to the wooden post. It was Hearne.
“Your friend was getting a little tired of waiting.”
Starsk? Hutch could feel his heart pounding right through his chest.
“Don’t be shy, Ken. We’re all friends. Step out where we can see each other. I think we should all get reacquainted.”
With that, the overhead light was switched on, bathing the room with a dim yellow glow, and he squinted trying to find his partner in the shadows.
“We know what you’ve done, Hearne… back in LA. Give it up.” He wondered if the man could tell how terrified he really was.
Hearne stepped forward out of the shadows, holding a gun. Starsky’s automatic? The implication of that frightened Hutch even more, and he swallowed hard to keep his stomach where it belonged.
Hearne suddenly bent to his left, awkwardly dragging something from the floor, and Hutch’s heart nearly stopped. Starsk…
“Don’t make things worse, Hearne, put the gun down.” Hell of a brave thing to say, dummy, considering you’ve got nothing to back up your threat. Hopefully, Hearne didn’t realize that.
His partner was having trouble standing, and Hearne kept yanking on Starsky’s jacket to hold him upright.
“Let him go, Hearne,” Hutch warned with all the authority he could muster. His heart was racing again, and he tried frantically to think of something to get his partner out of this. Even from this distance, he could tell Starsky was hurt. “He’s got nothing to do with this, Hearne… it’s me you want. You can’t get away this time.”
“Wrong,” Hearne laughed.
Starsky struggled to raise his head from his chest, and just as their eyes finally made contact a gun dug sharply into Hutch’s ribs and his face was shoved into the rough wooden pillar. Hutch froze, but while his mind was wandering, his eyes never left Starsky’s glazed stare.
… and he could hear a dog whining. It was struggling as if it were in pain. He put down the book that had fallen into his lap when he fell asleep and rubbed at the sticky cobwebs around the edge of the carriage house window. The open garage attic was a lot like the loft at his granddad’s farm. It had become his favorite place at the big house since they’d moved here. It was getting dark out; he was going to catch it for being late for dinner. The dog whined again, sounding closer. “It must be downstairs.” The dog sounded like it was in pain. “Maybe it was hit by a car.” He walked carefully across the attic floor until he got to the ladder. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to see into the shadows down below—he didn’t want to go down if the dog was sick. Maybe it would bite him. Suddenly, the horrible whining noises stopped, and he saw a shadow move by the large carriage house door. It was a man. He was struggling to stand up, wiping his face on the sleeve of his shirt. At first, he thought it was his stepfather, but as the man stood straighter, he could tell it wasn’t. It was the big man that sometimes came to talk to his stepfather…
The gun jabbed painfully into his ribs again, and he grabbed the post to keep his jaw from breaking on the hard surface. Hutch raised his head to make sure Starsky was still okay and felt the wood scrape across his jaw.
Starsky was trying to stand, but Hearne still needed a firm hold of his jacket to keep him from swaying. Hutch could see now that his partner’s hands were tied behind his back, and he wouldn’t be able to do much to get the gun away from Hearne. Hutch’s eyes blurred, and he blinked to try and clear them.
…the man stepped back a bit, grabbing for a rag on the fender of the car, then turned abruptly when he heard the gasp.
No! He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to look at the scene below, but he couldn’t take his eyes away either.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THERE, BOY? GET DOWN HERE!”
The man was coming closer…but he couldn’t move…he couldn’t breathe…no… no…!
The man was on the steps reaching up with his big sweaty hands, grabbing his ankles, dragging him across the attic floorboards, tossing him over his shoulder…
“This is all your fault, you idiot!”
Hutch shook his head at the sound of the voice so close, twisting free long enough to try and steal a look at the man behind him—the man busting his ribs with the barrel of the gun. He was pushed viciously back against the post with a crack as the wood protested, and he bit his lip to keep from yelling.
“Keep your eyes in front!” the man demanded, giving him an extra shove to prove his point. Through the pain, he recognized the oh so familiar voice of his attacker. He tried to still the shaking. His legs felt weak, and his ribs ached from the pressure from the gun. Every sentence was punctuated with another, stronger shove against the post, the gun barrel painfully reminding Hutch what would happen if he pushed back.
“Hutch?” It was Starsky, letting him know he was aware of what was happening.
“I’m okay,” he managed through clenched teeth.
“Should’ve done away with him years ago, Fletcher, like you were supposed to, and none of this would be happening,” Hutch’s tormentor said.
Starsky’s vision was clearing, and he tested the strength of his legs when Hearne was unaware. Fletcher? Hearne’s real name is Fletcher?
“How are you doin’, Starsk?”
To anyone else it would sound like senseless banter, but to Hutch it was a way of determining just how alert Starsky really was, and a routine they’d found useful in the past.
Hearne continued to motion with his gun hand, while he kept a tight hold on Starsky’s jacket with his left.
“I’m kinda tied up, buddy, but I’m okay.” Starsky was more worried about the shape his partner was in.
“That whole thing was your idea, Jurgens. You’re the greedy son-of-a-bitch that had to have it all… if you’d just let me kill him instead of playin’ all the crazy games, he wouldn’t be here to cause us trouble now.”
Hutch closed his eyes tight. The words sounded so familiar, like something he had heard before.
…he was crying and sobbing in terror. Then the big man grabbed him from the floor, threw his small body into the corner, and gave him a hard slap to shut him up.
“BE QUIET, KID!” The big man was scarlet with rage. He tried to stop crying. The carriage house door swung open, and in the dim light he saw his stepfather’s tall silhouette step in. Help me, he thought in relief But it was only thought—he couldn’t get the words out. His stepfather didn’t seem to realize what the big man had done. Why didn’t he do something?
“FLETCHER! YOU FOOL! I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T WANT ANY TROUBLE.” His stepfather was staring into the shadows across the room, running his hands through his dark hair. He looked around the barn for something, then grabbed a shovel off the wall and pushed it into the big man’s hands. “I knew having you around here was trouble. And shut that damn kid up!”
His stepfather glanced at him from across the room. He was huddled on the floor. Tears were streaming down his face, stinging where the man had slapped him. “Wait, I’ve got a better idea,” his stepfather said, turning away from his him.
~*~*~*~
“Those ‘crazy games’ netted you a lot of money, Fletcher. You were supposed to disappear. If it hadn’t been for your… ” Jurgens stopped, sounding disgusted, “… your pastime… neither of us would be where we are today.”
Hearne waved the automatic menacingly toward Hutch’s captor. “And just where is that, Jurgens?” he yelled. “Sure, you paid me off. But not near enough. I’ve got cops on my tail. If you want me to disappear again, you’ll have to pay me more than the measly five grand you paid the last time.” Hearne was on a roll. He’d been storing up his resentment for years.
“I paid you once, Fletcher. If you’ve brought the cops down on you since then, it’s your own damn fault,” Jurgens said. “Besides, you never completed the job. You were supposed to kill him, make it look like a kidnapping gone bad. But you screwed it up and let that dumb cop find the kid.”
“It all worked out. You got your money, didn’t you?”
“YOU DON’T GET IT, FLETCHER!” Jurgens twisted the arm of his struggling hostage, and Hutch groaned. “We have a slight problem. He’s not a kid anymore, and in case you haven’t noticed, because of you he’s been asking questions. If he didn’t remember before, he will now. The doctors told me the memories might come back, but it was unlikely. He was too traumatized. But goddamn it… you’ve practically told him everything!”
“This whole thing was your plan from the start, Jurgens, I can disappear just as easy now as I did before. Another change of name, another new identity, and you’ll be the one they’ll blame. What’s it worth to you, Jurgens? What’s it worth for me to disappear and keep my mouth shut… again?”
Hutch didn’t know if he was living the nightmare or dreaming it. His thoughts were jumbled together, past and present. Starsky needed him to focus on the here and now, but the memories were too intense.
“What do you mean, you’ve got an idea? I’ll just dig a hole and the problem’s solved. Simple as that.” The big man hefted the bundle under his arm and threw it down at the back of the carriage house…
“Listen to me, and I’ll make it worth your while. This whole thing could work out quite well for both of us.”
“What are you talking about, Jurgens? A minute ago you’re chewin’ me out…now you’ve got a get-rich– quick scheme for me?”
“Not just for you. Both of us.” Jurgens motioned to the far side of the room. “That kid over there is cramping my style, and I know exactly how to uncramp it and make a profit doing it.”
Fletcher picked up the shovel again and stared at Jurgens in puzzlement. “What are you talking about?”
~*~*~*~
Starsky cursed silently. What he was hearing was unbelievable. The good news was his legs were steadier now and his brain was finally kicking in. The bad news was, Hutch was a mess.
Jurgens had Hutch at a disadvantage. Both mentally and physically. Starsky couldn’t believe Hutch’s own stepfather bad planned the kidnapping. The details were trickling out as the two men fought, and Starsky’s fear of what Hearne might do with the gun was escalating.
Jurgens and Hearne watched each other, only vaguely aware of Starsky’s increasing alertness.
“What is it you want, Fletcher?”
“It’s Hearne—but not for much longer.”
Even in the partial light, Starsky could see that Hearne thought himself to have much more authority than he did. The gun continued to point in Jurgens’ direction, with Hutch in the line of fire, but Jurgens seemed to have a quiet hold on the situation.
Starsky tried to give the impression that he was still unaware of what was happening. He could tell by the look on his partner’s face that Hutch was reliving something that had happened years earlier. His normally confident partner was in no condition to work the way they normally worked together on the streets.
“I’m not taking the blame for the kid.” Jurgens’ gun hand wavered momentarily away from Hutch, toward Hearne, but Hutch wasn’t aware of what was happening. He looked out of it, and Starsky hoped that when his moment came to tackle Hearne, Hutch would have enough sense to stay out of the way.
“You got everything you were after, Jurgens. You got his business, his money and his wife.” Hearne continued to gesture wildly with his gun hand.
“You leave Olivia out of this! “Jurgens shouted.
“Maybe the police would be interested to find out just how your dear departed wife fell down those stairs. Hmm? I could make a little call… tell them all about your part in that.”
“Shut up, Fletcher!”
“Yeah, I’ll bet they’d be real interested to find that out.”
Hearne was laughing, waving the gun menacingly in Jurgens’—and Hutch’s—direction.
Jurgens was furious. He hadn’t gone through all those years of worry just to be blackmailed by this common piece of trash. He gave Hutch another shove to distract his intent and raised his gun to fire.
In an instant, the pressure of the gun was gone and Hutch threw his body back into his stepfather, shoving them both to the floor as the gun went off.
Starsky panicked, fearing the worst. He bent low and propelled himself headlong into Hearne’s midsection, sending the man sprawling to the dirt floor with a thud and a grunt of pain. Starsky heard another gunshot from somewhere across the room, then men shouting and police sirens in the background, as he struggled to hold Hearne away from the automatic just a few inches away. He was pulled to his feet and supported.
“Are you okay, Sergeant?” It was “Buzz” Murphy in all his towering size.
It’s the cavalry, Starsky thought in amazement.
“Somebody find some side-cutters…get this wire off of him.”
Starsky’s moment of relief vanished as he struggled to see around Murphy.
“Hutch!”
He could feel the wire give way at his ankles and then his wrists, then he was running as fast as his cramped muscles would allow toward the group of men on the far side of the carriage house. Richard Hutchinson stepped forward just as Starsky reached Hutch, who was curled tightly on the dirt floor. Both men knelt closer, terrified Hutch was injured.
“Hutch?”
“Ken?”
Jurgens struggled to stand, angrily brushing dirt from his tan suit. “I’m glad you got here…this man, Hearne, has been terrorizing us. I want him arrested!”
Richard stood very slowly as Starsky pulled Hutch into his lap. He walked the three feet to where Jurgens stood and drove his fist into the man’s face. Shocked, Starsky suddenly realized where Hutch got his pile-driver punch as he watched Jurgens crash to the dirt floor, then struggle to sit up.
“What’s the meaning of this!” Jurgens yelled as he wiped blood from his nose.
“Be quiet… we already heard all we needed to hear,” supplied Murphy. “Carter? Read Mr. Jurgens his rights.” Murphy nodded toward Hearne who sat handcuffed in the corner. “Him, too. We’re placing you both under arrest.”
Starsky quickly skimmed his hands over Hutch’s body. “Were you hit, babe?”
Hutch’s eyes were open but unresponsive, as he slowly shook his head.
“Are you sure? Hutch, you don’t look so good.”
Richard knelt beside them, watching as Starsky continued to examine his son.
“Damn, I thought you got hit,” Starsky said emotionally. “You sure you’re okay?”
Hutch’s hand was shaking as he reached up to touch the wound on the side of Starsky’s head. “I tried to help… I’m sorry.”
Starsky smiled. “You did help… you did fine.”
Hutch was shaking his head, “No, he killed him. I saw… ”
Starsky looked at Richard, puzzled. “What are you talkin’ about, Hutch?”
“He killed him and… and they buried him under the workbench. I… I thought it was… a dog.” The last came out in a whisper, then Hutch rolled closer, burying his face in Starsky’s jacket.
Richard, Murphy and Starsky all looked at each other, then at Hutch.
“Carter, you’d better get some help down here, pronto,” Murphy ordered.
Hearne was causing a commotion in the corner of the building, shouting threats at Jurgens. He still doesn’t have enough sense to keep his mouth shut. “Get these two outta here!” Starsky yelled.
Hutch’s quiet breaths had changed to gasping sounds as Starsky tried to comfort him. “You look a mess, partner. Are you sure you’re okay?” He was getting worried now. “Why don’t you… ”
“I’m… cold.”
“Okay. Can somebody get us a blanket?”
“He didn’t scream.”
“What?”
Hutch’s gasping was getting more noticeable, the breaths closer together. “Why didn’t he scream?” Hutch asked. “I should’a helped him.”
Starsky held Hutch tighter, rocking him. “Come on, babe… relax. You were just a kid. There wasn’t anything you could’a done. Relax.”
“It wasn’t a dog… ”
Hutch was staring at his father, wondering how he’d gotten there.
“We understand what happened, Ken.”
“You do?”
His body started shuddering then. As if saying the words out loud had started a chain reaction, years old. He wrapped his arms around himself. But the shuddering wouldn’t stop. It seemed like he’d never be warm again, that the shaking was permanent. He could taste tears in his mouth and realized he was crying. He turned his face away. He wanted to tell them what he’d seen, but his jaw was locked tight. He was turning blue.
“Get an ambulance… I don’t like this,” Starsky called over his shoulder. “And make it fast.”
~*~*~*~
Starsky bent carefully to retrieve the Styrofoam cup from the dispenser. It seemed every move he made was somehow connected to the seam of stitches on the shaved spot on his skull. Even combing hair over the spot with his fingers brought a shot of pain.
Except for a couple of trips to the coffee machine, he’d spent the night in Hutch’s room, waiting for whatever it was they’d given him to calm him down, to run its course. Other than the scrape on his face and the vivid black and purple bruise on his cheekbone, Hutch seemed relatively unscathed. Outwardly, anyway. The unknown was the part that scared the hell out of Starsky.
Stepping back into the room, he saw Hutch stirring slightly. The medication was beginning to wear off. He tiptoed to the chair beside the bed, sat his coffee on the table and prepared to wait. It was nearly 7:00 a.m. Richard and Katherine would be arriving soon, and he welcomed their company. And their help.
A lot had happened since yesterday, but the only thing that mattered to him was Hutch. He hoped the recent string of panic attacks, or whatever they were, would be a thing of the past now, too. It took a lot out of him to see Hutch go through that, especially when there didn’t seem to be anything much he could do to help. They’d spent entirely too much time in places like this lately.
Captain Murphy had stopped by earlier to fill him in on what was happening at the crime scene, and to drop off the keys to the Duster-now parked in St. Luke’s lot. His visit was short, just long enough to check on Hutch and give Starsky the file he had forgotten in the car.
Murphy’s forensic team was, at that point, still out at the carriage house. It was going to be a slow and tedious job, but one that Murphy had been prepared to do for years. Starsky sensed his relief at solving the case, but that was only part of it. It was obvious that the older man took a personal interest in this one.
“They’ve found a skeleton, Dave. It looks like a kid. Just like we suspected. You might want to take a look at that file,” Murphy said, motioning to the manila folder in Starsky’s hand. “I think it’ll answer a few questions.”
Starsky leafed through the file he’d skimmed earlier that day in Murphy’s office. It was a “Missing Person”…dated September 1951. A child.
“I always felt this was connected, somehow, but I could never prove it. ” Murphy glanced over at the blond detective sleeping restlessly. “I certainly didn’t want to prove it this way.”
Starsky listened to Murphy absently talking about the old case, as he read the initial report from the Rutledge PD.
“I’ve hung onto that file all these years. I think he could be our body, Dave,” Murphy said sadly. “Rutledge is less than a fifty-five mile trip from here. It’s an easy one-hour drive.”
Starsky nodded. “You had a feeling this was connected from the start.”
Murphy nodded, knowing the young detective knew all about hunches and feelings. Their jobs depended on them, almost as much as facts.
“I don’t know how you want to handle this, Dave. You know I’m going to have to talk to Ken when he wakes up.”
Starsky nodded. It was now almost certain that Hutch had witnessed Jurgens and Hearne dispose of the boy’s body-if not the actual murder itself.
Murphy’s eyes slid to the man in the bed, as he turned to leave. Hutch was still sleeping.
“Jurgens’ arrest made the front page,” he added dryly.
Starsky put down the file and looked up as Murphy pushed the door open slightly and leaned on it wearily.
“There’s a pack of reporters stationed in the lobby. Just thought I should warn you the media circus is in full swing. They’re not gonna let this alone.”
Starsky scrubbed at his face. “Thanks for the warning, Buzz.”
Murphy let his hand rest on Starsky‘s shoulder for a moment. “Get some rest while you can…I think you’re going to need it.”
~*~*~*~
Murphy had been gone for hours now, but Starsky had spent the rest of the night wondering if Hutch would have been better off never knowing what his mind had so thoroughly protected him from all these years. He couldn’t fathom what Hutch must have gone through, but he’d have to find a way of figuring it out if he wanted to be any help at all to his partner when he woke up.
Hutch moved slightly in the narrow bed, and Starsky realized he’d better think fast. Sleep a little longer, babe. As much as he wanted to talk to Hutch. the peacefulness of sleep seemed like a much safer place for him at the moment. Starsky sighed and rubbed a tired hand through his hair, jumping as his fingers caught the tender row of stitches once again. He slid the file folder from the night table and settled in to read. He might as well make the best of his time.
The original Missing Person report was paper-clipped to the top page of the more securely fastened contents of the file.
Name: Peter Allan Lindstrom, Jr.
Age: 9 years, 5 months
Born: April 5, 1942
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Blue
Height: 4’4″
Weight: approx. 50 lbs.
Next of Kin: Peter and Mary Ann Lindstrom (parents)
Reported: September 12, 1951
Address: RR 2 Willow River Road Rutledge, Minn.
Status: UNSOLVED
Unsolved. Starsky wondered if the Lindstroms were still holding out that faint hope that their son would one day walk up to their door. Surely, not after all these years. He tucked the Rutledge Police Department report into the back of the folder and settled in to read the remainder of the file. Maybe it would keep his mind off what had happened the night before, but somehow he doubted it.
Half an hour later, he was finished and not much further ahead. The overall feeling he’d gotten from the investigating officers’ reports was that the boy had probably wandered off into the woods that surrounded his home. There was no evidence of foul play. Both parents had excellent alibis and were pillars of the small community. Unsolved. Maybe it was better not to know how Peter Allan Lindstrom had died. If, in fact, that’s whose skeleton was being painstakingly unearthed from Eric Jurgens’ garage floor.
Starsky took another look at the dog-eared, black-and-white photograph of Peter Lindstrom and closed the file. His head was aching, and he didn’t think it was just from the blow Hearne had given him, either. He slid the file folder back onto the night table, letting his fingers drift, without thinking, to Hutch’s tender cheek. The emergency staff had cleaned it thoroughly when he was brought in last night. The whole area was raw and getting more vivid as the hemorrhage spread further along his jaw and up toward his eye. He’d have a shiner for sure before the day was out. Maybe two.
“It’s getting worse. The bruising.”
Richard’s voice startled Starsky, and he turned to see Hutch’s parents standing close by. He’d been caught. There was no point in trying to disguise his small attempt to comfort his partner. His fingers slid further up into Hutch’s hairline, smoothing stray strands as they went, trying to massage the damaged features.
Hutch’s eyes flickered at the sound of the voice, and he turned his head into the caress.
“It’s okay, Hutch… you sleep a bit longer.” Starsky reluctantly pulled his hand away and stood to offer Katherine the one and only chair.
“Has the doctor been in yet?” she asked, never taking her eyes from Hutch’s face.
Starsky leaned tiredly against the wall, folding his arms across his chest to hide the slight tremble. He was beyond tired and unsure if he should stay or leave now that Hutch’s family was here with him.
“Did they say when they thought the sedative would wear off?” Richard asked, as be went closer to examine his son’s wound. “There’s no damage to his eye, is there?”
Starsky straightened. He hadn’t considered that. Hutch bad been pretty agitated when the ambulance crew arrived at the carriage house. Determining the extent of injury bad been left to the emergency room staff, and once they’d administered the sedative, Hutch wasn’t in any shape to cooperate for an eye examination.
He quickly walked the few steps from the wall to the bed, joining Richard in a closer look at Hutch’s eye. The bruising he’d noticed earlier, had, in fact, progressed further, making the whole left side of Hutch’s face dark purple.
“I think we should call someone,” Katherine said, as she reached for the control button clipped to the pillow.
Hutch’s eyelids fluttered as Richard leaned over to straighten the thin blanket around his son. Starsky watched, taking note of the increasingly deep and faster breaths. “Hutch?”
Instantly, Hutch’s eyes flew open. He viciously shoved his father’s hands away as he swung his legs to the floor. He made it halfway to the door before Starsky caught him and they both tumbled to the floor in a heap.
“Hey, where ya goin’?” Starsky demanded, as he fought to contain Hutch’s flailing arms. He was still trying to struggle away from Starsky’s protective hold. “Hutch! HUTCH!”
At last, Hutch seemed to relax into Starsky’s tight grasp as he anxiously scanned the shocked faces in the room.
“Hey, I know you don’t like hospitals, buddy, but you could at least wait until you’re awake.”
Hutch closed his eyes tightly and nodded. “Yeah. I… guess I…”
Starsky rolled to his knees then struggled to stand while supporting most of his partner’s weight. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed, huh?”
“I thought he was gonna kill me,” Hutch said between breaths. “He put the pillow on my face.”
Starsky swung Hutch’s legs back onto the bed and covered him. “Who did, Hutch?”
“He held the pillow on my face. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t get away.” Hutch grabbed at his throat. “Couldn’t breathe.”
Starsky sat on the edge of the bed, trying to ignore the pain in his arm and hand where Hutch had a death grip.
Richard stared at Starsky. “What’s he talking about?”
Hutch sucked in a deep breath, and another.
“He’ll be okay in a minute,” Starsky offered. “He just needs a minute.”
Starsky wasn’t at all sure what was happening, but he knew every other time this had happened, Hutch had eventually calmed down.
Katherine reached for the call button again and this time managed to press it.
Hutch continued. “He was holding the pillow on my face and then he was gone.”
“Hearne? Do you mean Hearne?” Starsky coaxed.
Hutch turned to his partner and nodded. “He tried to kill me, Starsk, but something or someone stopped him.”
Starsky pried Hutch’s fingers from his arm and carefully took hold of the cold hand. “Luke? Do you think Luke stopped him?”
“Luke Huntley?” Richard asked. “He was the officer who found Ken.”
“I remember, Starsk.” Hutch nodded, as the thoughts became clear. “Hearne—or whatever bis name is—must’ve thought I was dead, or he heard Luke and his partner drive up. I don’t know. But the next thing I remember is riding in the patrol car with the siren screaming.”
Richard put his arm around Katherine, who was crying quietly. “How could Eric do this, Rich? How could he hurt a child for money?”
When the doctor entered, moving the older couple aside to reach his patient, Starsky stayed stubbornly close, not letting go of Hutch’s hand for an instant through the examination.
~*~*~*~
It was a cool evening—cool for October in LA and he felt a chill as he walked across Ocean toward the spot where be normally parked. Chez Helene’s was doing even better business than usual. The cars stretched from Washington Boulevard clear on down the street for a block. The tissue-shaped carnations dotting the two cars immediately in front of the little French restaurant explained the reason for the especially busy Friday evening crowd. Somebody tied the knot. Micheline would make sure the bride and groom’s evening was special.
Starsky carefully steered his way around a young couple dressed in formal wear and pushed open the carved door to the apartments above. He didn’t even know why he was here. He’d dropped Hutch off hours earlier with intentions of meeting him in the morning. They had plans to scout out new tires for the “Squash.” New used tires, he mentally corrected.
Hutch seemed fine all day, and had seemed fine for the last month since their return from Duluth. But sometime today, between “log-in” and “log-out,” something had changed. The only possible reason could be the business envelope Minnie had hand-delivered just before their shift ended.
Starsky’s phone call earlier had resulted in ten rings and no answer, which only made him all the more suspicious that something wasn’t right. The fact that the tan LTD was still parked out front amongst the shining wedding cars like an ugly duckling meant Hutch was at home… or on foot.
The apartment door was unlocked when he reached the top landing, and Starsky shook his head as he closed it behind him. Still thinks he lives in the wilds of Minnesota. He started to tell himself, where crime seldom rears its ugly head, but quickly squashed the thought before it had time to form. The innocence of the Midwest didn’t seem quite what it used to be.
A quick inspection of the apartment produced nothing, although a closer look proved that Hutch had eaten dinner and changed from the clothes he’d worn all day at work. On his way to the green house, Starsky spotted the ominous white envelope and its contents lying on the bed. A quick check of the return address confirmed his suspicions.
A dim light shone from the greenhouse, and as he entered he noted the rear door to the outside staircase was ajar. He stood for a moment on the landing, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the darkened courtyard below. There at one of the cafe tables sat his partner. The grotto would normally be filled with patrons on a Friday night, but with a wedding party commandeering the restaurant for the evening, Hutch had the place to himself. Until now. Quietly, Starsky made his way down the worn staircase, through the vines and busboy carts to the table where Hutch sat. It was as dark as the inside of a cave, the usual festive lighting absent.
“I wondered when you’d get here.”
“How’d you know it was me?”
“I heard you pull up out front. Half of Venice did.”
“Oh.”
Starsky snagged a wrought iron chair from the table beside him, taking in the somber mood and empty bottle of beer as he joined his partner.
“So,” Starsky said with a sigh,”what’s up?”
“Not much.”
Starsky nodded his head as if he understood. It was probably going to be another one of those long, drawn-out conversations where he spent half the night pulling information out of the blond in two word degrees.
“Dark,” Starsky said to keep the conversation moving.
“Yeah and quiet, ’til you got here.”
Starsky rolled his eyes. “Quiet? With all these bugs screamin’ at ya?”
“They’re crickets, Starsky, and they don’t scream, they chirp.”
Ah, six words.
“Scream… chirp… they’re probably watchin’ us from every corner of this place. You know it looks a whole lot more inviting down here in the daylight.”
“I like the dark. It helps me think.”
“‘Bout what?”
Hutch pursed his lips and started peeling the label from the empty bottle in front of him. “I got a letter from Dad’s legal advisors. They want me to testify. I’ll probably be subpoenaed. I knew it was coming, I just… ”
“Hoped it would go away?” Starsky finished.
Hutch shrugged, trying to rub the stress from his temples with a long-fingered hand. “Yeah. I guess.” He set the empty bottle back on the table and stared off into the darkness. “Stupid, huh? I just felt like.. .I don’t know, I just felt like I’d had enough. I just want to let it go.”
“Can’t blame you for that.”
“You were right, you know.”
“Yeah? I was?” Starsky asked. “‘Bout what?”
“About what you said about finding out who did it. For all those kids.”
“It was a lot to ask, wasn’t it?”
“Not really. It was up to me.”
“And you did a good job.”
“If it hadn’t been for me maybe none of this would’ve happened. My mother would still be alive and so would all those kids he… ”
“Hutch… ” Starsky moved closer so he could see Hutch’s eyes more clearly in the darkness. “Don’t tell yourself that. It’s the same argument you made the other day. Let it go, Hutch. Let the people who’re really guilty take the responsibility for what they did. It wasn’t you. Nothing you did caused any of this to happen. None of it.”
Hutch just looked at him for a long moment. The discussion of his guilt was done. Starsky would make sure of it whether he agreed or not. Maybe in time he’d believe it.
“You think you’re gonna be able to handle goin’ back there… testifyin’?”
“I guess I’ll have to. Dobey told me they’re arranging to extradite Hearne. Apparently he’s coughing up all he can to implicate Jurgens. My mother’s murder charge is looking pretty straightforward. Even the kidnapping charge looks like it’s gonna stick. I just have to tell them what I saw in Jurgens’ garage and I’m clear.” Hutch looked at Starsky then. “We both know how DA’s can twist the truth.”
“Yeah, but you’re not that eight-year-old kid anymore, Hutch… and you know I’ll be right there with ya.”
“Yeah, I know you will, Starsk.” Hutch took a deep breath and nodded his agreement. “Just like always.”
Starsky stood, drawing Hutch up with him into a hug.
“C’mon, I’ll buy ya a beer,” Starsky said, pulling Hutch toward the backsteps.
“I just drank the last one.”
“Okay. I’ll make you hot chocolate… with extra marshmallows. Anything your little heart desires,” Starsky finished with a grin.
Hutch smiled at him then-a contented, happy smile that showed little of the turmoil of the past few months.
“Thanks, Starsk.”
“Anytime.”
“Time is a wonderful thing,” Hutch whispered, fingering the smooth surface of the pocket watch. Maybe his grandfather had been right.
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1 comment
Very exciting and emotional story! I really enjoyed it.