Ghost of a Chance

521

Starsky and Hutch search an old house and find more than they bargained for.

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Part 1

Dave Starsky and Ken Hutchinson were so engaged in an intense square-inch-by-square-inch search of the old house that the sudden clap of thunder seemingly directly overhead made them both jump in startled surprise and sudden fear, each reaching automatically for their weapons and searching each other out in support. Moments later embarrassed grins briefly touched their lips as their stance relaxed and their hearts gradually resumed a normal beat.

“Whoa. That scared the shit out of me,” Starsky gasped. “I don’t remember any storm in the weather forecast.”

“Me neither,” Hutch said, moving to resume the search.

“Let’s get this done and get the hell out of here,” replied a still nervous Starsky.

Hutch simply raised an eyebrow and moved into the dining room.

When they had driven up to the old house located in a rural area on the very edge of Bay City’s city limits, they had simply sat for a moment taking in the old place.

“Can’t see Forman living here, can you?” Starsky commented, taking in the neglected property.

“No,” said Hutch. “But Minnie says the place is registered to him, inherited from a second cousin or some such. Took some digging for her to find it, but she was motivated.”

“Yeh. Hope we can finally find what we need to nail the bastard.”

As if awakening from a dream, Hutch shook himself and got out of the car. Starsky followed, and search warrant in hand they approached and knocked on the surprisingly solid door with a very shiny new top-of-the-line lock. They exchanged a knowledgeable look. This looked promising.

When no one answered the knock, Hutch tried the door handle, and reached for his weapon when it turned easily and opened silently. Both men entered with weapons drawn, and after announcing themselves in very loud terms without result, re-holstered their guns, did a walk through and then began the search.

They were already two hours off the clock, but neither one was prepared to let Carl Foreman escape justice again. Drug dealers were high on their list of never-to-be-let-off- the-radar villains. Especially when it had led to the deaths of three young teens, one of who was a relative of Minnie’s, which intensified her already more than capable skills.

They needed to find his records, drugs, weapons or any piece of evidence that would seal his fate beyond his lawyer’s slippery rhetoric.

They had expected to find something skillfully hidden in the basement of the old place, but after spending almost an hour tearing it apart, they came up empty. Somewhat bedraggled, dusty and achy from moving years worth of accumulated junk, they had moved to the first floor. At least here the sparsely furnished, almost respectable décor made the job easier, but with the sudden onset of the storm, the weak ancient lighting fixtures could not dispel the eerie gloom that suddenly gripped the place.

Despite himself, Hutch shivered slightly at the sudden change in atmosphere, but they needed those records so he shook it off and looked around the dining room, having left Starsky to check the kitchen. He could see clearly enough, but there where dark shadows everywhere the inadequate lighting couldn’t reach. He returned to the kitchen.

“Starsk?” No response. “Starsk, where are you?”

A curse, promptly followed by breaking glass led him to his partner.

“Geez Hutch, scare the life outta me why don’t ya. Look what you made me do.”

“Sorry Starsk. What have you got here?”

The dim dangling bare light bulb barely lit the small enclosure.

“Don’t know. Looks like an old-fashioned pantry or kitchen storage area. Lots of canned goods, pots, pans; stuff like that. What did you want?”

“I’m going out to the car and get the flashlights. Can’t see much of anything with the storm.”

“O.K. Hurry back though, huh.”

“What’s the matter Starsk, getting spooked?”

“Just hurry back. It’s weird in here.”

“O.K., back in a flash.”

Starsky heard Hutch leave the kitchen; and then the door shut behind him. He returned to his inspection of the pantry shelves. Just when he had decided to wait for Hutch to return with the flashlights, the dim bulb above him sputtered and went out, followed by the door forcefully slamming shut.

 

Part 2

As Hutch went back out the front door he scanned the darkened sky above him, and then beyond to where the Torino sat. He could have sworn that the Torino sat in sparkling sunlight with dimly heard birds adding a country feel to the scene, but as he moved nearer to the car the dark ominous sky seemed to follow him and eventually passed him, enveloping the Torino in dense darkness. He could barely make out the outline of the car as he felt his way to it and groped to open the passenger door. It wouldn’t open—’what the hell.’ He tried again; then dug into his pocket for his keys. He didn’t remember locking the door behind him, but this was getting weird and unease was beginning to work on him.

Using the keys had no effect, so once again he fumbled his away around the car to the driver’s side and tried again. Nothing. Desperation was taking over. He needed those flashlights, needed to call for backup, needed to get back to Starsky. Protecting himself, he used his elbow to repeatedly attack the window until he could reach through and forcefully lever the door open. Panic stricken he quickly slid into the seat and reached to call for backup. His hand shook as he unhooked the microphone, his voice equally unsteady as he called Dispatch. The silence that resulted unnerved him even more, and he repeated his call in more demanding terms. He was losing it, and the darkness seemed to wrap itself around him in a gleeful embrace. He froze until he remembered Starsky. He had to get to Starsky, now. His desperate need for his partner seemed to lighten the darks oppressive hold on him. He dragged the flashlights out of the glove compartment and raced back to the house.

 

Part 3

Muttering to himself, Starsky made his way slowly to the door and tried to open it. It remained firmly shut and even his full weight against it didn’t budge it.

“Hutch!” he bellowed while pounding on the door. Surely Hutch should have been back by now. It would only take a few minutes to get to the car and back, but it had to have been at least four or five minutes since Hutch had left. He couldn’t see his watch in the complete darkness that surrounded him, not even any dim light showed under the door.

“Hutch. You out there, buddy? The doors stuck, open up will ya?”

Pausing, he heard nothing. No wind, rain or thunder. Absolute silence. It was unnerving and he began to panic and doubt his senses. Then he felt it, the cold swirling around him, moving as if to embrace him. He stumbled and scrambled away, trying to escape the eerie sensation, bouncing off the shelves and listening to the clatter as the contents tumbled and fell around him. And still the cold pursued him, wrapping itself around him with a vengeance. Overwhelming fear practically paralysed him as he fought to retain his emotional and physical awareness. He began to whimper as he felt his limbs lose all sensation and his mind succumb to a horror he could barely imagine. He sank to the floor wrapping his leaden arms around his head in a vain attempt to ward off an evil that burned his soul.

“Starsk. You in here?” Hutch’s fearful shaky voice barely penetrated his consciousness. A steady beam of light flicked around the small space and found him.

Hutch hurried to his partner’s side drawing him into his protective arms.

“Starsk, you all right? What happened?”

The concern and warmth in Hutch’s voice drew him like a magnet and he wrapped his arms tightly around his partner, burying himself in his sheltering embrace. And the cold left.

Hutch held firmly to the body in his arms, soothing his quaking, gasping partner with gentle strokes and murmured assurances that equally calmed his own shattered psyche.

“Come on buddy, let’s get out of here.”

Hutch drew Starsky with him as he retrieved the flashlight and rose slowly to move back into the kitchen where there was still some semblance of light. He placed the flashlight on the counter then wrapped his partner in a solid “I’m here” hug until he could feel him calm and begin to draw away. But one look into his partner’s eyes caused him to immediately draw him back into his arms.

“God babe, what happened? Please tell me.” Hutch’s voice conveyed his fear, concern and love all in one as he held Starsky’s head against his chest.

Hutch’s presence, and his warm body closed around him, brought Starsky back to reality quickly but he felt so safe and secure in Hutch’s arms he didn’t want to ever leave. They stood lost in each other’s warmth for some time and Hutch peripherally noted that it seemed to be getting lighter and less oppressive. And he also noted how good it felt to hold Starsky, to protect him and to show his love.

 

Part 4

After long minutes of giving and receiving comfort, confidence and strength they reluctantly separated with a last deep search of each others eyes for confirmation of recovery, and acknowledgement of something new and special between them.

Seating themselves at the bare kitchen table, each related their experience in chilling detail.

“What do you want to do Hutch, continue the search or get out of here?” Starsky asked in a very even, suspiciously controlled voice.

“Damn Starsk, I don’t know what’s going on but I do know that if we leave now we’re leaving the place wide open for Foreman and his boys to walk right in and clean it out. We’ll never get another chance like this. You up to carrying on?”

Starsky seemed lost in deep thought.

“Starsk?”

“Hmmm. Oh, sorry Hutch. I’ve been noticing something. Doesn’t it seem a lot brighter in here now?”

“Yeah, I noticed that earlier, and it doesn’t seem as…” Hands waved as Hutch tried to put his feelings in words. “…as, oppressive…cold…chilled…friendlier. Something.”

“I know. I feel it too. Want to try something.”

So saying, Starsky got up and proceeded to the kitchen door and attempted to open it. When that didn’t work, he made his way to the front door, with Hutch trailing him, and tried that. Same result.

“Something doesn’t want us to leave, Hutch. Wants to keep us here real bad.” Starsky’s voice shook just a little, and the face he turned to Hutch had paled.

Hutch turned up his moral boosting, “get real” grin, usually guaranteed to crank Starsky’s motor, but knew it fell woefully short. He couldn’t ignore his own senses, but he knew Starsky’s nature and heritage almost demanded his acceptance of the supernatural even though his intelligence continued to question. Starsky’s bravado covered an instinct that made him believe.

“Look Starsk, let’s get to it huh, and then tackle getting out of here.” Hutch had every ounce of assurance left to him in his voice as he led the way back to the kitchen. “Did you finish in the pantry?”

“No, but you can finish it, I’ll tackle the rest of the kitchen.”

It took half an hour to finish the kitchen to their satisfaction. When Starsky checked his watch after beginning to feel very weary, he found it had stopped. “Damn.”

“What is it Starsk?”

“My watch has stopped. You got any idea what time it is?”

“Should be about seven don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I guess. O.K. we’ve got to have a plan Hutch or we’ll be here all night at this rate. We’ve got to split up. You finish down here and I’ll go upstairs.”

Hutch’s resounding, almost panicky, “No” stopped Starsky’s movement towards the front stairs.

“Look Starsk, something’s going on here that I can’t explain and don’t want to get into right now, but when we’re together the effects aren’t as strong and I for one don’t want that feeling coming back. Take a look towards the front door.”

 

Part 5

Starsky turned his attention to the front, and froze. He could almost see the black menace reaching for him, hypnotically drawing him, compelling him to step forward. Unconsciously he took a step forward, only held back by Hutch’s firm hold on his arm. That touch stabilized him and he turned frightened eyes back to his friend.

“What are we gonna do Hutch?” he whispered.

Hutch pulled him back to him, both hands firmly planted on his shoulders.

“Let’s think this out, Starsk, and then we’ll carry on together. What was Foreman’s weakness, the one mistake that led to his downfall?”

Hutch’s controlled, back-to-business tone freed Starsky from his mind numbing terror. Shivering slightly, and taking a deep breath, he fought back the images in his mind. He was a cop. He had Hutch by his side. He had a job to do that demanded his loyalty and unrelenting search for justice in a world that seemed to want to beat him down for each step forward he made. And he knew that without Hutch he would have been lost to the darkness a long time ago. Without Hutch…his soul lightened as he realized what Hutch was saying. Without each other they were nothing; he looked into those eyes and saw the same answer, the same hope and need. He suddenly felt stronger, more confident, more assured, more understanding of what it took to fight for what they believed and lived. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed that the dark was no longer there and he knew he had won a small victory. He simply nodded and gave Hutch a Starsky special grin and wink.

“Right. Good old-fashioned police work. O.K., Foreman’s weakness,” he said, moving confidently to pace the kitchen.

“Sheila Waters; his treatment of her. He has no respect for women and treated them like dirt. He took what he wanted and abused them. Sheila turned herself inside out for him, did everything he asked and he paid her back by beating her half to death and turning her over to his goons.”

Hutch picked up the train of thought. “Right. What does that tell us about him? He didn’t trust Sheila who was his right-hand-man so to speak. He really didn’t trust anyone around him, kept everything to himself, handled all the big time stuff directly and didn’t share anything which is why we couldn’t nail him before this. No one in his organization even knew about this place, so that tells us he felt confident that anything he needed to keep secret would be safe here. And that tells me that he wouldn’t feel the need to get creative in hiding it. It’s got to be somewhere simple and open Starsk. Where would you hide your personal papers and stuff?”

Starsky had stopped pacing to listen to Hutch, and now he nodded in agreement.

“In my desk, bedroom night stand or dresser or closet, in an innocent looking hat box or something?”

“O.K. There was a hutch in the dining room, let’s start there.”

Starsky fell into step beside him, having retrieved the flashlights, as they made their way to the dining room. It didn’t take long to determine that the hutch was just that, full of linens and cutlery and household papers. By unspoken agreement they made their way up the stairs, flashlights leading the way.

Half way up the creaky stairs all the lights went out again, causing them to halt and draw together. Starsky reached out blindly, yet accurately, and took Hutch’s free hand, giving it a welcome strong squeeze as they resumed the march up the stairs. There was no hesitation this time, as they both seemed to understand what was happening and were confident in the power of their special bond.

 

Part 6

They made their way slowly along the corridor being sure the flashlights caught every inch of space along the way. The first door on the right at the top of the stairs revealed a linen closet with very little in it. They continued down the right side of the corridor, which revealed two small bedrooms, one of which was empty, the other containing only a single unmade bed, straight chair, small table as a nightstand, and empty closet. The final door opened on a set of stairs going both up and down. The down set led to the kitchen as they had noted earlier, the upper set would obviously lead to the attic. A shuddering thought, given the circumstances.

“Let’s leave that ’til last huh,” said Hutch in a small, almost whispery voice.

“Yeah,” replied an equally subdued Starsky.

Across the corridor on the left, the first door opened on an antiquated bathroom, old- fashioned tub, toilet and sink lending an almost surreal, homey touch. Here at least they found signs of recent occupancy, which strengthened their conjectured scenario of Foreman’s actions. On the shelf above the sink, a toothbrush stood in a glass along with a tube of toothpaste. A comb, shaving cream and razor kept them company, and a towel hung over the rack. Simple, bare necessities needed for short visits.

The flashlights revealed another door from the bathroom and when they attempted to open it, it remained closed.

“Here we go again.” Muttered Starsky and threw himself against the door having no better luck than he had had before in the pantry.

“Starsk, wait,” Hutch cautioned, his mind recalling all the previous encounters with this force. He took Starsky’s hand in his. “Me and Thee partner, remember.”

Both centered on each other and in glorious oneness opened the door.

“God Hutch,” Starsky breathed in wonder.

 

Part 7

The room they entered was another journey back in time. The slow movement of their flashlights outlined a large fully furnished room, the furniture and décor dating back to the early part of the century—elaborate heavy wooden bed, full sized tallboy and companion dresser, hope chest at the foot of the bed, wash stand with commode off in the corner, and comfortable lounge chair with footrest and small table by the window. Heavy drapes covered the two sets of windows.

“This has to be it, Hutch. Whatever he hid has to be here.”

At Starsky’s words, the door behind them slammed shut and a fierce howling force propelled them into the room, separating them from their flashlights and each other.

Desperate voices called to each other. “Starsk!”…”Hutch!”

“Starsk, don’t move, keep talking buddy.”

“Over here Hutch… please, the cold is back and I can’t feel my legs…it’s evil Hutch…doesn’t want it to be found…it’s so cold…so empty…so dark…I don’t want to go there please Hutch don’t let me go…please Hutch…”

Starsky’s haunted words drew Hutch unerringly to his partner, the darks heavy curtain taking every ounce of energy he had to keep moving forward. The power in him suddenly solidified into a recognizable all-powerful weapon.

Reaching his partner by instinct alone, he took him into his arms. “Starsky, I love you, do you hear me—I love you. You are mine and no one else’s. You can’t leave me Starsk, I won’t let you, and I won’t let anything take you from me. Oh babe, I love you so much, please don’t leave me.”

Hutch had Starsky so tightly wrapped in his arms rocking him like a baby, his eyes squeezed tight against the tears that were forming, that he didn’t even notice Starsky’s feeble attempts to get free.

“Hutch. Hutch. It’s O.K. babe. It’s gone. Please, Hutch, look at me. Look at me.”

Starsky’s soft, gentle words finally got through to him and he opened his eyes and glanced down at the strangle hold he had on Starsky. He quickly released his hold, gulping in air and raising the dark head to examine with joy the wonder that shone from that face and eyes. The tears that had threatened now cascaded down his face.

“Beautiful Hutch, just plain beautiful.” Starsky’s voice registered the wonder that still shone from his eyes and vibrated around them like a halo.

Hutch just nodded in speechless adoration, then moved back to rest against the hope chest bringing Starsky with him and once again enclosing him a gentler thankful embrace. They rested together in perfect harmony.

Starsky slowly moved back and raised his eyes to Hutch’s. The love, faith and worship in that glance spoke volumes to Hutch, but Starsky said the words.

“I love you Hutch. I won’t ever leave you. We are one and my life is yours. Forever and beyond.”

The simple words were sealed with a soft kiss that conveyed the meaning more eloquently than either of them could have formed. A fierce hug was Hutch’s answer.

After a short comforting respite, Hutch finally took in their surroundings in amazement. The setting sun was spreading a golden glow throughout the room that now presented a friendly reminder of days gone by. Starsky answered his silent inquiry.

“The minute you touched me Hutch and spoke of your love, it all just vanished. Poof. Like magic. Always knew you were my golden white knight.” Starsky’s return to his normal jesting self was tempered with a joy that fairly sparkled off him.

“And by-the-way, you’re leaning against our evidence.” Starsky pointed to the hope chest.

“How…how do you know that?”

“Don’t know, but somehow I could just feel that that was what we weren’t supposed to get to. Shall we?”

Buried under some quilts that Hutch would have dearly loved to confiscate for his own, they found their evidence—a detailed journal listing all Foreman’s contacts, distribution points, agents, suppliers, bank accounts and equally as important the names of various officials on his payroll. They had him!

 

Part 8

A swift return to the Torino brought another surprise. At Dispatch’s urgent request they were patched through to Dobey.

“Hutchinson, where the hell have you been, and where’s Starsky?” They could hear the frustration in Dobey’s voice.

“We’re still at Foreman’s house Captain. Just finished the search. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is we’ve been trying to raise you for over an hour, I was just about to send out the troops. Foreman’s dead, shot down outside his office about two hours ago.”

Starsky and Hutch exchanged horrified looks. It couldn’t be. Could it. Silent questions they both felt better left unsaid. Starsky glanced at his watch.

“Hutch.” Starsky’s quiet voice broke Hutch’s reverie. “It’s almost two hours since we entered that house.”

Both their glances went back to the old house that now looked like nothing more than a symbol of a better age.

“Hutchinson. Hutchinson, you still there.”

“Yeah, Cap. We’re on our way back in. We found some stuff at the house that will take down the rest of Foreman’s organization.”

“O.K. I’ll wait for you.” Dobey signed off.

Silence reigned in the car for several more minutes.

“Hutch, I don’t want to talk about this ever again. I don’t want to know or even think about it. O.K.”

“O.K. But it did have some good points to it, don’t you think?” the smile in Hutch’s voice didn’t have to be seen.

“Yeah, it did. That I’ll never forget partner.”

As Starsky started the car and pulled out, he did point out a more practical problem.

“You owe me one window, Hutchinson.”

The easy laughter trailed behind them and danced around the old house.