Just One Click Away

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Starsky and Hutch have only been partners for a couple of years when something happens that causes their world to go on tilt. As they make their way through an emotional minefield, they stumble onto a case that is bigger than either of them could have imagined. The case takes them down a dangerous road that leads to revelations about Starsky’s life before he knew his partner, and causes them to fear for each other’s safety as they dodge danger from multiple directions.

 

This story is the first one I have written in many years. One day, the boys just started demanding that I write again and I was only too happy to oblige! I haven’t done much with the early years of the boys’ partnership, so this piece was especially fun for me.

A special thank you goes to the fabulous artist, Lorraine. You rock and the art is gorgeous!

I also want to thank my dear buddy, chief fan, confidante, cheerleader, and editor, Keri T. You are always in my corner and much love goes out to you!

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April 1981

Not something that happened every day, thank God. Responding to any scene with a downed police officer was tense and difficult, especially when it was fatal. Most especially when it was self-inflicted. That took it up several notches, all the way to tragic and heartbreaking. The tone of the officers responding was solemn and some of them couldn’t help letting tears escape. The officer interviewing the man’s distraught partner didn’t have that luxury. He had to at least try to be detached. Professional.

The two men sat outside in the spring morning air, sunlight filtering down on them through the eucalyptus trees.

“Talk to me,” the interviewing officer said to the dark haired man left behind to explain. What had happened was obvious, but why was yet to be determined.

“What do you want to hear?” he replied quietly.

The interviewing officer sighed. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard.”

“Do you?” the man asked, a flash of anger in his dark blue eyes. “How would you know?”

“I have a partner,” the detective replied, his tone gentle. “I know how I’d feel. Just tell me what you know. You’ll have to talk to IA, but it might be easier to tell me first.” He put a hand on the other man’s arm, trying to convey his deep sympathy.

“I thought he was doing better. I really did. He seemed… calm last night. Almost peaceful.” He dropped his head into his hands and quietly cried.

The deceased officer had been through a rough time recently. His partner related how depressed his friend had been when his wife had suddenly left him with no warning. She had taken everything they had with her, leaving the apartment like that for the man to find when he came home from finishing his tour for that day.

“Oh, my God. This is my fault,” he said, lifting his face to look his fellow officer in the eyes, his own red rimmed and pain filled. “I thought I could handle it myself. I swear, I thought it was going to be okay. I shouldn’t have left him last night. I should have made him give me his gun. When he didn’t come out when I honked this morning, I just knew. Oh, God.”

Detective David Starsky absolutely knew how he would feel in this situation, far better than anyone understood. A wave of nausea he couldn’t allow himself to succumb to came over him as painful memories began to rush into his mind. He’d come frighteningly close to this edge with his own partner many years ago. Just one click away. This was something they had successfully kept between themselves and Huggy for all this time. Starsky had taken an enormous risk not reporting his partner’s mental state when Hutch had nearly put a bullet in his head from his .357 Magnum. A risk that worked out for them, which was something Starsky had both tried not to dwell on and thanked God for every day since.

Summer 1973

Starsky streaked toward Hutch’s apartment. Just two hours ago he had dropped his partner off after their shift and he had been all right then. He was running with his light and siren until he got a couple of blocks away, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to whatever was happening. Whatever was waiting for him at the Hutchinson’s apartment, the dread he felt tightened his chest like it was in a vice. He was grateful not to hear any other sirens or find any units on scene when he screeched up in front of Hutch’s apartment building. Although the August sun had set just thirty minutes ago, in a coastal town when the sun set it got dark quickly. No lights were on upstairs, but he took the lack of a police presence as a good sign. Probably no shots fired.

Hutch had called him obviously distraught and barely communicative. His clipped, somewhat incoherent words didn’t reveal what was wrong, just that he needed his partner. Now. All Starsky knew was that he had to get there. His best friend sounded despondent.

Hutch was a man of deep and often shielded emotions–at least from everyone other than his partner. Starsky had seen almost every negative emotional state in Hutch lately. He’d been bouncing between angry and furious, hurt and confused, sad and numb, but this was the first time he’d sounded despondent. No matter what had happened, that was completely unexpected.

Things had been bad between the young married couple for the past several months at least. Hutch was trying to hold it together, but he had told Starsky that anything he did to try to improve things resulted in an argument. He said that over the few years of their marriage, Vanessa had installed and cultivated a lot of hot buttons in him and she knew just when and how to push them. He tried hard not to, but she inevitably pushed him into almost nightly heated arguments. She was also fond of picking a fight with him in the morning while he was trying to get ready for work. Hutch had taken to running first thing in the morning to try to spend less time with her and to work up the inner composure to be ready for whatever she threw at him… sometimes literally. Thankfully, they had a vacant apartment right across the stairs from them and small businesses below where no one was present at night or very early in the mornings. They also lived on a fairly busy side street. If not for that, their frequent and loud arguments would surely have resulted in domestic disturbance calls from concerned neighbors to the police.

As they started their shift this morning, Hutch had told him about last night’s screaming match. This one started over Hutch wanting to discuss starting a family and it degraded to include money, social status, and her anger with him that he hadn’t stayed in law school. The litany of Hutch’s offenses seemed endless in her opinion. She hated that he was a cop. She hated Bay City. She wanted to go home to Duluth. She hated him. Vanessa was fond of throwing things, which she had done plenty of last night. A lamp, some books, and plenty of hurtful words. She liked to break things. Had Hutch finally snapped? No matter how many buttons she pushed, Starsky never would have thought his partner could be capable of physically hurting a woman, but he certainly wouldn’t put it past Vanessa to hurt him if she could get the drop on him.

Starsky bounded up the steps to Hutch’s place two at a time. The door was standing open. Under most any other circumstances, he would have called for backup and drawn his weapon. Not this time; he would take his chances.

He froze in the open doorway taking in a sight he hadn’t even imagined. The apartment was nearly empty. He quickly scanned the darkened room, lit only by the cold eerie mercury vapor street lamp outside on the corner. The light caught his partner’s fair hair, showing Starsky where to head. The off-the-hook phone was squawking and beeping from the floor next to Hutch.

“If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and try again.” Beep, beep, beep, beep.

“Hutch?” Starsky walked cautiously toward his partner. His quick assessment in the almost darkness made his heart skip a beat.

Hutch was sitting on the floor leaning up against a wall. A piece of paper lay on the floor next to him. His Colt was in his right hand, resting in his lap. The room was too dark to see much else. Hutch’s head was down and he didn’t move to acknowledge his partner.

Starsky knelt next to his best friend and called to him again, reaching terrified hands up to check his head and his chest for blood. “Hutch!” The state of the apartment at least removed any fear that Hutch may have hurt Vanessa. She was obviously gone under her own steam.

His partner was shaking, but warm and he didn’t seem to have been physically harmed. Still, Starsky could feel his ragged breathing as well as the tears on his face as he checked him. He shook Hutch’s shoulders and called his name again.

He got no reaction until he reached down to try to disarm his partner. Hutch tightened his grip on the Colt and tried to draw back from Starsky, with nowhere to go.

“Hutch,” Starsky said as calmly as he could with his heart now beating in his chest like a jackhammer. “Let me have it.” His eyes darted between the gun and the piece of paper.

“No,” Hutch said quietly.

Starsky had been in a position to need to talk many a suicidal person into giving up a weapon or coming in from a high ledge. He never thought it would be his partner. He knew he had to think fast.

“Hutch, I’m just going into the kitchen to turn on the light. I need to get a good look at you.”

“No,” Hutch repeated.

Starsky sat back on his heels and drew a hand across his frightened face. Think, dammit.

“Where’s Vanessa?”

Hutch didn’t answer him, but he gestured toward the paper on the floor with the muzzle of his gun.

Starsky reached across his partner to retrieve the paper, which was obviously a handwritten note from Mrs. Hutchinson. Not a suicide note, thank God!

“Buddy,” he said as calmly as he could, “it’s too dark in here for me to read this. You have to let me turn on a light.”

“Okay.” Hutch agreed after several seconds. Then he mumbled, “She’s gone.”

“I can see that. If I get up to turn on the light, are you going to do anything we’ll both regret before I come back here to you?”

After another uncomfortably long pause, Hutch whispered, “No.”

“Promise me.” Starsky was pretty sure his partner wouldn’t break his word to him, but he was petrified to move more than an arm’s length away from Hutch. Until a few moments ago, he would also have been completely sure he would never face standing at this particular abyss with Hutch. He would feel marginally better if he could get Hutch to promise him.

Hutch nodded.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Hutch shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Won’t.”

Starsky cautiously stood and moved through the apartment as quickly as he could, while keeping a wary eye on his partner in the near darkness and assessing things as he went. He closed the shutters on the front windows first. Then he crossed back to shut the door, turned on the bathroom light, and went in to turn on the overhead kitchen light.

Although it allowed Starsky to fill in some blanks, illumination did nothing to improve the scene. At least he could see there wasn’t evidence of any blood on his partner or anywhere in the rooms. On his way back to Hutch, he put the phone back on the hook, just in case he needed it.

The apartment was gutted. Starsky could now see Vanessa had left almost nothing behind except the phone, the plants, Hutch’s guitar, and her despondent soon-to-be ex. The kitchen cabinets were open and empty. Not even a toaster remained on the kitchen counter. A glance through the door to the bedroom showed that it was empty, too. She hadn’t even left the man a bed.

Hutch had pulled his knees up to his chest. His right arm now rested across them with the Colt more firmly held in his grip, chin tucked and eyes resting on the big gun. He had moved his thumb up to the hammer.

Starsky sat down on the floor next to and facing Hutch, in the best position he could to take quick action if it became necessary.

Hutch quietly said, “Read it.”

Ken,

It’s too bad that I had to leave this way, but I did. There just isn’t any point in discussing it. I’ve taken the money out of our account to have enough to make a fresh start back home. Don’t try to follow me and don’t try to change my mind.

I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you. You keep telling me you love me, but you are obviously trying to ruin my life. The man I married had promise. He was on track to become an important attorney. You deceived me and led me to believe we would have a good life, but you could care less about what I want. I never wanted this life. I never wanted to move to California and I never wanted to be married to a cop. I don’t want to have your children tying me down and I don’t want to have to count every penny for the rest of my days. My life was meant for bigger and better things.

You could have been something special and instead you turned out to be nothing other than everything I hate. Ordinary. Blue collar. You’re practically a failure and I’m worth more than that. My father has already filed the divorce papers through an attorney here in California. You’ll be served sometime in the next few days. We don’t have anything, and we haven’t been married more than five years so I understand this should be fairly quick. You don’t need to do anything but sign the papers when the time comes and stay the hell away from me. My attorney will be in touch. Be sure you keep that worthless low class partner of yours away from me, too. At least you’ll have him. You deserve each other.

Vanessa

Starsky was almost shaking with anger by the time he’d finished reading the note. No wonder his poor partner was so beside himself. That note would drive even the most level-headed man over the edge and Vanessa had made it as hurtful as she could. He knew Vanessa hadn’t threatened to leave or even mentioned divorce, so this came at Hutch out of the blue. However unhappy he was, Hutch was surprisingly old fashioned about some things. She’d used the words that would be most likely to drive a knife into Hutch’s heart–failure, ordinary, disappointed, and worst of all, hate. The part about not wanting his children was a particularly low blow.

“Bitch!” Starsky said.

“Starsky,” Hutch responded.

“No, Hutch. No. She’s cold and mean and just plain wrong.” He was far too angry to be politic. People might say that a failed marriage was a fifty-fifty proposition, but Starsky would put this one more at twenty percent Hutch, eighty percent Vanessa. He knew damn well that Hutch hadn’t deceived the woman. He was straight with her before they were married that even if he finished law school, he was giving serious consideration to becoming a police officer. Vanessa must have figured she could change him as well as change his mind.

Starsky had tried his best over the years to not say anything too negative about Vanessa to his partner out of respect for the fact that she was his wife. Still, he had always suspected how badly she hated him and if he wasn’t before he was certain now that his feelings toward her were completely reciprocated. Vanessa resented the friendship and the bond he had with Hutch. They were close in a way someone as cold and calculating as Vanessa could never hope to achieve or even to understand.

Starsky kept a close eye on Hutch’s hand.

“My fault,” Hutch said miserably.

“How?” Starsky demanded. “How is it your fault? Because you aren’t rich? Because you aren’t going to BE rich? Because you want a family? Is that too ORDINARY?”

Hutch shook his head. “Failed,” was all he said.

Starsky cautiously reached out to put a hand on Hutch’s shoulder. The maneuver caused Hutch to draw the gun closer to his chest. A glint of gold drew a quick glance from Starsky to what must have been Vanessa’s discarded wedding band pushed as far down on Hutch’s right pinky as he could get it to go. Blowing his head off while he slept wouldn’t have hurt him as badly as this.

Thank God his finger isn’t on the trigger. Starsky worried he might have to tackle his friend and struggle with him for that gun. What the hell am I going to tell Dobey? If I let him die, Huggy will never forgive me. I’LL never forgive me. He’d better kill me first.

“Relax. I’m here for you, Hutch.”

Hutch lifted his head and looked up into Starsky’s eyes. The haunted, pain-laced stare almost undid his partner.

“What’s the point?” he asked Starsky.

Not liking where this was going at all, Starsky replied, “What point, buddy? The point that Vanessa obviously married you for who she thought you might become and what you might earn instead of what’s in your heart? You can’t help that.”

Hot, defeated tears slid down Hutch’s face. He tensed and moved the barrel of the gun closer still. Starsky was starting to fear he was getting in position to point it at his heart. Starsky put his right hand out palm facing down and said, “Hutch, you are scaring me.”

“I’m sorry,” his devastated partner replied. They locked eyes again and Starsky’s heart nearly stopped. He knew resolute Hutch all too well when he saw it. Game, set, and match. God, help me with the right thing to say. David Starsky was a strong man, but Hutch was bigger. He had twenty pounds on him and Starsky wasn’t convinced he could overpower him in this state if Hutch were determined enough. He knew Hutch could probably take him out most any day.

Starsky looked pointedly at the Magnum. “I need you to let me have it.”

Hutch shook his head no. “Can’t.”

“Hutch, you’re going to make me have to fight you for it. Is that what you want?”

“Fight me?” Hutch’s eyes conveyed his confusion.

“Babe, I can’t let you destroy yourself over this. Even if you kill me for trying, I have to stop you. ”

Hutch shook his head no again and bored his gaze into his partner. “I can’t do this,” he whispered.

“You can, partner. We can”

Hutch slowly started to slide the muzzle of the gun up along his chest, pointed it toward his chin and cocked back the hammer, but his finger still stayed off the trigger.

Starsky was starting to lose his composure. “What about me? Huh? Have you thought about what it would do to me?” His voice was panicked and he wasn’t sure if he should make a move now or wait. He knew it would be better if Hutch surrendered.

The partners’ mutual pain electrified the room. Starsky maintained his steady stream of unspoken prayer that whatever he said or did would be the right thing to save his partner’s life, even if it meant losing his own. He was sworn to protect him and that was what he intended to do, regardless of the cost. Hutch reached up with his left hand and gently wiped at the tears on Starsky’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Hutch muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

Starsky was openly crying now, his voice strained. “Dammit, Hutch. Why did you wait for me to get here? My God! I can’t just sit here and watch you die. You have to know that. Please give me the gun! You’re breaking my heart!” He paused and waited for Hutch to react, which he showed no sign of doing. Out of time. Oh, God, I’m out of time.

Starsky gentled his tone again and pleaded, “Think. Think what you would do if you were me and I were you. If you were sitting where I am now and you let me die like this, it would kill you. Just like it will kill me if you go through with this and I can’t stop you.” Starsky’s eyes were dark and awash with the boundless grief he feared he was about to be plunged into if his best friend died by his own hand right in front of him.

Starsky tensed, trying to be ready to do whatever was necessary as seconds ticked by with what felt like excruciating slowness. He maintained eye contact and just when he thought he was going to have to wrestle his partner for control, Hutch dropped his eyes, slowly moved the Colt out of position, released the hammer and held the gun out for Starsky to take. He took it and quickly popped open the cylinder, emptying the bullets into his right hand and tossing them away from him into the kitchen like scattershot. He tucked the big gun into his jacket pocket.

More awareness seemed to be returning to Hutch’s eyes as they met Starsky’s again.

“Starsk?” Hutch said plaintively. The trembling he had been doing was progressing to more violent shivering. The rush of emotion and unspent adrenaline started to overtake him, as his eyes lost focus and he started to collapse to the side. Starsky caught him and turned around so he could rest Hutch’s head on his lap.

“That’s it, Hutch. I’ve got you.” He brushed Hutch’s damp hair away from his closed eyes. His partner’s pulse was far too rapid. He was clammy, shivering, and out cold, but the immediate storm had passed and Starsky had won for the moment. He was under no delusion that this was over by any means. With shaking hands, Starsky pulled his pistol from its holster, slid out the clip and removed the extra round from the chamber. Just in case. He put the clip and the bullet in his inside jacket pocket and replaced the gun in its holster. His mind was racing and he knew he was going to need help fast if he was going to get the crisis completely under control and also keep it under the Bay City Police Department’s radar. Something like this could put Hutch’s career in jeopardy and he wasn’t about to let Vanessa have that satisfaction. He reached for the phone.

After a few rings, a female voice answered.

“Diane?” Starsky asked.

The background noise at Huggy’s bar was so loud it was hard for either of them to hear clearly.

“Yeah, is that you Starsky?”

“Yes. I need Huggy.”

“Sorry, Starsky, but he’s kind of busy right now. Can I have him call you in a while?”

“Can’t wait. Please, I need him now. Tell him to take it in the office”

“Okay, gimme a sec.”

After an agonizing few minutes, Starsky heard the extension pick up in Huggy’s office.

“Got it, Diane. Thanks,” Huggy said.

When Diane had hung up the phone in the bar Huggy asked, “Starsky, what’s wrong? Did something happen to Hutch?”

Diane must have told him how uptight he sounded.

“Huggy, I’m at Hutch’s place. I need you.”

Starsky knew Huggy would be right in the middle of busy traffic at the bar, but he couldn’t worry about that. The tone in his voice should be enough to tell Huggy that whatever was happening in Hutch’s apartment trumped cooking hamburgers and serving well drinks. “Get here.”

~*~*~

Within fifteen minutes, Huggy was at Hutch’s apartment, knocking on his door. He didn’t stand on ceremony; he just wanted Starsky to know who it was. He opened the door a crack and said, “Starsky? Hutch?”

Starsky hadn’t moved from where he sat when his partner fell over onto his lap. Huggy could see how pale he was and that he had been crying. Hutch was obviously out of it, or worse.

Huggy crossed the oddly empty apartment quickly and knelt down to put a hand on each of his friends–one on Hutch’s chest, the other on Starsky’s shoulder. Hutch’s shallow breathing was at least a relief.

“You’d better tell me what’s gone down here, my brother.”

“She left him, Hug. She cleaned out everything, including his bank account.”

“Bitch,” Huggy said, unknowingly repeating Starsky’s earlier judgment. “Good riddance. Somebody shoulda dropped a house on her a long time ago.”

That got a small smile from Starsky, albeit a brief one.

“Huggy, this is bad.”

“How bad?”

Huggy could tell from the look in Starsky’s eyes that it was worse than the worst.

“Imagine the worst thing you can for him and then back it up one step.”

Huggy’s eyes opened wide as realization came to him. He sat down hard on the floor “No,” he said. “No way Hutch would try to off himself over a scrawny ….”

“Hug.”

“Sorry, man. Gun?”

Starsky nodded. Huggy recoiled from the thought of what a self inflicted gunshot wound from a .357 Magnum would do to his friend. He shuddered.

“Where is it?”

“In my jacket pocket right now. Unloaded.”

“How do I help?”

“You have no idea how much it helps to just know we can depend on you when things get rough.  I need to be smart, Hug. Smarter than Hutch can out-figure and that’s sayin’ something.  He really hasn’t backed off one step from the edge.  I kept him from jumping right now, but I have to stay ahead if I want to drag him back to safety.”

Huggy nodded.  “You guys are my brothers, Starsk. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask and I’m sorry, but I can’t take care of this completely by myself. I’m going to need you to help me take care of him ’til I know he’s safe. He’s in pain, Hug. Horrible. I’ve never seen him like this and it terrifies me.”

“Me, too.” Whatever Starsky had seen and heard Huggy didn’t really want to know. He knew enough. “What’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Starsky said with a sarcastic tone. “That’s funny.I’m taking the next step like I took every step so far tonight. Blind, on faith, operating on instinct, and scared shitless. All I know is that we have to help him and we have to keep it quiet.”

“Mm,” Huggy murmured.

Huggy watched while Starsky searched Hutch’s pockets for his car keys and handed them to him. Although he couldn’t know exactly what passed between the partners, Huggy was worried that Hutch had been wound so tightly he was a heartbeat away from snapping up until twenty minutes ago and now was completely out of it.

“First thing is you gotta hang onto these. I don’t want him to have access to his wheels or mine without a lot of effort. I’ll take him anywhere he needs to go.” Starsky reached into his pocket and tossed his keys to Huggy. “Take Hutch’s key off my ring and take it with you.”

“He can hot wire his car, Starsk.”

“I know, but he can’t do it fast. Hutch is brilliant, but he’s not the most mechanical guy. He knows how, but he probably couldn’t do it fast enough to keep me from stopping him. I’m not planning to let him be more than ten feet from me for a good long while. All I need to do is slow him down.”

Hot wiring cars, picking locks, and other such street learned skills were things Starsky had taught Hutch to do over time, but when it came to such things, Starsky usually handled them. If their roles truly were reversed, Hutch would have a more difficult time on this point. Part of the magic of their partnership was that they were both highly intelligent and they each had special skills and abilities that complimented the other, the two halves making a more effective whole. Anyone who had been on the wrong end of Starsky’s problem solving skills found out how smart he was the hard way. He was going to need to tap into the depths of that skill now to bring them through to the other side.

Huggy said, “Starsky, he’s in pain now, but he’s going to be hopping mad at some point.”

“You let me worry about that. I just know Vanessa tried to destroy him today. If I report this or take him anywhere for treatment, they’ll pull him off the streets. Hutch’s career’d be over and I’m not going to let that happen while I have breath.”

Huggy’s eyes widened with concern. “Starsky, you know this is dangerous. You ain’t tryin’ to protect him from some whacko who wants to waste him on the street. You ain’t a head doc. Do you think you can keep him from wasting hisself for as long as this may take? Worse than that, what if he gets you killed?”

The set of Starsky’s jaw told Huggy he intended to do just that regardless of the risk to his own safety. “I can if I never leave him alone until this passes. He’ll get past this sooner or later. I just have to keep him safe until he does. I may need you to sub for me some if I’m gonna keep Metro in the dark, or I may need you to run interference with Dobey. Keeping him off our scent isn’t going to be easy. Cap’s too intuitive for my own good sometimes.”

They both knew this was risky and in a lot more ways than one.

“Okay. How ARE you gonna handle the job?” Huggy asked. “You can’t let him out on the street without his gun.”

“Good question. We caught a small break this time. We’re off tomorrow. That should give me enough time to get him back on his feet and ready to hit it. Working will keep his mind occupied.”

“Starsk,” Huggy said gently. “Ain’t the blond centurion’s numero uno job keeping you alive out there? He could crack and leave you twistin’.”

“I know, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take. You know I’d jump in front of a bullet for him and I feel like I just did. I kid you not, he’s gonna die if I can’t fix this and there won’t

be a damn thing anyone can do about it! MY most important job is keeping him alive, too. I’m betting that he won’t take chances with my safety.”

“I hear ya. You just make sure he does his part. I don’t know how I could stand it if I lost you both and if you let him get you killed he’s done for, for sure. Even God couldn’t pull him out of it if that happened.”

~*~*~

Such that it was, Starsky had the skeleton of a plan. He would get Hutch ready for duty the next day while Huggy took care of some things. He wanted him out scouting a new place for Hutch to live. He didn’t want his friend coming back to this apartment ever again. He needed to focus on Hutch, while Huggy took care of details in the background.

“Go get a couple of boxes and pack up what little is left here. By the looks of it, shouldn’t be much more than his clothes. Bring everything to my place. Then, I want you to call his landlady. The number used to be scribbled on the calendar in the kitchen and I think that survived the pillaging. See what we need to do to get him out of here.”

“Okay. You have a dollar amount in mind?”

“Huggy, I don’t have a lot of money and the Wicked Witch of the Plains cleaned him out according to her note. Whatever I have is yours to get him paid off here and into someplace different. Should be enough.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’ve got some money stashed. It’s his if we need it. You want him close to you?”

“I do, but I don’t. Right now, he’s coming to my place and that’s it. Sooner or later, he’s going to need to be alone with his plants and his thoughts. When I can trust that he won’t wind up with a large caliber bullet in his head, I need to let him have that time and he can’t have it if he’s in my pocket. Someplace in Venice, I think. Maybe down by the canals. He likes the water. Good place to run.”

Huggy nodded. “Got it. Ain’t you a little worried that he hasn’t moved at all?”

“Of course I am!” Starsky said loudly. “You have no idea, Huggy. He’s mentally and physically more worn out than if he ran two marathons back-to-back. One of the reasons I called you is in case I couldn’t get him awake enough to help me get him to the car. If he’s dead weight, I can’t carry him that far.”

“What about you, Starsk. You look like you’ve been right there with him. Can you hold it together?”

“No choice. Hutch needs me. I’ll collapse later after he’s out of danger. I may need time alone in a dark room with a bucket full of cold ones when this is over.”

Starsky knew it was time to move.

“Huggy, there’s a towel hanging on the refrigerator door handle. Go get it damp with some cool water and bring it to me. I’m gonna try to get him to come around enough to get him downstairs to the car.”

Huggy started to move, when something else occurred to Starsky.

“Hey, watch out for the bullets on the floor in there. You should find six. Scoop ’em up and bring them to me.”

Hutch’s heart rate had slowed and seemed stronger and his color was better, but he hadn’t shown signs of coming around yet. Starsky maneuvered out from under Hutch’s head and sat back on his heels beside him. He squeezed both of Hutch’s cold hands and started rubbing his arms to improve his circulation.

“Ain’t his feet supposed to be higher than his heart?” Huggy asked when he returned to give Starsky the damp towel.

“‘S not in that kind of shock,” Starsky replied. “Besides, I’d have tried that if she’d left me something to work with here.”

Huggy came back with the towel and went back for the bullets. While he did that, Starsky tried to rouse his partner.

“Hey,” he said softly as he wiped Hutch’s face with the towel. “Can you come on back out here with the rest of us, Hutch?”

He patted Hutch on the cheek and put the draped the towel across his forehead. So far, no improvement.

Huggy came back with the handful of bullets. “Sorry, I could only find five.”

“That’ll have to do.” He took the bullets and slid them into his inside pocket along with his clip.

“Starsky, if he stays like that much longer….”

“I know, Huggy. I have to try to handle it.”

Starsky turned his attention back to his partner. “Hutch, you gotta snap out of it, buddy. I need to get you out of here, now come on.”

He sat and softly talked to Hutch for another minute and he finally got a reaction.

Hutch’s eyelids twitched and he moved his head slightly.

“That’s it, partner. Open your eyes for me.”

In another few seconds, Hutch’s eyes slowly opened.

Those same haunted blue eyes looked up at Starsky. His pupils were no longer as dilated, but the recognition was all but missing. Starsky thought he looked like the light had left his eyes and he shuddered at the thought.

“Welcome back, buddy. Do you know where you are?”

“Starsk?” Hutch said weakly.

“Oh, thank God,” Huggy said as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

Starsky wasn’t sure how this would go. Hutch’s most recent minutes of consciousness hadn’t gone well. Ah, buddy. If I could just keep you asleep and out of the reach of the pain until this passed I would.

“Hutch, just lie here for a minute and get your bearings back.”

Long, slow blinks threatened to re-shutter Hutch. “Tired,” was all he had the energy to say.

“I know. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Hutch shook his head a little to try to clear the buzzing in his ears, which Starsky immediately misunderstood.

“It is, Hutch. We’re gonna make it okay.”

“Huh?” Hutch groggily replied.

“Shhhh. Rest a minute and let me figure out what’s next.”

Starsky knew getting his almost unconscious friend safely out of this apartment, down the stairs, over to his place, and up his stairs was going to be a monumental achievement. That didn’t even take making sure no one saw what was happening into consideration. All they would need would be the wrong person to witness it who would either recognize them or think maybe Hutch was being taken somewhere against his will and call the cops. Even though it was dark, on a Saturday night lots of people would be moving around on the streets as people started to head out for parties and to clubs. Starsky knew he could park around the back and go up the back stairs at his place, but Hutch’s apartment was on a pretty busy street and the Torino was sitting right behind the closest street lamp.

“Huggy, crack open the shutters and see what it looks like out there.”

His friend did that and reported, “Not too much on foot, but more cars than you probably want driving by.”

Starsky thought he didn’t have a lot of options that didn’t involve staying here for a few hours with Hutch on the hard floor and surrounded by the place where he lived with the source of his pain. That wouldn’t work. Huggy had taken Hutch’s car key off of Starsky’s key ring and returned it to him. Starsky pulled the keys back out and tossed them to Huggy again.

“Hug, don’t ask a lot of questions, okay? Just do. I’ll make it up to you later. You should see a small, square topped key on the ring. Got it?”

Huggy flipped through, found it, and held it up for inspection.

“That’s it. Go down to the Torino and open the trunk. I have one of Ma’s quilts in the trunk for picnics. Throw it in the back seat for me to cover him with.

“Don’t you think it’d be easier to get him in if he rides up front with you?”

“Yeah, and don’t you think it would be easier for him to jump out of the car while I’m driving fifty miles an hour if he’s in the front seat?” That was the most direct comment Starsky had made about this situation and he felt bad as soon as he said it. The comment caused Huggy to shudder at the thought.

“Sorry, Hug. I know you’re just trying to help.”

Huggy nodded his thanks.

Starsky continued, “Underneath the quilt, if you pull back the carpet in the trunk, you’ll find a small keyhole toward the left in the middle. That little square key opens it.”

“Starsk?” Hutch said again.

Briefly turning his focus back to Hutch, Starsky said, “Shhh. I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”

Starsky pulled out the Colt and held it up for Huggy.

Huggy held his hands up to Starsky in refusal and said, “Oh, no you don’t. The Bear don’t do guns.”

“You don’t have to make friends with it, Hug. I just want you to lock it in the trunk for now, that’s all.”

“Okay. You want me to put it underneath where that key opens?”

Starsky sighed. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain this to his friend.

“Uh-huh. Make sure nobody is around first. I want you to bring me something from in there, too. There’s a lot of stuff behind that key, but you should see a black leather case about a quarter the size of a briefcase on the top left. Bring it to me.”

Huggy reached into his back pocket for a handkerchief and took the gun Starsky affectionately called the “cannon” from him. Starsky raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing as he watched Huggy take it and walk out the front door.

~*~*~

All the way down to the car Huggy engaged in silent prayer for his friends. When he got to the bottom of the stairs he looked around to be sure there was no one on the sidewalk anywhere near before he slinked out to the Torino, wondering what he was going to find and what it might mean.

The quilt was easy to spot. He grabbed it and put it in the back seat like Starsky asked. Then, with more than a little trepidation, he returned to the trunk, pulled up the loose carpet and stared for a few seconds. Where there should be just the spare tire wheel well, the trunk had been modified to include a locked separate compartment.

“I’ll be damned,” he muttered.

Huggy put the key in, turned, and lifted up the lid to Starsky’s hidden compartment. Even in the dim light he could see and identify a lot of what was in plain sight. He whistled and paused a second to take in and try to register what he was looking at.

The collection included a rifle, ammo for both the Magnum and Starsky’s 9mm, a couple of scopes, a pair of walkie-talkies, a snub-nosed .38 shoved into an ankle holster, a big flashlight, some cans of mace, rope, a couple of intimidating looking knives, and several closed boxes and satchels in various sizes. The oddest thing in the compartment was a box of kosher salt Huggy didn’t intend to ask about.

“I don’t want to know,” he muttered. “I just don’t want to know.”

Focusing on the task at hand, Huggy deposited the heavy gun and withdrew what he thought was the right box. He closed and locked the compartment before he repositioned the carpet and slammed the trunk lid shut.

Before he bounded up the stairs again, Huggy closed his eyes briefly and mumbled, “Where angels fear to tread.”

~*~*~

Starsky took the case from Huggy, glad he’d found the right one.

“Starsky,” Huggy started.

“Not now,” Starsky replied. “Let’s just say that everything in that compartment got there after I failed to protect him for the lack of the right tool somehow. Fool me once, dig?”

Huggy nodded. “Does he know all that’s in there?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” was the only reply he got. Then Starsky added, “Sit with him.”

Huggy took up Starsky’s position on the floor and waited to see what would happen next.

Starsky pulled his weapon, replaced the clip, and chambered a round. Standing up stiffly, he opened the box. He took out what he was looking for, a silencer, which he deftly twisted onto the barrel of his gun.

“Is that thing even legal?” Huggy asked.

“Is for me,” was the short reply. “Go shut off those lights, Hug.”

Starsky moved to the front window once the lights were out and he raised the sash. He knelt on the floor, carefully took aim tightly focusing on his target, and squeezed the trigger. One nearly silent shot later, the street lamp sparked and went dark.

“Impressive,” Huggy stated.

Starsky didn’t have time for that. He put the silencer away and secured the Berretta, unloaded again, in his holster, clip and bullet in his jacket pocket.

“I’m going to need your help,”

“Yeah, you are,” Huggy replied. “He’s out again.”

Starsky was afraid that might happen. “I’m going to try to rouse him again.” He tossed the box with the silencer in it to Huggy and said, “If you take that back down to the car, maybe he’ll be awake enough to roll when you get back up here.”

“Hey, partner,” Starsky said. “You need to wake up for me again.”

At least Hutch was more responsive this time. That gave his worried friend some measure of assurance that he was correct about him just being completely exhausted. Hutch opened his eyes again. Great. The lights are on, but nobody’s home.

“Good job. You need to get up so we can go to my place.”

“Can’t,” Hutch replied tiredly. That hit Starsky hard. Déjà vu?

“Yes, you can. I’ll help, but you’re a little too big for me to carry to the car, buddy.”

Starsky smiled at him, trying to convey reassurance. Hutch just nodded his acquiescence and started to move.

“Come on, you big lug,” Starsky quipped as he offered his hands to Hutch to help. Anything to make this completely abnormal situation feel normal couldn’t hurt.

Working together, he was able to get Hutch to his feet. He got up underneath Hutch’s arm and draped it around his shoulders. He thought if he could just get him moving, he stood a pretty good chance of making it to the car without incident.

Huggy came back in through the front door just as Hutch stumbled. He got on the other side of him and said, “Whoa, big guy. No more floor for you tonight.”

Slowly and with a lot of effort, the two men got Hutch down the stairs, out to the car, and deposited in the back seat. Huggy had been right about that. Manhandling almost all of Hutch’s weight to get him back there was no small thing and it left both of Hutch’s friends somewhat breathless. Starsky locked the passenger door when he shut it, just in case.

“He’s a lot heavier than he looks,” Huggy remarked.

“Tell me about it,” Starsky replied. “This ain’t the first time I’ve had to haul him out of something, but usually he’s a little more help than he was this time. Thanks for being here. I was gonna have you stay here and get his stuff while I head to my place with him, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to get him out of the back by myself if he’s like this.”

“‘S okay. I’ll follow you and come back over here later.” He tossed the Torino’s keys to Starsky and continued, “I’ll be right behind you.”

~*~*~

Starsky hoped he’d be able to see the back seat in the rearview mirror so he could keep an eye on his partner, but it was just too dark. He didn’t hear any sound coming from Hutch so he hoped he’d gone back out for the trip. That was probably a blessing anyway. Traffic was somewhat light and Starsky was able to go as fast as he dared under the circumstances. When he got to his apartment building, he drove around the back to the alley so he could help Hutch up the back stairs. He’d lost Huggy a while back, but it wasn’t long before he saw the white Cadillac’s headlights turn into the alley.

They both cut their lights, plunging the alleyway back into darkness. The street lamp back there had been out for years so there was no concern about anyone seeing what they were doing.

Starsky got the front seat out of the way as much as he could and squeezed into the back with Hutch. A soft shake of Hutch’s shoulder was enough to elicit some response from him.

“We’re at my place, buddy.”

“Starsky?”

“Yeah, come on.”

He pulled the quilt back and got it untangled from Hutch’s long legs. At least he seemed to have stopped shivering and when he let Starsky take his hand to help him, warmer and dryer seemed to have replaced cold and clammy. Starsky’s mom had made that quilt for him and told him it was for him to use on picnics. They both knew that it really was meant to help cover one of them in the back seat when they were grabbing a turn at some shuteye during long stakeouts on damp, cool Southern California nights. A cop’s widow, Mrs. Starsky knew the drill. That was in the category of things that usually went unsaid between mother and son. She preferred not to talk much about his work and he preferred not to be too revealing about their cases. Both of them were happier that way.

Getting Hutch out of the Torino proved to be easier than getting him in had been. After they had his feet on the ground, Starsky was able to hoist him out and get under his arm to support him. His legs were weak, but Hutch was a little more under his own steam this time. That allowed Starsky to send Huggy to the top of the stairs ahead of them to get the door unlocked.

Hutch did all right until he stumbled about halfway up the stairs. Starsky was able to mostly break his fall. Hutch shook his head to clear it and blinked hard.

“Take it easy for a sec,” Starsky said.

Hutch nodded and mumbled, “I’m sorry,” again.

Starsky ignored that, but he patted Hutch’s side reassuringly. After a short rest, he asked, “You okay to go on?”

“Yeah.”

After getting him back upright, the rest of the trip to the top was slower, but uneventful.

Huggy had already closed the blinds and turned the lights on by the time they got inside. Starsky pulled a chair out from the kitchen table, helped Hutch into it, and steadied him when he leaned over and lay down on the table with his face buried in his forearms.

Starsky got a glass down from the cupboard and filled it with cold water from the tap.  He handed it to Huggy and said, “See if you can get him to drink this. I’ll be back in a minute.”

While Huggy kept an eye on Hutch, Starsky methodically went through the apartment and took care of anything he thought would be a concern. He turned the covers down on his bed so he could help Hutch into it to sleep off the rest of the effects of the adrenaline rush he’d had that contributed to his collapse. He would sleep on the couch where he was sure to wake up if he fell asleep and Hutch tried to leave from either the front or the back door.

After digging around in the closet he found a shoe box, dumped the dress shoes he almost never wore out if it and took the box to the bathroom to take care of things in there. He knew he’d worry more for every second his partner spent taking a shower behind the closed door if there was anything in there that Hutch could use to hurt himself. A quick run through the medicine chest, drawers, and cupboards later, Starsky came back out to give the box to Huggy.  The glass of water sat untouched and he knew Huggy hadn’t been able to coax Hutch into drinking any.

Huggy looked up at Starsky, shook his head slightly, and pointed to Hutch followed by a motion that clearly indicated that he thought Hutch might be crying.

Starsky nodded in understanding and handed the box to Huggy. “Take this, will ya?” he asked.

The box contained collective leftover prescriptions from a variety of injuries and illnesses. Along with some narcotic painkillers, the box also contained a bottle of codeine cough syrup and a full bottle of sleeping pills. A small shaving kit that had once belonged to Starsky’s father was in there and Huggy didn’t need x-ray vision to know it had an old-fashioned straight razor in it. He swallowed hard and looked Starsky in the eyes. He usually couldn’t communicate without speaking to Starsky like Hutch could, but the unspoken exchange between them this time was clear.

You don’t really think he’d use any of this, do you?

I’m not taking any chances.

“Starsk, how long–”

“I don’t know.”

“How will you?”

“Intuition, I guess. Judgment call.”  Starsky prayed to God that his judgment on this would be right.

Huggy nodded and tucked the box under his arm. “You gonna be okay if I go back to his place now?”

“Wait a sec,” Starsky said as a thought occurred to him. He got the sleeping pills back out of the box and took one pill from the bottle before putting it back with the others. “Yeah, go ahead, but will you move the Torino out to my parking space before you go? Just bring the keys back up with you when you get back from his place.”

“Sure. Be back soon,” Huggy said.

Starsky knelt on the floor next to his partner and tried to angle to get a look at his face. He put his hand on Hutch’s shoulder and said, “You awake in there?”

Hutch nodded, but didn’t lift his head.

If he could get him to take that sleeping pill, maybe Hutch could sleep through the night without dreaming, which would be far better than what he was likely to do otherwise.

“Hutch, I need you to sit up and look at me.” He helped sit Hutch up in the chair and got a look at his face. Huggy was right, he’d been crying. At least that meant he was more aware. Starsky held out the pill and the glass of water and said, “Take this.”

The single pill was obviously not an aspirin and Starsky was afraid he wouldn’t take it without an explanation. He was relieved when Hutch didn’t fight him on it. He didn’t even ask what it was.

“You want to talk about it?” Starsky asked him.

Hutch shook his head. He wouldn’t look Starsky in the eyes.

“How about you grab a quick shower while Huggy runs back to your place to get you some clean clothes and things?”

Hutch shook his head again. “Tired. So tired.” He started to turn back like he was just going to put his head back down on the table and sleep there.

“Not here, you don’t. Let’s go,” Starsky said, standing up and putting his hand under Hutch’s arm to tug him toward standing.

Starsky got Hutch in and seated on the edge of the bed without too much trouble, but when he tried to bend over to untie his shoes, Starsky had to catch him to keep him from falling back to the floor.

“Let me do that,” he ordered.

“Sorry,” Hutch muttered again.

Gonna have to work on that. “No sweat.” Starsky took both of Hutch’s shoes off and helped him ease back onto the bed.

Hutch closed his eyes and draped his arm over them before Starsky could get him to look at him again. Starsky considered insisting, but decided that he’d give it a rest for now. What his partner needed first was sleep. He would try to draw him out in the morning.

He patted Hutch on the hand and said, “I’ll be in the other room if you need me, buddy.”

Hutch didn’t even nod at him this time.

Starsky looked at his watch. Although it felt like it was after midnight, the time was only 9:30 p.m. He really wanted to have a beer, but didn’t want to do anything that would make him less alert. Instead, he picked up a book and sat down on the couch to read. This was going to be a long night.

~*~*~

Starsky alternated his time while he waited for Huggy to get there with Hutch’s things with reading, pacing, fuming, and most importantly, looking in on Hutch. The sleeping pill had taken effect quickly and his partner was out. Starsky wished he could reach inside of his partner’s mind and understand what he was thinking so he would know better how to help. After he was thoroughly out, Starsky was able to get Hutch into a more comfortable position and cover him. Starsky could see that he’d cried until he fell asleep.

Huggy tapped lightly on the front door about an hour after he’d left them. A quick check on Hutch showed he was in exactly the same position he’d been in when Starsky last looked. He helped Huggy bring his partner’s things inside and it wasn’t much. Vanessa hadn’t left anything other than Hutch’s clothes, guitar, and a few personal items. She had left a box in the bedroom closet with pictures from their time together.

The two friends sat at Starsky’s kitchen table to talk about the situation.

“How could she possibly hate him this much, Hug?” Starsky asked. “I always knew she’d just as soon kill me as look at me, but you’d think it would be different with him. Seems to me like she didn’t just want to dump him or hurt him, she really would like to just erase Hutch, and their time together right along with him. The Dear John letter she left was the cruelest thing I may have ever read.” Starsky had kept the letter and put it away with his papers while Hutch slept. He wanted to burn it, but thought that wasn’t his right to do. Even though he couldn’t do that, he could certainly keep it away from his best friend unless he demanded to have it for some reason.

“Sure is cold, man,” Huggy remarked.

They sat for a long time and planned a strategy for what they thought Huggy should take care of so Starsky could spend the next day focusing on getting Hutch farther from the edge and ready to do their next tour Monday morning. They would reconnect Sunday night.

Starsky walked Huggy to the door.

“You let me know if anything happens,” Huggy said.

“I will. Thanks for everything, Hug. I hated to drag you into this, but I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help. ”

“You just keep a look out for your partner; The Bear is there for the rest.”

By the time Huggy left at close to midnight, Starsky was so tired he could barely move.

While he brushed his teeth and got ready to at least attempt to rest, he gave several moments consideration to pulling out his sleeping bag and crashing on the floor where Hutch couldn’t possibly get past without waking him. He dismissed that as over the top and instead chose the couch with a blanket instead. Realistically, he was going to be less active, not really be deeply asleep. His danger-sense was so heightened, Hutch probably couldn’t have done much more than open his eyes and blink a few times before Starsky would have heard him. Sleeping on the floor wasn’t necessary.

Alone with his thoughts in the dark, quiet apartment, Starsky wrestled with what he should say and do in the next several days. He feared that any approach would be wrong and it could cost Hutch his life. He also knew that if he could just get Hutch over the worst of it, his partner would realize that he didn’t want to die. Quickly, he hoped. Starsky prayed for strength and the wisdom to take care of his best friend.

Around 7:00 in the morning, Starsky finally gave up on pretending he would be getting any real sleep. Hutch was still just as he’d left him. He was breathing evenly, clearly deeply asleep. That gave Starsky time to get a quick shower and shave in before Hutch began to stir.

After Starsky put some coffee on to brew, he went to his room and found Hutch sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

“Hey,” Starsky said from the doorway.

“Hey, yourself,” Hutch replied. “How did I get here?”

Starsky approached him slowly. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“My place. I called you and you came.”

That waking nightmare had begun with the despondent phone call from Hutch. He hadn’t been able to make any real sense of what had happened other than that he needed to get to Hutch immediately or the consequence would be unbearable. The rest of what was said and what passed between them last night would stay with Starsky and haunt his fears whenever Hutch became depressed for the rest of his life. Starsky continued to probe. He needed a starting point to work with toward getting his partner healed and he had to know what he remembered.

“Do you remember why you called me?”

Hutch nodded. “Vanessa left me. It’s over.”

“That’s right, buddy. She’s gone.”

Hutch looked down into his lap and added, “I remember something else. I wanted to die.”

This was at least progress. They were talking, Hutch remembered why if he didn’t remember how, and neither of them was in immediate danger.

“Do you remember that I wouldn’t let you?”

“Apparently,” Hutch replied with an ironic tone, lifting both of his hands off his lap and turning them palms up and palms down again. “Guess I’m still here.”

“You sure are. Look, Huggy brought your things over from your place last night. Go get cleaned up and we’ll have some coffee and talk some more. We have all day off today.”

“Starsk, I….”

Starsky patted his shoulder. “Later, buddy. Just go shower. The warm water will do you some good.”

Hutch nodded and headed for the bathroom. He hadn’t made eye contact at all, which was worrisome, but he was at least coherent and he was no longer armed. Starsky figured both were steps in the right direction. Coherent is good. Rational will come.

~*~*~

Hutch got into the shower and stood under the warm water for a long time. He knew he needed to think about and process what had happened, but he couldn’t focus. The memories of everything that happened last night were a jumble. He couldn’t remember much of anything specific after Starsky arrived.

He remembered that he’d very nearly pulled the trigger more than once before he called Starsky. He was alone and crying in his almost empty apartment for long enough to get pretty desperate to escape the pain. The urge was almost unbearable. At one point he had gone down to his car, intent on driving somewhere else to take his life, but he hesitated. After a short time he drove to the beach and took a walk, thinking he might do it there instead of where Starsky would be the one to find him, and he hesitated again and returned to the apartment.  What made him hesitate was a stronger urge to hear his best friend’s voice. When he knew Starsky was on his way, he nearly pulled the trigger again, thinking that he should do it now while he had a chance. Something wouldn’t let him and time seemed to stand still while he sat there on the thin line between life and death.

Running over the last few days leading up to Vanessa’s abrupt departure wasn’t helping him. He was hurt and raw and he felt like a complete failure. Sooner or later he’d have to tell his parents and he was worried about how that would go. Hutch’s parents didn’t approve of Vanessa any more than of his decision to leave law school and join the police force. They might feel relieved about Vanessa being out of the picture, but they might also use it as an excuse to pressure Hutch to return to Minnesota. Richard Hutchinson had plans for his son to join his law firm and an entirely different path in mind for his son to take. Over time, his disappointment over Hutch’s choices had spilled into dislike for Starsky, because he thought his son only stayed on the job because of his partner. That led to increased strain and distance between Hutch and his father.

The worst pain of all at the moment was facing Starsky and the hurt he had already caused him, not to mention the hurt he believed was still likely to come. He hoped Starsky wouldn’t ask him, because he wasn’t sure how he could lie to him on the question of whether he still wanted to die. He wasn’t sure how he’d answer that. Hutch didn’t have a plan or even a notion of what would happen beyond taking his next breath. The one thing he was sure of was that if he decided to go through with it, he wouldn’t put his partner in that position again. Starsky wouldn’t know until it was finished.

~*~*~

Starsky had coffee poured and was sitting and waiting for Hutch at the kitchen table. He watched as Hutch walked out of the bathroom and paused a second, like he was working up the nerve to face him. Hutch didn’t take his eyes off the floor all the way to the table. When he got there, he sat down hard and switched his gaze to staring into his coffee cup.

“We need to talk, buddy,” Starsky said.

Hutch closed his eyes and nodded. He took a breath and looked up to meet Starsky’s eyes, his own still deeply pained.

“Starsky, I’m sorry,” he said sounding both contrite and miserable.

Starsky sighed. “I know. You need to stop apologizing to me and help me figure out how to help you.”

“You already have.”

“Yeah, but your eyes tell me that we ain’t anywhere near getting where we need to be.”

Hutch looked away again as he said, “I can’t, Starsk. Not yet. Please?”

Starsky wanted to ask him some direct questions, but he also didn’t want to push too soon. Just getting his friend talking would do for now. They had all day for him to open his partner up more.

He patted Hutch on the arm and said, “Okay. For now.”

Hutch looked back up and said, “Thanks. I promise we’ll talk. I… just can’t yet.” He paused and added, “So, what are we gonna do?”

Starsky smiled at him. “I thought we should try to be normal.”

“What the hell is normal?” Hutch asked him.

“Let’s start at the Blue Star,” Starsky answered. “You like it. I like it. We’ll grab some breakfast and take it from there.”

“I’m not hungry, Starsk.”

“I’m sure you’re not, but you need to at least try to eat something and I know you haven’t had anything since breakfast yesterday. All I need is you dropping out on me because your blood sugar is south of nothing.”

Hutch’s reply to that was a sigh and a look of resignation. He decided to change the subject. “I found my ID and badge, but where are my keys and where’s my gun?”

Starsky’s eyes grew darker. “Huggy has your keys. We can get them back later. As for your gun… I’m not going to give that back to you just yet. I need to know you’re safe first.”

“I guess that’s understandable.  Probably even reasonable, but how the hell am I supposed to do my job without my gun?” he demanded.

“You don’t have to do your job today. Let’s get through today and we’ll talk about your gun tonight.”

“Starsky….”

“No, Hutch. You know I’ll do anything in my power, anything I have to do to keep you safe. Even from yourself. If we can’t fix this or you shut me out, someone else will have to be involved. I don’t want that and I’m sure you don’t either. Huh?”

“But,” Hutch started and then abruptly stopped, staring at Starsky for a few moments.

Starsky wished he knew exactly what his partner was thinking, but he was uncharacteristically in the dark about what was happening inside his friend’s mind.  He could read the frustration in Hutch’s eyes and he hoped he would realize there really couldn’t be any argument if they wanted to take care of this like they did most problems, between just the two of them.  Please understand. 

“Do you remember me asking you to think about what you would do if you were me and I was you?” Starsky asked.

Hutch nodded and closed his eyes, dropping his chin. “Yeah. I remember that.”

As Hutch’s gears continued to turn, Starsky reached out and put a hand on his arm.  “Please,” he said, “I’m trying to help, but you’ve gotta let me.”

“I need to think,” Hutch replied.

That caused a sense of dread to creep back up on Starsky.  “Just don’t think so hard you stop talking to me.  You need to work with me, buddy. Think about breakfast. That’s a good place to start.”  He gave the arm under his hand a gentle squeeze and Hutch lifted his head and opened his eyes.

“Eating probably won’t be high on my to-do list for a while, partner.”

“I’ll just have to keep reminding you to do it.  As my dear departed grandmother would say, ‘You’re too skinny.  A little nosh couldn’t hoit.'”

That earned him the hint of a smile.  “Okay, Starsk.  Next stop, Blue Star Diner.”

~*~*~

The Blue Star Diner was on their beat. They were both delighted when it opened and they discovered it was a great place where both of them could find things to eat that would work for them. The place had plenty of greasy spoon items, interspersed with a selection of somewhat healthier ones that Hutch enjoyed. Hutch liked to eat breakfast and could make a dinner out of scrambled eggs. If any place could coax his partner into eating, this was it.

They sat and talked about Huggy and what he was going to do for Hutch today.

“Starsky, I appreciate what you and Huggy are doing, but I can go back to the apartment. I can stay there until I find something else.”

“I’m sure you could, but you don’t have to do that. Huggy brought all of your things to my place. He’s gonna do some leg work and call with some options for you to move to and I want you to consider them. I won’t sleep a peaceful night if I know you’re in the old place. Fresh start, partner. You need that.” Starsky knew he wouldn’t sleep peacefully for some time to come regardless.

The waitress interrupted their discussion by dropping off their food. Hutch sat and stared at his egg white, spinach, and cheddar omelet.

After a few moments, Starsky asked, “Something wrong?”

“I’m just not that hungry,” Hutch answered.

“I know you wanted just toast and coffee, but you need some protein, buddy.”  Starsky watched him poke at his food with his fork and finally take a test bite.  “How is it?”

“Doesn’t really taste like much, but it’s hot.”

Starsky reached across the table and got a bite to taste test it. He never could quite understand how anyone could eat just the egg whites, but it was worth a try. He thought it was surprisingly good and it concerned him that Hutch didn’t.

“Could use some salt, but I think it’s pretty good,” he remarked.

Hutch didn’t reply as he passed the salt shaker to Starsky.

Over the next few minutes, they sat in silence. Starsky ate, Hutch moved his food around on his plate and stared at it. Starsky was hoping if he stayed quiet long enough, Hutch would start to open up to him about what was going on in his head. He’d learned the value of well-timed and well-placed silence from interviewing suspects and witnesses. Be quiet just long enough and the person you are interviewing will try to fill the silence. Given Hutch’s state of mind, Starsky hoped the tactic would work on his normally savvy partner.

“I tried, Starsk,” Hutch finally said.

“To hold it together, buddy?”

“Yeah. I tried, but nothing helped.”

Starsky was relieved that Hutch was starting to talk. Good. This is good.

“I know you did. Sometimes, things just aren’t meant to be.”

Hutch looked back up from his plate. “Van was so mad yesterday morning. She started throwing things and she even hit me a couple of times. I don’t understand.”

“I know you never hit her back. You should be proud of that.”

“Proud? I’ve got nothing to be proud of, Starsky. I failed. She took everything I had to give and it wasn’t good enough for her. Never enough.”

If nothing else, Hutch’s words were making Starsky hate Vanessa Hutchinson even more, which was a thing he hardly believed could be possible.

“What about Vanessa’s part in this? You can’t take this on yourself as your failure alone. You guys just didn’t make it.”

“I just wanted her to be happy.”

“What about your happiness? I’m not sure that woman knows HOW to be happy.”

Hutch shook his head and dropped his eyes again to his plate of now cold and mostly unconsumed breakfast. “I failed.”

Starsky quickly set his coffee cup down so he could reach across the table to touch his friend, but he caught one side of the cup on the edge of his plate and it tipped toward him, dumping it all over the table and down onto his shirt and lap.

“Dammit!” he said as he stood up.

“You okay?” Hutch asked.

Their waitress bustled over to their table to help. She had just refilled his cup, so it was a full cup of hot coffee.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Starsky replied, brushing at his clothes with his hands. He was clearly disgusted with himself.

“Go clean up and I’ll get this mess off the table for you,” the waitress said.

Starsky looked at his friend and said, “Nah, just bring me some more napkins, will ya?”

Hutch rolled his eyes at him. “Go on.”

The waitress tried to concentrate on clearing the table and not on their conversation. She picked up some of the dripping dishes and headed back behind the front counter.

Starsky remembered what he’d said to Huggy. I’m not planning to let him be more than ten feet from me for a good long while. He stood next to the table not sure what he should do.

“I….”

“Stand down, Sergeant Starsky.” Hutch said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Hutch’s eyes were sincere and he held Starsky’s gaze for long enough to convince him it would be okay.

Starsky pointed at him and said, “See that you don’t.” He winked at Hutch and then headed toward the restroom to try to undo the damage he’d done to his clothes.

~*~*~

From where he sat, Hutch had a clear view of the sidewalk and street in front of the restaurant. While he waited for Starsky, he watched people go by outside, mostly absent mindedly, until something happened that drew his full attention.

Right in front of the long bank of windows he watched as a man rushed up behind a man carrying a briefcase. The thief grabbed for it, but the man held on as his would-be robber nearly yanked his arm out of the socket. A brief scuffle ensued before the thief pulled out a switchblade and stabbed the man in the upper chest. He wrenched the briefcase from him as the man collapsed to the sidewalk. Hutch started moving as the thief began to run. All of this had happened in the blink of an eye.

“Shit!” Hutch exclaimed as he jumped out of his chair tipping it over behind him. He looked toward the bathroom for a split second. Not seeing Starsky yet, he took off toward the front door.

“Call an ambulance and the cops!” he shouted at the waitress as he bounded out of the restaurant after the attacker.

The diner’s patrons had rushed toward the windows to see what was happening and people on the street had stopped to try to help the man now lying on the sidewalk.

When Starsky came back out of the restroom, the scene in front of him had completely changed. He took it in quickly as he rushed past the tipped over chair toward the front of the diner. At least he could tell that the man lying on the ground outside on the sidewalk wasn’t his partner.

“Where did he go?” he demanded of the waitress who was standing by the door. He could hear the siren of an approaching squad car.

“That way!” she said as she and most of the other people watching inside the diner pointed toward the direction Hutch and the robber had taken.

Starsky flung the door open and went to check on the victim. He was conscious, but bleeding heavily.

“Help’s on the way,” he said to the man.

Starsky had no time to waste. He took off in the direction the witnesses said Hutch had headed. He was scared and praying there would be clues along the way as to where the chase had gone. Hutch was after an obviously armed and dangerous suspect alone, off duty, without his partner backing him up or even knowing where he was, and unarmed. He didn’t even have a set of cuffs on him.

~*~*~

Hutch chased after the attacker. They raced down the sidewalk and hooked an immediate left, rather than trying to negotiate the busy next street against a light. The man was fast, but Hutch was determined. He’d seen the suspect stab his victim like it was nothing and he wasn’t about to let him get away clean. He wasn’t able to spare a thought for anything else, even what his partner was going to say to him when this was done.

“Police, stop!” he’d yelled after the man to no avail.

They ran two more blocks without even pausing for lights or cars. Fortunately, lights were in their favor. As they ran another long block with a red light and lots of traffic at the end of it, the suspect suddenly turned into an alley with Hutch gaining on him.

The fleeing man grabbed at and turned over several trash cans as he passed, and headed down an ally with a couple of quick turns and changes in direction.

Hutch followed him around the corner and lost sight of the man he’d been chasing. He easily avoided being tripped up by the tipped over trash cans he encountered, wondering if the contents of that briefcase were worth the man running from a determined cop.  At the end of this turn in the alley was another busy street and to his left, a smaller alley opening that his instincts steered him toward.

As Hutch ran into that smaller, darker alley with tall, close buildings towering above he was focused on finding his suspect and didn’t expect the attack that came next.

The suspect rushed him from behind a dumpster, taking a swing at him with that briefcase. He connected and toppled Hutch to the ground, at least momentarily. Hutch rolled and immediately got to his feet, advancing toward the suspect who had dropped the briefcase behind him and pulled that switchblade.

Until then, Hutch hadn’t consciously considered the predicament he found himself in at this moment. So used to having his gun on him at all times, he had forgotten he was unarmed and suddenly wasn’t sure what he would do with the suspect if he managed to subdue him. He didn’t have a set of cuffs on him and he didn’t have a way of knowing if Starsky was somewhere behind to back him up. Just as suddenly, he realized that he just didn’t care.

“Freeze!” Hutch shouted with as much unarmed bravado as he had.

“Or what?” the suspect replied. He lunged at Hutch with the switchblade. Though the blade sliced into his forearm, Hutch managed to mostly deflect the blow and turn quickly to try to come up behind him so he could get the blade out of his hand, but it was a largely unsuccessful maneuver resulting in Hutch being slammed back against the wall behind him.

With Hutch backed up to the wall, his would-be captor sneered at him, tossing the switchblade from his right to his left hand and back again. “What’s ‘a matter, cop? No piece?”

“I don’t need a gun to get the better of street slime like you,” Hutch replied with as much venom as he could muster.

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

Hutch and the perp squared off against each other. Both of them moved at the same instant.

~*~*~

Starsky pounded down the sidewalk on the busy street at top speed. At first he was running on nothing but adrenaline and pure intuition. He was counting on the fact that his full steam sprint could overtake Hutch, who was fast but more of a distance runner. Hutch and the suspect had a good lead on him. He guessed at the first corner that the suspect would have turned left and headed down that street rather than risking running across six lanes of busy traffic. He looked up every alley as he passed them for any sign the two men had gone that way. After crossing two more streets and running to the middle of a long block, trash cans spilled in the next alley led him to turn that direction.

He tore up the alley toward a ninety degree turn to the right. That led to another short alley that led out to a street or turned again toward the left. He thought he heard a commotion in that direction and he took it.

As Starsky burst into the tight, dark alleyway, he was frightened by what he saw. Hutch was on the ground and a large suspect was in the process of cracking his partner on the head with a briefcase. Starsky pulled his weapon. Hutch wasn’t armed, but Starsky had left his place that morning prepared for anything. He fired a warning shot into the air.

“Police! Freeze, sucker!” he shouted.

The man froze. The dark-haired cop was definitely armed and it was over.

“Drop it,” Starsky ordered.

The suspect complied. In short order, Starsky had him on the ground, frisked, and cuffed.

“Move one inch, and you’re dead,” Starsky warned. He kicked both the briefcase and the switchblade farther away from his captive. When he was certain the man on the ground wasn’t going to budge, he turned his attention to his partner.

“Hutch!” Starsky gently turned Hutch over so he could see his face. His partner groaned.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked.

Hutch groaned again and reached for his head with his right hand. Starsky’s eyes grew wider when he noticed the bloody mess running down Hutch’s forearm. The suspect had obviously gotten his licks in with the blade before he switched to simply trying to bludgeon his partner to oblivion. He pulled Hutch’s sleeve back to see the damage. That was definitely going to need stitches. “Terrific,” he muttered. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it against the long, bleeding wound.

Hutch didn’t seem to be in life-threatening trouble and Starsky knew he’d have to deal with the suspect, the switchblade, and the briefcase before he could turn his attention entirely to his partner. Sirens in the background signaled the cavalry, but they’d never know they should head up into this little-known alleyway.

“Hutch,” Starsky said. “I need to get this guy to the black-and-whites. You gonna be okay for a few minutes?”

Hutch nodded.

“Hold onto this and I’ll be right back.” He put Hutch’s left hand over the handkerchief and pushed his hand down to convey the message that Hutch needed to apply pressure. He hated to leave Hutch lying in that dirty alley, but he didn’t have any choice at the moment.

Starsky returned his attention to the prone suspect. He picked up the switchblade, closed it and stuffed it into his pocket. After retrieving the briefcase, he reached for and pulled the suspect to his feet.

“So, what’s so important in that briefcase?” he asked. He knew the suspect had to have an idea what was in there or he wouldn’t have run so far or fought so hard to keep it.

“Stuff it!” the suspect replied.

“Hutch, I’ll be right back for you. Stay put,” Starsky directed.

Starsky steered the cuffed suspect through the turns in the alley to the street where he was able to flag down one of the black-and-whites. He didn’t recognize the officer walking toward him. He flashed his badge at the uniformed officer and said, “Detective Sergeant Starsky. Take this scumbag down to Metro.”

“What are the charges?” the officer asked.

“Let’s start with assault on a police officer and resisting arrest,” Starsky replied. “My partner is injured back there.” He handed the briefcase and switchblade to the uniformed officer. He noticed a small amount of blood on the back of the briefcase as the officer took it from him. Great. Wonder if that’s from his arm or his noggin.

“Okay, Sarge. You need an ambulance?”

“No. It’s not that bad. I’ll take him myself. This is related to the victim down in front of the Blue Star Diner. That’ll easily be assault with a deadly weapon among other things.”

The officer nodded and took custody of the suspect, freeing Starsky to get back to his partner.

By the time Starsky returned to him, he found his partner sitting up and awkwardly trying to tie off the wound on his right forearm with the handkerchief. He looked up from his task and met Starsky’s eyes

“You don’t have to say it,” he said.

Refusing to be deflected from his combined anger and fear for Hutch’s safety, Starsky knelt next to him and demanded, “Hutch, are you crazy!?”

Hutch winced and closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Ow, my head,” he said. “No yelling.”

Starsky grabbed his partner by both shoulders and gave him a light shake.

“What were you thinking? You aren’t armed! You don’t have cuffs! You’re not even on duty….”

“I know,” Hutch mumbled miserably as he closed his eyes tightly.

Starsky could see the color draining from his face and the way he was swaying told him Hutch was probably dizzy.

“Hey,” Starsky said, “you stay with me!”

Hutch managed to crawl back from the incessant buzzing in his head and open his eyes to look at his blessedly singular, but worried partner.

“That’s it,” Starsky said. He held up two fingers and asked, “How many fingers?”

Hutch focused hard. “Hold ’em still.”

“Great. I gotta get you out of here. Can you stand?” He didn’t want to leave Hutch alone again to go for help

“Think so.”

Starsky got an arm around his partner and hoisted him to his feet. Hutch swayed a bit, but he managed to keep his eyes open despite the pounding pain in the back of his head. After giving him a few seconds to adjust, Starsky started back out of the alley. He was worried about how Hutch was going to make it all the way back to the diner where the Torino was parked. He didn’t want to leave Hutch to go get it, he was completely defenseless and Starsky wasn’t convinced he could remain upright without assistance.

Stopping several times to rest, Starsky managed to navigate him back the way they had come. They drew a lot of stares and Starsky waved off two squad cars before they made it to the Torino. From the street, a complete view of Hutch wasn’t possible. Starsky kept himself in position to block the view. All the way, Starsky was quietly berating him. Hutch didn’t attempt to respond.

“Of all the knot-headed….”

“What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t know where you went.”

“What were you thinking?”

“No gun, no cuffs….”

Each time they stopped to rest, Starsky left off the admonishments and quickly checked to see if his partner was really present and accounted for, not simply running on autopilot to stay on his feet. Blood had soaked through the handkerchief and was now leeching onto anything the wounded arm touched… jeans, shirt, jacket, partner.

After what seemed like a blur to Hutch and felt like an eternity to Starsky, they reached the Torino, Starsky loaded Hutch into the passenger seat. His mind was racing with what to do next. The head injury and the knife wound were too serious for him to handle with ice and butterfly bandages, but he hated to take Hutch to the ER.

As he ran around the back of the Torino, one of the responding uniformed officers trotted toward him. He’d hoped to avoid that.

“Sarge?” he said.

“Everything’s okay,” Starsky lied.

The officer’s eyes darted between the blood on Starsky’s clothes and his dazed and bloody partner. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

Starsky kept moving and climbed into the driver’s seat. “No, I’ll take him. You just finish up here.”

Before the man could object, Starsky peeled out into traffic and was gone in a blur of red and white.

~*~*~

The uniformed officer walked back toward his partner shaking his head.

“What was that about?” Officer Whitmore asked.

The two homicide detectives had already earned quite a reputation at the Metro division for being rebellious, unconventional, and impetuous.

“I think you’ve just been Starskied,” his partner replied.

Whitmore chuckled. “Yeah, but Hutchinson was bleeding and….”

“Uh-huh. You’ve only been at Metro for two months, John. Wait for it.”

“Oh, boy. Should I call the captain?”

“Definitely.”

~*~*~

Starsky was halfway to the nearest emergency room when the radio sounded.

“Zebra-3, Zebra-3. Come in please.”

He quickly glanced at his wounded partner who was leaning heavily on the door. Hutch hadn’t said a word since they got back to the Torino. Starsky knew it was going to be Dobey and he would be yelling.

The radio sounded again. “Zebra-3, Zebra-3. Come in please.”

With a heavy sigh, Starsky picked up the mike. “Zebra-3, go ahead.”

“Stand by for a patch through from Captain Dobey.”

I’m surprised it took him this long.

“Starsky! What’s going on out there!”

“Kinda busy right now, Cap.” Starsky didn’t have the siren on, but he was running twenty over and he didn’t want to have this conversation right this minute.

“Busy?” Dobey bellowed. “You two aren’t even on the roster!”

“No kidding,” Starsky replied.

Dobey lowered the sound level. “I’ve had reports from two uniforms that Hutchinson is injured.”

Starsky cut his eyes over to Hutch again. He was looking pale and his eyes were closed.

He hoped his response wasn’t entirely a lie. “Nothing serious, Cap. I’m pulling into the hospital now. I’ll call when he’s patched up.”

“Which hospital?”

Starsky snapped off the radio. One of these days, we’re gonna give poor Dobey a heart attack. He parked the Torino and went around to the passenger door. Hutch was still leaning against the door, so Starsky carefully opened it, putting a hand out to keep him from falling out onto the ground.

Hutch’s eyes opened. “I feel sick.”

“I know, buddy. We’re gonna get you taken care of, but you need to listen up first.”

“‘kay.”

“You can’t be like this in there, okay?”

“What?” Hutch said as he turned his head to look away from his friend.

Starsky turned his head back toward himself and pinned his eyes with his stare. “Like this. One or two word answers. Barely communicating. You sound depressed.”

“Starsk….”

“I’m serious, babe. You and me, we’re gonna have a long talk when this is done, but right now I need you to at least pretend your only problem is a knock on the head and a steadily bleeding knife wound. Got it?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Starsky was worried that a savvy nurse or doctor inside would catch onto the fact that something was wrong with his friend that couldn’t be fixed with rest and sutures. Hutch’s eyes told him that he understood.

“Lemme help you up.”

“Thanks, partner,” Hutch said. “Sorry I bled on your seats.”

Starsky had only owned the Torino long enough to get her customized and broken in to the demanding driving he did when they were on duty. “Very inconsiderate of you. Be more careful.” Then maybe you won’t bleed anywhere, not just on my seats!

~*~*~

Starsky successfully got the hospital staff to allow him to stay with his partner. That went a long way toward keeping the doctor from noticing anything out of the order with Hutch’s affect. The doctor thought the blond cop was quiet, but seemed to be all right for release.

“Can you take it easy for a few days, Officer Hutchinson?” the doctor asked.

When Hutch only nodded, Starsky interjected, “Is he cleared for duty?”

“Keep an eye on him. Do you know what to watch for?”

That earned a fleeting smirk from Starsky. “Throwing up, unusually sleepy, confused. Yeah, we’ve been to this dance before.”

“I’ll bet you have. You get him back in here if he gets worse.” The doctor gave both of them a sobering look. “Since the two of you swear he never lost consciousness, I think it’s no more than a mild concussion.” The man obviously had his doubts, but both detectives were insistent on that point.

“See that he rests today. If he does okay, he can go back to work tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Hutch said.

The doctor signed Hutch’s release papers and handed them to him with some final instructions.

“Nothing too strenuous for a day or two, okay?” he said. “That means active duty, not overactive duty. In other words, no more knife fights in alleys until you get the stitches out in a week to ten days. You can see your own doctor for that.”

~*~*~

Doctor Jameson was the new trauma chief at Memorial and this was his first encounter with the partners. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what wasn’t right, but something about his patient wasn’t tracking. He was also pretty sure he’d been ‘handled’ by Detective Starsky. He flipped back through Hutch’s chart as he watched the two men leave. Hutchinson had been seen on numerous occasions and Jameson speculated that there was a chart on file for Detective Starsky, too. “Probably even thicker,” he mumbled aloud as he handed the chart off to his nurse.

~*~*~

Before Starsky had a chance to say anything to his sheepish partner, they ran into Captain Dobey walking in through the ER doors.

“Captain Dobey,” Starsky said cheerily, “how ever did you find us?”

“Cut the bull, Starsky. I was a detective when you were still in short pants. Get outside,” Dobey said as he hooked a thumb toward the doors.

Once they were outside, Dobey lit into them. “What in the ever livin’ hell were you thinking?”

“Cap,” Starsky started, but Dobey put a hand up to silence him.

“Hutch, how’re you doing?” Dobey asked.

“Fine,” Hutch answered.

Dobey nodded. “That’s good. Now I want you to explain what happened.”

“Let me take a crack at it, Cap. Hutch’s head hurts.” Starsky was trying to deflect attention from his partner.

“Hutchinson is the one with the stitches and the black eye. What the hell happened?”

Starsky put a hand on Hutch’s chest and looked at him intently.

Can you do this?

I think so.

I’m here if you can’t.

Thanks.

Captain Dobey had only been the dynamic duo’s superior officer for a little over a year. Over that time, he had watched the partners grow not only their skills as detectives, but their ability to communicate with each other no matter the circumstances, both with words and in silence.

“Hutch, unlike your partner here, I can’t hear you unless you speak out loud. Spill it.”

Starsky knew their silent conversations could be unsettling to other people and he thought that Dobey probably could tell they were conspiring to keep something from him.

Before it got any worse, Hutch tried to explain. “A man was jumped outside the Blue Star. When the switchblade came out, I gave chase. He got the better of me. Starsky backed me up.”

Starsky was relieved Hutch had used just enough words to do it justice. Concise, but adequate. Good boy. Probably the most words you’ve spoken in a row in two days.

Dobey harrumphed. “That’s the Reader’s Digest version.”

“Cap,” Starsky said, “we weren’t even on today. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I need to get him home.”

“You may not have been on duty, but you sure stepped in it this time. The victim at the Blue Star is dead and Hutch is lucky. I prefer CAREFUL over lucky. Go ahead and get him home, but you’d both better be in bright and early tomorrow. You can fill out the report then. You two didn’t catch this case, looks like it caught you. ‘In the wrong place at the wrong time’ is about to turn into something big.”

~*~*~

“Hutch,” Starsky said as he gave Hutch’s shoulder a light shake. He had let his partner sleep for a couple of hours after they got back to the apartment. “Time to wake up and let me see if you’re addled, buddy.”

Hutch woke up easily and his eyes were clear and focused. “Is it tomorrow?”

“Sorry. Still today. Head hurtin’?”

“More like throbbing.”

“Come on out to the kitchen. I’ll get you some hot tea with a Tylenol chaser and we can talk.”

“Probably shouldn’t have any caffeine,” Hutch said as he got up and followed his friend out to the kitchen.

“‘S decaf,” Starsky said. “Some herbal stuff Ma sent me that’s not supposed to keep you awake.”

While Starsky puttered around the kitchen making the tea for a few minutes in silence, Hutch watched him and waited for him to start the conversation. He tried to gauge whether what his partner had to say to him was going to come in as a storm, a calm discussion, or in a lecture format. Better be prepared for all three. Whatever he has to say, I deserve it. He knew Starsky had to be furious with him, but he guessed that his anger was being tamped down by his concern over the entire situation or he would have read him the riot act already. He knew every shade of emotion his partner typically showed and what he could see in his stance was confirmed in his eyes when Starsky sat down at the table.

Starsky got right to it, with no preamble. “I need you to explain to me what happened this morning.”

“I reacted, Starsk. That’s all.”

Starsky shook his head. “Remember me? You’re cute, I’m careful. That wasn’t cute OR careful. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, I guess. I saw what went down and I jumped in. That’s all.”

“Tell me about it.”

Hutch closed his eyes and tried to picture what he’d seen. “Okay. After you went to clean up, I sat at the table staring out the window and thinking about all the things I wanted to say to you. While I was in the middle of that, I saw a guy run up on another guy and try to snatch his briefcase.” He paused for a sip of tea and to swallow the Tylenol his partner had brought him.

“The man tried to resist and the perp wrestled with him for a few seconds. Then, he pulled out a blade and knifed the guy in the chest. That’s when I started moving. I looked back for you, but you were still in the restroom. I only had a split second to decide to go after him, or let it go. I decided and ran.”

Starsky had watched him without blinking. His tight jaw told Hutch he was pretty angry. “You should have let him go.”

“How could I do that, Starsk?” Hutch asked. “I’d just watched this dude knife the guy with the briefcase cold. He’s dangerous.”

“I know. That’s my whole point. You had nothing with you. This guy was bigger than both of us. You had no gun, no cuffs, and no me.”

Hutch dropped his chin and stared at his tea. “I know. Guess I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“Did you realize when you ran after the guy that you didn’t have your gun? Did you remember?”

Hutch shook his head. “Not at first.”

Starsky raised his eyebrows at that. “You sure about that?”

Hutch hadn’t ever experienced his partner’s skilled interrogation style as the interviewee. They’d played their parts over many cases. Good cop — bad cop. Starsky was almost always bad cop, but sometimes he played neither role. Instead of good or bad cop, he played unrelenting cop. Logical, unswerving, and utterly unshakeable.

Hutch nodded. “I’m sure. I really didn’t think about it until we got to that alley and he pulled out the switchblade. I knew it was bad, but I was kind of committed at that point.”

The phone rang and broke Starsky’s concentration. He looked toward it, then back toward Hutch. “We ain’t done. Not by a long shot.”

Starsky stood and went to answer the phone. “Hello.”

Hutch wasn’t sure, but guessed it must be Huggy based on the part of the conversation he could hear.

“Hangin’ in… No… Yeah, that’s right… Okay. See ya in a while.” Starsky hung up and said, “Huggy’s on his way over.”

Starsky needed to pace and that’s exactly what he did–from the stove to the wall behind the table and back again half a dozen times.

Eventually, he spun on his heel and looked Hutch in the eyes again. “Truth time, partner,” he said. “We’re supposed to be back on duty in the morning. Dobey says we’re onto something big with whatever this is and I want to see where it leads. I’m gonna need you watching my back. Can I trust you with your gun?”

Hutch didn’t look away this time. “You can,” he replied. You can always trust me to use it to protect you, no matter what.

So much was still going on behind Starsky’s concerned eyes. He needed to feel all right about this and he clearly didn’t. “Part of truth time is for me to be truthful with you, Hutch. You scared me. I haven’t been that scared since my dad bled to death in my arms and I was only twelve then. I wasn’t even that scared in the middle of firefights in ‘Nam.” Starsky rarely talked about his dad and he almost never mentioned Vietnam and it plucked at Hutch’s heart that his situation had caused Starsky’s mind to go there.

“I know and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Blintz. Just be sure you’re telling me the truth. You nearly broke me into a million pieces last night and then today, I left you for less than two minutes and you took chances with your safety that I shouldn’t ignore.”

Starsky’s eyes were imploring, the hurt in them heart breaking. Hutch wasn’t sure how he could take the depth of his best friend’s obvious pain over all that had happened in the past two days. Hutch had put that pain there and the guilt of it was almost more than he could stand in his current state. He questioned himself as to how he would be feeling under similar circumstances and that only made his chest twist into a tighter knot. He struggled with how to explain where his head was at before he spoke again, reaching across the short divide between them and putting a hand on Starsky’s arm.

“I didn’t plan that. I swear I didn’t. That said, I won’t lie and tell you it never occurred to me. When that switchblade came out and I knew how much trouble I was in, I did what I had to and I just didn’t care if he killed me. It’s not like I was going to let him kill me. It’s just that if he did, I didn’t care. That’s the truth of it.”

~*~*~

As he let that statement soak in, Starsky stared at his partner for a long time. He knew he was out of options. Tell Dobey and possibly lose his partner to what could be a career ending psych leave, or give in against his better judgment and risk losing Hutch to the big gun that would be both of their undoing if things went the wrong way. He looked at Hutch’s eyes reading the message he was clearly sending with them– Make me believe you.

“I can’t make you believe me, buddy. If you want me to, I’ll give it back to you after every shift until you feel safe.”

Starsky paced away and turned his back on Hutch. “It ain’t a matter of me feeling safe. It’s a matter of me knowing YOU are safe. If I give it back and you… you aren’t safe, I could never forgive myself.” He paused to allow Hutch time to consider that for a moment. Then, he added with a bitter tone, ‘Course you won’t know about that if you’re dead.”

“Don’t do that,” Hutch implored.

Starsky whirled on him. “Do what? Care? Agonize over your safety? WHAT?”

“Don’t blame yourself for what’s wrong with me.”

Starsky considered that for a few heartbeats. He had so many things he wanted to say… needed to say. He struggled to think of the right words to help his best friend.

“What can I say to help you?”

“You are helping me, Starsk, just by being here. You’re trying to steady me. Right now, all I can see is the next minute, the next step.  I can’t even think about what comes after that.  Don’t worry about what to say to me.”

“I’m glad you think I’m helping, but I’m shooting in the dark here, Hutch.  If I say or do the wrong thing, you could slip away from me and I can’t stand it.  Would it help if I told you I really will blame myself if I’m wrong and I lose you?  It’s like you stepped on a mine and I’m scrambling to figure out how to defuse it without blowing you to kingdom come.”

“You can’t fix me, buddy.  All you can do is what you’re doing.  You’re my anchor.”

“Okay, Hutch. I have a question for you. Would you blame yourself if it were me?”

Hutch shuddered at the thought. “You gotta ask?”

“Don’t ask me to do what you couldn’t do yourself.”

“You have me there, partner.”

“I know.”

“Are you always this sure of yourself?” Hutch asked.

“Oh, hell no. I usually am about you, partner, but I’m running on pure instinct this time.  Work with me.”

~*~*~

Starsky opened the door to Huggy, who froze without even a greeting because he’d been met at the door by his friend still dressed in the clothes Hutch had bled on earlier in the day.

“Welcome to Worryville,” Starsky said as he turned and paced away from Huggy.

Huggy followed him into the kitchen to put down the bags he was carrying. Along the way he noted Hutch’s torn and bloody jacket lying on the back of the couch next to Starsky’s also blood stained jacket. Hutch was not in sight, but the shower was running.

“You wanna tell me what happened here?”

“He got himself into a hairy situation with a switchblade wielding suspect today.”

Huggy whistled. “Not good.”

“No. When you have your partner watching your back, the switchblade usually loses when you play a round of gun, cuffs, switchblade. Guess what happens when you play unarmed, no cuffs, switchblade and your partner doesn’t know where you are?”

Huggy watched his friend pace in a few tight circles, with multiple emotions playing across his face. Starsky looked hurt, worried, frightened, and angry all at once.

“Is he okay?” Huggy’s question had multiple meanings.

“If you mean was he hurt bad, no it wasn’t too bad, thank God. He bled a lot and he got banged on the head, but not hard enough to black out. If you mean is he better than last night, not really. He’s coherent and talking, but he ain’t even in ‘okay’s’ neighborhood.”

Huggy had high hopes that by this afternoon, things would be improving. “Y’all weren’t even on today. How did this happen?”

Starsky explained the morning’s events with what he had seen and what Hutch had told him. “He says he didn’t realize how much trouble he was in until the guy pulled the switchblade out on him. I swear I was only away from him for a minute or two. If this hadn’t happened right in front of him, I think he would have stayed at the table like he promised me he would. He wasn’t bullshitting me. As careful as I was with him, he could have died this morning anyway. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“You gonna give it to him?”

“NOT having it could have killed him. He might not have done it consciously, but he took a huge risk today. What if I hadn’t gotten there?”

“Reckless.” Huggy sighed. “Do you still think he’s got you covered?” Huggy hadn’t stopped worrying that Hutch was in no position to protect his partner in his present state of mind.

“I told you,” Starsky answered coolly, “he may take chances with his safety, but he won’t with mine.”

Starsky’s anger and frustration were climbing to that level that Huggy knew would soon lead to an explosion. Somebody needed to keep an eye on him while Starsky was watching out for his partner. Hutch didn’t need Starsky exploding all over him to add to his pain.

“Starsk, I have an hour or two before I have to get to the bar. Take a break. Go for a run. Do whatever it is you do, and I’ll hang with him ‘til you get back.”

“Thanks, but….”

“Go. I’ve got this. Get your head back on straight and decide what to do. I have stuff to show him and talk to him about anyway. I think I found him a couple of great places.”

Starsky smiled.  “Guess you can tell my tach’s pegged, huh?”

“In the red zone.”

“‘S only been one day and I’m already climbing the walls.”

“Starsk, go do what you need to do. Blow off some steam, huh?  I’ll take care of him for ya.”

“Thanks. I really could use a break. Tell him I had a couple of errands to run. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Before Hutch came back out from taking his shower, Starsky was out in the Torino, heading to who-knows-where to try to get his head together and get ready for what might be next.

~*~*~

Huggy had brought soup that he heated up while he waited for Hutch to come out of the bathroom. Some time alone and the chance to talk to Hutch without Starsky would be good. Though Starsky was confident that Hutch would keep him safe, Huggy had his doubts and he wanted to have a serious talk with the blond half of the dynamic duo.

Hutch finally emerged, towel drying his hair. When he looked up, he was surprised to see Huggy instead of his partner. He froze for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. Huggy beat him to it.

“Hey, Blondie. What it is?” he said, trying to put Hutch as at ease as he could.

“Huggy,” Hutch answered with a nod. He was wearing a pair of corduroys and a t-shirt, leaving his bandaged arm in plain view. His blue eyes looked extra bright surrounded on one side of his face by a blackening bruise. “Where’s Starsky?”

“Out,” Huggy answered. “Said he’d be back in an hour.”

Hutch raised an eyebrow, wondering what that was about, but asking nothing more about it. Maybe he just needed a break.

“Come on in here and sit,” Huggy directed. “I have soup.”

“Not hungry,” Hutch replied, “thanks anyway.”

Huggy’s smile faded and his tone grew more serious. “No doubt. Come on in here anyway. We need to talk.”

~*~*~

Hutch was embarrassed and he wasn’t sure how to face his friend. Though he knew Huggy had been there for him with Starsky the night before, he had little memory of it–just gratitude for it. He made no attempt to resist. Something unusual for him when someone was telling him to do something he didn’t want to do, but also something he thought he owed his worried friends. He sat down wearily at the table again, starting to wonder how a seemingly innocent place like his best friend’s kitchen table had become an interrogation spot. Huggy put a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him.

“Eat some of that,” he directed. “You’re runnin’ on fumes and you have to work tomorrow.”

Hutch couldn’t deny that. He quirked just the smallest and briefest smile at his friend and promised himself he would at least try to eat it. “Where’d you learn to make chicken noodle?” he asked.

“Your partner gave me his mama’s recipe for matzo ball soup. Pretty good, too. The Bear don’t get matzo, so noodles will have to do.”

After he’d put some of the soup away, Hutch asked, “Do you know where he went?”

The impact of the strain Starsky was struggling under would have been evident to someone much less skilled at navigating through troubled Starsky-and-Hutch waters than Huggy was and Hutch was hoping to hear something from him that would put some of his worry to rest.

“No clue. Like I said, he said he had errands and he’d be back in an hour or so.”

Hutch looked up into Huggy’s deeply concerned eyes and said, “Thanks, Huggy. For everything.”

“How is it today?” Huggy asked.

Hutch knew Huggy had something specific on his mind, and though he speculated about what it could be, he really wasn’t sure. You okay? Is Starsky okay? You gonna be alive the next time I come over here?

“How is it? Weird, that’s how. Numb. Dark.” That was as much depth of honesty as Hutch could muster at the moment.  His heart was aching as much as his battered body parts.

Looks like you got into it today,” Huggy said.

“I did. Didn’t really mean to, but I did.”

Huggy let that statement lie for a bit while Hutch finished his soup. At least he would be able to tell Starsky the man had eaten, which was no doubt an improvement over much of the past 48 hours. When Hutch finally dropped the spoon into the empty bowl, Huggy said, “I have more.”

“No way. Thanks, but I probably shouldn’t push it.”

Huggy cleared away the table. Broaching the subject that needed to be discussed would be tough.

Hutch watched him and knew he had to be wondering what was next. By the time Huggy sat down at the table and slid a shot glass of whiskey across the table toward him, Hutch knew he was in for some heavy conversation.

“Do you have any idea?” Huggy started. “Any idea at all how scary last night was?”

Hutch shook his head and took a sip of the whiskey. “No. I don’t remember a lot of it.”

“He called me for help. When I heard his voice, I knew I’d better get here, because his world had stopped spinnin’.”

Hutch looked down at the whiskey glass and let that thought wash over him. He was out cold when Starsky reached out to their friend in desperation and had no memory of the call.

Huggy continued. “I jammed over to your pad with no idea what was happenin’, just that it was bad and it was probably about you. I’ve never seen that look in his eyes, Hutch. Never… and I pray I never see it again. You dig that?”

Hutch nodded. “I’m sorry, Huggy.” He truly was remorseful for the pain he’d put both of his friends through, but that didn’t turn him away from the empty ache that had driven him to such despair. That was still there.

“I never wanted to hurt you guys, Hug,” he said.

Huggy was friends with Starsky for a long time before he was introduced to Hutch. They had met when Starsky was in high school and Huggy was in junior high.  Starsky made a lot more sense to the streetwise Huggy, while Hutch was often more of an enigma. Hutch was more sensitive and sophisticated. He had a metaphysical nature that played well against his practical Brooklyn-raised friend. Initially, Huggy had liked Hutch right away, but he loved him for his obvious devotion to Starsky. Over time he learned to love Hutch for a lot of other reasons, including his fierce loyalty. Though it was rare for him to do so, Hutch had accepted Huggy into his inner circle because Starsky held him dear.

“I have something to ask,” Huggy stated. “I need you to think about it hard before you answer and it’s heavy.”

“Okay. Hit me,” Hutch said.

Huggy snorted at that. “You just be sure you don’t hit ME,” he said. “Maybe Curly could take it, but that pile driver right cross of yours might just snap the Bear.”

Hutch was surprised by that comment. He had never hit Starsky and he would never go after Huggy like that. Still, he couldn’t deny that he had a reputation for being able to pack a strong wallop. Whatever Huggy wants to ask, he must be worried that it will make me mad. Hutch braced himself. “You know I wouldn’t do that,” he reassured.

“Ordinarily, no. But this involves him and you takin’ care of him. I gotta know… can you do your job?”

That question took Hutch aback. Throughout this crisis the one thing he’d held onto was that he could still protect his partner as long as he was alive. His despondency was in no way related to his need to keep Starsky safe. He was sure he’d earned the question, but unsure if he should be angry or hurt by it.

“How can you ask that?” he snapped, a little fire showing in his eyes.

Huggy stood firm. “‘Cause he loves you too much to report this and I love both of y’all too much to watch you let him get hurt… or worse. You think you feel low now? You may want to die, but he don’t, and me and him don’t want you to either. I know Vanessa splittin’ on you crashed your heart, but think ’bout this. What would it do to your heart if you lost him? What if it was your fault?”

Hutch simmered over that a little. He took another sip of the whiskey and then looked Huggy in the eyes again and said, “Covering my partner is one of the most important things in my life. No matter what happened last night or happens in the days to come, I can and will protect him.”

That was a strong enough and sincere enough promise for Huggy, but he wasn’t finished with this subject yet. “A’right. You convinced me, but I’m puttin’ you on notice. You see that you do. I’m gonna have words with your partner after every shift and if I even sniff that you ain’t doin’ your thing, I’ll call Dobey myself no matter what Starsky wants. Believe it.”

Hutch nodded. “Fair enough.”

Huggy sat back a little more relaxed and said, “Thanks for not hittin’ me.”

“Thanks for caring about him so much.”

Huggy shook his head. “Not just him, Blondie. You know that. In fact, the Bear is gonna prove it. Wait’ll you see what I found for ya.”

~*~*~

At first Starsky thought that maybe doing some mundane things would calm his nerves. He filled the Torino’s gas tank and studiously cleaned all of her windows. Still in his blood stained clothes, the places Starsky could go without drawing too much attention were limited. He drove around a while before he stopped for some coffee at a 7-11 and took it with him to a nearby park. Nothing was helping so far. His churning emotions were just below the surface and he knew he had to think of some way to unload them before he imploded.

Although it was still an hour and a half until sunset, the tall eucalyptus trees already blocked the sun and the early evening light was beginning to dim.  Starsky decided to use the light to go through the things in the storage compartment in the trunk. Huggy had put the Colt inside and Starsky stood and stared at it for a while. He brushed his fingertips across the cool metal.

Hutch had replaced his police department issued weapon with this monster about six months earlier. Starsky thought the circumstances that brought on the Magnum’s acquisition were ironically similar to his partner’s experience with the suspect that morning hitting him over the head with a briefcase.

The detectives had run in opposite directions to apprehend two murder/robbery suspects. By luck of the draw, Hutch got the one who was armed and Starsky had tangled with his enormous unarmed cohort in the alley behind the St. Anthony hotel. By the time Hutch got back to him, the drug-crazed giant criminal had overpowered his partner and was proceeding to repeatedly beat the downed man over the head with the lid from a metal trashcan. Hutch fired a warning shot that had no effect, followed by three direct hits into the man before he dropped. Starsky smiled at the memory of the first time his partner had pulled the cannon. He had not explained the swap in weapons, but Starsky knew what had caused it. Now the big gun was like an extension of his partner’s hand. Starsky couldn’t argue with the Colt’s stopping power, but he didn’t like the gun’s kick. Hutch had the hands and wrists for it and he had quickly mastered the recoil.

Starsky locked the gun up again. He pulled out the quilt Huggy had thrown back into the trunk and snapped it before he folded it. When he got it out, he spotted something in the back part of the trunk that gave him an idea. A glance at his watch told him his intended destination would be open for another thirty minutes. Nothing so far had helped, but Starsky suddenly knew what he needed to do. He took his jacket off and tossed it in with the quilt before he slammed the trunk shut.

Ten minutes later, Starsky walked into the front office of RJ Wrecking and Salvage. RJ was a retired cop who had inherited the scrap yard and made a good business out of it after he left the force following a disabling injury that left him unable to do his job on the streets. He had tried to work in Records, but couldn’t take the boredom.

RJ had also been instrumental in Starsky’s acquisition of the Torino. RJ owned a body shop and he had a close friend who worked for one of the local studios producing weekly television series.  That friend had hooked him up to take in three cars for custom paint jobs for a police drama pilot.  Ford had delivered three Torinos from the upcoming model year painted plain white and RJ’s bodywork specialists had prepped them in three different paint styles for the studio to review.  In the end, they selected one of the cars and declared the other two unacceptable.  RJ had a choice of paying cost for the two unwanted cars and keeping them or shipping them back to be scrapped.

RJ had gotten wind of the fact that Starsky’s prized 1971 Mach 1 Mustang had been totaled  under awful circumstances and he immediately thought of letting him see the cars before they went back to Ford.  Both of them were deemed too flashy to be believable for undercover cops.  Starsky fell in love with the red one with the white stripe and wound up getting a newer-than-new car a couple of months before it would be released to the public.  With the insurance money, he had been able to pay cash for it.  His Torino had a custom paint job that made it unique at least until it was seen on the streets.

“Starsky!” RJ said with a smile. His smile quickly faded when he registered how the detective looked — blood stained, weary, carrying a black wooden baseball bat, and alone. He had worked at Metro for the last part of his career and he knew Starsky and Hutch. The combination of Starsky’s appearance and the lack of his partner’s presence worried him. “Where’s your blonder half?”

“My place. I needed some thinking time,” he replied.

“I see.” RJ pointed at Starsky’s jeans. “Nothing to do with that, I’m sure.”

Starsky’s face flushed a little. “RJ, I need a favor and no questions.”

RJ could see the barely contained emotion in the younger man’s eyes. He was obviously wound tighter than a tiger waiting to pounce. Realizing what Starsky intended, he nodded and pointed toward the back door. “Have at it.”

Starsky went out into the yard. He walked deep into the piles of cars back near the crusher. He knew the cars back there had already been stripped of anything that RJ could use, and that he was far enough away from the front for anyone to hear.

He had kept his emotions under wraps for so many hours by this point, he needed to pace around for a few moments to allow the flood gate to open so he could release his pain and anger. When the strong emotions broke the surface, he stalked over to a rusted 1950s era station wagon and unleashed on it with his bat. The power of the contact between the bat and surfaces nowhere near as soft as a baseball jarred his hands and his arms, but he didn’t care. He moved around the car banging on the metal and busting out the windows that still were intact without noticing the shards of glass that flew everywhere, stinging his face, hands, and forearms. The hood had been removed, leaving the nearly gutted engine compartment exposed. Swinging away at the remaining parts, metal zinged all around him and a sharp piece of it caught his arm as he swung past. Eventually, the bat split in his hands leaving him with just the splintered lower third while the other part sailed off in front of the abused car.

“Son of a bitch!” he shouted, not yet done letting out the steam he had stuffed down all day. He angrily threw the remaining part of the bat and went after the car with his hands. Whatever parts he successfully ripped or kicked free from the old bucket, he flung as far as he could into the rubble pile. He had to brace himself with his foot on the driver side door to wrench free the side view mirror he had gotten a start on with the bat. He lost his balance and landed on his backside in the dirt. That motion knocked the wind out of his sails and he slumped back to look up at the darkening sky. He lay there long enough to catch his breath and gauge whether it had been enough. He thought so.

The chance to take his anger, fear, and frustration out on an inanimate object had done just what he needed it to do. When he thought he was okay to go back out into the world, he got to his feet, brushed as much dirt and glass as he could off of himself, and headed back toward the small building in the front.

When he came in through the back door, RJ handed him a clean shop towel and a cold soda from his refrigerator. He made a quick assessment that though the bat was missing and he was bloodier than he’d been when he came in, Starsky hadn’t done any serious damage to himself.

“Thanks, RJ,” Starsky said.

“Any time,” the man replied.

Starsky turned the sign on the front door from the “open” to the “closed” side and said, “I was never here,” without turning back to see if that was going to fly. He trusted RJ.

RJ walked to the door and looked out through the glass with a concerned frown as he turned the lock. “Good luck,” he said to the back of the Torino as it pulled away in a cloud of dust.

~*~*~

Starsky pulled up to his apartment and turned off the engine. He looked at himself in the rear view mirror before he got out of the car and realized what a mess he was. Terrific. I look like I’ve spent time in a sand blaster. He ran his fingers through his hair and wiped his face again with the shop towel. When he caught what turned out to be a small piece of glass in a cut over his eyebrow, he winced and took the time to extract it. That would have to do. He quickly formulated a plan and got out to execute it. First, he retrieved his jacket from the trunk and deposited the empty soda can and bloody shop towel inside. He put the jacket back on to at least somewhat hide his dirty clothes and the damage to his hands and arms as best he could.

He could see the light wasn’t on in the living room. That would help some; they must be in the kitchen. Pausing for a moment to gather some energy after his weary climb up the stairs, he bounced through the front door and left it open behind him. His friends had left the porch light on for him and he was hoping that would put him in silhouette even though it was just dusk, not really dark yet.

“Hey,” he said as Huggy and Hutch looked up from what they were doing at the table.

“Hey, yourself,” Hutch replied.

“Come on in here and take a look,” Huggy said indicating something on the table.

Starsky shook his head and said, “In a minute. Can first.” He shut the front door and beelined it for the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him, effectively squelching any reply from his friends.

While the shower water got hot, he pulled off his sticky, filthy clothes and stuffed them down in the bottom of the hamper. Might as well pitch them. He wasn’t sure how to get out the bizarre combination of stains on them including blood, dirt, sweat, engine grease, coffee, and rust. Good thing I wasn’t found dead in those. Forensics would have a field day with all of that.

The hot water felt great on his sore body, but it also stung the myriad small cuts and scratches he had, as well as the deeper gash on his right forearm where that jagged metal had caught him. That was going to require a couple of butterfly bandages to seal.

The insides of both palms were starting to show bruising from the force of his hits, more evidence that he’d been out doing more than just errands, and he had a deep splinter from the baseball bat that he’d just noticed in the meat of his left hand. At least he could clean up and only the worst of the damage was going to show. While he finished up and thought of something to say about where he had been he quietly laughed at himself. His mother had told him he was capable of spectacular tempter tantrums when he was a small boy and he thought it was amusing that he’d obviously never completely outgrown them. This time was worth it. Dissipating his emotional charge on that car instead of taking it out on Hutch in a giant explosion was a fair trade for the minor physical damage done.

After cleaning and dressing everything that needed it, he reluctantly had to admit to himself that he was going to need Hutch’s help to remove the deeply embedded splinter in his left hand. He just didn’t have the dexterity with his right hand to get it.

Huggy and Hutch were still sitting in the kitchen when he emerged in his robe and headed for the bedroom for clothes. He put some things away and then pulled out sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt to at least attempt to cover the bigger cuts he had. Fortunately, the only thing on his face that was very noticeable was that cut over his left eyebrow and it didn’t need to be covered.

His friends looked up at him as he came to join them at the kitchen table and when the light hit his face Huggy said, “Man! You been in a fight?”

“Nothing like that,” Starsky replied. “I’m fine.” He set the peroxide and some gauze down next to Hutch and held out the tweezers for him as he took a seat. “See if you can get that out.”

Hutch took the offered hand and looked at the bruising on it. He grabbed the other hand and looked at it, too, turning both hands over to look at Starsky’s knuckles. “Not a fight, but what the hell happened to you?”

Starsky shook his head at him and said, “Just get the splinter, huh?”

Huggy watched in fascination as Hutch worked on tending his partner and they had a silent confab about what was going on with him.

You really okay?

Fine.

Right.

Really, I’m better.

Worth it?

Yes.

Huggy shook his head and said to Hutch, “I’ll heat up some of that soup while you work the hand.”

Hutch reached and turned Starsky’s head to the side. “Any glass in there?” he asked.

“Not anymore,” Starsky replied. How does he always know?

When Hutch cleaned the splinter wound out with peroxide, Starsky said “Ouch! Man that hurts!”

“It should,” Hutch stated.

“Nice. No sympathy,” Starsky said.

Huggy put the soup down in front of Starsky, “You sure he’s okay,” he asked Hutch.

“Only minor damage,” Hutch replied. “He’s complaining. You really don’t have to worry about him as much if he’s complaining. When he swears in English, that means it’s worse. If he’s swearing in some random language like Polish or Yiddish it’s worse still. He’s stoic as a statue when it’s serious.”

Starsky chuckled. “Dirtball.”

Hutch smiled at him and patted his arm to indicate he was finished with the torture. He touched the bandaging Starsky had done on the cut on that arm and pulled the hand toward him so he could push up Starsky’s sleeve for a look. He shook his head. “That the worst of it?”

“Uh-huh.”

Hutch pulled the sleeve back down with a nod. “You’re welcome,” he said.

Starsky was glad to see Hutch’s mood seemed lighter. That must mean his time with Huggy had done him some good and brought him another step back from the edge. He took a bite of the soup and said to Huggy, “Hey, that’s Ma’s recipe!”

“Sure is. You like the noodles?”

“Well, they’re no matzo balls, but they’re good.”

“Sorry, my Hebrew brother. In my ‘hood, it’s noodles.”

That comment got a laugh out of both partners.

“Did he eat some?” Starsky asked.

Hutch answered that one, “He did.”

That was the right answer. Starsky smiled and indicated the papers, map, and Polaroids spread across the table.

“Did you find something good?” Starsky asked.

“Yep. Take a look.”

Starsky looked through the photos and descriptions of the places Huggy had found. He’d done a lot of work in one day. “How’d you have the time to go to all these places?”

“I called in a favor or two.”

“Let me guess, you have a cousin in real estate.”

“I do, among other places. Which one do you like?”

Huggy and Hutch had spent the time while Starsky was out having their heart-to-heart talk and going over Huggy’s selection of potential places for Hutch to live.

“I wasn’t sure about moving, but I get why you would want me to,” Hutch said to Starsky.

Starsky responded, “I understand, but if I remember right Vanessa picked that apartment without any input from you.”

Hutch nodded.  “True. Take a look at the pictures and see what you think.”

Starsky studied the photos and looked at the map. He tapped on the picture of the place he liked best and said, “This one. Is it here?” he pointed to the map.

“That’s it,” Huggy said with a smile. “You two are definitely simpatico. That’s Blondie’s pick, too.”

Instead of an apartment, this place was a small bungalow right down on one of the canals. A glance back at the map told him it was right where he had asked Huggy to look and that pleased him. Far enough away for his introspective partner to have some solitude when the timing was right, but close enough to Starsky’s place to suit them both.

Still, this was a house and it was bound to be out of Hutch’s frugal price range.

“What’s the bad news?” he asked.

“That’s the best part,” Huggy replied. “This place is cheaper than the apartment.”

Hutch quipped, “Guess what, another cousin.”

“No, now, let’s be fair,” Huggy said. “Not exactly a cousin. This place belongs to my cousin’s brother-in-law’s sister’s best friend’s elderly aunt. She just moved into a nursing home, the house is paid for, and the family just wants to rent it out for a reasonable price to someone dependable to help with the nursing home bills. They don’t want to fool with some of the types they might get down there to rent it, if you get my drift, and the place is too small for any more than one or two people.”

“That’s some chain of custody,” Starsky remarked.

“Yeah, well the Bear has a lot of connections, you know. The place needs work, but I figure you two could fix it up some and it’d be just right.”

“When’s it available?” Starsky asked.

Huggy replied, “They need about two weeks. They’re still moving out the old lady’s stuff and they promised to paint and clean the inside before they turned over the keys.”

That seemed good to Starsky. He was hoping he’d be able to ease up on his vigilant watch over his partner by the time two weeks passed. That should give them time to get some things bought to replace what Vanessa had taken with her.

They sat and discussed logistics for a while and Huggy repeated to Starsky what he’d already told Hutch about what he was doing all day with the help of his various cousins and contacts running down some options for him. Huggy shoved a change of address form and an application for a post office box across the table to Starsky.

“What’s this for, I’m not moving.”

“Ain’t it never occurred to the two of you that you should have P.O. boxes ‘stead of getting your mail at your places and having your home addresses out there in front of God and everybody?”

That question took Starsky by surprise. He had never given that any thought, but now that Huggy mentioned it, he thought it made perfect sense. Just in the short time they had been undercover detectives–first in narcotics and then in homicide–they had gotten a lot of dangerous people angry at them. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to have their home addresses on their bills and letters. Not that such a simple thing would deter anyone for long who was bound and determined to get to them, but it couldn’t hurt.

“Why didn’t we ever think of that?” he asked Hutch.

“Guess we’re not smarter than the average Bear.”

“I squared things away with Hutch’s landlady.  She was really nice about it.  Let me sweet talk her into letting Blondie off the hook without owing her any money since he was paid up through the end of the month.”

“Any luck with the security deposit?”

“Yeah. She promised she’d have a check for it in his mailbox within the next two or three days.  Maybe that will give him enough money for a security deposit on his new place.  He can give her the mailbox key after his mail starts coming to his new place.”

“Huggy, you’re a master of many trades, bro’,” Starsky said with obvious appreciation and affection.

“I do my best,” Huggy replied. “Now, if you two don’t need me any more this evening, I have a bar to tend.”

Starsky said, “Thanks for everything Hug. We owe ya.”

“You drive by the little house tomorrow and make sure. You want it, I’ll pass the word.”

After Huggy left, the partners moved to the living room. Starsky got them each a beer and they sat in the darker room talking without bothering to turn on the light. Starsky wanted to hear all about the conversation that had taken place while he was gone.

“We mostly looked at the stuff he brought to show us,” Hutch told him.

“Mostly, huh. What else?”

“Oh, this and that.”

“You talked about me, right?”

“You oughta be a detective.”

“Damn straight. What gives?”

Hutch sat in silence for a minute before he continued. “Huggy’s a good friend, you know.”

“The best.”

Hutch took a sip of his beer and his expression got a little darker. “You ever heard of a ‘come to Jesus’ meeting, Starsk?” he asked.

Starsky laughed. “No. What is it.”

“Well, it’s sort of a throw down. Huggy laid one on me while you were out blowing off steam.”

“So you knew that’s what I was doing?”

“You’re kidding, right? ‘Course I did.”

“Yeah, well I guess you wrote the book on me, buddy. What did he say during this ‘throw down’?”

“Threatened me with Dobey if I wasn’t towing the line keeping your ass safe on the streets.”

Starsky sputtered his beer and laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “He’s pretty worried about that. Told me so. What’d you tell him?”

“The truth. Nothing going on with me changes that. I’ve got your back.”

Since the tone had turned so serious, Starsky took advantage of the moment. “I never doubted it, partner. How you doing?”

“I’m trying, buddy. I’m trying hard.”

~*~*~

The next morning, Hutch followed Starsky down to the Torino. When they got to the car, he put a hand on Starsky’s arm and said, “It’s fish or cut bait time, buddy.”

Starsky nodded at him. “Under your seat,” he responded. While Hutch was in the shower, Starsky had gone down and gotten Hutch’s gun out and ready for duty. He locked it in the car under the front seat. His instincts told him that they weren’t out of the woods yet, but he was hoping working a case would help him get Hutch’s mind on other things.

Hutch finished adjusting his holster as Starsky revved the Torino’s engine. “Thanks, partner,” he said. “You really okay with this?”

Starsky nodded. “Yeah, but I’m nervous. Wouldn’t you be?”

“I would. Don’t worry, okay?” Hutch had to laugh at himself. “Okay, TRY not to worry?”

Starsky backed into the street and replied, “I’ll get back to you on that.”

Twenty minutes later they were in Dobey’s office, eager to find out what this case was going to bring them. Starsky sat in the chair, and Hutch perched on the arm.

“How’s the head?” Dobey asked Hutch.

“Better. I’m fine.”

“That’s good. Both of you are going to need all of your energy for this case, so pay attention.”

Dobey passed a file folder to Starsky for his men to review. “Looks like you two have stumbled onto something worth looking into.”

Starsky shuffled the papers inside the file folder and came across a photo of what was in that briefcase. The accompanying papers detailed the contents as a list of names and $15,000 in cash. Starsky lifted his eyes to look into Dobey’s. He knew what it meant.

“What?” Hutch asked.

“You could call it a franchise payment,” Starsky replied.

“A what?”

Dobey answered. “Good way to put it. A franchise payment. You want to explain that to your partner, Starsky?”

Hutch had gone to the academy with Starsky. That time had forged their friendship and established the fact that they intended to be partners as soon as they could both pass the detective examination. They had been partners for a while and as close as they were, Hutch was still learning things about Starsky.

Starsky said, “What it means is that we have new gangland players in town, and whoever had that briefcase was attempting to buy in with one of the big guns.”

“Give your partner a gold star, Hutchinson.” Captain Dobey reached into his desk for another file and handed it to Hutch.

While Hutch looked at the folder, Starsky elaborated on the contents of the briefcase. “The money is probably a buy-in payment to eliminate the names on the list.”

“Vic Monty?” Hutch said as he started through the file. “I thought he was New York syndicate.”

Captain Dobey replied, “He always has been. Recently, he decided to open a west coast operation right here in our fair city. Seems he’s decided to be a snow bird here in California instead of in Florida.  Guess he’s here doing some prep work.”

“Terrific,” Starsky said. “What do we know about the guy with the briefcase and the guy who killed him?”

“Your vic is one Jack Shields. He was apparently on his way to a meet with the money. The perp is Ted Kendall. He’s down in lockup waiting for you to interview him before his arraignment at eleven o’clock this morning. The list of charges includes assault on a police officer, attempted murder of a police officer, resisting arrest, murder two, grand theft, and several charges related to the blade he used on our vic and on Hutch.”

Hutch traded file folders with Starsky. After a few minutes read through for each, they started to discuss what they had.

“What about–” Hutch started.

“Unrelated,” Starsky finished. He continued, “Isn’t that Scalisi’s–.”

“Dead, remember?” Hutch replied.

“Hm.”

Dobey watched them interact for a while and said, “Fascinating as this is, get your tails down to interrogation to interview your suspect. I’ll call and tell them you’re on the way.” He handed a file folder on Ted Kendall over to Starsky.

“Does he know Shields died?” Starsky asked.

“No. I thought you two might like to break that to him.”

“Yeah, I think we would.”

As they headed to the interview room, Hutch had a lot of questions on his mind. “How’d you know about this franchise fee thing?” he asked.

Starsky smiled. “I know a lot of things you don’t know about yet, Blondie.” He flipped through the file folder one more time and changed the subject. “Kid’s waived his right to an attorney. Push or shove?”

“Push,” Hutch answered. “I enjoy watching you shove.”

Before they entered the interrogation room, Hutch pushed his sleeves up so his bandaged forearm would be in plain view. After each of them took a deep breath and slid into character, the detectives walked into the room. Starsky had an intense fire in his eyes and Hutch’s stance was cautious. This suspect had killed a man and had tried to kill him with first a switchblade and then a briefcase. He was a big man, taller than Hutch, but his bravado from the alley had melted away to reveal a scared young man just twenty three years old.

Starsky paced back and forth along the wall while Hutch pulled up a chair and folded his arms. Both detectives gave the attendant uniformed officer a nod before they began. Hutch looked the suspect in the eyes and made sure he had a good view of the damage on his face and forearm.

“Mr. Kendall,” he started. “My partner tells me he read you your rights. That true?”

Kendall nodded. Starsky had taken care of that on his way through the alleys to turn the suspect over to some uniformed officers. “You know you can have an attorney present.”

“Don’t want one,” the suspect replied sullenly.

“All right. We have questions, and as the cop you were trying to kill, I thought it should be me to ask them.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, man,” Kendall replied. “I just needed to get away and I needed you to quit chasing me!”

Starsky continued to pace, intensifying his gaze at the nervous man. “You sure about that, scum?” he snapped.

“Swear to God I wasn’t! I just got a little excited and… you weren’t even armed. How was I supposed to know you were even really a cop?”

Starsky continued to pace and glare. “Oh, so you think the fact my partner wasn’t armed makes it BETTER?”

Hutch shook his head at Starsky before continuing.

“We don’t have a lot of time ‘til you have to be in court, so let’s just get right down to it. You did come at me with a switchblade.” Hutch ran a finger down the bandage covering the blade’s damage. “Felt a lot like you were trying to kill me from my standpoint.”

“Look, man….”

Starsky pounced. He startled the suspect so badly, he started to tip over backward in his chair, but Starsky put a hand out to catch the back and then let it drop a few more inches to hit the wall behind it.

“Can the bullshit, Kendall,” he said, right up in the man’s face. “When you lost the blade, you tried to beat him to death with a briefcase! What the hell else were you trying to do?”

Kendall looked at the uniformed officer beseechingly, but the man stood still, ignoring him.

“I swear I wasn’t trying to kill nobody!”

Starsky pitched his voice low and menacing. “You could’ve fooled the guy with the briefcase. The man’s dead.”

Kendall paled at that news flash. “Nobody told me. They said it was attempted murder, not actual murder!

“I… I just had to get the briefcase and he fought me,” he stammered. “It was a reaction. Guess I got caught up in the heat of the fight.”

“We’re adding at least Murder Two to your charges,” Hutch said. “The DA may even want to go Murder One.” He knew that was pushing it, but the suspect probably didn’t.

According to his rap sheet, this was the deepest trouble Ted had been in to date. He was shaking and sweating as Starsky stood back away from him and pushed the back of the chair hard, sending it forward with a bang. The young man was eyeing a pack of cigarettes just outside of his reach. Hutch let him have one and waited for him to light it and take a couple of calming drags off of it before he continued to press. Starsky resumed his pacing.

“Now, Ted. My partner here is pretty angry over what you did. The fact that the other guy died looks real bad for you. The full reading of charges is going to include attempted murder of a police officer.”

Ted shook his head, his eyes closed in what was clearly disbelief at how far this mess had gone. He never meant to hurt Hutch badly, just to get him down so he could run away with the briefcase and he had gotten carried away during the fight. When he opened his eyes, Hutch could see he was completely terrified. “Don’t matter what they charge me with. I’m dead anyway.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You knew what was in that briefcase. Tell us who ordered you to grab it.”

Ted closed his eyes again and muttered, “I didn’t want to hurt nobody, I didn’t want to, I swear.”

Starsky went after him again. He snatched the cigarette out of his fingers and jammed it into the ashtray on the table. Starsky had learned his lesson about lit cigarettes in another interrogation. That time, he’d batted the cigarette out of his suspect’s hand causing it to flip into the uniformed officer’s shoe. Grabbing Kendall by the shirt and pulling him out of his seat, he slammed him up against the back wall. The kid was a few inches taller then Starsky and pretty solid, so he had to manhandle him to get him on his feet. All of this happened in a heartbeat in what was almost one smooth motion.

“Name!” Starsky demanded. “Give us a name!”

The uniformed officer hung back and let Hutch get the situation back under control. He’d seen these detectives in previous interrogations and was familiar with their style. Starsky would scare the suspect, but he wouldn’t really hurt Kendall. The show was always enjoyable and he played along by looking bored.

Hutch intervened, “Starsky!” he shouted. “Back off!” He wedged himself as much between his partner and the frightened suspect as he could.

Starsky stood his ground for an effective number of seconds, and then stepped back, releasing the suspect from his vice grip with a little shove behind the movement. He didn’t back away for several more seconds, until Hutch shot him a look. He’s intimidated enough.

“Take a break, Starsk,” Hutch said as he put the kid back into his seat.

Starsky glared at his partner with a look that clearly conveyed, “make me,” before he stomped away from them and out the door, slamming it hard in another seamless motion.

~*~*~

Hutch gave Kendall a new cigarette and said, “You’ll have to excuse Detective Starsky. He doesn’t much like murderers and he REALLY doesn’t like people who mess with his partner.” He clucked and shook his head at that.

“I’m not telling you nothin’,” the young man said. “I can’t.”

“You really ought to reconsider that, Ted. You’re in serious trouble here. If you were willing to cooperate, maybe we could get you some kind of a deal.”

“No kind of a deal is gonna fix this. I failed and I’m gonna die for it.”

That particular phrase went right into Hutch’s brain. He sat back and took a breath. Focus. Keep your head in here.

All Hutch said in reply was, “If you’re gonna die anyway, what do you have to lose?”

~*~*~

Jimmy Scalisi had held the far eastern sector of Bay City for years before he was shot to death in late 1972. His presence had kept a tight lid on the chaos that erupted soon after his death as two different factions competed for the territory in the void he left. While Scalisi had been strong, the heads of the two new competing gangs were both fairly weak. Neither one had been successfully able to eliminate the other.

The two gangs were about evenly matched. Scalisi’s cousin, Marco Burgio, headed one group and Tom Mailer was in charge of the other. They jockeyed for position and control over criminal activities from numbers running to prostitution to drugs. The back and forth battle was already growing tiresome to the combatants when Vic Monty decided to make Bay City his winter home. Though it was still summer, he was in town establishing his presence in preparation for the work to come. He had mob family connections in the area and they had negotiated a deal for Monty’s outfit to take over management of some unruly parts of town that had gotten difficult to control in the past couple of years. Monty’s people would oversee operations on the docks and in the inner city. They carved out the new territory and systematically began taking over and pushing out any small time operators who weren’t willing to cooperate. The word started to spread what would happen to anyone who wasn’t cooperative, and what would be required to both stay alive and come out ahead of the game. Mailer’s people were smart enough to make the first move.

Mailer approached Monty’s gang with a proposal. His people would give Monty’s enforcers a list of names from Burgio’s gang along with a $15,000 up front payment that would be the first of many. In return, the enforcers would eliminate the men on the list and allow Mailer’s gang to take over the area. They would pay a percentage of their take to Monty and they wouldn’t have to worry about competition anymore. The trouble with the plan was that it failed when Ted Kendall killed their runner.

Angry wouldn’t begin to describe Mailer’s reaction to what had happened. “The cops have the list!” he shouted at the unfortunate lackey who delivered the news, punctuating the remark by slapping the kid in the back of the head. “They have my money!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mailer,” Ed Dalton said miserably.

“Who was it?” Mailer demanded.

“Kendall.”

“Where is he now?”

“Holding him down at Metro,” Dalton answered. “He goes to court this morning.”

“Get Hawes in here now.”

~*~*~

Marco Burgio was fuming. He had sent Ted Kendall to grab that briefcase before Mailer’s delivery boy could get to his meeting with Monty’s people. He wanted that list. Knowing who was on it would give him both a heads up and some leverage. Mailer’s people were winning and he needed information to turn it the other way.

“How the hell did this happen?” he shouted at the three men who had come to give him the news.

One of them replied, “Best we can find out, he just happened to grab Shields in front of a restaurant where two BCPD cops were having breakfast.”

“Shit,” Burgio snapped. “Kendall really is an idiot. I thought he could handle it.”

“So did we. What kind of dumb shit doesn’t wait until he’s in front of an alley or somewhere to run before trying something like that.”

One of his companions added, “If he’d just waited another block or two, he wouldn’t have had so many witnesses, not to mention cops.”

Burgio paced back and forth behind his desk, trying to decide what to do next. He knew he couldn’t get the list back, that was out of the question. He could make sure that Kendall didn’t spill everything he knew. That could backfire in his attempts to gain favor with Mr. Monty.

“Where is he now?” he asked.

“Metro lockup,” one of his lieutenants replied.

~*~*~

Starsky waited somewhat patiently in the hallway outside of the interrogation room. He had about decided it was time to sheepishly reappear when Hutch came out and shut the door behind him, a serious expression on his face. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Hutch nodded. “You obviously scared him. I think I got enough out of him to piece together what’s happening here.”

“Great. He still didn’t get a lawyer?”

“Nope. He’s convinced he’s already dead and he spilled his guts. I think he may have a shot at some kind of deal if he can flip his bosses.”

“Maybe Manslaughter instead of Murder Two?”

“If he can stay alive long enough to get there. I think he may be right about that.”

Starsky could tell that something was bothering his partner, but figuring that out might have to wait. Their unscheduled involvement in this situation had left the two detectives in an interesting spot. If they could intervene with the DA, they could possibly get enough information to put some major cracks in the case, but Starsky wasn’t keen on letting Kendall take a pass on what happened with Hutch. Manslaughter might seem fair, but what about his other actions?

“He was at least trying to do some serious damage to you,” he pointed out, “no mater what he says about it now.”

Hutch sighed. “I know, Starsk. I also know you don’t want to hear that I have to own some of that, too.”

“Because you charged after him without…” Starsky started, but he froze. His voice was raised and he was suddenly completely aware that anyone in earshot might absorb what he was saying and question it. A couple of uniforms walking away from them down at the end of the hall had turned to look their way. “… thinking,” he finished in a calmer tone. Starsky hoped the exact circumstances of what had happened would never get back to their Captain. The two uniformed officers continued on their way.

“Yes, because of that,” Hutch said. “He’s terrified. If I had been…fully ready, he wouldn’t have had a chance to do any of what he did. If that gets pressed in court his public defender will have a field day with it. You want that?”

Starsky opened his mouth to protest, but quickly realized he couldn’t argue that his partner had a point. He didn’t like it, but Hutch did have a point. He wanted to hear what Hutch had learned, even though he was pretty sure he knew the basics, but he didn’t want to hear it in the hallway outside the interrogation rooms. “Catch me up on the way back to the squad room,” he suggested.

Hutch shook his head. “I don’t know if we have time for that.” He put a hand on Starsky’s arm and jerked his head toward the end of the hall. “One of these is bound to be free. We can duck in there.”

Starsky was now more curious than ever. Why would they be short on time? He followed Hutch down the hall as he quietly knocked on a couple of doors until he found one that was unoccupied. Hutch held the door open for him and touched him on the back as he passed through it. Seeing that even the start of this new case was drawing out his partner’s investigator persona was somewhat of a relief and he planned to let him run with it. Maybe this will really help.

While Hutch had grown up in a tony Duluth neighborhood, Starsky had come up rough by comparison. What Hutch had learned about life on the streets came from a combination of study, police work, and exposure to his partner. In contrast, Starsky had begun his lessons on what happened on the streets at a tender age. His police officer father was dead before he was thirteen and his mother had a terrible time trying to control him and keep him out of trouble after that. As an angry adolescent, Starsky had learned a lot of things and done some things he wasn’t proud of and would never want Hutch to know. That included exactly how he knew what he did about the probable direction this case was taking. Some of his most painful and shameful memories would best be left where they were, in the dark…buried. Starsky sat down at the table in the empty room determined to do more listening than revealing.

“The money in that briefcase was incidental, if you can believe $15,000 could be incidental,” Hutch started. “The real value was in the list of names.”

Starsky nodded. He didn’t like keeping things from his partner and he wouldn’t lie if pressed on any subject. “That makes some sense, really,” was all he said.

Hutch continued. “Kendall says that’s a list of the upper leadership of his small-time crime organization. To say it is ‘organized’ would be kind of a stretch from what I can gather.”

“Not a list of names someone wants invited to a state dinner, huh?” Starsky asked.

“No. This list is a group of men who stand to be iced by this new player, Vic Monty’s, outfit.”

Wondering just how much Kendall had told Hutch, Starsky asked, “So what’s in it for Monty?”

“He gets a group of low-rent local hoods to do his work for him, and doesn’t have to provide his own people for the effort. Monty gets a percentage and the locals get protection.”

“So where in all this do we not have time to go back to the squad room?” Starsky asked.

Hutch flushed a little at that question. “That’s where I promised him we would look out for him before and after the arraignment and where I told him we would meet with him, his PD and the DA to get his deal and get him some protection in return. This could be big, Starsky. Really big.”

~*~*~

After a phone call to Captain Dobey to let him in on what was happening, Starsky and Hutch had been given permission to accompany Ted Kendall from lockup to the courthouse. They would go around the back and with luck would have Kendall in, arraigned, and headed back to lockup in short order. Dobey had already placed some phone calls that would get a good public defender assigned.

Arresting officers sometimes appeared in court at an arraignment, but they rarely accompanied prisoners being transferred from lockup to court. Although security had occasionally been a problem, the biggest part of the danger came from the prisoners themselves and was directed at each other. Hutch was sure in the big picture that Ted Kendall was a small fish, but he couldn’t escape a nagging sense that the young man was right to be worried. Although the officers that drew transfer detail were used to keeping an eye on the prisoners, the routine nature of their work was bound to lead to a false sense of security over time. They would see Kendall as an ordinary, routine prisoner. Hutch wouldn’t feel comfortable until the man had been seen in court and was safely in a cell in county jail pending trial.

The first part of the transfer had gone without any problems. The detectives had explained to the officers on duty that they would rejoin them immediately following the arraignment to watch over Kendall’s transfer over to the jail. They sat in the court for twenty minutes after they left their prisoner in the holding area with the court officers and they were both relieved when he appeared before the judge, despite their concern that no one had showed up from the public defender’s office.

Judge George Sampson was on the bench this morning. He quietly read the list of charges. Seeing no one there to act on the defendant’s behalf, he asked who represented him.

“I’m representing myself,” Kendall replied.

The judge shook his head. “Mr. Kendall, these charges are too serious to allow that.”

Just at that moment, the courtroom door opened and a harried looking man in a brown suit briskly walked down the aisle, stopping on the gallery side. “Your Honor, may I approach the bench?” he asked.

Sampson waved him in and waited a few moments while the man put a briefcase down on the table in front of the defendant and pulled out a note for the judge. He crossed to the bench and said, “I apologize for not making it here before Mr. Kendall was called, Your Honor.” He handed the note to Judge Sampson. “I was in another court when I was summoned to come over here.”

The note was from Captain Dobey confirming that he was on board with Hutch specifically requesting one of the most senior deputy public defenders for this case. The judge had presided over many court proceedings with Kurt Yamako serving as defense counsel and he thought it was acceptable. He nodded and passed the note back to the attorney. “Mr. Yamako, please step back with your client.”

Hutch was pleased and he could see Starsky was, too. Typically, no love was lost between the police and the public defenders. A few of them were exceptions and Kurt Yamako was one of them. He was a fair negotiator with years of experience and he had always served his clients well while maintaining a healthy respect for the system.

“May I have a moment to confer with my client?” he asked respectfully.

“I have a full docket this morning, so make it just a moment. This is just an arraignment.”

Hutch couldn’t hear what was said between Kendall and the attorney, but after a few moments of head shaking and furtive whispering, Yamako said, “My client waives the reading of the charges.”

“How does he plead?”

“Not guilty, Your Honor.”

Kendall was charged with violent crimes including resisting arrest and assault on a police officer. The judge flipped through the documentation and said, “The defendant is remanded to county jail and will be held without bail. Pretrial hearing will be at two o’clock this Friday.” He banged his gavel and that was it.

Hutch headed for the exit with Starsky right behind him. They would slip down the hall to the back and pick up their charge there. They didn’t notice at first that Kurt Yamako was following them. Once they got out of the busy courtroom and into the hall, both detectives heard someone behind them and turned to check. They paused and waited for Yamako to catch up to them.

“Detectives,” he said. “I understand you specifically requested a senior deputy public defender for this man’s case. Care to catch me up on the details?”

“Sure, but not now,” Hutch replied. “Soon as we get him safely inside the jail we can talk.”

“Is there something I should be concerned about?” Yamako asked.

“Possibly,” Starsky replied. “We aren’t sure yet.”

Yamako nodded at them. “Okay, be careful. I’ll see you over at the jail in twenty. That’ll give me time to read through the charges and Kendall’s rap sheet.”

Hutch put a hand on Starsky’s back and said, “Better hustle.” They took off for the back leaving Yamako behind them in the hallway.

~*~*~

Both the courthouse and the county jail were under construction for some earthquake retrofits. While the renovations were underway, part of the parking lot had been blocked and the usual access route to and from the jail had been detoured somewhat. Not the most ideal situation, but something that couldn’t be helped. Starsky and Hutch stepped out into the bright sunlight and waited for their eyes to adjust for a few seconds. Starsky spotted the route they would have to take to navigate through the construction mess first. He touched Hutch on the arm and pointed as he started off in that direction. They both hurried their steps to reach the door where the prisoners would be emerging with their uniformed escorts.

The first officer out of the door had not been there earlier when Starsky and Hutch left for the courtroom and Starsky hadn’t seen him around the station. He was new to the district and judging from the look on his face he obviously didn’t immediately recognize the two men in plain clothes rapidly approaching him and his charges. He stopped in the doorway, taking his right hand off the clipboard he was holding and resting it on his gun.

“Whoa, slow down,” Starsky said, realizing how this might look. He put a hand up and added, “I’m just pulling out my badge.” Starsky reached for his ID, being careful not to move too fast and spook the officer in front of them.

“It’s okay. I’m Detective Sergeant Starsky and this is my partner Detective Sergeant Hutchinson. We’re here to help with Ted Kendall’s transfer.”

Officer Barnes looked at the ID and relaxed his stance. “Sorry, Sarge,” he said. “I guess you can’t be too careful.” He checked his clipboard for that name, tapping his finger on it when he found it. “Kendall. Got it.” He stood aside and let some of the other prisoners through with other officers.

“That’s him,” Hutch said when he saw Ted.

Starsky thought Officer Barnes looked unsure. This was not standard operating procedure and it wasn’t all that far to the jail. Knowing nothing about the situation, an escort probably looked strange to the man. “I know this is a little odd, but it’s not unheard of,” he said. Probably doesn’t know what to do without a form in triplicate.

Barnes tugged Kendall by the arm to pull him to the side and allow the remaining few men to pass through and onto the route toward the jail.

“I’m glad to see you guys,” Kendall said looking first at Starsky, then Hutch.

“I guess it isn’t unheard of,” Barnes said. “Still, if it’s okay by you I’ll just come along. I’ll bring up the rear. That way I can be sure the pass off is complete when we get over there. Okay?”

While they had been standing there, Starsky and Hutch both had darted their eyes around their surroundings, checking for anything suspicious. Starsky felt that sense of impending danger he sometimes got, but he couldn’t pinpoint a particular thing as the cause. He had told his partner as much right before they stepped outside of the courthouse. The street and parking lot appeared quiet. Nothing was moving that shouldn’t be. A quick glance at windows and doorways in the area showed nothing concerning. Still, he wanted to be sure the other prisoners and officers didn’t get too far ahead of them. “Yeah, just get behind and keep your eyes peeled,” he said. With that, the group of men started to move with Hutch in front, Barnes trailing behind, and Starsky walking next to Kendall on the street side.

The detour took them out onto a public sidewalk for about a half block. That had Starsky feeling edgier than ever. As they stepped onto the sidewalk, he saw a stake-sided truck pulling away from the curb down toward the end of the block. The back was loaded with mattresses. At almost the same time he heard an engine start behind them and turning his head toward the sound he saw a dark blue van pulling out of a space on their side of the street behind them. Uh-oh.

“Hutch,” he said just as he thought he saw the glint of sunlight on something sticking out from the mattresses. “Truck!” he shouted, reaching for his gun as Hutch did the same and stepped to the side to position himself in front of both Starsky and Kendall.

“Down!” Hutch ordered as he took aim at the truck.

The scene of a normal workday street downtown suddenly became more like a war zone. They didn’t have time to seek cover. This side of the street had been designated no parking along the half block detour to the jail, so there wasn’t even so much as a parked car to get behind for safety. Starsky couldn’t risk shooting toward the truck with Hutch directly in front of him now. A shot was fired from it just as Starsky swiveled to his left to cover the van, sure it was also a threat. He only had a heartbeat to wonder as a shot was fired from it right toward him. Officer Barnes stepped forward to try to grab Kendall from behind and drag him to the ground, but he was too late. The shot from the van had whizzed past Starsky’s head so close he felt it pass on its way to hitting Kendall. Blood spatter sprayed the right side of Starsky’s face, arm, and shoulder. Kendall crumpled to the ground. Barnes had just enough time to break his fall. Not that it mattered. The man was killed instantly. Starsky fired at the van, striking it along its side.

The shot from the truck had been fired from a rifle and it went too high and hit the side of the courthouse. Hutch was still in motion, returning fire toward the back of the truck. Suddenly, the truck pulled to a diagonal blocking the street. While people screamed and scrambled for cover or to hit the ground something even more unexpected happened. Starsky saw the van’s sunroof hatch blow off the top and a gunman with a rifle stood up from inside through the hole. He started to fire at the mattress truck. At the same time, a mattress flipped off the top of the stack and a gunman stood firing back at the van.

Starsky flung himself to the ground, still firing at the van. When he hit the gunman in the hatch, he spared a second to look back to see what Hutch was doing and couldn’t believe he was still standing. He had just enough time to yell, “Hutch, get down!” as he rolled to his back, sat up slightly and fired past his partner toward the truck to try and give him some cover.

At this point, bullets were flying in every direction. The occupants of the van and the truck who hadn’t been hit by either Starsky’s or Hutch’s gunfire were alternating between firing on each other and firing toward the cops who were shooting back at them. Just as Hutch crouched and fired toward the truck’s driver, a shot from the back of the truck struck the concrete just inches in front of Starsky, causing a piece of loose concrete to break and fly up hitting Starsky in the temple and sending him down into darkness.

Both vehicles were suddenly in motion, backing up and away from each other. Hutch pivoted, fired, and hit the van’s driver, causing it to swing wide as he lost control and crashed into a car parked across the street. Between the bullet and the crash, the driver was finished. He slumped over onto the steering wheel and was still as the van’s horn started to blare. As Hutch was turning to fire on the truck again it backed around to head in the direction it had come from as fast as it could get away, burning rubber down the street.

~*~*~

Although time had seemed to stop for the participants, the gun battle had started and ended in a little more than a minute, too fast for other officers to respond and help. The officers that had been escorting prisoners hustled their charges into the jail before any of the handcuffed men could either escape or be hit by the flying bullets. By the time they secured their prisoners in a holding cell and some of them got back out with their weapons drawn, the shooting was over and the truck was peeling off down the street with Hutch in pursuit on foot.

He had run after the truck for a short distance hoping to get a plate number off of it, but he quickly realized there was no plate to read. He stopped and made mental notes of what he could to describe the truck before turning to go back and check on Starsky and Kendall. He thought it was ironic to find the sound of gunfire comforting, but when it was the sound of Starsky’s gun, that was a sign his partner was probably all right. Throughout the shooting he had heard the bark of the Beretta. This time, his theory wasn’t going to hold. Starsky had been firing up until the last few seconds, but he was definitely not all right.

When Hutch turned, he saw and heard the chaotic aftermath of the firefight. Sirens were screaming toward the block, someone was shouting for paramedics, and people had rushed out from the courthouse to see what had happened. Uniformed officers from the jail had mobilized to try to secure the scene and get the growing crowd of people under control. Two officers had the van secured so Hutch put his gun in its holster and headed back to where he’d last seen his partner just as the van’s blaring horn stopped. He scanned the milling people and didn’t see him, but his blood turned to ice when his visual sweep landed on a group of people standing around something on the ground. “Starsky?” he said so quietly only he heard it. He ran toward that spot as he heard someone shouting for a coroner’s wagon and someone else shout that there was an officer down.

When he reached the group of people and shoved his way through so he could see and get to Starsky, he was horrified by what he saw. Kendall was obviously dead. A high caliber bullet had done a lot of damage to his head and both Kendall and Starsky were lying in a pool of blood. Hutch couldn’t tell how much of that blood might belong to his partner. Officer Barnes was feeling for a pulse at Starsky’s wrist. He was just taking the Beretta out of Starsky’s left hand to secure the weapon when he saw Hutch.

“Oh, God,” Hutch said as he pushed through to reach his partner.

Barnes handed him the Beretta and said, “He’s alive.” Barnes had been the one shouting about an officer being down.

Hutch put the gun in his pocket as he knelt beside Starsky. His check for a pulse revealed a comfortingly strong though racing heartbeat. “Starsky?” he called as he quickly checked for a bullet wound. Starsky had blood on his face, shoulder and arm that looked like spatter and the only wound Hutch could find was on his temple and bleeding freely. He knew the wound wasn’t caused by a bullet, even a crease from one. This looked more like something had hit Starsky in the head. Scanning the ground, Hutch saw a chunk of concrete lying nearby with some blood and dark hair on it. He was relieved it wasn’t a bullet wound, but concerned that Starsky was out and not showing signs of wakening. A quick check showed pupils that were equal and reacting to light.

“Hey,” Hutch said to him, patting him on the cheek. “You in there?” He snapped his fingers next to Starsky’s ear a few times and got no response.

Hutch lost track of time as he tried to get Starsky to come around for him. He was relieved when his efforts finally produced a low moan from the man on the ground.

“That’s it, buddy,” Hutch said. “Come on back and open your eyes for me.”

Starsky’s eyes opened and he immediately slammed them shut against the light. “Shit that’s bright,” he said.

Hutch laughed at that. “I’ll bet.”

“What happened?” Starsky asked.

“You got hit on that hard head of yours, don’t you remember?” Hutch answered.

Starsky shook his head and winced. “Hutch?” he said softly. He opened his eyes again for a few seconds and Hutch could see that he couldn’t focus. His eyes started to close again and Hutch thought he was passing out on him.

“Hey, don’t go anywhere,” he said. He gave Starsky’s shoulder a slight shake. “Stay with me here.”

Starsky’s eyes opened again and he put a hand up for Hutch to help him up from the ground.

“Think you can sit up?”

“Think so. What happened?” he asked again.

That wasn’t a good sign. “Remember, you got hit on the head?”

Hutch helped him to sit up and tried to shield him from seeing the carnage on the ground that was once Ted Kendall. Starsky looked that way anyway and what little color remaining in his face vanished. “Oh, God, Hutch,” he said. “Oh, I feel sick.”

Hutch was holding his partner to the side while he heaved when he heard Captain Dobey’s bellow from across the crowd. He was barking orders at various officers.

“You officers get this scene taped off!” he yelled. “Davis, Jenkins, find out if any of these people are witnesses.”

Dobey reached the partners just as a paramedic did. Hutch heard Dobey quietly ask Barnes to get Kendall’s body covered. After that if the captain said anything else, he never heard it or anything else going on around him. Hutch’s world had shrunk to just himself, Starsky, and the paramedic.

Hutch helped Starsky to sit up again so the paramedic could examine him. His woozy partner leaned against his chest and clung to his jacket with his hand so tightly his knuckles were white. His breathing was coming in short shallow pants and his eyes were tightly closed again.

“What’s his name?” the paramedic asked.

“David Starsky.”

“David, I need you to sit up more and let me look at you.”

“Spinning,” was the only reply he got.

The paramedic looked at Hutch.  “He’s conscious and responsive.  The exam can wait a little while he gets his bearings.  What happened?”

Hutch answered, “Looks like a bullet hit the ground and flung some concrete at his head. Most of this blood on him isn’t his.” He jerked his head toward the body lying next to them being covered by one of the uniformed officers.

“Was he unconscious?”

“Yeah, for a few minutes.”

“How many?”

“I’m not sure. No more than five.”

Hutch turned his attention back to Starsky. “Come on, partner. Sit up for me.”

Starsky let go of Hutch’s jacket and tried to sit up as he opened his eyes again. “Hutch,” he said quietly.

“Shit, he’s going back out,” Hutch said.

Starsky repeated even more softly, “Hutch,” as he blacked out again and slumped against his partner.

~*~*~

Starsky was in and out of consciousness several times in the ambulance on the way to the emergency room. The paramedic used smelling salts on him a couple of times before they wheeled him into a treatment room with Hutch in tow. Memorial was the same hospital Starsky had taken Hutch to and when he learned that the paramedics were on their way in transporting a thirty year old male police officer with a probable concussion, Doctor Jameson had been curious if it was going to be one of the two detectives he’d just met the previous day. No real reason for him to think so, but he had a feeling about those two. When the nurse handed him Starsky’s existing chart he stared at it for a moment. I was right. Thicker. A conversation with some of the nurses after the detectives had left the day before had garnered him the information that they just kept the charts on both those two officers and several others from the Metropolitan Division in the emergency department all the time. They were the closest hospital to Metro so it was within their trauma unit’s catchment area. Metro’s territory included the rough inner city and its officers were often injured in the line of duty. Some of them rarely went longer than a few months without a visit for mostly minor injuries, detectives Starsky and Hutchinson in particular.

“Well, this time it seems to be the other one,” Doctor Jameson said as he walked into the room.

“Hi, Doc,” Hutch said with a sheepish smile. “Looks like he got his bell rung.”

Doctor Jameson was concerned by the condition of his patient’s clothing. “What’s with all of this blood,” he asked pointing at the dried blood on Starsky’s lightweight jacket and shirt.

“Mostly not his,” Hutch answered. “Kind of a long story.”

“Humor me,” Jameson replied.

Hutch started to explain, but was interrupted when Starsky came around again and started to be combative with the staff trying to cut off his blood soaked clothing.

“No,” Starsky said, trying to jerk loose from the grasp of a large male nurse. “Hutch?”

Hutch stepped closer to where his partner could see him and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from thrashing. “Settle it down,” he said. “You aren’t gonna want those back, trust me.”

Starsky stopped moving. He closed his eyes and nodded his acquiescence. “Don’t go,” he said.

“I’m right here, buddy. I’m just gonna talk to the doc for a minute. Behave.”

“Okay,” Starsky promised.

Hutch stepped aside to let the staff do their jobs, but first he asked, “Do you have something you could put the clothes in?”

“Sure,” the nurse answered. He was young and didn’t yet have a lot of experience with police officers. He handed Hutch Starsky’s holster and asked, “Why?”

“Possibly could be evidence,” Hutch replied.

Hutch returned his attention to the doctor. “I’m sorry, Doc,” he said. “What did you want to know?”

Doctor Jameson replied, “What happened?”

“Oh, sorry. The short version is that we were surprised by some gunmen while trying to escort a prisoner. I think he got clocked by a piece of flying concrete. If you want more detail than that, the evening news is likely to have a field day.”

“No, that’ll do. How long was he out?”

“A few minutes, I think. Maybe three to five. I was kind of occupied. By the time I got to him, it took me a minute or two to get him to come around for me. I checked his eyes and his pupils were equal and reactive, although he was pretty light sensitive and dizzy when he finally opened his eyes for me.”

Jameson smiled at that. “I see you’ve been to this dance before, too.”

“Regrettably.”

“Vomiting?”

“Once. He was awake for a short time before he blacked out again. He was in and out on the way here.”

“Thank you, I think I can take it from here,” Jameson said. He glanced over the notes the paramedics had made on the trip and turned his attention to his patient. Starsky’s eyes were closed again.

“David,” Doctor Jameson said, gently shaking Starsky on the shoulder. “Open your eyes for me, David.”

When he got no response, Hutch said, “Doc, pretty much only his mom calls him David. Try Starsky.”

“Right. Starsky? Detective Starsky?”

Starsky slowly opened his eyes and looked toward the doctor’s voice.

“That’s good. How many of me do you see?” he asked.

Starsky focused hard and said, “One and a half.”

Jameson chuckled at that. “Do you know where you are?” he asked.

Starsky nodded. “Hospital, dammit.”

“What’s your partner’s middle name?”

“Um, Michael?” Starsky answered.

Doctor Jameson looked over at Hutch, who was shaking his head. “That’s his middle name.”

“Try again. What’s your partner’s middle name?”

Jameson watched Starsky for a few seconds, the pain from concentrating so hard evident on his face. Finally, he answered, “Richard.” This time the answer got a thumbs up from Hutch.

“Good, that’s right. What day is it?”

Starsky’s brow furrowed again. “One in seven chance I’ll be right, huh?”

Jameson answered, “Hm. No idea?”

“None.”

Jameson wrote some things in Starsky’s chart. “X-ray,” he said to the nurse. “Detective Starsky, I’m going to send you off to have an x-ray and we’ll see what’s next after that.”

Starsky groaned. “Terrific. I ain’t staying here. I want to go home,” he said, sounding like he was about eleven.

“Not yet, Flash,” Jameson replied as he patted Starsky on the shoulder. “Jury’s still out on that.”

Hutch smiled at that as they wheeled his partner out of the room for his x-ray. “You know, a sense of humor is a rare thing in an ER doc,” he said.

Doctor Allen Jameson was fifteen years older than the two detectives. He had served in the army after he graduated from medical school and he was a highly experienced trauma surgeon. Memorial Hospital was lucky to recruit him when he ended his military service. Hutch had no way to know how lucky Starsky would be one day years from now that Jameson was there and had the wealth of experience in gunshot wounds that he had.

The doctor had a question or two for Detective Hutchinson. “I thought I told you to take it easy.”

“I know and we really thought today would be routine. I guess it just doesn’t go like you have it planned every day in our line of work.”

“So it would seem. Sounds like cops and trauma surgeons have some things in common. How are your stitches?”

“Still intact,” Hutch answered.

“Looks like he got ‘clocked’ as you say a lot harder than you did yesterday. If I decide he can be released, can you keep him quiet for a day or two?”

“Quiet? You don’t know my partner. I can’t promise quiet, but I can do my best to get him to take it easy. I can look after him.”

“About like he looks after you?” Jameson asked with a wry smile on his face.

Hutch laughed. “I think we have the start of a good relationship, Doc.”

When Starsky’s x-rays were clear, Doctor Jameson decided to keep him in the ER another four to six hours for observation. As long as his vision had cleared, he stayed lucid, and he didn’t have any more bouts of vomiting or lose consciousness again he could go home. That would give Hutch a chance to wrap some things up at the station, check in with Captain Dobey, and pick up some clothes for Starsky before he came back to collect him. Hutch knew Starsky was reluctant to let him out of his sight. After some discussion with him, Hutch was able to convince him that having him go take care of some things rather than staying at Memorial so Starsky could continue to keep him under observation while he was still unable to leave was the most reasonable course to take. Hutch wasn’t surprised that although his partner had a tough time remembering what day it was, he had no trouble remembering his nervousness about how Hutch was doing.

The combination of the case and Starsky’s injury had taken all of Hutch’s mental focus. He hadn’t had time to worry about or really even think about Vanessa or the events of the past few days. That wasn’t going to last much longer.

~*~*~

Captain Dobey and Officer Barnes had seen to it that the Torino was brought to the hospital so Hutch would have transportation since he had ridden in with the paramedics. When Hutch turned the corner to head into the station, he saw that the area was crawling with media. Rather than risk pulling into the parking lot in Starsky’s distinctive car, he turned onto a side street and parked it instead. He would walk in, which was probably best because they were no doubt looking for him for an interview since he and Starsky were key members of the cast from this morning’s shootout. He wished he were driving his nondescript vehicle instead and for the first time he really gave that some thought. He needed to go over to the apartment and collect it. Not the most dependable vehicle, if it sat too long without being started, the car would have to be jumped to get it going. He chuckled at the memory of Starsky telling him he probably had something called “key off voltage drain” and that he needed to take it to his Uncle Al’s shop to be looked at. Starsky had taken his keys, but a quick glance at Starsky’s keys showed that his spare for Hutch’s car was not on the ring. Although that was inconvenient, he had to chuckle at it. “Great attention to detail, dirtball,” he muttered to himself. He wasn’t sure he’d have thought of doing that.

Hutch sneaked into the station from a direction reporters wouldn’t be expecting and made it inside without being hassled. He took the back stairwell to the fifth floor and didn’t run into anyone on the way. He knew by now that Captain Dobey would probably be back in his office, so he went there first. Unlike his partner who was prone to just busting into their captain’s office, he knocked quietly and waited for Dobey to answer. He cracked the door open and stuck his head inside.

“It’s just me, Cap,” he said with what he hoped was a nonchalant smile.

“Just the man I wanted to see. Come in here and tell me how that partner of yours is doing.”

While Starsky was in getting his x-rays, Hutch had gotten a message to Captain Dobey it looked like he would be all right, but he hadn’t updated him since. Hutch closed the door behind him and dropped wearily into the leather chair to talk to his boss. “He’s okay, I think. Could have been worse, so I can’t complain. If he stays okay over the next few hours, the doc said he can go home.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, the only participant I’ve been able to talk to about this morning’s fiasco is Officer Barnes. He gave me a full account of what he saw. Suppose you fill in the rest for me.”

Hutch sighed. “Sometimes, I wish those little feelings my partner gets about things were wrong more often. They usually aren’t. I was the one who started this thing with Kendall after our interview with him. Starsky was the one who was sure something was about to happen when we went to get him after the arraignment. He told me so right before we ran into Barnes at the back of the court. In fact, he said to be careful and look sharp because the other shoe was about to drop.”

“He does have a spooky way of doing that,” Dobey acknowledged. “Too bad it didn’t keep you out of trouble or keep your prisoner alive.”

“No kidding. Cap, this thing is big. Do you have any information on any of the shooters?”

“Some. Looks like they were likely from the two different gangs trying to pay that franchise fee your partner described. For some reason, they both wanted Kendall dead. Lucky for you and your partner, they weren’t gunning for either of you or you’d both be toast caught out in the open like that. Barnes, too.”

Hutch nodded. “That’s part of what makes this whole thing so weird. Kendall was small potatoes. He knew some things that we thought would help us get to some of these people, but was he really worth the shootout at the OK Corral revisited? They went to a lot of trouble to eliminate such a minor player and why both gangs?”

“You’ll be interested to know that one of the dead men from the van was named on the list inside that briefcase.”

“Really.” Hutch would have to give that some thought. He couldn’t wait to bounce it off of his partner. He could see that Dobey was patiently waiting for him to give him some details. “Sorry, Cap. This morning is a little bit of a blur. In fact, the past seventy-two hours have been that way.” Hutch didn’t care to elaborate on that. “We made it from holding to the court without any problems. Kendall was the last one up before lunch. Thanks for the note, by the way. Not that it will help him now, but we drew Kurt Yamako as his deputy PD.”

“You’re welcome. What happened then?”

“We headed for the back of the court to collect Kendall. Had a short conversation with Kurt in the hallway. Right after that is when Starsky told me he was feeling like something big was about to happen. I’ll never dismiss his intuition again.”

“That’s when you hooked up with Barnes?” Dobey asked.

“Yeah. He didn’t seem too keen on letting us just take over, so he offered to pull up the rear and accompany us. You know how all that construction has everything screwed up between the court and the jail? Swear to God someone needs their ass put in a sling over that.”

“I’m already on it,” Dobey said. “That brilliant decision put my men, the prisoners, and the public in jeopardy today. Ted Kendall was the only civilian casualty. Thank the Lord nobody else got hurt other than Starsky and the shooters.”

Hutch continued. “That was pure dumb ass luck. Everything happened so fast. Kendall was taken out right away and it was all I could do to try to protect my partner while he tried to cover me. We had nowhere to go.”

Suddenly pensive, Hutch stopped talking and replayed things in his mind. He was quiet for several moments and when he got to the memory of seeing Starsky on the ground with Kendall, he shivered.

“I’m sure it felt like time stood still,” Dobey said, “but it really only lasted a minute or two from what I can gather.”

The captain’s comment drew Hutch back into the present. “That’s right,” he said. “Felt like being in a wide awake nightmare is how it felt. I was in front with Starsky behind me on the street side and Kendall to his right. Barnes was behind them. We stepped out onto the sidewalk where you have to be out on the public street for half a block or so. Starsky saw what was about to happen just before the bullets started to fly and warned me. I got between the others and the truck and started firing back. Next thing I knew, the bad guys were shooting at each other, not just us. In fact, after they got Kendall, I’d say they shot at each other a lot more than they did at us. Starsky got off a lot of shots and I know he hit the shooter from the back of the van. I got the van’s driver. When the truck spun around to escape, I ran after it to see if I could get a plate, but it didn’t have one. You know the rest.”

“Good. That’s about the same thing Barnes told me. He also told me he’d never seen anything like either the way you and your partner worked together or how obvious it seemed to him that Starsky knew somehow. He felt bad about Kendall, of course. Tried to pull him to the ground, but he was too late. He said everything happened so fast there wasn’t time to do much of anything. He had just pulled his gun when a shot came their way and Starsky went down. Said he was sure Starsky had been shot. He scrambled around in front of him to guard him. You got there just as he was checking to see if Starsky was alive or dead.”

Hutch said, “Yeah that did nothing for my heart rate, seeing my partner in a pool of blood and another officer checking for a pulse. That was one of the scariest situations I’ve ever been in and I’ve been in some hairy predicaments. It’s a miracle we didn’t buy it or wind up shooting each other in the fray.”

The two men sat and discussed the events of the day for a while longer. After some time, Hutch began to think his boss had something to tell him that he hadn’t said yet and the feeling was starting to unnerve him.

“Cap, is everything okay? The hospital didn’t call after I left did they?”

Dobey shook his head. “No, I’m sure Starsky is doing all right. I do have something to tell you about, though.”

Captain Dobey reached into one of his drawers and pulled out an envelope. “Apparently, a man tried to deliver this to you three times this morning. They called me to come down to talk to him an hour ago and I signed for it on your behalf.” He passed it over to Hutch.

The envelope was from Kessler, Harmon, and Brode attorneys at law. Hutch sighed. He knew what it probably was.

“Process server, huh?” he asked Captain Dobey.

“Hutch, I couldn’t help being curious so I checked. I guess a nosey nature goes along with the territory when you do what we do. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. That’s a divorce firm.”

Hutch felt like the bottom had just dropped out of the room. He’d been so preoccupied, he hadn’t thought about Vanessa in a while and he’d actually started to feel better before Starsky got hurt. Holding that envelope brought him back to sadness in seconds. His face fell and he sat and stared at it for a while. Captain Dobey said nothing while Hutch contemplated things for a few moments. Finally, Hutch tucked the envelope into his inside jacket pocket.

“It’s okay. I would have done the same thing. Vanessa left me, Cap. A couple of nights ago.” Hutch suddenly needed to talk to his best friend, but even if he had been there, he didn’t want to burden him any more with this situation.

Dobey’s face showed his compassion. “I’m sorry, Hutch. I really am.”

“Thanks,” Hutch said. “If you don’t need anything else, I’m just going to take care of some paperwork and then I need to go get my partner.”

“How are you doing?”

Hutch tried not to look as devastated as he felt. “I’m making it, Cap.” He let a small and brief smile show and added, “He’s on it.”

~*~*~

Hutch’s desk phone was ringing when he walked out of Dobey’s office.

“Hutchinson,” he answered.

“Are y’all okay?” Huggy’s anxious voice replied.

Hutch hadn’t thought to call Huggy. He noticed he had several messages on his desk and three of them were from Huggy. “Guess we made the news, right?” he asked.

“No shit and answer the question.”

“Yeah, we’re okay. Starsky was hurt, but nothing too serious.”

“Thank God. That blonde chick from Channel 5 made it sound like Dodge City down there and I couldn’t get nobody to give me any intell’ on you two. Dobey didn’t even call me back.”

“Dodge City isn’t an inaccurate portrayal. Sorry, Hug. I have to go get him at Memorial in a while. If he’s up to it, I’ll bring him by and we’ll tell you about it.”

“You sure he’s okay?”

“Looked good when I left him. The doc wanted to keep an eye on him for a few hours. We’re gonna have matching shiners.”

Huggy laughed. “I’ll be here. I’m sure you haven’t had a chance to check out that little house, right?”

“I haven’t had a chance to blink, Hug.”

“What to do?”

“Huggy, if I have to make one more decision today, I may blow a fuse. I trust you. If you like it, make it happen.”

“Okay, I hear ya. After later,” Huggy said.

“Later.” Hutch hung up the phone. He went through the rest of his messages. He had a few from reporters from the local papers, one from “that blonde chick” Huggy had mentioned, one that just said, “See Dobey,” and one from his father. Great. Word travels fast. I can’t deal with him right now. A quick glance at Starsky’s desk revealed a similar stack of messages. In case there was something he would need to attend to for Starsky, he shuffled through them. One caught his

attention for two reasons. He didn’t recognize the name, and “ASAP, you have the number” was the message written on it. Who’s Bobby W? His heart was heavy and his head was starting to throb.

~*~*~

Starsky had passed Doctor Jameson’s requirements and was released with stern admonishments to take it easy. “I really need a shower and a change of clothes, Hutch.  The head injury didn’t kill me,” he said, “but if I don’t get to shower and wash my hair I could still be in danger.”

Hutch laughed.  “Okay.  Shower first, then Huggy’s for some dinner.”

An hour later, cleaned up and armed with an ice pack for Starsky’s pounding headache, they walked into Huggy’s bar looking like each of them had gone a few rounds.

“Well, if it ain’t Butch and Sundance,” Huggy said.

Hutch waved at him and put two fingers up before he turned Starsky and steered him toward a booth. Starsky sat down hard and winced at the shooting pain the motion sent straight to the side of his head. He put the ice pack up against the bandage. The wound hadn’t needed stitches, but it had already produced an impressive shiner and the ice should help.

Huggy came over with two beers for the weary detectives. “Do I need to call PPS on you two?” he asked.

“PPS?” Hutch asked.

Starsky snorted. Before Huggy could answer he said, “Partner Protective Services, dummy.”

“You two look like you’ve been mano-a-mano. Nice shiners, but Blondie’s is a more fashionable purple,” Huggy said.

“The curse of a Nordic complexion,” Hutch joked.

Starsky looked at the beer Huggy had set in front of him with a measure of disbelief. “I don’t know, Huggy. He may be trying to kill me getting you to serve me alcohol when I’m on pain pills and have a head injury.”

Hutch shot him a look and said, “If anyone deserves to have a drink tonight, it’s the two of us, partner. That said, you have a one drink maximum, pal.”

“Gee thanks, Mom,” Starsky said.

Huggy briefly reflected on a conversation he had a while back with another of Bay City’s finest. The man had asked him why he thought it was that neither Starsky nor Hutch bristled at the other one making decisions for him and dictating how things would be when one was sick or injured. Huggy had told him that he figured his friends trusted each other with their lives twenty-four hours a day regardless of the circumstances. That trust didn’t end on the streets.

The three men sat and discussed the gun battle. Huggy wanted to know every detail. In return, he told them all about the news coverage he’d seen on the bar’s television. “You know it went national. You called your folks?”

Hutch started to answer, but Huggy interrupted him.

“Never mind. I know the answer to that one.”

“Not entirely, you don’t,” Hutch replied. “Dobey probably took care of it. If Starsky’s mom is worried, she’ll call. My parents would rather pretend I’m anything but a cop. I’m pretty sure they never worry.”

“They do,” Starsky said. Hutch raised an eyebrow at the comment, but said nothing else.

Huggy also knew they did. Starsky had confided in him that Hutch’s mom called him periodically to check on her son. She didn’t want Hutch to know so she couldn’t call Vanessa and she knew Starsky wouldn’t tell him if she requested it. That was just one of the Starsky secrets that Huggy kept in confidence. Starsky wouldn’t keep anything important from Hutch that he needed to know, but there were things from his childhood and his adult past he preferred not to discuss. He had spent many nights drinking with his old friend before he knew Hutch. Huggy figured there were things even he didn’t know, although probably not many. He knew Hutch wouldn’t let any of those secrets change how he thought about or felt about his partner no matter how Starsky worried he would. The truths of Starsky’s life only confirmed for Huggy that his friend was one of the two bravest men he had ever known and the other was sitting in the booth next to him.

Huggy also noted that Hutch hadn’t mentioned Vanessa. She had never shown an appropriate level of concern over her husband’s safety or well being. Once when Hutch was hurt and in the hospital, she had gone out of town with girlfriends for a scheduled long weekend in Las Vegas, which infuriated Starsky and seemed only to hurt Hutch. Now that Vanessa had dumped his blond friend, maybe she was being relegated to the not-worth-wasting-cycle-time status Huggy thought she deserved. He dared to hope her ability to hurt Hutch any more was slipping a little each day.

Not one to mince words, Huggy pointedly asked Starsky the question he’d told him he would ask every day. “How’d your bodyguard do today?”

Starsky said, “Right to the point. From what I remember, he did great.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, partner,” Hutch said. “I see you two would rather talk about me in front of me instead of behind my back. ”

Huggy quipped, “Warms the cockles, don’t it?”

“Good enough from me to be spared an ass kicking from the Bear?” Hutch continued.

“Somebody ‘sides Curly here needs to be sure you stay in line, big guy.”

Both partners laughed at him. Huggy was stronger than he looked, but they all knew Hutch could fold him in thirds and stuff him in a trash can if he wanted. They also all knew Hutch would drop back and let Huggy hurt him if he failed in his duty to Starsky.

After he finished his beer, Starsky handed his melted ice pack to Huggy and said, “I gotta see a man about a horse. How ’bout you fill this again for me when you go after the next round?”

“You got it,” Huggy answered.

Huggy didn’t get up right away. He wanted to have some time alone with Hutch.

“How’re  you doing?” he asked.

“I’m treading water.”

“I saw the coverage. You did good today.”

“Didn’t save Kendall, but at least I didn’t lose my partner. I was scared today, Hug. Petrified. When I saw him lying in a pool of blood like that and Barnes checking for his pulse, I’ve never been so scared. The world suddenly went on tilt, you know? For a few horrible seconds, I thought I’d lost him.”

“He’s okay, thank God.”

“We’ve been in some tough spots, but this…” Hutch shook his head and gulped down the rest of his beer. “He was laying down cover fire for me when he got hurt. We were totally exposed.”

~*~*~

Starsky sat back in the booth when he returned. He found that Hutch was drinking another beer and he had a soda and a freshly filled ice bag waiting for him, proving Huggy would faithfully follow Hutch’s one-beer-for-Starsky orders.

“Huggy had some things to tend to,” Hutch said to Starsky’s silent question about their friend’s whereabouts.

“Oh. Since we’re alone, suppose you tell me what’s bothering you,” Starsky said.

“You mean other than what happened today?”

“You know I do. I can see it in your eyes no matter how much my head hurts.”

Hutch shook his head. “You know me too well, partner.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope, tossing it on the table in front of Starsky.

Starsky looked at the open envelope and sighed. “Let me guess, Vanessa.”

“Yeah. I’m supposed to sign them.”

“I’m sorry, buddy. You doing okay?”

“Yeah. No… Hell I don’t know,” Hutch answered. “Dobey signed for them for me while we were at the hospital.”

Starsky reached across the table and patted Hutch on the hand. “I promised you we can do this. Remember?”

Hutch shook his head. “No, but I believe you. I’m sorry, Starsk. I can’t tell you how sorry. I thought I’d lost you today and….”

“Don’t,” Starsky said. “You didn’t. We’re both okay.”

“Let me finish. I don’t remember everything that happened the other night and I don’t have to. I know I put you through hell and we haven’t really talked about everything.”

“Hutch, I’ll listen to anything you have to say, but know this. All I really care about is if you’re okay. Safe, understand?”

“I’m nowhere near okay yet, but I will be. Thanks to you, I will be. I’m safe. I swear. You don’t have to worry about me being… um… safe.”

Starsky understood. The underlying tension left over from what had happened starting in Hutch’s apartment began to dissipate. For the first time in days he knew he didn’t have to worry about his friend hurting himself. He could see the sincerity in Hutch’s eyes and believed that he would be all right. Starsky wasn’t worried about protecting his partner from bad guys in the same way he worried about protecting Hutch from his inner demons. Those demons were far more dangerous. The release of worry became physical when his eyes closed and his head dropped.

“Hey,” Hutch said, “Are you okay?”

After several heartbeats, Starsky lifted his head and looked Hutch in the eyes and smiled. “I’m fine now. Just more relieved than you can know. Still, you’ve gotta promise me you’ll call me if you ever feel like that again. Promise me you’ll call and that you’ll… give me time to get to you.”

Hutch nodded his agreement. “I swear. I don’t ever plan to get to that point again, but in the unlikely event that I do, I’ll call. I’ll call and I’ll wait for you. Okay?”

“That’s all I need to hear, buddy.”

Hutch smiled back at him. “Does that mean I can have my car keys back?”

That won him a soft laugh from his partner. “Yeah, Huggy has ’em. We can go over and get it tomorrow, okay? That is if it’ll start.”

Hutch threw a crumpled napkin at him.

~*~*~

Starsky was leaning up against the passenger door asleep when Hutch pulled onto his street. As well as he had done since they left the hospital, Starsky was badly in need of some rest and Hutch was feeling guilty for letting him be out at Huggy’s for so long. Still, they had both needed the time to unwind.

“Starsk,” Hutch said as he patted him on the arm. “Wake up, you’re home.”

“Mmm. Stairs, goody.”

Hutch laughed. “At least my new place won’t have any. We can go there if you get clonked on the head.” He went around to the passenger side and helped Starsky out and to his feet. Hutch took the melted ice pack from him and got beside and slightly behind his half asleep friend in case he slipped on the stairs he was looking forward to climbing so much. They were heading for the stairway and had just stepped into the pool of light cast by the street lamp when they noticed the dark outline of someone sitting on the steps.

“Good evening, Detectives,” the dark shape said.

They both froze. “If you say so,” Hutch answered. “Who’s there?” He dropped the ice pack and started to slowly move his right hand toward his holster as he took a step around and in front of his unarmed partner. Starsky’s gun had been locked in the Torino’s trunk since Hutch left him at the hospital under observation. He froze when he heard a gun hammer being cocked back behind them.

A voice from behind them said, “I wouldn’t.”

The man on the staircase stood and walked toward them, his face still in shadow. He said, “Detective Starsky, Mr. Vic Monty would like to have a conversation with you.”

Hutch didn’t like what that statement implied one bit. He snarled, “He’s not going anywhere alone with you.”

“Great show of bravado, officer. Not that you have any choice. Keep your hands where I can see them and step away from your partner.”

“Hutch….”

Hutch interrupted. “Not a chance, I won’t allow it.” He had no idea what he was going to do to get them out of this and his mind was racing. Allowing them to take his injured partner was something he knew he couldn’t let happen, but though he didn’t know how many of them there were, he knew they were outmatched.

Starsky put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. “I think I know what they want.”

The voice in front of them said, “Disarm your partner, Starsky. You don’t want one of my men to have to do it. Do anything rash and he dies.”

They heard the sound of another gun being cocked behind them.

Starsky moved around in front of Hutch and carefully pulled the Magnum from its holster.

“Toss it into the bushes,” the man in front of them said. Starsky complied. “Very good, now take a couple of steps away from him.”

Starsky took a few steps back outside of the light and a man stepped toward him in the darkness to frisk him. “He’s clean,” he said.

“Now, I’m going to stay here with Detective Hutchinson while you go have your little chat with Mr. Monty.”

Hutch tried again. “He’s not going anywhere without me.”

The man laughed at him. “Here’s how this is going to go down, Detective Hutchinson. Your partner is going for a ride with my men for a little friendly conversation with Mr. Monty. A few of us will stay here with you and keep you company. As long as you both do what you’re told, no one gets hurt. Be a good boy and he’ll be back here safe and sound within the hour.”

“I’ll be okay, Hutch,” Starsky said.

Hutch felt a gun muzzle press up against his back.

The dark shape said, “We’re going on upstairs to the apartment to wait. Don’t make a fuss. You do like your partner said and everyone comes out of this okay.”

The gunman pushed Hutch to start moving toward the stairs. He stopped moving and turned to see what was happening with Starsky when he heard the dark shape say, “I’m sorry, Detective Starsky, but I’m sure you can understand that Mr. Monty doesn’t want you to know where you’re  being taken.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Starsky replied. He sounded resigned and Hutch was afraid of what they were going to do next. “Wait a second. Hutch, I’ll be fine as long as you do like you’re told. I swear, you just have to trust me.”

With that, Hutch watched in disbelief as someone stepped up and grabbed Starsky from behind and from what he could see in the darkness put something up to his partner’s face.

He tensed and started to make a move.

The dark shape said, “Freeze or he dies, Hutchinson.”

Hutch obeyed. “He’s already hurt,” he hissed at them.

“Relax, Detective. It’s just chloroform. Nothing to get worked up about.”

Starsky didn’t struggle. He quickly succumbed to the effects of the chloroform and collapsed. Headlights turned on from across the street and a limousine pulled up next to the men with Starsky. Hutch watched as they carried his limp partner away from him and stuffed him into the back of the limousine.

~*~*~

Starsky woke up seated in a large wing-backed leather chair. His vision was a little blurry at first and his head was pounding, but he realized he was okay and hoped his partner was, too. This was an extremely dangerous situation and he hoped his hunch had been right for both their sakes. He blinked hard a few times and shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears. When he could focus better he saw that he was sitting in front of a crackling fire and an older man was sitting in the matching wing-back.

“Good evening,” Vic Monty said to him. “I trust you are no worse for the wear?”

“I’m fine,” Starsky said, although it wasn’t entirely true. He felt like he could throw up and hoped he wouldn’t have to do it on Vic Monty’s expensive Persian carpet.

Monty snapped his fingers and a man Starsky assumed was a butler appeared. “What would you like to drink?” Monty asked. “Your old man was a scotch and water man.”

The hairs on the back of Starsky’s neck went up at the mention of his deceased father. He didn’t like the thought that somehow this man knew something that personal about Mike Starsky. “Nothing. What do you want from me?” The tone of his voice was full of barely contained contempt.

“No need to be hostile,” Monty said, oozing as much gentlemanly charm as he could. “We’re just going to have a little civil talk.”

“Is my partner safe?”

“Perfectly and he’ll stay that way if you both remain cooperative.”

“All right, so talk,” Starsky said.

“Patience,” Monty answered. “You look a little pale. Ronald, I’ll take a bourbon and branch and bring our guest a ginger ale on ice.”

Since Monty had brought him up, Starsky pointedly asked, “What do you know about my dad?”

“For starters,” Monty answered, “You look just like him.”

The butler brought them their drinks. “That’s all for now, Ronald.”

They waited to continue their conversation until after the butler had left the room and they heard the sound of the pocket doors bump closed. Starsky never had imagined himself sitting face-to-face with an important gangland boss, much less than one who possibly could know something about who killed his father. A look around the room revealed that they were completely alone. This was going to be a private talk. Mr. Monty handed an envelope to Starsky. He opened it and quickly shuffled through its contents. A yellowed newspaper clipping describing his dad’s murder on a Brooklyn sidewalk was inside. So were pictures of his dad and his partner, Bobby Whitney. Most disturbing were pictures of Starsky and Hutch, obviously taken when they were under surveillance coming out of police headquarters. Based on what they were wearing, he thought they had probably been taken within the past two weeks. He was wearing a lightweight denim jacket he had just bought recently.

“Why have you been watching us?” Starsky asked.

“Oh, now, that should be obvious. How much do you know about what your dad was getting close to when he was killed?”

“Nothing. I was only twelve at the time.”

Joe Durniak, another New York mobster, had people on the city council and in the commissioner’s court in his pocket. Starsky didn’t know about that. If he had known, he might have had a clue as to why Monty was so interested in the unsolved murder of an NYPD police officer nearly twenty years in the past..

“He never discussed what he was working on at the dinner table?” Monty asked.

“No. My ma wouldn’t allow it. She figured it might put me and my brother in danger somehow, I guess. I’d love to know who paid for the hit, but I figure I never will after all this time.”

“You telling me the truth, Detective?”

Starsky raised his voice a little when he replied. “You think if I knew who it was I wouldn’t do something about it?”

The pocket doors slid open a little and one of Monty’s guards looked in on them. “Everything okay in here Mr. Monty?” he asked.

“Just fine. I’ll call you if I need you.” The doors slid closed again. “You see my people are very tuned in to my safety.”

Starsky took a deep breath to shake his sudden flash of anger at the mobster. He knew he was in a precarious position and, worse yet, so was Hutch so he’d better cool it.

“Why are you so interested in what my dad knew?”

Monty didn’t answer him. He continued his interrogation. “When was the last time you heard from Joey Durniak?”

Undercover work served Starsky well as he kept his face from revealing his reaction to being asked that question. He took a sip of his drink and sat in silence, staring back at Monty. Two can play the not answering game. He had no way of knowing what information Vic Monty had on him, his family, and Joe Durniak. That the mobster had paid for Mike Starsky’s funeral was common knowledge in the neighborhood, but Starsky wondered what else the man might know.

“What does Durniak have to do with this?”

“Please, Detective.  Let’s not pretend we don’t know what the subject is here. Durniak has been in touch with you and your brother off and on for years.”

“You can leave my brother out of this discussion,” Starsky said. “This is between you and me.”

“All right,” Monty replied.  “We leave Nicholas out of this.  Suppose you tell me where you went when you dropped out of sight when you were sixteen.”

Starsky looked at Monty with steely-eyed determination not to reveal anything he didn’t want to reveal.  No emotion.  No reaction that would let on that he was surprised by anything Monty asked or said.  “Nowhere interesting.  I was just a runaway.  Just another troubled kid.”

Monty quirked a half smile.  “You didn’t resurface ‘til after your time in Vietnam, years later. What were you up to?”

That Monty had obviously kept tabs on him was unnerving, but Starsky wasn’t about to let on that it was.  He said, “If you think it had anything to do with Joey Durniak, you’re sadly mistaken.  I was just on the road, trying to get away from bad memories.”

Michael Starsky had been working on something big when he was killed and Starsky wondered if it possibly had something to do with Monty’s line of questioning. In all the years that had passed, no one had found out exactly what had brought assassins calling. A lot of people had tried to find out, but no one knew who had ordered the hit on the older Starsky.

“I’m still waiting for an answer about when the last time was that you spoke to Durniak,” Monty stated.

Starsky decided Monty probably already knew, so he might as well answer and tell the truth. “I ain’t seen him in a long time. More than ten years. Joe Durniak’s got nothing to do with me and he’s got nothing on me. If you’re sniffing out if I’m on the take, you can shove it.”

Monty seemed satisfied with that answer. “You know, since Joey was always so interested in your dad and in you, I figured it was smart for me to keep tabs on you. I still want to know where you went when you dropped out of sight for such a long time. Where were you?”

Starsky was done with any questions about that time in his life. “None of your business,” he snapped, “but like I said, where I was had nothing to do with Joe Durniak.”

That was basically the truth. Part of the reason he’d dropped out of sight was to shake Durniak and the other people he knew had been keeping up with him off his trail. As he got closer to adulthood, Starsky had become concerned that his presence might be putting his Aunt Rose and Uncle Al in danger. He had graduated high school almost two years ahead of schedule and disappeared one night without a trace. Even his mother didn’t know where he was for a long time. Every month he’d sent her an envelope with some cash in it postmarked from a different city. He had stayed out of sight until he was older and able to protect himself and the people he loved with a badge and a partner backing him.

Monty seemed to accept that. “All right. Enough about the past, let’s discuss the present… and the future.”

“You and me don’t have a future,” Starsky said.

Monty laughed at that. “No, I suppose that’s best for both of us and that’s not what I meant. Let’s just put our cards on the table, Detective. I have very little interest in you as long as you maintain your distance from me. You go about doing what you do and I will do the same. Don’t interfere with me and you and your people will stay safer. That includes your partner. Do you understand me?”

Starsky did and he didn’t like it. “I’m a cop, Mr. Monty. I won’t treat you any different than anybody else. I have no intention of going after you as long as you keep your word and stay away from me and mine. Do you understand?”

“Détente. That’s good. You see, this was just a little civil discourse to make sure we had a mutual understanding.”

“We do, but I’m not done yet. You know organized crime is already well represented here. You’re just one of a lot of players. I don’t know how or why they allowed you in here and I don’t want to. Just be aware that your west coast transition may not be an easy one. We had a lot of muscle before you arrived and sooner or later, you’re gonna get burned playing with their matches.”

“Your concern is touching. I am completely aware, of course.”

“I could give a shit about what happens to any of you. Whatever you get, you deserve. What I do care about is keeping a lid on any kind of violence that puts me, my partner, and the people we’re sworn to protect in danger. The kind of violence that happened this morning, for example, would be enough to ignite my interest.”

“Refreshingly honest, Detective Starsky. Most people don’t dare to speak to me with that much candor. I can assure you that I had nothing to do with what happened outside the courthouse. That impressive gun battle was purely on a local level. Maintain your interest in the local punks however you want. That doesn’t matter to me and it will settle itself out on its own.”

“Water seeks its own level, Mr. Monty.”

“Indeed it does. Make sure your partner understands that it’s best to stay out of the deep end sometimes.”

Starsky’s eyes flashed at the threat in that remark. “I’ll look after my partner. I don’t mind staying out of the deep end when it’s necessary, but if anything were to happen to my partner, God help whoever was responsible.”

Monty stared back at him, his black eyes unreadable to Starsky. “You’re a lot like him, you know. Your father. He also wasn’t afraid to threaten men with more power than he could handle. Tread lightly.”

They sat and glared at each other for a few moments until both were satisfied the conversation was finished. Starsky set his glass down on the table between the chairs and passed the envelope back to Vic Monty. The man stood and crossed to the fire, dropping the envelope on the flames.

Monty walked over and slid open the doors, beckoning his men back inside the room.

“See to it that Detective Starsky is returned safely to his partner, gentlemen.”

One of them moved toward Starsky with what was obviously another chloroform soaked cloth.

“Don’t suppose you could just blindfold me or something. That chloroform has a kick.”

Monty replied. “I’m afraid not. You see, if you’re out of it when we return you, your partner is far less likely to do something foolish. I think that’s best, don’t you agree?”

Starsky nodded and calmly allowed them to put him out again.

~*~*~

The three men who had been left to keep an eye on Hutch had installed themselves in Starsky’s apartment. They wouldn’t allow the lights to be turned on, preferring to keep their faces concealed. The man who did almost all of the talking, and was obviously in charge, was seated on Starsky’s couch

“You’ve been pacing for the past twenty minutes and it’s really irritating. Why don’t you get yourself something to drink to relax?” he asked. “Surely your partner has some alcohol around here somewhere.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to stay alert until my partner walks through the door,” Hutch replied, pointing toward the man guarding the front door. The other guard was at the back door.

“Just keep being cooperative, Detective. Mr. Monty is a man of his word. Your partner will be returned unharmed as long as you’re both sensible.”

Hutch glared at the man in the darkness. Sensible? You have no idea how close I am to hysterical. Sensible be hanged. In the past few days Hutch had experienced a variety of emotional states. He had been despondent and had been held back from disaster by his best friend. His overwhelming sadness had made him reckless, not caring about his own safety. Then, a near miss with his partner had snapped him back to reality. No matter how bad he felt, Starsky still depended on him to back him up on the streets and he owed him that. When he was frightened by his partner’s head injury, he’d given a lot of thought to the fear Starsky must have felt watching his best friend nearly put a bullet in his head. What he had put Starsky through must have been horrible for him. Regret and fear and the deep sadness from potential loss had nearly gotten the best of Hutch. Then, they had received a cautious all clear from Doctor Jameson and everything changed for him. His world righted itself. He knew Starsky was correct when he told him at Huggy’s that they could do this together. Starsky was there for him. Now, he was terrified that these thugs would go back on their word and kill the one person who gave him a reason to fight and to breathe and to remain on the earth. He knew he couldn’t bear the loss and longed for the chance to prove to Starsky that he had been worth saving. After a minute of standing still lost in thought he resumed his pacing.

Hutch continued his back and forth trek across the darkened living room, snapping his fingers and barely containing the need to defy all of them and try to escape to find Starsky.

A non sequitur question was asked by his captor. “Do you play chess, Detective?”

Hutch froze in his pacing. “Chess?” he asked.

“That’s right, chess,” the man answered.

Hutch snorted a laugh at the man. “You have to be joking? Are you suggesting a game right now?”

“Why not? It’ll give you something to do besides pace while we wait for Detective Starsky’s return.”

Hutch was completely incredulous. He was nearing a state Starsky referred to as ballistic blond and that was just one click down from what he called Viking rage. He had started to shake with the anger he was feeling. Now that he’d straightened his priorities in his mind, he didn’t want to think about anything else. He didn’t want to do anything but stay sharp. Hutch felt responsible for letting these men get the drop on them. He had to be ready for whatever happened.

“No chess,” he said, his voice oozing with anger. He turned his back on the man and paced away from him. Chess. Goons who play chess. Starsky is never going to believe this.

The man answered, “Well, if you don’t want to play chess, we can talk.”

Hutch spun toward him again. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“There’s no reason to be inhospitable, Detective. I have some questions for you. Maybe it will help the time to pass if you answer.”

Hutch just glared at him and refused to make any comment. Even in the darkness of the apartment, he hoped the man could feel the intensity of his stare. As if in response, he heard the man snap his fingers, immediately followed by the sound of a gun being cocked by the man standing guard at the front door. Hutch was getting used to that sound.

“Sit down,” the man on the couch ordered.

Hutch stood his ground, refusing to move.

“You know it would be far easier to tie you up and blindfold you than to allow you the freedom to pace. Sit down.”

Being tied up wasn’t in Hutch’s plan. He couldn’t be ready for whatever came next that way. He moved over to the high backed wicker chair Starsky had in his living room and sat. He heard the gun hammer being released back to its normal position.

“Good,” his captor said.

Hutch heard the man who had been guarding the back door walk up directly behind him. Then, he got a brief glimpse of the speaker’s face in the flair of a match as the man on the couch lit a cigarette.

“Cigarette?” the man asked.

Hutch opened his mouth to reply that he didn’t smoke and he stopped. He had quit with Starsky’s encouragement back in their academy days. This night, he decided that he could make an exception. “Yeah,” he said. The man tossed him the pack and the matches. He quickly took one and lit it before he changed his mind, hoping that it would help calm his nerves and not make him sick. He tossed back the matches and the pack.

The two men sat in silence for a minute while the nicotine began to take effect. Hutch had long ago committed himself to a healthy lifestyle and he didn’t want to start smoking again. Tonight, he thought it would be preferable to the impending explosion that was hovering inside him that could get him killed, or worse than that get Starsky killed.

After a minute had passed, the man said, “Now to those questions. How well do you know your partner?”

Hutch had no idea where this could be going. He guessed that Vic Monty had primed the man in front of him with some probing questions for some reason. He wished he had some idea as to why Monty would be so interested in his partner. Starsky seemed to have known what Monty wanted. Maybe playing questions and answers with his henchman would shed some light on things.

“Extremely well. What’s it to you?”

“How long have you known him?”

Hutch took a drag off the cigarette and held it in his lungs long enough to get the full effect. Calm, Hutchinson. Keep it cool.

“Quite a while,” he answered, remaining somewhat non committal.

“Mr. Monty tells me you met at the police academy. That true?”

That was unnerving. Hutch’s concern over what Vic Monty wanted with his partner was mounting. “Yes. What does Monty want with Starsky?”

“Uh-uh-uh,” the man replied. “You’ll have to get your answers from Detective Starsky when he returns. So, you’ve only been partners for a couple of years, then?”

“That’s right.” Hutch took another drag off of the cigarette, grateful that it was helping to calm the shaking he’d felt from his sustained rush of anger.

The man on the couch paused in his questioning. Hutch recognized the technique and maintained his silence. After another minute of mutual smoking in silence, the man continued. “What do you know about Starsky’s father?”

Oh, boy. What could any of this have to do with Michael Starsky after all this time? Hutch really didn’t know a lot about the man, but was anxious to see where this led.

“Not a lot. I know he was a cop. I know he was killed when Starsky was twelve. That’s pretty much it.” Any additional detail wasn’t something Hutch was willing to discuss.

“Come now, you must know more than that.”

“I don’t. He doesn’t like to talk about it. I don’t pry into things he would rather leave alone without a good reason,” he said as he leaned over and flicked the end of the cigarette into the ashtray on Starsky’s coffee table. He had a question of his own. “What difference does any of that make after all this time?”

The man’s reply chilled Hutch. “Time doesn’t really wash everything away, Detective.”

Hutch’s mind ran with that thought. He had always known there were things Starsky kept from him and it had never bothered him until now. He figured Starsky had his reasons. Now, those things he didn’t know seemed like they could be important to Starsky’s safety and he couldn’t put the pieces together.

“You and Detective Starsky are the same age. Did you know he graduated from high school almost two years before you did?”

Hutch did know. “Of course. He’s smart.”

“He’s also Jewish.”

That flared an instant alert in Hutch’s mind. He snarled, “What the hell difference does that make?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, Detective. Just an observation. Because he’s Jewish, his parents were able to start him in school when he was just four years old. Hebrew schools take kids that young.”

This was undoubtedly the strangest conversation Hutch could ever recall having. Just the mention of his partner’s religious affiliation brought worries of a different kind. “So what if they do?” he snapped. He took another drag off the cigarette and prayed for the strength to suppress the urge to strangle the man with his hands. Getting himself killed wasn’t going to do anything to help Starsky. Hutch sensed that the man was on a fishing expedition.

“Were you aware that there was a time after your partner graduated from high school when no one knew where he was? Mr. Monty says he just disappeared for years.”

That was more than Hutch could take. Wherever this was leading, no good would come of it and the danger he sensed for his partner had pegged at the top of his tolerance. His thin grip on control slipped as he stood up and took a step toward the man on the couch. That’s when the man behind him stepped close and shoved a gun into his back again. Hutch froze. Just as the standoff was taking a turn no one wanted, the phone rang.

“Move one more inch and your partner’s going to come back here to find you dead,” the man on the couch stated. He looked over his shoulder and directed an order to the man at the front door. “Answer it.”

The man followed the ringing to the phone and picked it up on the fourth ring. He said nothing, just listened. After a few moments, he said, “Got it.” He hung up the phone. “On their way back,” he stated.

Hutch couldn’t give himself permission to feel any sort of relief about that. Not yet. He put his hands up to indicate he was standing down.

“Good. Neither of us wants this to go farther than necessary,” the man said in a creepy soothing tone. “Put out that cigarette and go sit at the kitchen table. I want you farther from the front door.”

Hutch did as he was told, not liking why he’d been ordered to do it. “What’s it matter where I’m sitting?” he asked.

The man on the couch stood and crossed to the window to peer out to the street. “Come now, aren’t you supposed to be a detective? Deduce why. You must realize that he’s not going to come walking through the front door. We promised to return him unharmed, not conscious.”

The men said nothing more as the minutes ticked by until they heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. In the near darkness, Hutch sat and listened to the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. When the door opened, he could make out two men carrying someone he assumed was Starsky. They lay his apparently unconscious friend on the couch and left again.

“Now, Detective Hutchinson,” the boss said. “We’re going to leave you to take care of your partner. Don’t waste time you could spend helping him trying to run after us. That won’t do any of us any good. He should be fine, but he did already have a head injury and we’ve had to chloroform him twice in less than two hours. Try not to be alarmed if it takes a while to bring him around. We kept our word, now do like your partner advised and trust him. Sit right where you are until you hear us pull away outside.”

“You know damn well I won’t take chances with him defenseless like this. Just get the hell out of here,” Hutch said.

He had rarely reflected on how long a short time interval like thirty seconds could seem. That was about how long it took for the shadowy band of invaders to go down the stairs, into the waiting car, and pull away from the curb. As soon as he was sure the coast was clear, Hutch quickly went into action to see if Starsky was really all right.

~*~*~

Hutch looked out the window to be sure they were really gone before he turned on a light. He knelt next to the couch to get a close look at his partner. Starsky was completely out still and his breathing was shallow, his pulse slower than Hutch would like yet strong enough for him to feel comfortable leaving him long enough to get some things set up to help. Despite the damp evening air, he quickly opened the front door and every window he could to get some air moving in the apartment. Starsky had a box fan in his closet that he used on hot Santa Ana days and Hutch got that out and put it in the doorway running full blast pointed toward the kitchen. A few minutes later, armed with a cool damp cloth, the bathroom trash can, and Starsky’s woefully under stocked first aid kit, Hutch returned to the couch to try to revive his friend.

Chloroform could be dangerous. Hutch feared what it could do to a man with an already present head injury, and he knew enough about it to realize it could put his partner in jeopardy if they’d used too much or left it in place longer than it took to simply render Starsky unconscious. He also knew he shouldn’t go too long without calling for an ambulance if things didn’t start to improve quickly.

Hutch draped the cloth over Starsky’s forehead. He patted him on the cheek and spoke to him gently. “Starsk? Starsk? You okay in there? I need you to wake up for me.” He picked up Starsky’s hand in his and gave it a light squeeze. He had already searched and confirmed that the first aid box had no smelling salts in it.

He loosened Starsky’s shirt buttons and grabbed a magazine off the coffee table to directly fan his partner’s face. Nothing was working and after several minutes of trying his concern was turning into cold dread as he frantically tried to think of something else to do. Smelling salts are a form of ammonia.

Hutch dashed into the kitchen and poked through cupboards until he found a bottle of ammonia for mopping the floors. Crude, but it should work. He poured some out onto a kitchen towel, wrung it out so it was just damp, and rushed back to the couch.

Praying it would work as a last resort before calling for paramedics, Hutch passed the ammonia laced cloth under his partner’s nose. The effect was almost immediate. Starsky coughed and swatted at Hutch’s hands. The first word out of his mouth for once wasn’t his partner’s name.

“Pop?” Starsky mumbled. His eyes were still closed and his crawl toward awareness was being eagerly watched by his partner.

“Shh,” Hutch soothed. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“Pop?” Starsky repeated

The plaintive calls for his dead father convinced Hutch that whatever Monty had wanted from his partner must have been the same information his captor had been fishing for with all of those strange and largely unrelated questions. Hutch dropped the noxious smelling kitchen towel and put both hands on Starsky’s shoulders.

“No, it’s just Hutch,” he said. “Shhhh. Come all the way back for me.”

Starsky’s eyes drifted open and Hutch could see that his partner couldn’t focus. “That’s it. Breathe deep and stay with me.”

Hutch could see that Starsky worked hard to come all the way back, listening to what his partner said and wanted him to do.

“Hutch?” Starsky asked, giving Hutch reason to begin to hope everything would be all right.

“Yeah, I’m here. You back?”

“Hutch?” His response still sounded dazed.

Hutch snapped his fingers in front of Starsky’s eyes. “Snap out of it, buddy. Please, you’re scarin’ me here.”

That was nothing compared to the instant fright Hutch experienced next. Starsky went from being nearly limp to being unexpectedly alert in a few heartbeats. He sat up suddenly and breathed in desperately like an asthmatic struggling for air, the gasps only interrupted by the calling of Hutch’s name.

“I’m here,” Hutch said. “Shhhh, I’m here”

Starsky’s eyes were wide and they darted around the room frantically while his breathing began to become more normal. When something Hutch took for comprehension came into his eyes, Starsky relaxed and took a deep breath.

“Never been so glad to see you,” Starsky said after a few seconds. He chuffed a soft we-beat-the-odds-again laugh.

Hutch helped Starsky to a truly seated position, settling his back against the arm of the sofa. “Are you hurt?” he asked again staring intently into Starsky’s still not completely focused eyes.

Starsky shook his head. “Dizzy.”

“Take it easy,” Hutch ordered.

“I feel like I have a drum corps inside my head.” Starsky slowly relaxed his clenched shut eyelids and opened them to look at Hutch. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. They never touched me,” Hutch answered. He decided to omit how close the tense situation had been to turning ugly when word had come that the other goons were on their way back to the apartment. He continued to assess Starsky’s eyes and was satisfied that things looked all right.

“What did Monty want?” he asked.

Starsky opened his mouth to speak and froze as a sudden gray pallor came over his face. Knowing what was about to happen, Hutch grabbed the trash can and quickly positioned his friend to take advantage of it instead of heaving all over himself. When it was over, Hutch eased him back against the couch. “Don’t go away,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

When Hutch returned with a glass of water and a fresh cool cloth to replace the one he’d been using, he was concerned to see that Starsky seemed to be out again, slumped against the couch with a thin sheen of perspiration over his pale face. He knelt again and used the cool cloth to blot at the perspiration and try to re-awaken his friend.

“Thought I told you not to go away,” he chided, his voice laced with worry.

This time, Starsky quickly came around to his friend’s soft touch. “‘M a’right,” he mumbled. His eyes opened and they looked fairly clear to Hutch.

“Think you can drink this?” Hutch asked, offering the glass of water.

Starsky put a hand out to take it as his answer. His hands were shaking so badly, he had to use both of them to avoid spilling. After a few slow sips, he held it out for Hutch to take. “Thanks.”

“Let’s take it slow. Want me to go first?”

“Good idea.”

Hutch started telling Starsky about the odd conversation he’d had with his gangland babysitter. When he came to the part about chess, Starsky laughed.

“New breed of sophisticated goons?” he asked.

“When I refused to play, he said we could just ‘talk’ and he threatened to tie me up if I didn’t sit.”

Starsky grinned at that. “Guess your pacing was getting on his nerves.”

You know me so well. “You could say that. So, I sat and answered his questions. Some of them were pretty off the wall. He wanted to know stuff like how well I knew you, which isn’t that strange to ask unless you’re Vic Monty.” Hutch decided to skirt around some of the revelations the man had made about his partner. “Starsky, he wanted to know how much I knew about your dad.” He paused, waiting for Starsky to say something about that.

“Monty asked me lots of questions about Pop,” he said.

“Was that what you thought he wanted when you told me to trust you so I wouldn’t get hurt trying to stop them from taking you?”

“Yeah, I figured it was related to Pop somehow.”

Hutch’s eyes were filled with the compassion he felt for his injured friend having painful memories being piled onto the burdens he’d faced in the past few days. “Ready to tell me why you thought that?”

“Just because my dad was a cop and because…” he paused, the look on his face wrenching his partner’s heart. “Hutch, my dad didn’t just die on the street from some random case or a bust gone wrong. Pop was assassinated and everyone knew it was a paid hit.”

Hutch’s face paled and his mouth dropped open a little, his shoulders slumping. Suddenly, he was certain that this was one of those times he needed to pry into things his partner didn’t want to discuss. If for no other reason, his perception of extreme danger to Starsky was reason enough.

~*~*~

Starsky could see in his eyes that Hutch knew how hard talking about this was going to be for him. This entire story was information he had withheld from Hutch purposefully for a variety of reasons. In the beginning of their friendship while the bonds of trust had been forming, he was afraid to divulge some of the dark parts of his past. Prior to when police training and time on the streets had schooled Hutch on the seedier elements of life, the quiet, college-educated Minnesota blond had led a life free from danger and fear.

Hutch had spoken to Starsky openly about his upbringing and his family. Even though he had grown up well off and safe where Starsky had grown up in meager circumstances and sometimes in danger, not all of Hutch’s family life was easy. His mother was sweet and loving, yet she was extremely timid and she never interfered with her strong-willed husband, especially where his children were concerned. Hutch had described his father as a cold, iron-fisted control freak who had his children’s lives all planned for them regardless of what they wanted. Even with that, Hutch had grown up with the luxury of two living, still married parents and a crime-free neighborhood while he was a child. Money was there for the right schools and eventually for the right college. Starsky had none of that. He wasn’t embarrassed by his family’s humble circumstances, but he was afraid that Hutch would be wary to trust him if he knew everything at such an early stage in their relationship. He wasn’t worried about that anymore.

“Hutch, I need to tell you some things and it ain’t gonna be easy for me to tell or for you to hear,” Starsky said.

“You know you can tell me anything, partner. I’ve always known there were things you couldn’t tell me and I tried hard never to pry. You’d tell me anything I really need to know. Now, I feel like some of those things are putting you in danger and I have to understand so I can help. Please trust me,” Hutch pleaded.

That heartfelt plea and the sincere and hopeful look in his partner’s eyes were something Starsky couldn’t refuse. “I trust you with my life, partner. I guess I should really trust you with my darkest secrets.”

Hutch smiled at him, warming Starsky’s soul with reassurance. “You can’t tell me anything that will change what I think of you, or how much I trust you.”

Starsky believed that and he was grateful to have a friend who knew him well enough to guess what one of his biggest worries was. He nodded his acceptance of the promise his partner had just made and said, “I don’t suppose you’d let me have a couple of shots before I get started.”

Hutch chuckled at that suggestion. “How about not just no, but….”

Starsky interrupted him. “Hell no. I figured. Since you won’t get me some shots, the least you could do is help me close all those windows. It may be summer, but I’m freezing my tucas off.” He started to move to get up, but Hutch stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Sit still,” Hutch directed. “I’ve got it.” He walked around the apartment shutting windows and the front door, putting the fan back in the closet, and clearing away the trash can and the things he’d used to revive his partner. He disappeared briefly into the bedroom and came back with a blanket, handing it to his shivering friend. Starsky grabbed his wrist as he turned to step away from the couch. He pulled his feet up to make room for Hutch to sit on the couch with him, wanting to keep him close both for the support and so he could easily see Hutch’s eyes.

“You might as well sit, buddy. This might take a while to get out and you’re gonna have questions.”

“Okay. Gimme a minute first. I probably better go get my gun out of the bushes outside first, don’t you think?”

Starsky had forgotten about that and apparently his partner had until then, too. “Probably best,” he answered.

When Hutch returned with the gun, they both kicked off their shoes and Hutch comfortably settled facing him and leaning up against the opposite side of the couch. Starsky began his uncomfortable recitation.

“I’m sorry I never told you all I know about how Pop died. At first, I was really afraid you’d think I was a bad risk if you knew all there is to know. We hadn’t been friends that long and I didn’t know you well enough yet for me to feel sure you’d be okay with everything. I was scared you’d walk away and we’d never be partners.” The emotion in Starsky’s voice was thick. He took a breath and continued. “Being partners with you was too important for me to risk losin’ it.”

Hutch said, “Hey, it’s okay. Take your time, buddy.”

“Gotta keep going,” Starsky replied. “Not sure I can do this if I stop. I spent a lot of years running from how Pop died for a lot of reasons. No matter how many years pass, seeing the light leave your dad’s eyes when you’re just a kid just don’t ever get any easier.”

Starsky looked Hutch in the eyes briefly. That one look nearly unwound his resolve to continue, so he dropped his gaze to his hands, resting on the rings on his left pinky. He sighed. At this point, Starsky allowed himself to slip into his own thoughts, almost completely unaware of the present.

“My rings,” he said. “I never told you, but they were his. When he was dyin’, he made me take ’em. Told me to never take ’em off and I almost never have. I sent them to Ma when I joined the army and put them back on after I came back to the world.

“Nobody seemed to know who’d ordered the hit. What everybody knew was that Pop was involved somehow with a mobster named Joe Durniak, though nobody knew how. I still don’t really know, but I think they were friends when they were young. Durniak went one way and Pop the other. Another name I remember hearing back before Pop died was Vic Monty. He was the other big gangster in our part of town. I don’t know what Pop may have had on him, if anything. I just know he stepped on some mighty big toes and he died for it. When those goons came for me tonight, I just figured it was about all of that. Somehow, he’d figured out who I was and he needed to make sure I knew that he knew.

“After Pop died, I went a little crazy. You know that. I’ve told you how Ma decided to send me out here for my own good. When I got here, they didn’t know what to do with me. I’d started school so early I was way ahead of the other kids my age. They put me in a grade ahead of my age and it didn’t do me any favors. Eventually, I wound up graduating the December before I turned seventeen. You know that, too.

“The whole time I lived with Aunt Rose and Uncle Al, I never felt really safe. At first it was just ’cause I was in a new place and was being shuttled back and forth from California to New York in the summers. Even went to school in New York for a semester in the ninth grade because Uncle Al was sick and Aunt Rose couldn’t deal with that and having an angry teenager in her house here for a while.

“I always felt like I was being watched somehow and didn’t know why. Every now and again, things would happen at the house. I remember a break-in right after I moved out here. I knew somebody paid to kill my dad and I was scared they weren’t done. Aunt Rose and Ma had lots talks over the phone when no one knew I was listening. Somehow I got the feeling that everyone was in danger and it was because of me. When I graduated, I left.”

Starsky finally stopped. When he’d been quiet for a few moments, Hutch said, “None of that was on you, buddy. Why did you think you were to blame? You were just a kid.”

The answer pained Starsky. “Because I was the one who was there when Pop died. I figured the bad guys thought he’d told me something important. I was a kid. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just knew I couldn’t stay and let anybody pay for anything that had to do with me.”

Hutch sighed. “Starsk, why would you think this would change my feelings toward you?”

“I’m not done,” Starsky answered. “I always thought Pop’s death had something to do with an investigation, but I didn’t really know.  I only knew some powerful bad guy had ordered it. Pop was everything to me. I never wanted to believe it, but what if Pop had been involved in some way other than investigating? Things were different then. He was a uniform and from what we know now, he shouldn’t have been into anything that heavy. I just didn’t know enough and I was afraid you’d think maybe he was dirty. As they say, the acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree, understand?”

Starsky ventured a look into Hutch’s eyes again. Only compassion seemed to be there, along with that look that told him everything was okay.

“Starsk, you trying to tell me the sins of the father are the sins of the son?” Hutch asked plaintively.

“I don’t think so now, Hutch. But back then I was just scared of losing the first solid thing that was really mine that I’d felt underneath me since I was twelve. I can’t explain it any other way. I guess–”

Hutch finished for him, “It’s complicated, huh?”

“More than you can ever know.”

~*~*~

Hutch was sad for his partner. He wondered if the deep hole in Starsky’s psyche could ever be completely healed. His generally upbeat and optimistic nature seemed a stark contrast given everything Starsky had been through in his life and Hutch admired his resiliency. As much as he hated to have to poke at that pain, he had questions.

“You had a message at the station that said to call a Bobby W, ASAP. Any idea what that would be about?” Hutch’s intuition told him it was related.

“Bobby W? That’s probably Pop’s partner. I haven’t heard from him in years. Wonder if he found out Monty was here.”

Delving into that could wait, but it gave Hutch a good segue. “You can call him tomorrow. Did Monty tell you anything new?”

“No. Mostly he wanted to be sure I’d keep my distance.”

“I see. Muscle or money?”

“Money ain’t his style, Hutch.”

Hutch thought about that. If Monty wasn’t offering a money bribe to his partner for his willingness to stay away from him, he must have lobbed some physical threats at Starsky– designed to make him toe the line.

“Did he threaten you?”

Starsky stared at him for a few heartbeats before answering. “Indirectly.”

Hutch knew what that meant. “So he threatened me.”

Starsky nodded. “You and everyone else I love,” he answered flatly.

Hutch let that confirmation settle. “Other than your distance, what did he want in return for me and your other loved ones remaining safe?”

“That’s just it, Hutch. Nothing else. He wanted to be sure I didn’t interfere with him or his operations here. When I told him I wouldn’t treat him any different than anyone else but that somethin’ like the shootout this morning would draw my interest, he said that had nothin’ to do with him. Said that was local and we could do whatever we wanted at that level. He doesn’t care.”

Hutch tried to absorb that. “Did you believe him?”

“Yeah, I did. It was almost like that kind of thing was… beneath him.”

Monty’s henchman had revealed some things Hutch wanted to have clarified if possible. He knew Starsky had given him the abridged edition, and he felt compelled to press to find out more about the things the man had mentioned.

“Starsk,” he started, “my babysitter said some things that worried me and he said some things that were big enough bombshells that I need to ask you about them. You okay with that?”

A tight-lipped Starsky nodded his agreement. “What kind of things did he tell you?”

Hutch could see the dark emotions in his partner’s eyes. He hoped he could be gentle enough and still find out what he needed to know to formulate a plan to keep his partner safe from Vic Monty or whatever other threat appeared on their mutual horizon.

“For one thing, the man pointed out that you’d graduated from high school way ahead of me, even though we’re the same age. I told him I knew that. I didn’t react well to his next point, which was to remind me that you’re Jewish.”

Starsky’s eyes flashed just the way Hutch imagined his had at the comment. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“I think my response was to ask what difference that made, but pretty much the same as what you just said,” Hutch replied. “He said your parents had put you in school when you were four. Hebrew school.”

Starsky spared a brief, small smile at that. Hutch raised his eyebrows in inquiry.

“Yeah, they did. Ma was pregnant with Nicky then and she was having a tough time. I remember she was sick a lot and there were other things I didn’t know then. You’re gonna be surprised to hear that I was kind of a handful. I don’t remember the Yiddish for it, but my grandma was constantly saying I was a wild child. Guess I was pretty bored because I was always in trouble with Pop for doing something crazy. Seems like they decided to put me in school right after I took apart the toaster, put it back together, and nearly electrocuted myself testing out my modifications.” He rubbed his left index finger and thumb together.

Hutch laughed. “Not surprised. Guess you didn’t have me around to tell you to watch it.”

“No, and I sure could’ve used ya.” He dropped his eyes and added, “I caught the kitchen curtains on fire in that little incident, too. Ah, those were the days.”

“So, they put you in school to keep you from self-immolation?” Hutch teased.

“I guess. The strategy didn’t keep me out of the ER entirely, but at least the house was safer and Ma got some rest before the baby came.”

Hutch spared a fleeting thought for the fact that his partner had been hurt so many times in his life. Starsky wasn’t clumsy or particularly unlucky; he just lived life basically at two speeds when he was doing most anything–dead stop or ninety miles an hour with very little between. He could be calmer and more patient than anyone who didn’t know him well could imagine, but he was also the most likely to be the first one to volunteer for dangerous duty, the first to run into any dangerous situation, the first to throw caution to the wind especially when he felt called by duty or love. Hutch was much the same way in that regard, but he felt it was part of his duty protecting his partner to interject a little prudence. Over time the partners had developed a rhythm and style to how they operated that leant itself to protecting them both. Hutch tried to get in front of Starsky when he could. He usually kicked in the doors and went high while Starsky went low. He tried to precede his partner into places where his danger senses were alerted. Though he wasn’t always successful getting up front, and he was fairly certain Starsky knew about his unspoken strategy, Hutch’s style was a few heartbeats more cautious than Starsky’s and it had saved their backsides many times already. With a partner like his, a man had to stay constantly alert. Trouble just seemed to have a way of finding him.

Hutch continued. “So, I suppose that leads me to my next question. After you graduated from high school and you left, Monty’s man said you disappeared for years. Is that right?”

Starsky sighed and nodded. Hutch could read in his eyes that he’d just sailed into troubled and uncharted water with his partner. “He asked me about it, too. I told him it was none of his business.”

“Is it none of mine?” Hutch asked, while telegraphing trust and sincerity with his eyes.

“Of course not, Hutch. It’s just not important, that’s all.”

“Not important that you were off the map for years? It’s important to me, buddy.”

Another sigh. “Monty asked me about that right after he asked when was the last time I heard from Joe Durniak.”

None of this was making Hutch feel anything but increasingly nervous. “Any idea why?”

“Nope. Maybe he figured he could fish some info about Durniak outta me. Problem is, I don’t know anything about Joey. Haven’t seen or heard from him in more than ten years. Not since before I left for ‘Nam. I told him where I was had nothing to do with Durniak.”

“You ready to talk about it?”

“Hutch, there just isn’t a lot to say. I split and went to ground for a couple of years or so before I joined the army. I survived it. What more is there to tell? It was a long time ago and I was just a scared, confused kid.”

“I’m just interested, Starsk. You weren’t even eighteen. Where did you go?”

“All over the place, buddy. I might not be proud of everything I had to do to keep body and soul together, but I didn’t do anything illegal, if you’re worried about that.”

“Hey, I don’t care about that and I didn’t think you had. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. Just tell me if there’s anybody from that time that I need to be worried about. Is there? With all of this stuff coming up from so long ago, I’m worried about you.”

“You’re worried about me, huh?” Starsky chuckled. “Ain’t we a fine pair?”

“The finest. Is there anybody?” Hutch was nothing if not persistent.

“Anybody more dangerous than Vic Monty? No. Most of the people I knew from that time are harmless. None of ’em even know my real name.”

“Oh. You were traveling under an alias, huh? Anybody I know?”

“Nah. I had a few of ’em. Fake IDs and such. I traveled around and did a lot of different jobs for cash. Kept under Durniak’s radar. I didn’t know I was keeping under Monty’s.”

“Why’d you suddenly decide to join the army?”

“I got tired of movin’ around all the time. Different cities every month, not always having anywhere to be. I didn’t feel any safer. Hadn’t talked to my ma in a long time. I sent her cash every month, and she knew from the postmarks where I’d been, but I never called. That was a pretty lonely time, Hutch. I learned a lot, but I just got tired. I knew I wanted to be a cop and you had to be at least twenty-one and a half to get into the academy, so I decided I’d sign up for a hitch in the army. Used my real name that time. I finally felt safe.”

“You felt safe going to war?”

“Safer than I had in a long time. I knew where I belonged. After my tour was done, I came back to the world. I made it as far as Bay City and my ma came out to visit me here. It took me a while to work through some things before I was ready to join the academy. You know the rest from there.”

They sat in silence for several minutes while Hutch pondered what he’d been told. Starsky still hadn’t revealed anything much about that missing time, but he believed it wasn’t anything that should concern them. Vic Monty and Joe Durniak aside, nothing seemed to pose any kind of threat at present. Just when he thought he would have to remain curious about that time in Starsky’s life, he started talking again.

“It was pretty tough at first. I hitched rides on trains and hitchhiked when I couldn’t do that. Slept on the streets a fair bit. What little money I had needed to stretch for who knew how long so I used that for food. I met a lot of colorful characters along the way.”

Hutch didn’t like the image of his partner’s younger self sleeping on the streets and fending for himself with no one to turn to if he needed help. That made his heart heavy. During that time, Hutch was finishing high school. Although home life wasn’t happy, he was safe and wasn’t worried about getting jumped by some street punk, or where he would be sleeping, or if he would have food. Starsky chose to go on that walkabout, but typical of his partner a component of that choice revolved around the safety and security of the people he loved. At least as he perceived things.

“Did you have any idea how dangerous what you were doing was?”

“I knew. For a long time I just didn’t care. After a while, I started to and that’s when I gave up the gypsy life for the life of a soldier. Guess I figured it was time to grow up.”

“You ready to tell me about being a soldier?” Hutch was hopeful. He knew things had happened to his partner during his time in Vietnam that still brought him nightmares years later. Maybe if he could talk about it, they would finally go away.

Some of the color left Starsky’s face and his eyes opened wider. He shook his head a little and said, “I can’t, Hutch. Not now.”

Hutch sat forward and put a hand on Starsky’s knee. “Hey, don’t sweat it. I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay, Hutch. Maybe someday.”

Trying to lighten the mood, Hutch said, “How about you tell me about some of those colorful characters instead.”

“You’re something else, Hutchinson,” Starsky said with a smile, the tension fading from his face. “Okay, but most of it was pretty boring. I’ll give you one example. You ever wonder why I drive like I do?”

“I figured you were just crazy,” Hutch replied.

“No, I’m serious. You don’t think I learned to corner like I do and to lose a tail like I do at the academy, do ya?”

“I guess I always thought you were a natural; born with a gear shift in your hand.”

Starsky smiled again. “True, but I had help. Ever hear of a guy named Wendell Scott?”

Hutch shook his head. “No, should I?”

“Should you have? Not since you don’t follow racing. You might not even if you did. Wendell Scott is the only black guy to ever win a major NASCAR race. He won the Daytona 500 in ’63. He let me hang out with him for a while. I got to work his pit and he taught me how to fix engines and how to drive. Whenever we’re flying down the street on a chase, you have Wendell Scott to thank for the fact that I can do that without wrapping us around a pole.”

“Are you kidding? You had a NASCAR driver teach you how to double-clutch? You were just a kid!”

“Yeah, and I was a fish out of water trying to find my place in the world. I guess he was, too. Maybe he pitied me. Whatever, he was a good guy and he taught me a lot.”

Hutch was glad that his friend had some good memories from that time, not just pain and regrets. He smiled warmly at Starsky, who was trying to stifle a yawn at that moment. Hutch sensed that he would get no more information then. Time for sleep.

“We have to go to work tomorrow, buddy. Maybe we’d better get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” Starsky said. “You doin’ okay?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“I’ll be okay. Nothing a little sleep won’t cure.”

Hutch didn’t want to close out the conversation without reassuring Starsky. The look in his eyes seemed to Hutch to be a mix of sadness, hope, and exhaustion. “I was wrong about one thing, Starsk. I thought I couldn’t believe you were braver than I did before you started to open up to me about these things. I was wrong. You’re braver than I had any idea of before tonight.”

~*~*~

Both men were weary still as they entered the squad room the next morning. Starsky should have taken the day to recuperate, but he wasn’t having it. He didn’t want his partner relegated to desk duty with the things they had on their plates, and the two had already had a frank exchange of views about Hutch hitting the streets without him. Round one went to Starsky. Dobey’s office was the first place they planned to go to tell him about what had happened with Monty.

They doors hadn’t swung shut behind them before one of the other detectives told them Dobey was looking for them and he wasn’t in a good mood.

“That’s where we’re headed,” Starsky said.

Hutch asked, “Think he’s already heard?”

“We’re about to find out,” Starsky answered as he opened the door to the captain’s office.

Captain Dobey was not alone. A tall heavyset man in a dark charcoal suit was with him. The man’s ramrod stiff stance, the suit, and the salt-and-pepper hair in a close military cut screamed FBI.

“Good morning, Cap,” Hutch said after shooting a look at his partner.

Captain Dobey got right to business. “Come in and sit down, gentlemen. This is Assistant Director Daniel Carhart, FBI. AD Carhart, Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson.”

The detectives hadn’t had a lot of exposure to federal agents; their case load didn’t usually lend itself to their crossing paths. They had no reason to be suspicious, other than their instincts, which were immediately on high alert.

Starsky flicked his eyes from the FBI man to his partner. Fed. Cautious?

Hutch nodded. Cool.

After brief but courteous handshakes all around, Starsky and Hutch sat and waited to see what would come next.

“Where were you last night?” Captain Dobey asked.

Starsky replied, “We were just headed in here to tell you about it.”

“Maybe we can talk about that later,” Hutch added, glancing over at the federal agent.

“That’s what he’s here about,” Dobey replied.

Carhart didn’t wait any longer. He pointed a finger at Starsky and said, “I want to know what he was doing with Vic Monty last night.”

“Now, just a minute,” Hutch said, unconsciously turning on the arm of the chair to get closer to Starsky.

“I’d like the answer to that, too,” Dobey said. “Spill it.”

Hutch tapped Starsky’s leg with his foot, letting him know he would take it.

“Last night,” he began, “some hoods showed up at Starsky’s place right when we got there. They put the bag on Starsky and left me on ice with their muscle to keep me quiet long enough for the meeting Vic Monty wanted with Starsky.”

“What did he want with you?” Dobey asked Starsky.

“Cap, can we please have this conversation later,” Starsky said.

Carhart said, “If you have business with Vic Monty, you’d better tell us about it.”

“I don’t,” Starsky replied. “Looks like he’s involved with the men we had a shootout with yesterday. Maybe you heard it on the news. He wanted to talk.”

“Now, you listen up,” Carhart started in on Starsky.

Hutch stood up and took a step toward the man he perceived to be threatening his partner. “Back off, Carhart….”

“Both of you back off,” Dobey said as Carhart took a step toward Hutch.

After a few moments of tense silence, the two men stepped back and relaxed a little.

Dobey continued. “If Detective Starsky says he doesn’t have any business with Monty, he doesn’t.”

Carhart was clearly fuming, obviously not ready to drop it, but the looks on the faces around him must have convinced him to soften his stance. “All right. You have to admit it’s not every day you find an off duty police officer in the home of the head of an organized crime family.”

“And exactly how is it that you know about that, Carhart?” Starsky asked.

“I have an agent inside. Your presence there put him in jeopardy. That’s how.”

“Well, going there wasn’t my idea!” Starsky snapped back at him.

“Cap,” Hutch said, “what happened last night has nothing to do with any undercover operations. It happened just like I said it did.”

“All right,” Dobey said. “Carhart, you and your operative don’t have anything to worry about with my men here.”

“Fine, just see to it that they stay away from Vic Monty. It’s taken almost a year of work to get as far as we have and Detective Starsky could have blown it all if my man had needed to keep Monty’s people from killing him. They could both be dead.” Turning to face Starsky he added, “You do realize you’re lucky to not be at the bottom of the bay right now, don’t you?”

Before Hutch could say another word, Dobey said, “That’s enough, Carhart. We get it.”

Knowing he was being dismissed, Carhart nodded at the captain and said, “Be sure you do. Investigating Monty is a federal matter.”

Hutch walked to the door and held it open for the man to leave, which he did with a scowling glance aimed back at Starsky just before Hutch slammed the door behind him.

When the three men were seated again, Dobey was ready for a real explanation. “Suppose you two tell me what in the Sam Hill is really going on here!” he demanded.

The partners had already discussed what they would tell their boss–how much and how far they would go in their description of what had happened. By mutual decision, they thought Dobey didn’t need to know about Starsky’s protracted time under assumed names or that Monty had been tracking his whereabouts for almost two decades, but they would tell him there was some loose connection between the events of the past few days and Starsky’s dead father.

“Take it easy, Cap. We came in ready to tell you this morning,” Starsky said. “We had no idea a fed had gotten wind of any of it.”

“That’s right,” Hutch added. “Monty’s goons showed up and threatened to kill me if Starsky didn’t go with them. They promised us if we cooperated, he’d be returned unharmed in an hour. They threatened to kill him if I fought them. We didn’t have any choice.”

“They chloroformed me and when I came to, I was at Monty’s place in his study.”

“Are you all right?” Dobey asked. He gestured at Starsky’s black eye and added, “You shouldn’t even be here today.”

“If I weren’t here I’d just be home pacing my apartment. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. Okay, so what did he want with you?”

“He wanted me to know he was here. He wanted to let me know I should stay away from him.”

“But, why you, Starsky?”

“Because he knew my dad, Cap. I don’t know any more than that. My dad must have been investigating him or something. I was just a kid when he died, so I can’t really tell you. I guess when he heard the news reports and he heard my name, he got curious.”

Captain Dobey looked at him and studied his face. Then, he turned his eye to Hutch and said, “What do you have to say about all of this?”

Hutch sat up straighter and said, “Just what he said. Vic Monty won’t try to make contact again. Whatever he wanted he got.”

“Okay. If anything changes, you tell me. When I first heard about this from Carhart, I figured you two renegades had gone off and had a private party. I’m glad to hear you didn’t. You know how I feel about that. No private parties. Got that?”

“Yes, sir,” the two younger men said in unison.

“That all for now?” Hutch asked.

Dobey studied his face for a few seconds and said. “Starsky, give me a few minutes alone with your partner.”

“Anything you have to say to me, Cap, you can say in front of him,” Hutch stated.

“Uh-huh. Starsky, I won’t keep him long. You just go on out to the squad room.”

Their captain had offered them no choice. Starsky stood, nodded at the captain and turned to walk past Hutch, looking in his eyes briefly before he passed. His fingertips brushed Hutch’s sleeve as he stepped toward the door.

~*~*~

The door clicked shut behind Starsky, leaving Hutch alone with their boss. Hutch wasn’t sure what the man could want that Starsky couldn’t hear, especially knowing Hutch would undoubtedly tell him whatever it was.

“He looks terrible. How’s he doing?”

“He’s hanging on, Cap. Between what happened yesterday and Monty scaring the crap out of both of us last night, and memories of his dad being pushed on him, he’s hanging on with his fingernails. He’s okay, though. I’ll see to it that he is.”

“Is he in any danger from Monty?”

“No. Like I said, whatever he wanted, he’s done with Starsky. We’ll stay away from him and he’ll stay away from us, God willing, Vic Monty is someone we’ll never hear from again. Let the feds deal with him.”

Dobey stared at him for a few moments again. “Something has seemed off with you two for a few days now. If I needed to worry about anything, you’d tell me, right?”

“Sure, Cap. We’re going to concentrate on our case and try to get things under control on our beat. That’s enough to worry about.”

~*~*~

Both detectives were to report to have their guns checked that morning and it was anticipated they’d be returned prior to the end of the day. The facts were so clear cut, the investigation was a formality.

Passing through the squad room and the halls on the way to turn in their weapons, some of their coworkers sent words of encouragement their way. The same things they’d said in similar circumstances many times to other officers involved in shootings.

“Don’t worry, it was a righteous shoot.”

“IA won’t give you any grief about this one.”

“Glad you guys made it okay.”

“You’ll be back in the saddle by lunchtime.”

After they had turned over their weapons, they couldn’t hit the streets. Given the nature of the case, Captain Dobey had requested that they be allowed to be confined to desk duty until they were given the all clear rather than put on suspension pending the outcome. This case was like a pot about to boil over and Dobey wanted them back on it as quickly as possible. At least if they had a day chained to headquarters, they could stay out of trouble for a little while and give Starsky a chance to completely recover from his head injury. Turning over their weapons and being interviewed by IA had taken more than half of the morning.

Back in the squad room, Starsky and Hutch pored over preliminary reports of the shootings from the previous day. The initial investigation posited that Kendall had been killed by the shooter from the back of the van. Based on the weapon found with the van, eye witness accounts, angle, and the damage inflicted on Ted Kendall, the reports speculated that the kill shot was most likely fired from a .30-06 rifle through a window in the side rear of the van prior to the shooter popping up through the roof hatch. Pending confirmation by autopsies, the wounds on the two dead men from the van supported what they both already knew. Starsky’s 9mm had gotten the one in the back and the wheel man was killed by Hutch’s Magnum. They started with him. Hutch had called and had R&I pull the man’s record and brought over to them, along with the file for the dead shooter.

Reading the file, Hutch said, “Craig Shelby, thirty-two years old. Rap sheet as long as my arm. Wheel man in that big East Chase estate sale heist back five years ago. Already did his time for that.”

“What about the guy in the back?” Starsky asked.

“Guy in the back of the van probably killed Ted with a single shot from a thirty-aught-six fired from a small window in the side of the van,” Hutch said.

Starsky shuddered at the thought and subconsciously rubbed his face where the blood spray had covered it. “At least it was instant. I didn’t tell you, but the bullet came so close to me, I felt it go past.”

“What?” Hutch said. “Damn.”

Hutch opened the other folder. “Lewis “Whitey” Barnes, forty-three. He had a long robbery record as well as being under suspicion for a number of unsolved murders, suspected drug trafficking, and running an establishment for ladies of ill repute. He was also on the list of names found in that briefcase Kendall smacked me around with.”

“Unlucky bastard,” Starsky commented. “Didn’t even live long enough to be knocked off by his rivals.”

Hutch nodded, “When your number’s up….”

By one o’clock they had done most of what they could do on the case without leaving Metro.  Hutch hung up the phone from the last of a series of unproductive phone calls to various hospitals, snitches, and the medical examiner’s office.  He looked up and said, “I’m sure I hit the shooter in the back of that truck, but he hasn’t turned up anywhere.”

“If you hit him with your cannon, he could be dead.  Maybe they dumped him somewhere.”

The identities of the driver and the shooter from that truck were still unknown. They each tackled some of the pile of paperwork they hadn’t gotten to over the past week while they waited for an okay to return to street duty.

Impressed at how effectively Captain Dobey had fast tracked them with IA this time, they were about to go collect their weapons along with the all clear to get back on the streets by two in the afternoon. Just in time for what came next. Dobey came out of his office and called to them as they were heading off to IA.

“A call just came in on the mattress truck. Some uniforms think they’ve spotted it abandoned down by the docks at the water side end of Market. Complete with a body.”

“We’re on it,” Hutch said.

Before they made it out of the squad room, Dobey said, “Hutch?”

The detectives stopped in their tracks and looked at each other. Starsky rolled his eyes and sighed.  Hutch nodded slightly. I’ll handle it.  He patted Starsky on the arm and said, “Go on over and get your gun. I’ll be right behind you.” Starsky nodded and walked out, leaving Hutch to deal with their boss.

They stepped inside Dobey’s office and he turned to face Hutch.  “He’s whiter than a cue ball.  You sure he’s going to make it through the tour?”

“He’ll be okay, Cap.”

“He already looks wiped and you’ve been riding a desk all day.  Not the best day for him to pull a double.”

“I know, but at least it’s just a stakeout.  He can rest while I watch.”

Dobey snorted at that remark.  “Just a stakeout, huh?  Did you really just say that?”

“Come on, Cap. Most of the time a stakeout’s just a stakeout.  We’ll information gather.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll put another team on standby just in case.  If he crashes, call me.”

~*~*~

After pushing past the black-and-whites, the coroner’s wagon, and the perimeter tape, Starsky and Hutch stood and looked over the truck.

“That’s it all right,” Hutch said. He had done his best to visually catalog the truck as it fled the scene and he recognized it immediately, running through his memory and the description of it he had given headquarters. Mid 60’s Ford, oxidized white paint mixed with gray primer, dented left rear quarter panel, bumper pushed down and in on the left rear, unpainted wooden stake sides, no plates, and a complete load of old mattresses in the bed.

“I think it’s a ’64,” Starsky noted with a tiny amount of sarcasm evident in his voice.

“That’s important,” Hutch remarked as he swatted Starsky on the arm. “Why is it that you always seem to know every minute detail about any kind of conveyance?”

Starsky chuckled. “I like to know what I can about anything you can get on or in and make go.”

They started in the cab of the truck. Not much to be found there. The fingerprint team had already dusted it thoroughly. The only thing of interest in the front of the truck was some bullet holes. They were from two different guns. Hutch thought the bigger holes must be from that .30-06.

One of the uniforms, Officer Donner, approached and said, “The body’s in the back.” He handed Hutch an evidence bag with the bullets that had been recovered by forensics. After a quick look with Starsky, Hutch handed it back and tapped Starsky on the arm before he started back to look in the bed. “Next stop.”

Hutch climbed up into the back of the truck and put a hand out for Starsky to climb up after him. Hutch hadn’t gotten a clear enough look at the man in the back of the truck to positively ID him, but the body face down before him was wearing a silver windbreaker Hutch recognized. He had brown hair, now clumped with blood from a single shot to the back of his head. The dead man was lying on a dirty old mattress now stained with blood from his head and more that had leeched out from underneath his chest. The rifle the man had been using in the firefight was not in the truck.

Hutch pointed at the massive stain and the exit wound in the upper back and said, “Guess I did hit him. That’s probably courtesy of the Magnum.”

The head shot was obviously not from the big gun and it had the appearance of an up close mob style execution. Hutch said, “Wonder what this guy did to earn the death sentence.”

“Guess his boss wasn’t satisfied with his performance,” Starsky replied.

Starsky looked down at the medical examiner’s field agent who was writing some notes and waiting for the detectives to okay transport of the body. “Any idea how long he’s been here?”

The man replied, “Not for certain, but I’d guess around twelve hours.”

“Did they already get the photos?” Hutch asked.

“Yeah. Finished just before you got here.”

The partners looked at each other to be sure there was nothing else either of them needed to know. Since there didn’t seem to be, Starsky told the field agent, “Okay, you can have him.”

Satisfied with their look at things, the detectives turned to climb back down from the truck bed. Hutch did so effortlessly, but Starsky had more trouble. His attempt to casually hop down to the street ended in him nearly falling over. Hutch whipped around in surprise when he heard the obscenity Starsky let fly as he suddenly sat down hard on the ground.

“Hey!” he said. Hutch knelt and rested a hand on Starsky’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

Starsky put a hand up to rub his clamped shut eyes and said “‘S okay.”

“No it’s not. Open your eyes.”

Starsky’s eyes opened slowly and focused on Hutch’s face. “Really. I’m okay. I guess I just shifted position a little too fast.”

Hutch could see that his partner’s eyes were clearing, but he was pale and sweaty. He wondered if maybe they were pushing Starsky’s physical limits given all that had happened yesterday and during their stressful evening with Vic Monty and his minions. Resting would have been a wiser course for the day for him.

“Help me up,” Starsky said reaching his slightly shaky left hand out for Hutch. Extending his arm exposed his watch.

Hutch turned his partner’s wrist to get the face of his watch out of the sun’s glare. “Is it really almost three o’clock?”

Officer Donner had been hovering behind them. He confirmed the time. “Yeah, it is.”

Hutch suddenly realized that they hadn’t eaten lunch. For that matter they hadn’t eaten much for breakfast, and what little they ate at Huggy’s was many hours in the past. He also thought Starsky was warm enough to be starting in on a fever. Fever, head injury, and chloroform exposure aside, Hutch was all too aware that Starsky’s high metabolism meant he had a hard time going that long without at least a snack if there was no time for a meal. On a normal day, Starsky would have whined about being hungry long ago, which concerned Hutch. He’s injured and his body is trying to heal. Stupid. Should have seen this coming.

Hutch pulled Starsky to his feet and steadied him by holding his arm for several seconds until he was certain his friend would stay standing. “How’re you doing now?” he asked.

Starsky nodded, indicating he was all right.

“We need to get you something to eat, Starsk.”

“Huh? I’m fine,” Starsky replied.

“Uh-huh. And you’ll be even better once we get you some protein.” He steered his still somewhat shaky partner past Officer Donner back toward the car.

~*~*~

Tom Mailer had been furious over the courthouse gunfight debacle. His instructions had been clear that the objective was to kill Ted Kendall–nothing else. Though the appearance of Burgio’s gang at the scene couldn’t have been predicted, Mailer thought Pete Hawes had blown his chance to kill Kendall and get out without collateral damage to the police. That was never the intention. The fact that Kendall was dead was irrelevant. Hawes had failed and Mailer had made certain he paid for his mistakes. He took some malicious pleasure from the fact that the swift and harsh sentence had rattled some of his men. As far as he was concerned, that would just keep them on their toes. He finished reading the newspaper articles on the shootout, folded the paper and tossed it at he man closest to him. All three men were startled by the sudden move.

“Not that it wasn’t all out war before now, but we need to figure out what comes next,” he growled at his men.

Jason Shank had been one of Mailer’s inner circle henchmen for a couple of years. Mailer trusted him more than his other men and he had been the one to finish off Pete Hawes. The other two men in the room watched in silence as Mailer and Shank discussed what to do.

Mailer said, “The heat is gonna be on worse than ever, especially with those two cowboy cops, Starsky and Hutchinson.”

“Want me to take care of them next?” Shank asked.

“No, idiot. Killin’ cops is not only usually a bad idea, Monty will never sit still for it. If any cops get killed, he’ll have his guys do it. We’d screw any chance we had with him and wind up dead in the process. We have to figure out a way to get rid of Burgio and the rest of his gang without causing a major upheaval with Monty.”

“What if we made it look like they took each other out?”

“Too complicated. Let me think.”

The two men paced back and forth for a short time before Sheldon Lutz spoke up quietly. Lutz was a quiet, short, weasel of a man who rarely spoke out of turn. “I know where Burgio’s new headquarters is,” he said.

Mailer and Shank stopped and swung their heads in unison toward the usually quiet Lutz, simultaneously questioning, “Where?”

~*~*~

Starsky only ate half of the food Huggy had served him, but at least it was something, and he was feeling less shaky even if his head was pounding. Hutch had gone to call the station and Starsky decided to take advantage of the opportunity. He waved Huggy back over to their table.

“Thanks for the food,” he told him. “Will ya get the leftovers outta here before he comes back and rags on me to finish it? If I do, he’s gonna be wearin’ it.”

Huggy smiled and took care of it for Starsky, then returned to the table. “You gotta be looking for more than simple sustenance, bro’. Much as you enjoyed my repast, I’m figurin’ you’d like a little info for dessert.”

“Touché.” Starsky said. They had asked Huggy to nose around and find out what he could about the two sets of combatants in their gun battle. The only names they had were the ones on the list. Kendall died before he was able to work a deal and give over the information they needed on either gang.

“I had some luck today. You know the one gang is Tom Mailer’s. The other one is Marco Burgio’s. Seems he took over when Scalisi bought it.”

Even with his back to the direction Hutch had gone in, Starsky could sense that he had finished with his phone call and was on his way back toward the table. “Wait,” Starsky said. “He’s on his way back over here. No need to tell it twice.”

Huggy just shook his head and waited without comment.

Hutch sat back down, noticed that the food had been cleared away, and asked Huggy, “Did he manage to at least get half of it down?”

“Yeah,” Huggy replied. “Starsky may keel over from somethin’ else, but he ain’t gonna drop from lack of food tonight.”

Starsky immediately changed the subject. “Huggy had a name for the other gang. Marco Burgio. Scalisi’s old outfit.”

“That’s progress. Okay. Anybody squawking about why both gangs wanted Ted Kendall dead?” Hutch asked.

“That’s just it,” Huggy answered. “Kendall knew too much about both gangs and he was responsible for losing the contents of that briefcase he tried to put your lights out with. Both had reasons to want to off him.”

“What else did you get?” Hutch asked.

“An address.” Huggy passed a slip of paper to Hutch. “Burgio’s people keep moving hangouts. That’s the latest.”

“Thanks, Hug,” Hutch said. “Starsk, let’s go get my car. If it starts, we can use it to cruise down there and wait to see what happens next.”

~*~*~

Part of Hutch’s reasoning for wanting to use his car for their stakeout was that he would drive and it would give Starsky a chance to rest for a while. If he had thought it would do any good to suggest a break for some sleep, he would have. This would be the best he could do under the circumstances. Starsky had fallen into a fitful sleep, giving Hutch the ability to watch him both carefully and surreptitiously. When Hutch reached over and checked to see if his partner’s fever had worsened after resisting the urge to do so for an hour, Starsky stirred at his touch and pushed his hand away. He wasn’t fast enough to prevent Hutch from knowing the fever was somewhat higher.

“Anything happening?” Starsky asked blinking hard and obviously trying to climb out of sleep.

“Nothing yet,” Hutch answered. Before he was asked, Hutch checked the time on Starsky’s watch and added, “It’s nine p.m.”

Hutch was grateful for the two hours of sleep his partner had gotten, but he knew it wasn’t enough. “How’re you feeling?”

“Groggy, cold,” Starsky answered. “I’ll live.”

“Fish around in the back. I’ve got a blanket back there somewhere.”

“If you think I’m pulling a blanket out of that pile of who-knows-what that’s back there, you’re crazier than I thought. Thanks, but I’m not that cold.”

“That fever is going to make you even more miserable if you don’t.”

The “back off” look Starsky shot his partner was easily discernable even in the near darkness of the car. Irritable. Good sign. Hutch knew it was time to bump up his concern when Starsky became increasingly quiet and passive.

All Hutch said in reply was, “Suit yourself, buddy.” He made a mental note to get a blanket for the trunk like Starsky had.

The state of disorder inside Hutch’s car was a long-standing point of contention between the partners. As fastidious as Starsky was about his car, Hutch was the opposite. The current vehicle was as banged up and nondescript as his previous one had been. This one was a tan four door Ford that Starsky regularly informed his partner was an embarrassment. Not that he would have admitted it, but even Starsky knew having one of their cars be able to blend in on the street instead of standing out was an asset. The fact that Hutch didn’t seem to care if his boring cars were partially rusted, partially oxidized, dented, and almost always in a questionable state of repair didn’t seem to bother him. Hutch found it amusing that Starsky’s cars tended to be an extension of his personality, while Hutch’s car philosophy was that they were merely a means to go from point A to point B.

They had been staked out down the street from the address Huggy provided and hadn’t seen anyone approach or go in or out so far. The address belonged to what was probably a vacant storefront. They couldn’t see inside because of the curtain-covered front windows, and the weathered For Lease sign appeared to have been in place for a long time. The two story building looked like one of those where the upstairs was used for offices or storage. The upper windows were dark. Burgio’s gang had been in place there already when the detectives arrived for their surveillance so no one had arrived or left.

When they told their captain they were planning to stake out the potential hideout, he had insisted on their assurance they were information gathering only. After the violent gun battle the two gangs had engaged in the previous day, Dobey wanted them to watch to see how many people came and went, if they recognized anyone, and to gather some license plate numbers. When they had more information, they would formulate a plan.

Hutch had readily agreed to Captain Dobey’s terms, despite Starsky’s annoyance. If they had to pull a double shift, at least the second part of it could be quiet instead of overly active. At this point, they only had a few hours left before they could get some rest.

“How’re you feeling?” Hutch asked, knowing he was probably going to get a cranky earful, but he didn’t.

“Like shit,” Starsky replied. “Head hurts.”

“You getting sick?”

Starsky shook his head, rubbing his arm in an absent minded way, and said, “Dunno. Sorry I snapped at ya about the blanket.” Hutch thought he sounded thoroughly miserable.

“Just three more hours and we’re off the clock. Maybe all you need is some sleep.”

“Yeah.”

After a few more minutes of watching his partner shivering out of the corner of his eye, Hutch decided to leave him watching the storefront while he quietly slipped around the corner on foot to get them a couple of coffees from a convenience store two blocks away on the nearest cross street. Naturally, that’s when things started to happen.

By the time Hutch returned to the car, Starsky wasn’t in it anymore. He quickly realized that something must have happened at the storefront and Starsky wouldn’t be far. He left the coffee inside the car, pulled the Colt, and started down the sidewalk crouching behind parked cars along the way he thought his partner would have gone.

Halfway down the second block directly in front of their target, he heard the quiet sound of something like small stones hitting the building in front of him. Following the sound, he found Starsky between two parked cars.

“Two dark sedans pulled up a little while ago. I already got the plates,” Starsky whispered.

“How many?”

“I counted five. Could be trouble.”

Over the next several minutes, Starsky pointed out the cars and told Hutch that when three of the five men had entered the storefront he was fairly certain one of them was Mailer. He had seen him in the light that spilled out onto the sidewalk briefly through the open door. The other two were positioned nearly invisibly on the street in the darkness on either side of the storefront. In soft whispers the partners discussed a strategy. They agreed Hutch should return to the car and radio for backup to come in silent and hold back around the corner in case all hell broke loose. He hadn’t made it back to Starsky’s position when it did.

~*~*~

Mailer was determined to take care of Burgio’s gang once and for all. Since the plan to get Monty’s henchmen to eliminate the rival gang had resulted in the police getting their hands on the list, he knew they would need to take care of it themselves. Gathering another $15,000 for a second try wasn’t an option. He decided they would pay a personal visit to Burgio’s new headquarters. The plan was for them to try to negotiate a truce that would favor either Burgio’s people joining them or the Mailer gang finishing as many of them off as they could. Killing Burgio himself was their objective if he refused the deal. With their leader dead, the gang might fall into step and end this mess. Then, they would negotiate with Monty’s people to take over the district and figure out how to manage the various dirty businesses they had to take care of there.

Mailer had sent one of his men to Burgio under a flag of truce. They had agreed they would meet in Burgio’s headquarters at around nine o’clock. Not neutral territory, but Mailer hoped it would lead the other gang into a false sense of security if it came to a firefight.

Earlier in the evening, Mailer sent a few men ahead to stake out the back of the hideout in the alley and he had a couple positioned in a dark second floor apartment in the dingy building next door. Whatever exit Burgio’s people fled through, he wanted men in place to finish them.

Burgio and Mailer sat across a table from each other inside the cigarette smoke filled storefront. One of the two men who came in with Mailer was Shanks. As his lieutenant, he positioned himself standing slightly behind his boss. Burgio’s right hand man was a tall, greasy looking character named Stu Bossier. The man had a long scar on his left cheek that aided his ability to look intimidating. After the formalities of introduction and cool sizing each other up had been complete, Bossier put some scotch out on the table for each of the bosses and then took up a similar position standing behind Burgio. He grabbed and held Shank’s gaze with his own

“I have a proposal,” Mailer said. Despite his cool demeanor, Burgio’s eyes betrayed his uneasiness to Mailer.

“I’m listening.”

“This fighting has been going on long enough. We’ve chipped away at each other and it’s time to end it.”

Burgio smirked. “How do you suggest we do that?”

“You have to know you’re outnumbered. We’ve eliminated a lot of your guys.”

That comment drew a steely look and a shrug from Burgio. “I can always recruit new guys.”

“That’s just it. You recruit new ones and we waste ’em. You blow away some of mine and we get replacements. This could go on for bloody ever. Is that what you want?”

“I want whatever it takes to come out on top, Mailer. Same as you.”

Burgio had just five men in the room including Bossier. Two of them had taken positions near the door. Mailer’s other man had moved around to keep them in front of him. The entire group was obviously edgy about the outcome for this meeting and Mailer noticed his people shifting into more defensive stances. He shook his head, clearly conveying that he wanted them to hold off doing anything.

“True, but maybe there’s a way we can work together. I propose we combine our resources. I stay at the top with you as my right hand.”

Burgio laughed at the suggestion. “Why would I agree to that?”

The look in Mailer’s eyes shifted to reflect his determination. “Because you get to stay alive if you do,” Mailer replied with a chilling nonchalance in his voice.

The two men glared at each other across the table for several heart pounding moments while each considered what he would do or say next. Mailer hoped Burgio would be reasonable. Even here in his headquarters Mailer had his people under heavy fire between the men he had in the room, those watching to rush in through the back, the two outside on the street and in the apartment next door. Unless Burgio had some men hiding somewhere he was confident he had close to two-to-one odds.

“Now, wait a minute, Mailer. You don’t come into my place and make a threat like that!” Burgio shouted.

“That’s not a threat, Marco,” Mailer replied. “That’s a promise. Before you let your men do anything foolish, consider my offer. I’d give you your choice of the docks or the downtown parts of the territory to run like you see fit. I get a share of the take, but you’ll make more money than you do now and neither of us will continue to draw so much attention from the cops.”

Burgio continued to glare at Mailer. “I need some time to think,” he said.

That was a scenario that had occurred to Mailer. He had formulated a plan with his men if that should happen. They had decided that if Burgio requested time they would honor it as long as everyone got out of the area with no shots fired.

“All right. I’ll give you until noon tomorrow. Send word by then. I’ll have someone waiting at the docks. Pier twelve. I have a fishing boat moored there named the ‘Sorry Charlene.’ My man will be on board.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a guy into fishing,” Burgio said.

“I’m not.” Mailer obviously used the boat for other activities he didn’t need to list to cause the man across from him to lose some of the color in his face.

Burgio nodded. “You’ll know by noon.”

The two men shook hands, the meeting concluded. Mailer rose and headed toward the door with Shank at his back facing away from him keeping a wary eye on Burgio and his people on that side, while his cohort shielded their boss from the men at the door in front. Burgio snapped his fingers and jerked his head to the right, signaling the men at the door to back off and let the three men pass. They did that, and then followed them out the door. Mailer and his bodyguards made it outside onto the sidewalk, giving Mailer permission to begin hoping this wasn’t going to end as ugly as he had thought it could. That thinking was shattered in the next instant.

No one but Burgio knew that he had a couple of men posted outside, too. One was across the street in the darkened doorway of a closed business. The other was upstairs in his headquarters, peering invisibly out of a window to the street.

~*~*~

Dressed all in dark clothing, Starsky had successfully made it down the street without being seen by Burgio’s man. Hutch hadn’t been as fortunate. The giveaway had been something he couldn’t help. Although he’d been silent and the night was dark and overcast, what light there was had been enough for his almost platinum hair to be spotted in the darkness.

Jess Chandler was one of Burgio’s hit men. A dangerous man with deadly aim, Burgio put him out front on purpose because he could easily pick off anyone who was there to cause trouble. He knew there were two of Mailer’s men across the street who hadn’t gone inside, but he was willing to bide his time to see how things played out before taking action. When he spotted Hutch, he waited until he saw him retreat down the street to make his move on Starsky. Chandler had a long record and had once been arrested by Hutch when he was a uniformed officer and had since had a near miss with the man and his dark-haired partner. He recognized Hutch the moment he saw him even in the darkness and where the blond cop went, his partner was sure to be present nearby.

Chandler pressed his gun barrel into the back of Starsky’s neck and quietly spoke in his ear. “You make a sound and I’ll blow your head off, cop.”

~*~*~

Ordinarily, Starsky would have detected something behind him, but his head was throbbing, his arm felt like it was on fire and his fever was sapping some of his attention. Hutch had only left long enough to call the cavalry and would be returning to where he waited shortly so his guard was down a little from that, too. He didn’t know he was in trouble until he felt the cold metal of a gun barrel press into the back of his neck.

Chandler quietly spoke in his ear. “You make a sound and I’ll blow your head off, cop.”

Mailer had made his position on killing cops clear to his men, but Burgio had not. Chandler had killed a lot of people in his criminal career, but never a cop.

“Take it easy,” Starsky said, putting his hands up in front of him. He knew Hutch would be back any moment and his sluggish mind raced to come up with some way to keep one or both of them from getting killed.

Chandler patted Starsky’s sides and located his weapon. “I’m gonna reach around and get your gun. Don’t move,” he ordered. He shoved the gun harder into Starsky’s neck.

After Chandler disarmed him and tucked the 9mm into his waistband he said, “We’re just gonna sit here for a minute and see what happens. If everybody drives away like good boys, you get to live.”

Every second felt like a game changer to Starsky. “I have a partner,” he said.

“No shit,” Chandler sneered at him. “Blondie’s what gave you away. You really oughta get him a hat.” He moved his captive around to get Starsky between himself and where Hutch would likely appear.

“You know he’ll be back here any second,” Starsky pointed out needlessly.

“I’m guessing you’ll be an effective shield,” the man replied coldly. “Now shut up!”

The movement and talking had alerted one of the men across the street. He stepped out of the shadows got down behind a mailbox and pointed a weapon at the two men crouched in darkness between parked cars.

“Come out of there,” he ordered.

“No way,” Chandler replied.

“Come out of there, or I’ll shoot you both,” the other ordered.

Chandler dragged Starsky to his feet with his arm around his neck. The rough movement and sudden shift in position were already making Starsky feel like he was going to lose the little dinner he’d eaten, but when Chandler slammed his right arm against one of the cars as he dragged him into the street he saw sparks and his ears began to ring. Chandler’s hold on him was limiting his air supply and escorting him rapidly toward unconsciousness.

Jess Chandler was considerably bigger than Starsky and built like a linebacker. He didn’t seem to have any trouble hauling Starsky’s nearly dead weight out into the middle of the street. This was all happening just as Mailer and his men reached the sidewalk.

~*~*~

After Hutch called for backup, he got some extra ammo out of his glove box for both his and Starsky’s guns just in case. By the time he’d gone back to the car, radioed in, retrieved the ammo, and headed back in Starsky’s direction, the door to the storefront had opened and Mailer and his men were out on the sidewalk. He was halfway to Starsky’s position when he heard the shouting. He slid between two cars, got down low and peered past the tires into the street. His prayer that Starsky was still safely out of sight was about to be denied with a vengeance.

Hutch had heard the shouted order that someone should come out or the shouter would kill them both. The light spilling onto the street from the storefront’s open door was enough for him to clearly make out what happened next. He was stunned to see the large man coming out of the place he’d left Starsky, manhandling his partner along with him into the middle of the street. Starsky wasn’t moving much and seemed to be only weakly struggling.

Suddenly, the street broke into chaos. Someone across the street shouted, “That guy’s a cop!” and then the bullets started to fly. Hutch was frantic to get to Starsky, but it was just him, and a swarming, shooting mass of combatants. Rushing out wasn’t an option. Getting himself killed wouldn’t do anything to help his partner. He quickly assessed his options: staying and keeping an eye on the big man and his partner, or running back to the car to increase the urgency of his call for backup to include shots fired. The decision was made for him when he saw his partner go completely limp. He knew he had better stay and hope for an opportunity to get to him.

Chandler was dragging Starsky toward the man behind the mailbox, keeping him in front as a shield. The light cast behind them left Chandler and Starsky in silhouette. Between that and the way Chandler was moving, Hutch couldn’t get a clear shot off at him without the risk he could hit Starsky also or instead.

The man behind the mailbox rose to take a shot at Chandler, who fired at him immediately. The man dropped and Hutch saw Chandler took advantage of the opportunity. He tossed Starsky away from him toward the sidewalk and made a run for the shadows. Starsky lay unmoving in the street alongside a parked car.

Hutch hadn’t seen what happened to any of the other men in the battle. His focus had been on his partner. For the second time in two days he was terrified his partner could be dead. He decided to risk running out to get to Starsky, but he didn’t get the chance. Before he could make his move, headlights turned on facing his direction and he heard the sound of squealing tires. A car pulled into the street between him and Starsky and he couldn’t see him anymore in the rush of people. He was grateful to hear sirens. Apparently, the approaching backup had heard the fight or gotten word somehow that shots had been fired and they were coming in hot.

In the next twenty seconds, the continued sounds of gunfire, car doors opening and slamming shut, and men shouting reverberated through the block. One of the cars turned in the street toward Hutch and he had just enough time to pull back from his position before it smashed into one of the cars he was between in its attempt to turn around and head the opposite direction from where sirens announced the approaching police. He ducked as glass shards flew toward him and got back onto the sidewalk beside the cars.

The second car tried to pull the same maneuver, but failed worse; slamming into the car Hutch was hunkered next to so hard it pushed the car up onto the sidewalk and plowed it right into him. He lay stunned on the sidewalk listening to the vaguely decipherable sounds of people running, glass breaking, gunfire, and cops shouting orders to freeze or drop weapons. The smells of gunpowder and burning rubber permeated the air.

When Hutch recovered his senses sufficiently, he made his way around the car that had been pushed into him looking for Starsky. The sounds of gunfire were dwindling as the BCPD’s finest subdued the remainder of the combatants. When he thought it was safe enough he climbed to his feet and ran to where he had last seen Starsky. His partner was nowhere in sight.

Hutch spun in a circle looking in every direction, oblivious to the danger he was in from both cops who might think he was one of the bad guys, and the actual bad guys who would know he was not.

“Freeze!” a voice shouted, but Hutch didn’t hear. He kept his gun in his hand and moved farther down the street.

A warning shot was fired in the air that Hutch also didn’t seem to register, immediately followed by, “I said freeze and drop your weapon!” He made no connection to the fact that the order could have been directed at him.

Hutch continued his oblivious, somewhat dazed, and single-minded trek in search of his partner, unaware that two uniformed cops were drawing down on him. He had spotted someone down on the sidewalk half in and half out of shadow who looked big enough to have been the man he’d seen dragging Starsky out from behind the parked cars. As he headed quickly toward him with his gun still in his hand, Hutch only vaguely heard a shouted, “Hold your fire, he’s a cop!” behind him. He kept going, completely unaware of how perilously close he had come to being dropped in his tracks by friendly fire.

When Hutch reached the heap on the ground, he recognized Jess Chandler from his previous encounters with the man. Chandler had been shot. The blood trickling from his mouth and the rattle of his breathing told Hutch the man was moments from death. He grabbed the dying man’s jacket and pulled him up to look him in the eye.

“Where’s my partner!” he demanded.

Chandler laughed weakly, more blood bubbling on his lips and sliding down his chin. His last act would be one of cruelty. “Dead,” he said as he breathed his last.

“No!” Hutch shouted, shaking the dead man. Seeing that the man’s eyes had gone as lifeless as a doll’s, he let go of his jacket, dropping Chandler’s body to the sidewalk. He saw what looked like Starsky’s gun tucked into the man’s waistband and retrieved it. A quick check revealed that it was and that it hadn’t been fired.

Hutch was frantic. If Starsky was dead, why wasn’t he still lying in the street? He had recognized Chandler, though he couldn’t think of his name. Regardless, he knew they had history. Refusing to believe the dead criminal, Hutch quickly assessed what the true explanation could be. While Hutch was briefly incapacitated, Starsky could have been dragged somewhere or he could have been loaded into one of the cars and taken away from the scene. He couldn’t believe Starsky could have regained consciousness that quickly and gone somewhere under his own power. He rubbed his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose hard as he struggled to make sense of things. Think. Think. Figure it out! He decided not to waste time on a fruitless search. Starsky had obviously been scooped up into one of the fleeing cars and was now on his way God knew where. Suddenly remembering that he had jotted down the license plate numbers Starsky had given him for the two cars he had seen, Hutch rushed back toward his car to put an APB out on them and on his missing partner.

~*~*~

Ed Dalton was the one who had recognized Starsky and shouted that he was a cop. Dalton had been the wheel man in the mattress truck during the shootout at the courthouse and despite the circumstances he had gotten a clear look at both of the plain clothes cops shooting at him before he fled the scene. When the surviving Mailer gang members broke for the cars, he was the one who decided to grab Starsky. Dalton had already incapacitated the man who had dragged him into the street. The big man had changed his mind about leaving Starsky alive and taken aim to shoot him from the sidewalk when Dalton saw and took him out first. He did it for a complex set of reasons. Apart from those reasons, he simply didn’t want the killer to take out the defenseless cop. Somehow that just didn’t seem right to him. Shooting a rival gang member who was trying to kill you and your cohorts was a completely different thing than shooting a helpless man lying in the street who posed no threat.

At first Dalton was going to leave him, but when shots were fired toward Starsky from an upper window and from another location on the ground, he impulsively decided to bring the unconscious man with them instead of leaving him to the Fates.

The first car stopped next to Starsky. Rather than running out and jumping into the sedan alone, Dalton quickly grabbed him, dragged him toward the car and hoisted him into the back before diving in on top of him and slamming the door shut. The driver yanked the car in the opposite direction to pull a one-eighty, hitting a parked car on the way by before he sped away from where squad cars would soon be appearing.

As they rocketed through the streets, the car’s driver yelled at him. “Are you out of your mind? That guy’s a cop!”

Dalton had re-arranged himself and Starsky in the back seat. He had just checked and determined that the feverish cop was indeed still alive. The bandage on Starsky’s temple was red with fresh blood from where his head had hit the street. “You heard Mailer,” he shouted back. “Killin’ cops is a bad idea.”

“We didn’t do nothin’ to him! You could’a just left him there. Mailer’s going to kill you!”

“I couldn’t just leave him there to die like that. Burgio’s men were firing at him. Maybe we can use him somehow. The boss will know what to do.”

Of the five men who had exited the cars for the meeting, only three had survived. Mailer and Shank were in the car behind them. Alex Lester, the man driving the car with Dalton and Starsky in it, had originally been positioned in the back alley, but he’d come out front when it was clear that the fight was all out there. Any other survivors would have to find their own means to get back to their headquarters if they weren’t snatched up by the police. They were out of time and just got away before the incoming police could spot them.

The lead car slowed to a speed that might not get them pulled over as they left the inner city and headed down into the maze of warehouses near the docks. They made it all the way there without getting caught.

The two cars now had damage to their front ends, in addition to some bullet holes. All of the damage seemed to be on the driver’s sides so they pulled the cars around the back of their warehouse hideout and parked them backward so the damage was next to the building.

Mailer rushed from his car to the other one. “Dalton, are you crazy?” he demanded.

Dalton stood to face his boss and said, “I couldn’t just leave him there to die, boss. Maybe we can get some mileage outta havin’ him.”

“Son of a bitch,” Mailer said. “Holding a cop hostage isn’t much better than killing one. We can dump him somewhere I guess.”

Dalton argued, “You can’t just dump him somewhere. He’s sick or hurt or something. He could die!”

Mailer glared at him for several seconds. “Okay, bring ‘im inside. I’ll figure out something.”

Dalton saw the look on Mailer’s face and knew he was pushing it. He really didn’t want to use Starsky as a hostage, but he needed to have something to say so the boss wouldn’t be so suspicious of him. He had made up his mind to do what he could to keep Starsky alive for reasons of his own, but he feared he was putting himself in danger by doing so. Mailer wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he got the notion. Dalton was a not a hardened criminal yet, his record consisting of only petty and minor league crimes. For Mailer, he drove whenever he was asked to, he was a runner at times, and he carried a gun he had never used for anything other than intimidation. Until that night he had never killed anyone and when he killed Chandler he really only did it to save Starsky’s life. He had no wish to move down into the tier of people who made killing a regular thing like some of his comrades in the Mailer gang. For some time he had been thinking of just getting out and going straight. Being in the shootout at the courthouse had convinced him. That was the scariest thing he had ever done. Dalton was just twenty-five years old and he hoped he still had time to turn his life around and thought helping Starsky could possibly help him do it.

Starsky was still out, forcing Dalton to carry him into the warehouse. He took him into a back room and dropped him onto the floor. The only thing a pat down revealed was an empty holster and a set of cuffs, which Mailer insisted he put to use. Dalton pulled Starsky’s hands behind him and cuffed his wrists. At least if he woke up, he wouldn’t be able to cause any trouble and he’d stay safer.

~*~*~

Captain Dobey had arrived at the scene of this latest shootout just thirty minutes after its conclusion. The area was a circus between the swarming cops, rescue personnel, the coroner, and the media. He sought and spotted his tall blond detective and headed straight toward him. Knowing his officer, the captain was certain he had wanted to tear out in search of his partner, but Hutch was the ranking officer on scene and it was his and Starsky’s case. Dobey had a lot of respect for the man for doing his duty regardless of the circumstances.  Until he was free to leave, Hutch had done all he could for his missing partner by calling in the APBs. The captain was the ranking officer now and he would take over for his detective as soon as he took report. He was relieved to see that Hutch appeared to be unhurt.

“Catch me up to speed,” Dobey said.

“Multiple casualties. Eight dead. We’re still trying to sort out which of them belonged to which gang, but at least we have IDs. Numerous wounded were transported for treatment and some others got away clean. I’m hoping some of the injured men will sing. The head of the other gang was among the wounded. Marco Burgio. They took him to Receiving under guard.”

“Starsky?” Dobey asked. He knew his detective was missing, but not the details.

Hutch took a deep breath. “They have him. Everything happened so fast; I don’t really know how it went down. I left him just long enough to call for backup. He was hiding, sheltered between two parked cars. By the time I was heading back to him a heard shouting. I ducked between two other cars and got down so I could see what was happening. Next thing I saw was Starsky being dragged into the street by an enormous man.”

“How did he look?” Dobey asked.

“That’s just it. Something must have happened after I left him. He was feverish tonight and not feeling well, but we only had a few hours to go and he seemed like he’d make it. I would’ve  pulled us out if he’d looked as bad as he did when the perp pulled him out into the street.”

Captain Dobey could see the pain in Hutch’s eyes and he knew his detective well enough to read the guilt in them and to hear it in his voice. “I know you would.”

“He looked like he was in terrible shape. Jess Chandler was the perp who had him. Maybe he hurt him somehow. Chandler’s dead now, so I can’t ask him. I just can’t figure it. He was a big guy and he had Starsky in a sleeper hold. I guess maybe he choked off enough of Starsky’s air to put him out in the state he was in tonight. Dammit!” Hutch punctuated that statement by punching his right fist into his left hand and pacing away from his boss a few steps.

“Calm down, Hutch,” Dobey said. “I know you did what you could.”

Hutch paced back toward Dobey and looked at him with eyes full of pain. “Cap, I couldn’t get to him. If I’d tried, I’d be dead and he’d still be missing.”

“We’ll find him. So much for just information gathering, huh?”

“That was the plan, Cap. All hell broke loose before I could get to him. It was just me. Backup wasn’t here and all I could do was wait and hope I could get a clear shot at Chandler at some point.”

Dobey studied Hutch’s face. The intense conflict between duty, honor, and loyalty was broadcast in his eyes. Starsky and Hutch were both just thirty years old, but despite their age and maverick natures they were already one of his most dependable, trustworthy, mature teams.

“I was told you were clocked by a parked car. Are you sure you’re okay?” Dobey asked.

“Fine. I think that’s when they got him. Chandler had tossed him into the street and bolted. I was about to take the chance and move out to get him when the cars Starsky had ID’d appeared and one of them got between us. I guess one of Mailer’s men put Starsky into the car. First that car, then the second one tried to turn a hundred-eighty degrees in the street. Both hit the cars I was hunkered behind, but it was the second car that threw me for a loop.”

Dobey knew if anyone could figure out Starsky’s whereabouts, the expert was standing right in front of him. He had heard enough.

“I have this,” Dobey said. “Go join the hunt.”

~*~*~

Mailer and his men conferred about what to do with their unwanted guest. They also needed to get rid of the damaged cars. Ed Dalton had offered his opinion quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention from his boss. He waited with sweaty palms for the ruling, his thoughts churning over what to do if he couldn’t live with what Mailer decided. After a lot of discussion, Mailer made his decision and he gave out his assignments.

He pointed at one of his men, “Take the car with the bullet holes in the side out to the end of Pier 30 where there’s a clear edge and drive it into the drink. At least one of them can completely disappear.”

“Got it,” the man replied.

“Dalton, put the cop in the trunk and drive the other car somewhere and ditch it. Somewhere public that’s closed right now where it’ll be found in the morning will do. Maybe a school or a store parking lot. That way, you can get away clean. Keep it under the speed limit.”

Dalton was satisfied with that. He didn’t like the part about putting Starsky in the trunk, but he would do it. If he got pulled over, at least the cop wouldn’t be in the back and easily visible. He made himself a promise to keep an eye on the car from a distance and place an anonymous call if it wasn’t found early in the morning hours. An inner city junior high school was visible from his apartment. He could check periodically to make sure it had been found. Since the next day was a school day, the car should be noticed by someone by eight o’clock in the morning.

“Okay, boss.” Dalton said. Since the cars were stolen, they had no keys for getting into the trunk. The lock would need to be picked. “Can somebody go out and get the trunk opened? I’ll go get the cop.”

Sheldon Lutz volunteered. “I’ll do it.”

Dalton walked away toward the back where he had left Starsky. He was still out, making this next task easier. He pulled Starsky up to get him into a fireman’s carry position and hefted him over his shoulder. “You’re heavier than you look.”

When he got out to the car, he was glad to see Lutz had successfully opened the trunk. He put Starsky inside and closed the trunk on him, trying to ignore the knot forming in his stomach. The cop was burning up with a fever and had been out cold for a long time. Briefly, he considered defying Mailer and taking Starsky to a hospital, but he dismissed that as being too risky. Better do what Mailer ordered and stay alive.

After hotwiring the car, Dalton pulled away from the warehouse with his heart in his throat. He was grateful to be putting distance between himself and Mailer. He promised himself he would do whatever he needed to do to get out of this mess. At least he had somewhere to turn once he was sure Starsky was safe.

The drive over to the school was tense for Dalton. He rigidly obeyed traffic laws to be as sure as possible that he wouldn’t be stopped for any reason, especially since he had one broken headlight along with damage to the left front, and he was sure there would be cops all over the area looking for the two cars that had fled the scene of the gunfight. He pulled into the George Washington Carver Junior High School parking lot just before midnight. Dalton cut the lights and slowly drove through the lot looking for the right spot to leave the car. Despite the fact that the temperature wasn’t expected to exceed seventy degrees the next day, he sought a place where the car would be shaded, parking it under a tree in the middle of the lot. He stopped briefly near the trunk listening carefully, but hearing no sounds.

“Not sure if you can hear me, cop. I’ll make sure they find you in the morning. Hang in there.”

Dalton wanted Starsky to be found, but he also wanted to escape detection himself. He had resources to help him as soon as he was sure the cop was safe. Dalton pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and shoved his hands into the pockets. Thinking about the possibility of freedom from the fear he lived with every day and starting a new and clean life even if he had to do some time first, he turned and walked away from the car. As he disappeared into the darkness, a black car parked on the side street that gave the best view of the parking lot and waited. Dalton had suspected Mailer might send someone after him to be sure he did what he was told to do and nothing else. He was right.

~*~*~

Phil Carmichael had been the facilities supervisor at Carver Junior High for more than ten years. He typically arrived at the school on work days at around seven o’clock, giving him plenty of time to open up before the teachers and children began to arrive. This day was no exception, despite the fact that it was a teacher in-service day and the children would not be there. The teachers would start arriving soon.

When he pulled into the lot, he always scanned the area to be sure there was nothing he needed to address before he went inside the office. He occasionally had to escort a homeless person off the property. Sometimes he would find empty liquor bottles, discarded condoms, broken glass, or evidence of drug use in the parking lot. This was an old, inner city school only a short distance away from a row of massage parlors, liquor stores, and adult businesses. The grounds had a lot of old trees and plants that provided cover for illicit activities and the few lights they had burned out long ago with no money in the budget to repair them. Carmichael took pride in the fact that he was almost always able to clean up the lot before the teachers and children saw anything.

On this morning, he found nothing like that, but he noticed right away that there was a car parked under the trees near the gym and he didn’t recognize it. He drove around in front of it and saw the damage to the headlight, grill, and fender. Guessing the sedan had been ditched he parked his car and headed into the office to call it in as an abandoned vehicle.

Shortly before 7:45, uniformed officers Bell and Jefferson arrived to investigate the report. They met Mr. Carmichael in the parking lot so he could give them his statement. While Jefferson interviewed Carmichael, Bell walked around the vehicle and looked over the damage. He and his partner hadn’t heard Hutch’s APBs on the two cars or on his partner. They were not in their car when the original APBs went out because they were just starting their shift and were on their way down to pick up their squad car. By luck of the draw, they had missed the re-broadcasts because they were at other scenes responding to calls. The last time the alerts came through, they were at large apartment complex responding to a domestic violence call, too far from their squad to hear them.

The car’s front plate was missing and when Officer Bell went around the back to write down the plate number, he stared at it for a few moments.  “Uh, Frank,” he called to his partner. “Can you come back here for a sec?”

Frank Jefferson was just finishing with his witness anyway, so he thanked him and went back to see what his partner had found. “What’s up?” he asked.

Chris Bell pointed at something in the trunk near the left tail light. Bell was a young officer, only out of training six months and Jefferson knew he looked up to him and respected both his seniority in age and his ten years as a street cop.  Jefferson tried to be an excellent mentor for the younger man. His experience and calm demeanor were a steadying influence on his excitable young partner.

“Um, is that a bullet hole?” Bell asked. “Sure looks like a bullet hole.”

Jefferson looked at it closely and said, “Good catch. Call in that plate and let’s see what we find.”

Bell went to the squad and called the plate in to dispatch.

“Baker 9, that car has an APB out on it. What’s your location?”

“We’re in the parking lot of Carver Junior High on Wells and Marsh.”

“Roger, Baker 9. Wait there for the crime lab to respond.”

“We’ve been kinda covered up this tour. What’s the beef?” Chris asked.

“Another gunfight last night over on Lassiter. Since you missed it, there are APBs outstanding for another vehicle and for an officer missing from the scene. Detective Starsky. Look sharp, huh?”

Bell whistled. “10-4.” He replaced the mic and walked back to his partner to explain.

“Guess there was another gunfight last night.” He pointed at the car. “This was involved. There’s another car and an officer missing from the scene.”

“Who?” Jefferson asked.

“Detective Starsky. You know him?”

“Yeah, I do,” Jefferson said. “He’s a good cop. Too bad.” Jefferson had been staring at the bullet hole thinking. He had good intuitive instincts, but he also knew the rules. “Chris, go get the flashlight.”

“Flashlight?”

“Yeah. I have a hunch.”

Jefferson didn’t want to risk damaging evidence and he didn’t want to compromise the scene, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up and he learned a long time ago to pay attention when that happened.

Chris retrieved the flashlight and handed it to his partner. “What are ya gonna do?” he asked.

“I don’t have a real reason to try to get into this trunk, Chris. The car is probably stolen, but you didn’t hear that from dispatch, right?”

“Nope. I guess I should’ve asked.”

“Probably. Good thing to note for the future. You could call dispatch again, but let’s go with my idea. Since we don’t know it was stolen, and we don’t really have PC to open it, we could damage evidence or compromise a potential case. Probably not in this case, but let’s be conservative. We could use the bullet hole as reason enough, but just to be on the safe side, I’m gonna look through that hole and see if there is anything in there that would cause me to want to pop it.”

“Oh, I get it. Can I do it?” Chris asked.

“Sure. Shine that in the hole and see if you can make out anything in there.”

Chris did as he was instructed. He looked for a few seconds and then stood up quickly, held the flashlight out for his partner and said, “Uh, I think there’s somebody in there.”

Jefferson took the flashlight from him and looked for himself. “I think you’re right. Get the crowbar, we’re gonna pop it.”

The crowbar was a crude implement, but efficient enough to make quick work of a trunk latch. Jefferson showed his partner right where to go to work and then stood back to let him do it. The trunk lid popped open and the two uniformed officers stared inside in disbelief for a few seconds. Frank Jefferson wasn’t one to swear much, but he did this time and surprised himself as well as his partner.

“Holy shit,” Jefferson said.

The two men were looking in at a handcuffed man who could just as easily be dead as alive by all appearances.

“That’s Detective Starsky,” Jefferson said. He and Bell were stunned into immobility for a few seconds.

Chris asked, “Is he dead?”

The question set Jefferson back in motion. He felt for a pulse and found one. The detective’s skin was on fire from a fever. He was alive.

Jefferson told his partner, “Call for an ambulance and tell dispatch to find Zebra 3.”

~*~*~

Hutch was completely wiped. By 4:00 in the morning he had been all over their beat looking into every dark hole and crevice. Not surprisingly, a check of the cars’ plates revealed they were stolen. Both had been reported stolen from two different locations at different times, but by noon the previous day. He had phone numbers and addresses to run down after daylight. He had been awake and working for close to twenty-four hours with little food and no rest. Between lack of sleep, worry, and adrenaline, Hutch was running on fumes. He couldn’t bear going home to rest with his partner missing, but when the lines on the road started to split into slightly offset twins, he decided to pull over and try to get a little sleep. Thinking a hospital parking lot would be a good place to crash for a while without raising alarms, he had pulled into Memorial’s visitor lot at 4:20 and settled in to nap just long enough to get his exhausted brain to reset.

He was dozing, but Hutch wasn’t able to sleep deeply. He kept his ear tuned to the sounds from the radio. One of the reasons he stayed in the car instead of going back to Starsky’s for a few hours was to be within earshot of the police band radio traffic.

His tired mind knew he’d been resting for more than three hours and was beginning to re-surface. Radio chatter over the past few hours had been pretty innocuous. Suddenly at around 8:00, a call broadcast from the radio sunk into his foggy brain.

“Control, this is Baker 9. Dispatch an ambulance to our location at Wells and Marsh and see if you can raise Zebra 3.”

Instantly alerted by hearing their call sign, Hutch’s eyes popped open and he sat up immediately. Memorial Hospital was only two miles from the school at Wells and Marsh. Not waiting for a call from the dispatcher, he picked up the mic and said, “Dispatch, this is Zebra 3. I’m responding to Baker 9. ETA two minutes.”

Hutch rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, threw the Mars light up, and tore out of Memorial’s parking lot with the siren wailing. He screamed into the school’s parking lot and homed in on the squad car before the ambulance arrived. He was out of the car before it stopped bouncing after he threw it in park and cut the engine. The two uniformed officers looked up at him from the point of their focus, inside the car’s trunk.

Hutch recognized the older officer, so he didn’t pull his badge. Instead, he raced straight for the trunk. What he saw was terrifying. He vaguely registered the sound of an ambulance approaching. Jefferson had just unlocked the handcuffs with his key and removed them when Hutch skidded to a stop next to him.

“Starsky!” he exclaimed.

The two officers had reclaimed their composure since the shock of the initial discovery of an unconscious police officer in the trunk of a stolen car. They both took a few steps back to allow Hutch access to his partner and watched while Hutch quickly assessed what could be happening.

“He’s burning up. Give me a hand, huh? I need to get this jacket off of him.”

Jefferson helped Hutch to get Starsky’s jacket and holster off, laying him back down in the trunk when they were done rather than taking him out and putting him on the ground.

Hutch knew immediately that his partner was dangerously dehydrated. Rapid heart rate and respiration accompanied with a high fever and an absence of sweating were all he needed to make that determination. He quickly checked and was relieved to find his partner hadn’t been shot, but it looked like his head wound had re-opened.

Seeing the unlocked handcuffs in the trunk, Hutch asked, “He was cuffed?”

“Yeah. I left ’em in there for the crime lab guys and tried not to disturb any fingerprints,” Jefferson replied.

Hutch checked Starsky’s wrists and there was no evidence he had tried to struggle with the cuffs. That probably meant his partner could have been unconscious for as many as ten to twelve hours. Checking his wrists led him to discover the likely cause of the fever. Starsky had a laceration on his right forearm that he’d gotten back in the scrap yard. The wound was obviously infected based on the swollen red skin extending well past the boundaries of the bandaging job Starsky had done. Hutch gave himself a hard mental kick. Damn. I should have checked it and I didn’t. The ambulance had entered the parking lot and it pulled up beside them just as the crime scene team arrived.

The crime team held back with Jefferson and Bell, silently watching the paramedics work on Starsky and interact with Hutch who was hovering close, but out of their way.

“He may have been unconscious for ten or more hours,” Hutch told them.

“Any chance he could have neck or back injuries?” one of them asked.

“I don’t think so. He was grabbed last night from the scene of a shootout, but he hasn’t been shot. He hasn’t been sick, so do you think the fever is from that infected arm?”

After removing the bandage and inspecting the wound, the man nodded. “Could be. Tell me about this head injury?”

“He was hit in the head with a chunk of flying concrete a couple of days ago. They kept him a few hours at Memorial and then let him go home.”

“His name?”

“Dave Starsky.”

“He’s had a busy week,” the paramedic remarked.

The men got Starsky out of the trunk and onto their stretcher. Moving him garnered no reaction. Hutch listened as they took vitals and relayed them to the hospital for instructions.

“How far out are you?” the voice on the radio asked.

“ETA two to three minutes.”

They were instructed to start an IV and transport immediately. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts to find a vein, they finally got the IV inserted in Starsky’s left hand. Within just a few minutes of arrival, the paramedics had their patient in their unit and were pulling away from his stunned partner.

~*~*~

Nearby, Ed Dalton had stood and watched the action from his apartment’s fire escape. He was close enough to see what was happening, yet far enough away to not draw any attention to himself. As soon as he saw the ambulance leave the lot, he climbed back into the apartment and went straight to the phone.

~*~*~

When Hutch arrived at Memorial’s emergency room, his partner was already being treated. His need to call Captain Dobey and let him know what was happening had delayed him. Panic, pleading, and intimidation were all unsuccessful tactics in his attempts to gain admittance to the treatment area. Relegated instead to pacing, he impatiently waited for some word. After twenty minutes, he had just decided he’d climb into the disarming persona his partner called “charming Hutch” for another try at the staff when a nurse came through the double doors and called him.

“Sergeant Hutchinson?”

“That’s me,” Hutch replied, quickly crossing to where the nurse stood.

“Come with me, please,” she said.

Hutch walked behind her, unaware that he was nervously snapping his fingers as they walked. She pointed at a treatment room and he strode past her and walked inside. He stopped just inside the room, feeling a sense of dread at the sight of his partner still unconscious and hooked up to monitors, IVs, and oxygen.

Dr. Jameson walked over to him. “We meet again,” he said.

“How is he, Doc?” Hutch asked.

“Holding his own at the moment. Tell me what’s happened with him.”

Hutch was grateful for the lack of recrimination in the doctor’s tone. He felt guilty enough about the situation without that.

“Last night we were in another gun battle. We were separated and he was taken away by the bad guys. He was found locked in the trunk of a car this morning. He probably was out of it for ten to twelve hours.”

“What about that wound on his forearm?” the doctor asked.

“I’m not really sure, but I think he had a run in with some rusty metal. I wasn’t there for that one so it’s an educated guess. Doc, be straight with me. What’s happening?”

Jameson sighed. “Nothing good. His temperature is 104.6. I think that’s why he’s been out for so long. His blood pressure’s too low and his heart and respiration rates are too high. Was he hit in the head again?”

“Not exactly. He was dropped in the street and he probably hit the ground hard. Is that a factor?”

“Of course, but I think that’s a minor contributor. The fever probably has him out more than the head injury. His pupils are equal and reactive. That’s a good sign. Still, we need to get the fever under control. I’ve drained the infection and cleaned out the wound. Seems he had some metal embedded in there.”

“Dammit,” Hutch said.

“Very hard to see. The pieces weren’t big. He’s bought himself an inpatient stay this time. Is there anything else I should know?”

That jogged Hutch’s memory. “Um, it might not be important, but he was chloroformed a couple of nights ago. Twice. Took me a while to bring him around.”

Doctor Jameson’s eyebrow went up at that. “Chloroform? Hm.” He scribbled some notes in Starsky’s chart. “How long was he out that time?”

Hutch took a deep breath. “Hard to say exactly. See, we weren’t together when it was done and I don’t know how long he was out before I had a chance to bring him out of it. If I had to guess, I’d say he was out at least fifteen minutes before I got hold of him and another five or so with me trying to get him to wake up. He was really out of it. I figured the head injury didn’t help and maybe they’d overdone the chloroform.”

Hutch didn’t know Jameson and he wasn’t sure what the look on his face was conveying. All he said in response was, “Is it always like this with you two?”

“You’d probably have to come visit at least me at Caballo State if every week was like the one we’ve been having, Doc. I don’t have to tell you that being a cop is dangerous. We work the most violent part of the city. Our case closure rate is good enough to where we seem to pull the most dangerous undercover assignments and homicides with the worst kinds of circumstances. Sometimes we get hurt.” Hutch pointed at his best friend and added, “Trouble has a way of finding us, and it especially homes in on my partner.”

Jameson listened to Hutch intently. He nodded his understanding and said, “Well, I’m going to keep him here for a day or two so maybe trouble can take a break for a bit.”

“Will he be okay?”

“He should be all right with rest, rehydration, and IV antibiotics. I have no reason to think he won’t respond to treatment, but you need to understand that he’s in danger right now. I’m listing his condition as serious.”

“I want to talk to him,” Hutch said.

“Suit yourself, but he’s still out. As soon as they have things ready, we’ll transfer him to a regular room.”

“Any idea how long he’ll be out?”

Jameson shook his head. “Not definitively. That said, I think he’ll wake up once his fever breaks. I know based on what I just told you that it won’t do any good to tell you to at least try not to worry too much. He’s strong and his prognosis is good. I’m going to keep an eye on him personally. Give it a couple of days.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Jameson smiled at him and walked away with Starsky’s chart. Hutch stood and stared at his friend for a few moments. He marveled at the way a doctor could both tell you that things were grim and not to get your hopes up too much, but also tell you not to worry. That wasn’t exactly what Jameson had said, but Hutch interpreted it that way. Both he and Starsky had a certain level of mistrust for doctors and it was no wonder. He did trust Jameson and he appreciated the fact that the man was going to follow Starsky himself and not pass his care on to a resident.

Hutch retrieved a chair from the corner of the room and brought it over so he could sit with Starsky. He put the back of his hand on the feverish forehead and frowned at what he felt there.

“Too hot, buddy.” Hutch gently picked up Starsky’s right arm and turned it a little to look at Jameson’s work. The doctor had traced the periphery of the red skin extending from underneath the bandage with a pen. Hutch was discouraged to see the swelling had crept past the ink about a quarter of an inch and it was spreading down into the hand.

“Damn. I’m sorry, Starsk. I should have checked on that.” Hutch’s capacity to feel guilty for most anything that happened to his best friend usually weighed heavily on him when Starsky was hurt. He sat down wearily in the chair, putting his left hand on the bed so he could place Starsky’s right hand on top of it.

“I’m right here, partner,” he said. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Hutch wasn’t sure if he had imagined it, but a few minutes later, he thought Starsky’s heart rate had dropped a little and his breathing seemed to have slowed down some. Ten minutes after the doctor left him to wait, some orderlies came to move Starsky up to a room. They gave Hutch the room number.

“I’ll be there in a little while, buddy,” Hutch said. He patted Starsky on the shoulder. “I have to check in and let Dobey know you’re okay.” He knew his friend probably couldn’t hear him, but a state of unconsciousness had never stopped Hutch from talking to him in the past and it wasn’t going to this time, either.

By the time Hutch went out to search for a pay phone, he was surprised to see several uniformed officers and a couple of their fellow detectives in the waiting room. News that Starsky had been found and that he was hurt had spread quickly through the precinct.

“What’re you guys doing here?” Hutch asked the group.

One of the uniformed officers spoke first, “Is your partner gonna be okay?” he asked.

Whenever a fellow officer was seriously hurt in the line of duty, the band of brothers in blue commonly rallied around the man’s partner and family. Starsky and Hutch had stood vigil for other cops on more occasions than he cared to recall. Those officers had all been shot or stabbed, and once they’d watched over a man who had been hit by a car at the scene of a robbery. This situation felt different somehow, despite its seriousness. Hutch was completely surprised and terribly touched to see his comrades there. He had been so focused on finding and watching over Starsky, he had all but tuned out the other officers frantically aiding in the search for his missing partner.

“He’s in serious condition, but the doc thinks he’ll be okay if he responds to treatment,” Hutch answered.

Detective Brad Forsythe and his partner, Detective Darren Caldwell, were several years older than Hutch, but they had only been partners for a year. They recently transferred from a precinct in the suburbs and they were struggling to get in step with the rhythm of the constant activity at Metro. Starsky and Hutch had taken them on as a favor to Dobey and they were learning the ropes from them as fast as they could. Hutch knew both men were fond of them and assumed they had headed straight for Memorial when they heard about Starsky to check things out for themselves.

Forsythe said, “Good. Me and Darren thought maybe we could do something to help.”

Hutch smiled at him. “There isn’t much to do but wait. I was just coming out to let Cap know what was happening with him.”

“I can do that for you, Hutch,” Caldwell said. “Why don’t you just go be with Starsky.”

“That’s okay, I should do it,” Hutch replied.

Forsythe looked Hutch in the eye and said, “Please let us help, Hutch.”

Hutch’s mouth dropped open a little as he looked at the concerned faces of the other men. Two more uniformed officers had arrived while they were standing there talking. He had never been on the receiving end of this type of support from his cohorts and it felt good. With Starsky being treated and other cops running down details on the two gangs that had been causing all of the trouble, he didn’t have much to do but wait and watch over Starsky.

“Okay. Let him know that Starsky has a dangerously high fever and a badly infected arm. He’s still unconscious. They took him up to room 408 and I’ll be up there if he needs me.”

“Will do,” Forsythe said. We’ll keep an eye out down here and make sure the media doesn’t get to you.”

“Media?” Hutch asked, confused by the comment.

Caldwell had a folded newspaper in his hand. “After last night, they splashed the gun fight all over the media. Print and TV. Dobey has his hands full right now trying to keep a lid on things.” He handed the paper to Hutch so he could see for himself.

After an initial scan through the front page coverage, Hutch was already getting angry. He and Starsky were prominently mentioned and the article said the mayor was screaming for Metro to get things under control before some innocent citizens got caught in the crossfire.

Hutch felt his face redden and knew all the officers were watching at him.  He looked up at them and said, “I can’t keep watch over him and look out for the press. He needs rest. Brad, will you ask Captain Dobey to get someone from PR down here to handle them?”

“Sure, Hutch. You want some company up there?”

Hutch shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll call a friend of ours to come down so you guys can do what you do. Just come and let me know if you find out anything about who had him or what happened. I want in on the interrogation if anybody gets brought in on suspicion.”

He turned away from the group and started toward the elevators, then stopped. Turning back he said, “I really appreciate you guys coming down here. Thanks.” He walked away thinking about the fact that he and his partner were not really as alone as it sometimes felt like they were. They knew that, but in the heat of a difficult case with so much happening, feeling a little isolated was natural. All he wanted to do now was sit with his partner and with any luck rest a little while he did it. He was worried and stressed and nothing was going to fix that until Starsky woke up and he knew he would be all right.

~*~*~

A quiet knock sounded on Captain Dobey’s door just as he was pulling his suit jacket on to leave for the hospital to check on Starsky. “Come in,” he said. Expecting one of his detectives, he was surprised to see a uniformed officer peer around the door tentatively, just putting his head and upper body into the room, not letting go of the doorknob.

“Captain Dobey, do you have a few minutes?” the man asked.

Dobey recognized the veteran officer, but couldn’t quite get his name into his mind. A quick glance at his name pin jogged his memory.  Glassman. Bernie Glassman.

“I’m sorry, Glassman, I was just leaving for the hospital to check on one of my men. Can it wait?”

Bernie Glassman stepped all the way into the room and closed the door behind him before answering. “Actually, I’m here to talk to you about Detective Starsky. It’s important.”

Dobey was intrigued and if it meant gaining some additional information that would help fill in the blanks about what had happened with Starsky, the delay getting to the hospital would be worth it. He gestured toward the chair and invited Glassman to sit. The man sat down, but he didn’t relax. He was right on the front of the seat.

“Do you have information pertinent to the case?” Dobey asked.

Glassman answered, “Yes, sir. I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

Not liking the sound of that, Dobey frowned. “Guess you’d better tell me about it.”

Captain Dobey had a well-deserved reputation for being gruff, but he could see the man sitting in front of him was nervous and whatever he knew would be hard for him to relate. He took a calming breath and sat back down at his desk, promising himself he’d be patient until the man spilled it all.

“I swear I’ll get to it, but first I need to know how Detective Starsky’s doing. Is he gonna be okay?”

“I hear he’s in serious condition, but the doctor’s hopeful he’ll be fine.”

Bernie nodded. “I’m glad. Captain, what I have to tell you isn’t easy, so I’ll just get right to it. I know where Starsky was and exactly what happened to him.”

Thinking it would be unusual for an ordinary patrolman to have the kind of snitch who could get him that information this quickly, if at all, when all of Hutch’s snitches had turned up dry, the captain surmised that its source was not going to make him any happier than the information itself. He sat back in his chair and lifted a hand off his desk in a “go ahead” gesture.

“I got an unexpected call early this morning from one of the members of the Mailer gang. The man’s name is Ed Dalton. He’s my little brother, Captain.” Glassman stopped there, perhaps giving Dobey a chance to digest the information.

No wonder this is so hard for him. “I see. Please go on.”

“My dad was a BCPD cop. He was killed on the job when I was ten. My mom re-married after a long time and my little brother was born ten years after Dad died. I was already out of the house by the time he could talk. Ed was always a handful for my mom, especially after my stepdad left them when Ed was thirteen. Even though I’m twenty years older, we were pretty close until about five years ago. Right after high school graduation he started running with a bad crowd and got himself into some trouble. We argued about it and after a while, we didn’t talk at all anymore. We haven’t spoken in three years. Not ’til this morning.”

“Does your brother have a record?” Dobey asked.

“Yes, sir. No felonies and nothing violent. Just some petty theft, disturbing the peace, and a disorderly conduct.”

“If that’s true, isn’t Mailer’s bunch out of his league?”

“Yes, sir. He was hanging out with an older guy who was a runner for Mailer. This guy got him into the gang. Most of the time he was a driver. Ed’s a big guy, so sometimes they used him for muscle. More like intimidation really. He never hurt anybody until last night.”

“Did he do something to harm Detective Starsky?” Dobey asked in a tone that was sharper than he intended

“No, sir. He didn’t hurt him. In fact, he probably saved his life.”

“Hm. Okay, suppose you explain how he did that and who he hurt.”

“This big guy from the other gang had Starsky in a choke hold. After he passed out he just tossed him down on the street and left him there. Ed says that was right in the middle of the shootout. Ed was posted outside the meet as backup muscle and he was armed. He swears he’d never even fired his gun until last night. According to Ed, the other man must’ve changed his mind about leaving Starsky alive. He only had a second to make up his mind, but when the man spun around and brought his gun down to kill Starsky, Ed shot him. He knew Starsky was a cop. See, Ed was the wheel man in that mattress truck back at the first shootout and he recognized him.”

Dobey shook his head at the thought of how deeply in trouble Officer Glassman’s younger brother was at this point. His record of minor offenses was bound to increase to felonies before a judge’s gavel finally fell. The man Dalton shot was dead. If what he was hearing was true, he could be looking at lesser charges if the DA could be convinced that Ed Dalton was trying to save his detective’s life.

“You should know, the man he shot died at the scene.”

“Oh, God,” Glassman said. “Ed didn’t know that. Everything happened so fast.”

“What happened next?”

“Ed was gonna leave it at that, but then he says shots were being fired at Starsky and he was sure he’d be killed if he didn’t act. When Mailer decided to pull out, one of the getaway cars stopped in the street right next to Starsky. Ed grabbed him and shoved him inside, thinking Starsky stood a better chance of making it out alive that way than if he left him there.”

“Are you telling me he wasn’t trying to kidnap Starsky or take him for some other reason?”

“Ed’s conscience has started to get the better of him recently. He wanted out. When he saw they were gonna kill a helpless unarmed cop, he couldn’t allow it. Says he kept thinking about what if it was me.”

“He has to have known taking him away like that could have gotten Starsky killed anyway,” Dobey said. He was having a hard time believing Dalton hadn’t planned to use Starsky as a bargaining chip or had hoped to get something else out of taking him.

“That’s just the thing, Captain. He says Mailer had always been clear on the subject of killing cops. He wouldn’t allow it. Ed thought he stood a pretty good chance and he hoped Mailer would let him just drop him off somewhere right away, like a hospital. That’s not what went down.”

“How’d Starsky wind up in the trunk of a car?”

“Mailer’s orders were to park it somewhere it’d be found in the morning, like a school parking lot. Ed had already argued for Starsky and he was afraid they were suspicious enough that his life was in danger. He offered to drive the car and he took it to a school where he could see the parking lot from his apartment. He thought about disobeying the order and going straight to a hospital, but he was pretty sure he’d been followed to be sure he did like Mailer said. He was afraid to do anything else so he kept an eye on the car from a distance. He was gonna call and report it if nobody found the car by eight in the morning. The first thing he did after he saw the ambulance leave the parking lot was call me.”

Dobey sat back in his chair and rubbed the top of his head with his hand. This was a story so far fetched he doubted a crime novel writer could think of it. He looked at Bernie Glassman’s face. The man hadn’t asked him for anything yet, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he hoped to get for his brother.

“You believe your brother really wanted out?” he asked.

“I do. He’s ashamed and wishes he’d never let his life get this bad. He really wants to go straight. He knows he’ll have to do some time, but he doesn’t want any of this hanging over him. Is there anything you can do?”

“Where is he?”

“He’s at my house with my wife. I told him I’d come and talk to you before he turns himself in.”

Dobey pondered it for a few minutes. If nothing else, he thought the young man deserved a chance to be questioned to see if they could get the DA to work with him.

“What about the gun?”

“I have it. I locked it in the trunk of my car. I had just gotten home from work when he called. He told me where to pick him up and I went straight there and back to my house to talk.”

“Okay, Glassman. If everything you’ve said holds water, we might be able to get the DA to make some kind of a deal. I won’t promise you there won’t be any time, but here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m going over to the hospital to see Starsky and talk to his partner. I want you to bring Ed in at three o’clock.”

“You want me to arrest him?” Glassman asked, his eyes wide.

“No, you bring him in for questioning as his brother. Have the duty officer take him to an interrogation room. I’m going to have Detective Hutchinson, Starsky’s partner, come in to question him. When he’s finished, we’ll decide what the charges are and go from there.”

Glassman gulped.  “Is that a good idea, sir? Hutchinson’s bound to be awful mad about what happened. I may not know him on sight, but I know his reputation and it’s pretty solid on the subject of his partner. Everybody at Metro knows the fastest way to get crosswise of either of them is to mess with his partner.”

Dobey resisted the urge to raise his voice at Glassman, though that was difficult and his patience was thinning. He thought it was ironic that the veteran policeman could be as vulnerable as he was being when it came to a family member. Even so, Dobey admired the man’s loyalty and his courage in coming to him with this. Another cop might have been too angry, too scared, or just too embarrassed. He obviously believed his little brother’s account of things.

“Of course he’s angry, but Detective Hutchinson is probably more important for Ed to convince than I am. His partner’s hurt and still not out of the woods. I won’t let him tear your brother’s head off if that’s what you’re worried about. Hutchinson is too professional for that anyway. I’m just telling you that if he gets the story straight from your brother and Ed convinces him that his actions saved his partner’s life, he’ll go to the mat for him with the DA and I’ll back him all the way.”

“Can I be there when he interviews him?” Glassman asked.

Dobey shook his head. “No. Your brother isn’t a minor and it’s not a good idea anyway. You’ve done the right thing as a cop. Now you need to be his brother, Bernie.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Captain Dobey.” Bernie stood up and walked toward the desk with his hand out for Dobey to shake it. “I’ll have him here at three.”

“See that you do,” Dobey advised. “You’ve stuck your neck way out for him, Bernie. Don’t let him screw up the best chance he has to go straight. He may never get another one.”

“I won’t.”

With that, Bernie Glassman left the office, shutting the door behind him. Dobey sat and thought about how he was going to explain this to Hutch without causing him to snap. He knew his detective was worried sick and strung tightly from lack of sleep and the stress of the past couple of days. He gave a fleeting thought to the fact that if their roles were reversed, keeping Starsky from going ballistic long enough to hear him out would have been an even trickier proposition. As he walked toward the door he muttered aloud, “At least it isn’t Starsky I have to convince.”

~*~*~

Hutch started to wake to the feeling of someone shaking his shoulder gently. He lifted his head and squinted up at his boss. He had fallen asleep resting his arms and head on the hospital bed, with his right hand underneath Starsky’s. That was the best way he could think of to catch a little sleep himself while making sure his partner couldn’t move without waking him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose for a few seconds before he shook his head a little to chase out the cobwebs.

“Hey, Cap,” he said right before he yawned.

“Hey, yourself. How’s he doing?” Dobey asked.

Hutch felt his partner’s forehead again. A quick look at the infected arm showed the red and swollen area was now a little farther past the ink marks than the last time he’d checked. Hutch gestured toward the door. Before following Dobey out, he leaned down and softly said, “I’ll be right back, buddy. Don’t go away.”

“Has he woken up at all?” Dobey asked Hutch once the two men stood beside the closed door to Starsky’s room.

“No,” Hutch answered. “What time is it?”

Dobey answered, “Quarter past one. How long have you been asleep?”

“Off and on for about three hours, I guess. Cap, he hasn’t budged an inch since we got him here. Doctor Jameson says it’s probably a combination of the multiple knocks to his head, the chloroform, and the fever from the infection that’s keeping him out like this. To be honest, I’m scared for him.”

Dobey looked Hutch in the eyes and said, “He’s strong, Hutch. Just give it some time. They only put him on the antibiotic a few hours ago, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t like it. Jameson says be patient. He says it’s too soon to tell what’s gonna happen. He said that when his temperature was 104.6 and it was 104.8 last time they told me what it was.”

Dobey sighed. “Hutch, I need to tell you about something. Can we go somewhere quiet? It’s a little complicated and I don’t want to talk out here.”

Hutch shook his head. “I need to stay with him, Cap. If he wakes up alone, I’m afraid he’ll be panicked. He’s been through enough.”

The captain put a hand on Hutch’s shoulder and said, “All right. I need you to listen to everything I have to say.” He pointed at the door and said, “It’s important and it involves your partner.”

Hutch nodded his agreement.

“Seems the man who grabbed Starsky last night is brother to one of our uniforms.”

“What!” Hutch hissed.

“I said listen to everything, Hutch. Be calm.”

Hutch’s eyes closed briefly as he took in a cleansing breath. Whatever the captain had to tell him, he knew it was important and he needed to listen as the man had instructed. Being calm in this situation was a tall order, but he was trying.

The two men continued to confer en sotto voce. Hutch exercised considerable restraint in not overreacting to the story his boss was telling. As the story played out, Hutch knew he was about to be torn in two. One half needing to stay and watch over his partner, the other half needing to be a cop and wanting to question the man who had first hand knowledge of what had happened last night.

“So, Glassman’s brother claims he saved Starsky’s life?”

“That’s about the size of it. I told Glassman you’d be down at the station at three o’clock to question his brother and I expect you to go.”

Hutch’s eyes flashed and his voice got louder at the suggestion. “I can’t leave him like this!”

A nurse walking past shot him a look that clearly conveyed he was being too loud. Hutch lowered his voice again. “What if he wakes up while I’m gone?”

At just that moment, both men turned their heads back toward the door. They had heard a sound from inside Starsky’s room. Ending their discussion they returned to the room. Although he had been unconscious, Hutch wondered if Starsky had somehow been at least peripherally aware of his presence. Something had drawn him up toward consciousness and maybe it was Hutch’s sudden absence.

Starsky’s eyes were still closed but his right hand was opening and closing and lifting off the bed as if searching, and the one word he was weakly repeating was, “Hutch.”

“I’m here, Starsk,” Hutch told him, swiftly returning to his side and taking hold of the flexing hand. “Shhhh.”

“Hutch? Hutch?” Starsky called repeatedly. His eyes opened slightly and he looked up at his frightened partner. The eyes couldn’t seem to focus and suddenly they widened in fear. He pushed Hutch’s hand away and said, “No!” as forcefully as he could, which wasn’t impressive.

Hutch brushed his fingers through Starsky’s hair and tried to calm him. “Shhhh. I’m here. It’s me. Settle down, partner.”

Wherever Starsky was in his mind, Hutch knew it wasn’t in that room. He didn’t know who Hutch was and he was obviously frightened. Starsky reached over and tried to pull at his IV line, a move Hutch was easily able to thwart with his partner in such a weakened state.

Hutch continued to try to soothe him. “Please, Starsk. Calm down. Shhhh.” He looked up at Dobey and pleaded, “Get somebody in here!”

Dobey quickly went to the hall and called for a nurse who rushed into the room to check on the patient who was vainly fighting against his friend.

“Lemme go,” Starsky pleaded. “Hutch!”

“Try to keep him still,” she ordered. “I’ll be right back.”

Hutch spent what felt like an eternity over the next minute trying to keep his partner from pulling out his IV, terrified at the heat pouring off of Starsky and the raw panic in his eyes. The nurse returned to the room and swiftly emptied the contents of a syringe into Starsky’s IV line. Within moments he relaxed and dropped back into unconsciousness.

The nurse checked Starsky’s vitals, forestalling whatever frightened recriminations were about to come. When she finally met the frantic blond’s eyes, he was ready to pounce.

“What the hell’s wrong with him?” If Hutch had been thinking more clearly he would have known, but tiredness and worry got the better of him.

“Calm down,” she answered. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but it’s good that he woke up. His temperature is down a little, but he’s delirious.”

“What was that you gave him?” Hutch demanded.

“A sedative the doctor ordered in case he woke up and was combative. He needs to rest and be calm.”

“He knew this could happen?”

“Of course he did.” The nurse took a breath and her demeanor softened. She put a hand on Hutch’s arm and said, “Patients with high fevers sometimes become delirious. If they get combative, the only choice is to sedate them or put them in restraints.”

“Over my dead body,” Hutch snapped.

Hutch hadn’t really “slept” for three hours. He slept for some of it, but he really had spent the last several hours alternating between sleeping, pacing, and grilling the staff every time they entered the room. The more evasive they seemed, the more frustrated he became. This wasn’t the first time Starsky had been in the hospital since they’d been partners, but it had never been like this. As the hours passed with Hutch unable to rouse him, he was starting to come unglued.

“Your actions and attitude have already prompted two other nurses to give up in exasperation and punt you to me.  I have twenty years of experience and you can’t intimidate me no matter how hard you try.”

Despite the fact that Hutch towered over the ninety pound woman who wasn’t quite five feet tall, she didn’t alter her stance or back down a bit under his intimidating glare. He had the same look in his eyes that could wilt a hardened criminal more than twice Linda’s size. Incredibly, she seemed to be immune. Linda gave him a wry smile and gently patted his arm. “Somehow I figured you’d feel that way,” she said. “He needs to be kept calm, and I guess you do, too.”

Hutch’s posture and expression relaxed some as he realized he’d just been out maneuvered by a woman no bigger than a seventh grader. He blushed, taking a step back from the hostile presence he was showing to someone whose worst offense was taking good care of his best friend. He dropped his eyes and said, “I’m sorry. I’m just worried and he doesn’t seem to be getting any better. I wasn’t trying to be so intimidating.”

“It’s okay. I have a feeling that comes naturally to you where your partner is concerned. Look, I know you probably feel pretty helpless and like things are out of control, but try to be patient. He really is doing a little better. His temperature is down a bit and so is his heart rate. Just give the medicine some time to start doing its job, okay?”

Captain Dobey asked, “Is the sedative going to keep him out for a while?”

She looked at her watch and said, “If he wakes up before six o’clock, I’ve lost my touch.”

“Thanks,” Hutch said. “Do you know when Doctor Jameson is coming back to check on him?”

“I’m going to page him right now. He’ll be along in a little while unless he’s tied up in the ER.”

After she left, Hutch sighed and looked at Captain Dobey, but he didn’t get out a word.

“You heard the nurse,” Dobey said. “He’s going to be out for hours.”

“You saw how he was. I can’t just leave him alone.”

“I understand that, but he won’t be alone. Here’s what we’re going to do. You sit with him while I make some phone calls and get you some coffee and something to eat. Then, you’re going down to headquarters to question Ed Dalton. I’ll stay and look out for Starsky. You’ll be back here before he comes around and we can decide what to do for Dalton.”

Hutch stared at Dobey for a few moments and thought about what to say. He wasn’t sure how most other police captains operated, but he suspected that Captain Dobey was especially well suited to handle a team as unique as he and Starsky were. He seemed to get them, and Hutch had a tremendous amount of respect for his intelligent, thoughtful, savvy approach to things. None of the things that immediately came into his head came out of his mouth.

“You’re right, Cap. Thanks. I’ll leave here around two-thirty. You’ll call me if anything happens, right?”

“You know it. Now sit here and wait for the doc. I’ll go make some arrangements. Whatever they have in the cafeteria isn’t going to be your thing, but you eat it. I’ll make book you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“I refuse to confirm or deny that on the grounds that it may incriminate me,” Hutch said with a straight face.

The captain had only been gone ten minutes when Doctor Jameson breezed into the room with Starsky’s chart in his hand.

“How’s the patient and how’s his partner?” he asked as he approached the bed.

“I’m a little freaked. As for him, his nurse seems to think he’s a little better, but I don’t know.”

“Linda’s a great nurse. She’s probably right.”

“She’s a cool cucumber, I’ll give her that. Talked me down off the ledge and didn’t even raise her voice.” Hutch chuckled at the memory of how the diminutive woman had stood her ground and pulled him back from the edge in one seamless move.

Jameson laughed. “I heard. She has a way of getting you to put yourself in your place so she doesn’t have to do it. Now, let’s see about her clinical assessment.”

The doctor read through Linda’s notes in the chart before he checked his patient. “Just like I thought. Linda was right. As for the highlights, his BP is up, his heart rate is down, he’s breathing a little easier, and his temperature is down to 104.2.”

“Still so high,” Hutch said.

“Yes, but it’s on the right track now. Do you know if he’s ever spiked a fever this high?”

Hutch shook his head. “He does tend to get high fevers when he’s sick, but never this high.”

“How high?”

“He’s been pretty sick a couple of times since I’ve known him and his temperature went over 103. What about the wound? The redness is past the ink marks.”

“Yes, but it feels cooler to me than it did earlier and it doesn’t look quite as angry. I know it’s not very scientific, but I have a feeling things are turning around. Let’s give it a few more hours and see where we are then.”

“Okay. Hey, do you think he knows I’m here? He didn’t make a move all the time I was here with him, but just a few minutes after I left the room, he came around and was calling for me.”

Jameson considered that. “The clinician in me says no chance. He’s unconscious. On the human side I’ve seen too much to just discount it, so I have to say maybe so. The two of you seem pretty dialed into each other.”

“I guess maybe that comes from spending a lot of time in scary situations trying to ferret out armed felons without accidentally killing each other in the process. A guy needs to be able to feel where his partner is intuitively to keep him safe. Does that make any sense at all?”

Jameson smiled. “I spent some time in the military. I’ve heard that kind of thing before and I’ve seen it in action. Yes, that makes sense for the most attuned partners.”

“Thanks. Maybe he does then. I just wish I could do something for him besides just sitting here.”

“I have an idea if you’re willing to do it. While he’s still out from that sedative, why don’t you see if you can help nudge his fever down some? The world’s going to make a lot more sense to him once his temperature is under 104. I’m going to let the sedative wear off and see if he comes around in a more coherent state of mind next time. I’ve left orders for what to do in case he wakes up delirious again and if his fever goes up.”

Captain Dobey returned to the room with an apple, a ham sandwich, and some coffee for Hutch. He insisted that Hutch take the time to eat before he left and watched while Hutch worked on his friend with cold compresses and lots of soothing chatter. If nothing else, Hutch figured it couldn’t hurt and it gave him something to do. He thought he was at least making Starsky more comfortable.

When it was time for him to leave for the station, Hutch put a cold compress on Starsky’s forehead and asked their captain to change it out frequently so it would stay cool. He gave Starsky’s hand a gentle squeeze and leaned down close to his friend’s ear to say, “I have to go do something right now. You rest. Everything’s okay and Captain Dobey is right here.”

Leaving Starsky like this was almost too hard for Hutch. He had spent a lot of time thinking about how they got to this point and he was feeling terribly guilty. His brief period of despondency in the wake of Vanessa’s departure had started this ball rolling. Starsky wouldn’t have felt the need to blow off steam if he hadn’t been dealing with a suicidal partner who had just scared the daylights out of him two times in two days. All he wanted was for Starsky to get better so he could make it up to him. He left for the station with assurances from Dobey that he’d let him know immediately if anything happened. Heading into an interrogation without his partner left him feeling like he had a flat tire, but it had to be done. His partner had a saying about the only way out of most situations being through them, and he knew he was right.

~*~*~

Hutch was surprised by how calm he felt sitting across from the man responsible for grabbing his partner off the street and taking him to parts unknown for many hours. He had promised Captain Dobey two important things. One was that he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the case or the suspect, no matter how angry he was. The other was that he would keep an open mind. He realized within the first five minutes of the interview that the second promise would be the hardest to keep.

Dobey had called and arranged for Detective Forsythe to be in the room for the interview. He wisely kept quiet, having told Hutch that his role was primarily to act as a safety valve to prevent anyone from losing his perspective.

“I swear I haven’t,” Dalton said in answer to Hutch’s latest question. “I never have. I’ve done a lot of things, but I’ve never hurt anyone worse than being in a fist fight and I never would.”

“Just what did you think was going to happen at the courthouse when you agreed to drive the mattress truck?”

“I didn’t know for sure. They said we were going after Kendall and I didn’t know if that meant to grab him or to kill him. All they told me was to drive the truck down there and park it and wait. Pete Hawes was in the back. He was watching and he was supposed to bang on the back of the cab to let me know when to pull out from the curb. They acted like they weren’t sure what would happen and I was afraid to ask too many questions, so I did like they said.”

“Were you aware that your trigger man very nearly killed my partner before you squealed out of there?”

“No. I remember seeing him go down and I remember you running toward us. Hawes yelled at me to get him back out of there and I did what I was told. I swear to God I didn’t know any of that would happen. I wasn’t sure what he would do, but I sure didn’t know he’d fire on any cops. He said drive, so I did.”

Hutch studied the young man’s face and saw no lie in his eyes. He didn’t allow that perception to show on his face. “Did you steal that truck?”

“No way. I’ve never done anything like that. I just drove it to the courthouse and back to the hideout.”

“Did you know Hawes was dead? We found him in the back of the truck.”

“I knew. I can tell you who offed him.”

Pressing on, Hutch said, “Okay, let’s move on to the second shootout. What were you assigned to do?”

“Just to stand guard while Mailer and some others went inside for the meet. I had a gun, but I didn’t know what I’d do if I had to shoot it.”

Hutch was curious to see how closely Dalton’s account matched his memory of what happened at the shootout up until the getaway cars disappeared.

“What happened after they went inside?” he asked.

“I couldn’t see inside or hear anything, but they went in to have the meeting and when they came out it seemed like there wasn’t gonna be a fight. I don’t know exactly what happened, but Marty, the guy they left outside with me, was yellin’ at a couple of guys to come out and that he’d shoot ’em both if they didn’t. Next thing I saw was that big guy dragging your partner out into the street and I yelled that he was a cop. I recognized him from the courthouse. The big guy took out Marty and dumped your partner in the street. I thought he was gonna leave him ’cause he walked away. Guess he changed his mind and turned around, drawing down on him. I only had a split second to stop him. I didn’t want him to kill your partner and I just shot him.” Ed Dalton sighed deeply having gotten out all of that in a rush.

Hutch ran his memories of the previous night and found Ed’s account to be a good match to them. He was grateful to the man for stepping in when Chandler got set to kill Starsky.

“Okay, so you took out Chandler. What made you decide to take Starsky with you?”

Dalton took a deep breath and reached for a pack of cigarettes on the table in front of him. His hands were trembling so badly, he only succeeded in burning his finger with the match. Hutch lit another match and held it up so Dalton could light the cigarette.

“Mailer and Shank made it across the street into one of the cars and I saw another one of our guys get into the other car. He was in front and he saw me wave at him so he stopped for me. Just before he got to me, shots were being fired at Starsky. I saw one hit the ground an inch from him. I knew they’d kill him if I didn’t do something and the only thing I could think of was to take him with us.”

“Your boss might have killed him anyway,” Hutch said.

“No. He don’t hold with killing cops. I knew he wouldn’t allow it.”

Hutch thought about that for a few moments while he watched Dalton smoke and tremble. The cigarette didn’t seem to be doing his nerves much good. Hutch realized that the nervous young man had just reached that age where guys with a wild streak either settled down some or committed themselves to the path they were on regardless of the consequences. He had seen it many times. Dalton’s eyes were sincere and his words were beginning to get through. Hutch made eye contact with Forsythe, wishing he could read what he was thinking like he could Starsky. He found himself consulting Starsky in his thoughts. What do you think, buddy? Believe him?

“What happened when you got back to Mailer’s bolt hole?”

“He was pretty mad at me. I had to argue some to keep them from just dumping your partner somewhere and for a while there I thought I’d gone too far. I found his cuffs when I searched him and Mailer made me put them on him in case he woke up.”

Hutch’s brow creased at that. “Did he ever come to?”

Dalton shook his head. “Not as far as I know. He was out every time I saw him.”

“Go on.”

“Mailer decided what to do and I volunteered to drive Starsky somewhere he’d be found first thing this morning. I picked a place I could see from my apartment. Mailer wanted him shut in the trunk in case I got stopped.”

Hutch interrupted again. “You could have dropped him at a hospital and made an anonymous call.”

“Yeah, and I’d be dead now and he might be, too. I could tell Mailer was starting to not trust me. When I drove to the school I thought about going to a hospital, but I was pretty sure I was being tailed. If I left him in a hospital parking lot and then got myself killed, he might not’ve been found for days. That’s why I picked the school. No reason for a car in the shape that one was in to be there overnight. I figured they’d call the cops.”

As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Hutch thought the story sounded plausible. If Dalton had told him the truth, he quite probably had saved Starsky’s life. That was worth Hutch intervening on his behalf.

“Let’s assume I believe you and my partner would be dead now if not for you. What do you want from me?” he asked.

“Bernie said maybe you could help me work some kind of a deal with the DA. Man, I don’t expect you to get me off, but if you could put in a word. I don’t want to face a murder rap and since I was trying to save Starsky, maybe they’d consider something less?”

“Would you be willing to give up names and the location of Mailer’s hideout?”

Dalton didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“I’ve gotta know something, Dalton. Why? If you’ve told me the truth, why did you do it?”

Dalton’s face flushed and he thought about what he was going to say in answer for a few seconds. “My brother’s a cop. You know that. I just kept imagining it being him. What if he was helpless and some hood like me could save him? I couldn’t let that guy shoot your partner in the street like a dog. I just couldn’t. I swear, I’m telling you the truth. Will you help me?”

Hutch wasn’t quite satisfied yet. “Why didn’t you just run? You could have and we might never have found you.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to. I want all of this behind me. I’m done with the life. I can’t move on and do right with this shit hanging over my head so’s I’d always have to be running and looking over my shoulder.”

Hutch nodded. “All right. You sit here with Detective Forsythe for a while. I have some thinking to do and I need to call my captain.”

“Okay. I know I’m gonna be under arrest. Are you gonna know for what when you come back?”

“I’ll know what the initial charges are, but if… and I mean IF at this point, I’m going to the DA on your behalf, I won’t be able to tell you what he’ll do for you.”

Hutch got a nod from Forsythe that he’d keep an eye on Dalton and then left the room to call Dobey. He was both surprised and concerned to find his boss waiting for him outside the interview room door.

“Cap, what are you doing here? Is Starsky okay?”

“Still sleeping. Huggy got there a little while after you left and said he’d stay so I could come on down here and observe. I’ve been watching through the glass for quite a while. You did a good job.”

“Thanks, Cap. God, I feel bad for Glassman. Can you imagine being a cop with a brother who has gotten into this kind of a mess?”

“Not something I’d wish on anyone,” Dobey answered. “What do you think?”

“Well, he did come down here voluntarily for questioning and to turn himself in when we levy the charges. He took a big chance and he didn’t even want an attorney present. When I first heard about this and when I first got here I thought it would be hard for him to convince me.”

“So, did he?”

“Yeah, he did. I’m inclined to believe at least the most important part of his story. He probably saved Starsky’s life. Do you think we can do anything to help him?”

Dobey looked at his watch. “Let’s go back to my office and call the DA’s office before they close. Maybe we can get an answer before we book Dalton.”

Thirty minutes later, Dobey and Hutch called the desk sergeant and asked him to send Glassman up to the captain’s office. They wanted to let him know what would happen before arresting his little brother. They had agreed Captain Dobey would do the talking.

Captain Dobey introduced the two men. “Officer Glassman, this is Detective Starsky’s partner, Detective Ken Hutchinson.”

Bernie shook Hutch’s hand, but quickly looked away from the intense blue eyes that were completely unreadable to him. “I’m sorry we had to meet this way, Detective Hutchinson.”

“Hutch.” He saw what he thought was embarrassment in Glassman’s eyes before he averted them and he hoped inviting the man to call him Hutch would put him a little at ease.

“We wanted to let you know that Ed did a good job in the questioning. I promised you that if he could convince Starsky’s partner that he was telling the truth about saving his life, that Hutch would go to the mat for him and I’d back him. We’ve just gotten off the phone with the DA and he’s willing to work out something. He said he had some research and other calls to make before he could promise, but that he thought if the gun Ed used to kill Chandler isn’t linked to any other crimes, he was hopeful there wouldn’t be any serious charges for that. There will have to be a coroner’s inquest to determine exactly what they will be, but given the fact that he acted to save a police officer’s life, he might not be charged with anything worse than the possession of an unlicensed gun. No promises.”

Bernie sighed.  “That’s a relief. That charge was probably going to be the worst and I’m grateful to even have the hope if not the guaranty that things could work out that well.  Thank you, both.  What other charges?”

“The DA says that if Ed will name the rest of the gang and give us locations that lead to arrests and convictions, he might be able to take the charges down to endangering public safety for being the wheel man during that shootout at the courthouse. I have to admit it’s hard to believe this part, but he says he didn’t know exactly what was going to happen there. I’m not sure what the charges will be for that. Bottom line is this. We’re going to arrest him for suspicion of manslaughter two for killing Chandler. Once we book him, the DA is going to come over here with a stenographer to take his official statement. Can he afford an attorney?”

Glassman shook his head. “He can’t, but my wife and I can take care of that. Her best friend’s husband is a defense attorney. I’ll see if I can get him down here.”

Hutch couldn’t recall another time when Dobey or any other cop had suggested that a suspect retain a lawyer, but this was a special circumstance if ever he’d seen one during his time on the force.

“Good. He and the DA can work out the terms of Ed’s deal. He’ll probably be required to plead guilty to a set of reduced charges in addition to giving up names and locations. If everything goes well, he could be looking at no more than some short local jail time followed by probation, no prison. Again, no promises until everything’s out with the DA.”

Glassman nodded his understanding. “Thank you, Captain Dobey.” He turned to Hutch and this time made eye contact with him. “Thank you, Hutch. You don’t know how much this means to me. I really owe you and Captain Dobey one.”

Hutch took Glassman’s extended hand and shook it. “You’re welcome. I’m glad your brother was there to save my partner. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Glassman left to make his phone calls. Hutch ran his fingers through his hair. He was worn out and anxious to get back to Starsky, but there was still work to be done. “I’ll get the paperwork rolling and go down to the interrogation room to arrest Dalton.”

Dobey said, “No, Hutch. You’ve done enough. You go back to the hospital and check on your partner. I’ll take care of this.”

“But I want to be the arresting officer,” Hutch said.

“You can come back and sign off on everything tomorrow. Right now, see if you can’t get back over to the hospital before he comes around again. I told you earlier you’d be back in time.”

“I know, but….”

“Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Hutch smiled at him and conceded defeat on the matter. “Thanks, Cap.”

Before he made it out of the room, Captain Dobey said, “See to it that you get some rest. If you feel half as tired as you look, you need it.”

~*~*~

Hutch was on the first floor on his way out to the parking lot when he saw Sergeant Joe Peters walking toward him. Joe was a member of the Metropolitan Division’s SWAT team. The team had only been together for a couple of years as an official unit. What started off as a group of officers doing double duty in addition to their regular jobs with the police department had grown into an elite team of specially trained men working strategic response full time.

Joe raised a hand in greeting as he approached Hutch and put a hand out toward him.

“Hutch,” he said, “how’s your partner doing? Heard he was in the hospital.”

Hutch shook the offered hand. “Just headed back over there now. He’s in bad shape, but the doc’s hopeful he’ll turn the corner soon.”

“What happened?” Joe asked.

Hutch wondered how he could possibly explain what was wrong with Starsky without taking ten minutes to do it. “In a nutshell, he’s gotten clunked in the head a couple of times in the past few days and he’s got a badly infected wound on his arm. High fever.”

“Oh, I heard he got bagged last night at that shootout.”

“He did. How’d you guys hear about it?”

“Are you kidding? You must’ve been busy. Word spreads faster around here than an uncontrolled grass fire.”

“Yeah, I’ve been pretty preoccupied.”

“Oh, well, tell him I asked after him, will ya? Tell him if he ever gets tired of you that our offer still stands.”

That took Hutch aback. “Offer?”

“Sure,” Joe said. “We want him in our unit bad. Turns us down flat every time.”

“Starsky?” Hutch was completely confused. He had never heard anything about SWAT wanting his partner to join them.

“Sure, man. Don’t you know?” Joe smiled at him, curious as to why he was in the dark about this. “We’ve been trying to recruit him since we found out about him.”

This was too much for Hutch. He couldn’t believe his partner had kept something like this from him. “Found out what?”   He watched Joe stare at him for a few moments as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say next.

“Don’t you know what your partner did in the army?” Joe asked.

“We don’t talk a lot about that.” For the most part, Starsky’s military service was in that black hole of things that Hutch didn’t know about his partner.

“Ask him about it sometime. All I’ll say is it’s one thing for a man to accurately hit a stationary paper target twenty-five yards in front of him and it’s another thing to hit a moving target two hundred twenty-five yards away.”

Hutch promised to let Starsky know the guys at SWAT were thinking about him and took his leave of the man who just brought to light something important he didn’t know about his partner. Starsky was probably a highly trained sniper. Apparently, he preferred to work the streets with Hutch than to give that up to join an elite squad. That was sobering.

~*~*~

As Hutch walked away from him, Joe thought about the fact that Starsky obviously hadn’t shared the SWAT team’s interest in him or important details about his military service with his partner. He recalled the last time he’d had the conversation with Starsky just about six months ago. He had invited him to join the team again and Starsky just shook his head at him.

“You keep asking and I’ll just keep saying no thanks, Joe. I like what I’m doing.”

 “Don’t you think it’s a waste to stay in homicide with what you can do?”

“Nope. I’ve got a great partner and I’m doing what I want to be doing. I’ve spent all the time in the sniper’s nest I ever want to spend. Thanks anyway. Me and Hutch are doing just fine.”

The two detectives had already earned a reputation at Metro both for their effectiveness at their jobs and for their fierce devotion to each other.  Joe had never had a partner he was extremely close to, so he realized he had little frame of reference for why Starsky felt like he did. Hutchinson must be something special for Starsky to refuse to move on to an elite position that would make the best use of his God given talent and hard won skill with a rifle. He may not have had a frame of reference, but he was smart enough not to mess with something that was obviously working and he could respect Starsky’s feelings. He made himself a promise not to ask again.  If he ever decided he was interested, Starsky knew where to find him.

~*~*~

Hutch walked into Starsky’s room and was immediately both pleased and amused to find Huggy reading the sports page to his partner.

“Hey, Huggy. How’s he doing?” he asked.

“Nurse Linda says he’s doin’ good.”

When he reached the bed, Hutch put the back of his hand on his friend’s cheek, relieved that even though his fever still burned, the intensity had dropped considerably from when Hutch had left him. He picked up Starsky’s right arm and was even more relieved to see that the angry red skin had retreated and was now on the other side of the ink marks. The corner had been turned.

Hutch squeezed Starsky’s right hand gently and said, “I’m back, partner.” Huggy vacated the chair to let his friend sit and Hutch was so grateful he didn’t offer comment, much less any protest.

“He hasn’t moved at all since I got here,” Huggy told him. “Linda said he was sedated, so I didn’t expect much.”

Hutch was glad he’d made it back before Starsky was awake again. He said, “He was so out of his head last time he was awake it scared me. I’m glad I made it back before the sedative wore off and he came around.”

The two men talked in quiet voices. Hutch explained what had been happening and answered Huggy’s many questions. They were still talking when Linda came in again.

Hutch waited anxiously to hear a report from her after she checked over his friend.

“Good news,” Linda said. “His temp is only 102.8 now. Everything else looks better, too. He should come around soon. It’s okay to try to get him to surface if you want. This time, he’ll be a little confused, but he won’t be delirious. Call me when he’s back.”

Hutch smiled at her. She had earned his trust. “Thanks. I think I’ll do that.”

The door had barely closed behind Linda when Hutch began his mission to wake his partner and make sure he was going to be all right.

“Hey, in there,” Hutch said as he patted Starsky on the shoulder. “Huggy says you’ve been sleeping since I left. Don’t you think it’s time to open your eyes?”

Hutch continued his monologue of encouragement. When Huggy left to head to his bar for the dinner shift he thanked him and told him he hoped to have Starsky out of the hospital and down to his place for a celebratory beer within the next few days. The infection was retreating and Hutch felt relieved. Linda had said she expected Starsky to sleep until at least around six o’clock and sure enough as that hour approached, he began to stir.

“That’s it, buddy,” Hutch encouraged. “Open your eyes and show me you’re okay.”

Starsky’s head moved as he struggled to the surface. “Hutch?”

The last time this had happened had gone poorly and Hutch couldn’t help but feel a sense of trepidation as Starsky climbed out of forced unconsciousness.

“I’m right here, Starsk,” Hutch assured.

“Hutch?” Starsky said a little louder. A few seconds later he turned his head toward his anxious partner and opened his eyes. The cloudy blue eyes focused and the next time he said his friend’s name sounded like a statement, not a question. “Hutch.”

“Welcome back,” Hutch said.

Hutch poured a cup of water for Starsky and let him drink a little. Starsky’s eyes looked all around the room and Hutch could see he had no idea what was happening. Linda was right, he seemed confused, but not unaware.

“You’re in the hospital, buddy. Everything’s okay now.”

“What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Starsky’s face registered how hard he was thinking. After what seemed like a long pause to Hutch, he said, “You went to call for backup.”

“That’s right. I didn’t make it back before everything went south. Do you remember the guy dragging you out into the street?”

Starsky reached over to feel his right arm. He winced as he touched it. “Oh, yeah. I remember something about a hat and that he banged my arm on something.”

“A hat? Take it easy. It’s okay.”

Hutch gently pulled his partner’s left hand back and laid it on his abdomen. “Your arm’s infected, buddy. Does it hurt a lot?”

Starsky nodded. “Not as bad as before, but yeah. How long have I been here?”

“Since this morning. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting so bad last night?” Hutch asked.

“I was gonna when we logged out. Hutch, I can’t remember anything else. How’d I get here?”

Linda walked in to change Starsky’s IV. “Hey, you were supposed to call me when he woke up,” she chided.

“Sorry. It’s only been a couple of minutes.” Hutch gave her his best sheepish look.

Linda shook her head. “Uh-huh. Has he been lucid?”

That got a soft chuckle out of Hutch. “Only as lucid as he usually is,” he replied.

Starsky shot him a look for that remark and Hutch explained.

“Last time you woke up you were out of your head, buddy. You kept calling for me, but didn’t recognize me. Scary.”

“Terrific,” Starsky answered.

Linda interrupted. “Detective Starsky, I’m Linda, your day nurse. How are you feeling?”

“Better than I was, I guess. At least I know who this guy is.” He jerked his chin toward his partner.

“How’s the pain?” Linda asked. She took a close look at his arm and nodded her satisfaction with how things were going.

Starsky glanced at his arm and answered, “I’ll live.”

“How’d you get this anyway?” Linda asked him.

Starsky cut his eyes toward Hutch and back at her. “I, uh… I had an argument with some rusty metal.”

“Looks like it won, partner.” Hutch stated

Linda continued her questions. “How about your head?”

“Feels like John Henry’s in there with his damn hammer.”

“That’s certainly descriptive, any vision changes?”

“Nah. Only one of everything.”

“That’s good. I’m going to sit you up some,” she said. She looked at Hutch and said, “Keep an eye on him for me. Doctor Jameson left instructions to try to get him to eat something. I’ll be back.”

Starsky dropped his eyes and said, “About that metal….”

“Starsk, you don’t need to explain. I think I know what happened anyway. I’m sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t do it.”

“Well, yeah, I kind of did, buddy. You wouldn’t have been out blowing off steam if–”

“Stop it,” Starsky said. “This isn’t your fault. I’m the idiot that did it. Doesn’t matter why. How’re you feeling?”

Hutch smiled at him. “Me? Relieved is how. You have no idea how relieved. I thought I’d lost you for sure.”

That jogged Starsky’s memory. “How’d I get here anyway?”

Hutch explained everything that had happened since he left Starsky to call for backup the previous night. Starsky had no recollection of being taken or being cuffed and left in the trunk of a car. Hutch’s hope that he’d be able to fill in some blanks and corroborate Ed Dalton’s version of events was not going to be realized. Starsky had been unconscious the entire time.

“I can’t believe all of that happened and I can’t remember a thing,” Starsky said. “Nada.”

“I’m not really surprised. When you first got here your fever was dangerously high. You also bumped your head on the street when Chandler dropped you and of course it was right where you’d been hurt already. I’m just glad it wasn’t worse.”

Starsky managed to eat half of what Linda brought him, but not without considerable grousing about how awful hospital food was.

“So, this Ed Dalton is Bernie Glassman’s brother?”

“Yep. He’s down at the station house right now giving up names and locations. Dobey’s arranging for the warrants and tomorrow, we’ll go round ’em all up.”

“Not without me, you’re not,” Starsky said as if his being in on the bust were a foregone conclusion.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re staying right here until we’re sure you’re okay. That’s not gonna happen by first thing tomorrow.”

“I don’t want you out on a bust like that without me watching your back. Could get pretty hairy.”

“I know, but it’ll be okay. Dobey’s assigned Forsythe and Caldwell to back me up ’til you’re on your feet. I won’t take any chances. They won’t let me.”

“I still don’t like it,” Starsky reiterated.

Linda came in with Starsky’s night medication, and he asked, “When can I go home?”

“Hard to say. I’d guess another day or two,” she answered.

“Ah, come on. Blondie here will look out for me.”

“I don’t doubt it, but you have a serious infection. You need to rest and let the IV antibiotics get it under control. You’re doing a lot better, but you have a ways to go. Be a good boy and relax.”

Starsky looked dejected at that. “You would be on his side,” he said petulantly.

“Don’t pout at me,” Linda teased. “I’ve got three teenaged sons and I know all about pouty young men. Doesn’t work on me.”

Hutch laughed at that.

“Don’t laugh too hard, Blondie. I have instructions for you, too. I’m going off shift as soon as I give report. Ann is going to be his night nurse. You’ve been doing great with me, but I come back on shift tomorrow morning and I’d better not hear you’ve been giving her a hard time. She’ll take good care of Curly here.”

Hutch’s mouth dropped open and he stared at her for a few heartbeats. “But–”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s all I want to hear out of you.” She put a finger in the air that must have reminded Starsky of one of Hutch’s gestures because it got Starsky laughing.

“Were you harassing the nurses while I was out, partner?” he asked.

“Yes,” Linda answered for him. “You going to behave?” she asked Hutch.

He smiled at her. What could he say? He’d earned it. “Yes, ma’am.”

She patted him on the arm as she went past him. “See that you do.” The door closed behind her blocking the sound of both men laughing.

~*~*~

After Linda left, Starsky took a good look at his partner. Hutch looked so tired, he wondered how long it had been since he had gotten some real sleep and he was worried about the guilt he saw building in his friend. He knew he’d have to work on that.

“Guess she told you,” he said. “That’s a lot of chutzpah in a little bitty package.”

Hutch laughed at that. “No kidding. Guess I’d better be nice, huh?”

“That’s probably for the best.” Starsky was about to ask Hutch about how tired he looked when his friend interrupted, the conversation suddenly turning serious.

“Saw Joe Peters down at the station. He asked me to tell you hello and that the guys are pulling for you.”

Starsky looked away from him, his cheeks flushing. “Oh, that was nice.” He hoped Joe hadn’t said anything to Hutch that he’d need to explain.

“He also told me to tell you that their offer still stands if you ever get tired of me.”

Now Starsky was blushing in earnest. Shit. Now what? “Hutch–”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t need to explain. I just wish you’d told me.”

“Hutch, there’s nothing to tell. Yeah, they’ve asked me a bunch of times. I don’t care. That’s not what I want to do. I want to work with you.”

Hutch’s eyes didn’t look hurt, just confused. “I appreciate that. He didn’t say much, but I am a detective. I don’t understand why he you’d tell him something that important about you that I don’t know. Were you really a sniper in the army?”

The color left Starsky’s face at that remark. He looked Hutch in the eyes and said, “I swear I didn’t tell him. They found out when the unit was formed. I guess they searched through the records of all the guys currently on the force and they found out that way. You know as much as he does now and I still don’t want to talk about it. I can shine him, but I can’t do that to you. Please don’t ask me. Shit happened in ‘Nam, Hutch. Shit I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to talk about. If I ever can, you can be sure you’ll be the one I’ll tell. Please believe me.”

Hutch nodded. “I do. It’s just that I don’t want to hold you back and I just thought maybe–”

“Maybe nothin’! Nobody’s holding me back, Hutch. They can ask me every day until I retire. Everyone ain’t lucky enough to have a partner that’s also his best friend. I wouldn’t give that up for anything.”

Hutch smiled again. “Okay. If you’re ever ready to talk about… well, you know I’m here.”

“I always know, partner.”

Starsky was grateful for the look of acceptance he saw on his friend’s face. He was also overwhelmingly tired and he needed to know Hutch was going to be okay. The guilt was something he’d have to work on when he came home from the hospital. He needed alone time with his partner and he needed to be able to keep his eyes open and his mind focused if he stood any chance of steering Hutch away from the reef of guilt in front of him.

“Hutch, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to. You probably spent all of last night looking for me. When they brought me here, you spent all day sitting with me. When was the last time you got some sleep?” he asked.

“Real sleep? I don’t remember,” Hutch answered honestly.

Starsky sighed. “I know you want to stay with me, but you have a big bust in the morning and I’m thinking you haven’t slept much in the past two days. Why don’t you go back to my place and catch some z’s, huh?”

Hutch shook his head. “Nothin’ doing. I’ll be catching my z’s in this chair tonight.”

“No way, Hutch. I’m okay and you’re not gonna do me any good if I’m so worried about you tomorrow I can’t rest. ‘S bad enough you’re going on the bust without me. Please, go back to my place tonight. They know where to find you if I need you.”

Starsky watched Hutch mull that over for a moment. He could see that his friend’s resolve was wavering a little and he knew he’d made a good argument.

Hutch said, “Well, I guess I could stand to run past the apartment and pick up my mail. Maybe if I go back to your place for a few hours, I’ll be good to go. I’ll come back in a while.”

“No,” Starsky said. “Please, buddy. I won’t have a minute’s peace. I promise as soon as you go I’m gonna sleep until tomorrow. You’ll be done with the bust and back here before I can get worked up about it, okay?”

After a few more heartbeats, Hutch nodded his agreement. “Okay. You have them call me at your place if you need me.”

Starsky smiled; happy he’d won this particular argument. “I always need you, dummy. What I need from you right now is for you to be alert tomorrow and not get yourself killed because I’m not there to keep you out of trouble.”

Hutch snorted a laugh at that. “Says the man lying in the hospital bed. Funny.”

Starsky yawned. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go on and get out of here. Come back after the bust and tell me all about it.”

“I will, partner. You rest and it’ll all be over by lunch time.”

Starsky waited until Hutch left before he succumbed to the veil of sleep that had been chasing him for some time. He fell asleep praying that Hutch would be all right.

~*~*~

Hutch didn’t much like leaving Starsky, but he couldn’t argue with the fact that he was so tired he could barely drive. His partner was right to shoo him off to rest. He planned to be at the precinct early to meet his temporary keepers, Forsythe and Caldwell. A promise made to his partner and to Captain Dobey.

Before he went back to Starsky’s, he headed for his old place intending to pick up the mail. He’d filled out the change of address form Huggy had brought him and he guessed things should switch over to the new place soon.

As luck would have it, his former landlady was just locking up when he pulled up to the curb. She saw him and waved him over to her.

“Hi,” she said in greeting. “I’m glad you caught me. I’m sure most of the mail is in the box, but I was here painting when the mailman brought you a small package. I signed for it.”

She handed it to him. Hutch glanced at it quickly, his heart sinking when he realized it was from Vanessa.

“Thanks for doing that,” Hutch said. “I’m sure the mail will stop soon. I filed a change of address.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a smile. “I’m pretty sure I can trust a cop with the key until you have time to drop it off to me.” She walked away from him toward her car.

Hutch stood and stared at the package for a few seconds. Why does just seeing your name take me right back to where I feel the worst? Possibly because the return address was in Minnesota instead of California. Possibly because the return address showed “V. Davenport” as the sender, instead of “V. Hutchinson.”

Hutch got the rest of the mail out of the box and then walked dejectedly back to the car, fired up the engine, and headed for the only place that felt like home to him. All the way over there he thought about why it was that any time spent with his partner felt like home regardless of where they were, while time spent with Vanessa had felt lonely for such a long time. He wondered how long it had been since he had that feeling of “home” with Vanessa, and realized he probably hadn’t since they were first a couple–since before he figured out she wasn’t the girl he thought he’d married. Overwhelmed by the bickering and nastiness, that feeling had fled long ago and Hutch felt foolish.

Once he was inside, Hutch went straight for a shower. He left Vanessa’s package on Starsky’s kitchen table, opting to get himself in as good a place as he could before he opened it. The shower was followed by a beer before he could face the package.

When Hutch finally mustered up the strength to open it, he was shocked to find his grandfather’s pocket watch inside. He hadn’t thought about it much given how things had gone over the past week. The last time he’d seen it was when he put it inside his wife’s–ex wife’s jewelry box. She’d taken that with her and he had little hope he’d ever see the watch again. The package also contained a note he wasn’t sure he had the intestinal fortitude to read. His morbid curiosity overcame his sense of dread and he opened it.

Ken,

I accidentally took this with me. I know how much it means to you and I could never keep it from you no matter what has happened between us. I’m sorry things ended up like they did and there’s a part of me that will always love you. If I’m ever in town, maybe I’ll call for old time’s. Maybe by then you’ll be able to stand the sight of me.

Take care,

Vanessa

Take care? Who was she kidding? She didn’t care if he lived or died, did she? Hutch was extremely grateful for the return of the only material possession he had that he cared about at all. Anything else he had could be replaced, but the pocket watch was special. His grandmother had given it to his grandfather as a wedding gift, and the old man had made sure it went to his favorite grandson when he died. Hutch cherished it and couldn’t help but think a little more kindly of Vanessa for returning it unbidden.

Hutch got ready for bed, his thoughts churning heavily over events of the past week. Since Starsky wasn’t there, he opted for the bed instead of the sofa. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling in the darkness, desperately trying to come to terms with the swarm of emotions he felt. Vanessa’s abrupt departure had sent him into quite a tailspin. He couldn’t believe he’d let her get to him like that. He remembered that overwhelming sense of failure and why he’d nearly put a bullet in his head. Hutch shuddered at the thought of what he’d put Starsky through that night. He did something he didn’t do often, especially sober. He cried. His partner was laid up in the hospital from an infection he never would have had if Hutch hadn’t been in such a state. Hutch knew what a bad position he’d put Starsky in and he didn’t even have the emotional energy to think about how Huggy felt.

He’d taken his marriage vows seriously and meant to stick it out as long as she did, for all that was worth. Still, he realized now that Vanessa “Davenport” wasn’t worth half what Starsky was to him.

For her part, Vanessa never made it a secret how much she hated Starsky. Hutch remembered the many things she’d said about his best friend in anger. She had used the most hurtful words she could including crude, low class, and even stupid a few times. When she was around Starsky, she was as cold as she could be and the looks she tended to give him were at best derisive and at worst purely hateful. The more Hutch defended his friend, the meaner she became. By comparison, until she dumped him so cruelly, Starsky hadn’t said anything against Vanessa in the years they’d known each other. Hutch knew his partner didn’t think much of her, but to his credit he kept it to himself and he was always respectful.

“Part of me will always love you?” he said aloud. “Who the hell were you kidding?”

In a rush, Hutch realized how little Vanessa really knew him. He thought about how close he’d come to pulling the trigger and he was consumed both by guilt and by the gratitude he felt toward Starsky for coming when he’d called. He’d almost done it, and the thought of what his friend would have gone through if he’d been too late was almost more than he could bear. How could he ever make it up to him? How could Starsky ever trust him the way he did before this happened?

Exhaustion was definitely contributing to a crying jag. Just as he was reaching the bottom of his despair, the phone rang causing him to jump at the sound. In the state he was in he struggled with the decision to answer or let it ring. His fear it could be the hospital and something could be wrong overtook his need to hide from the world for at least this one night, and he answered it.

Hutch did his best to steady his voice with a deep breath before he snagged the receiver and said, “Hello?”

A brief pause on the other end preceded Starsky’s voice saying, “It’s me. What’s wrong?”

Hutch ignored the question and tried to sound like he hadn’t been sobbing his heart out into the lonely night just seconds ago. “You okay? What happened to sleeping ’til tomorrow?”

The tense voice replied, “I asked first. What’s wrong?”

How could anyone tell from the utterance of a single word that things were far from all right with him? What had he done to deserve a friend who could do just that? Hutch scrambled in his tired mind to come up with a plausible thing to say to Starsky. The package was the key.

“Don’t worry,” Hutch said, realizing how he would be reacting if their roles were reversed. “I just got a package from Van today and it put me on edge.”

“Oh. What was it?”

“My pocket watch. I figured I’d never see it again.”

Starsky paused on the other end of the phone long enough for Hutch to worry he was seeing through him. “What do you know? The Ice Princess has a conscience. If that’s it, why do you sound so sad?”

Is it always a good thing to have someone know you this well?

“You know there was a note. I guess it’s just that and… Look let’s talk about this later, huh? You didn’t call me to hear me go on about Van and you still haven’t answered my question. Are you all right?” Starsky sounded okay, but Hutch needed to hear it and it gave him what might be his best shot at deflection. Please let it pass, Starsk. I can’t do this right now.

“Okay, Blondie. For now. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“What’s your temp?”

“Down to 101.6, worrywart. I guess I just wanted to be sure you got to my place okay. Couldn’t stay asleep until I knew.”

“Who’s a worrywart?”

“You got me there. When you left here you looked like you were being held together with spit and rubber bands. I was afraid you really were too tired to drive.”

“I probably was. Seeing that package from Van sure snapped me awake.”

“I’ll bet. Listen, I know you’re beat and I know you’re not telling me everything. Don’t let it eat you up with me not there to help. Promise me you’ll talk to me tomorrow?”

“I will. I’ll come by after we get the bad guys.”

“Hey, speaking of that don’t forget Forsythe and Caldwell won’t know how you work. ‘S been a long time since either one of us had to let someone else be our backup.”

“I hear ya, Mom.”

“I’m serious. You might actually need to use words so they know what you’re thinking, get my drift?”

He has a point there. They won’t be able to read me the way he does. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good. Get some sleep and be sharp tomorrow.”

“I will.”

“You call me if you need to talk, okay? It’s weird. I’m tired, but I’m kinda wired, too. The nurse is gonna wake me up every hour for one thing or another anyway.”

“Okay.”

“See ya,” Starsky said.

Hutch hung up the phone and resumed his thorough study of the ceiling. He knew exactly what Starsky meant about being both tired and wired simultaneously. He was so exhausted his fumes were running on fumes and he couldn’t think clearly. The more he tried to calm his guilt ridden thoughts and resolve the things he was feeling the more agitated he became. He finally dropped into a restless sleep at around 1:00 in the morning.

~*~*~

“100.2,” Linda reported. “Much, much better.”

“Good. When do you think the doc will cut me loose?” Starsky asked.

“Shhhh, I’m counting.” Linda said, then made a note in Starsky’s chart. “How’s your head?”

“Better,” Starsky answered.

“John Henry still in there?”

“Nah, more like the Seven Dwarves with their little mining hammers.”

Starsky drummed the fingers on his left hand nervously on the mattress while Linda finished her notes.

“How did you sleep last night? Ann said you didn’t rest well.”

“I didn’t,” Starsky answered.

“Why not?”

Starsky looked at her and sighed. The clock time of eight a.m. told him he needed to worry. Hutch was out with the other cops serving warrants on a dangerous gang that didn’t hesitate to fire on each other, the police, or anything else that happened to get in their crossfire and he wasn’t there to watch out for him. He realized that while the lady asking the questions was tough and no nonsense in this realm, she had no idea what life was like in the grimy world of inner city police work.

“Do you have a best friend?” he asked.

Linda looked up from his chart, clicked her pen shut and met his eyes. “Too worried about Blondie to rest?”

Starsky nodded. “Something like that.”

She smiled at him, doing her best to be reassuring. “I’m sure he’s okay. Let’s just concentrate on you right this minute. Doctor Jameson will be rounding sometime in the next hour. To answer your question, my prediction is he’s going to want your temp under 100 degrees for twenty-four hours before he gives you your walking papers.”

That was deflating. “Damn. I really need to get out of here.”

“I have eyes. I can see how you two are together. Can’t you just relax and let other officers look after your partner long enough to get better yourself?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust them. I do. I just don’t trust them as much as I trust me. Capice?”

Linda chuckled at that. “I’ve taken care of my share of cops, but I swear the two of you absolutely take the cake. Your partner’s a big boy. Don’t you trust him?”

“That’s just it,” Starsky replied. “I do. I trust him with my life. It’s trusting him with his that makes me nervous.”

~*~*~

He was still so tired and distracted the next morning Hutch had a hard time pulling off showing up at Metro at 7:00 a.m. as promised for a quick debrief before going after Mailer’s gang, but he did. He poured himself a cup of strong squad room coffee and took it black to maximize the caffeine’s fire power.

Ed Dalton had come through with a dozen names and the place where they would be gathering at 8:00 that morning to discuss how to wipe out Burgio’s gang once and for all. He had caught a break overhearing that while he was carrying Starsky out to the car. Mailer didn’t know he had heard. Dalton had shared every detail he knew from the overall long standing plan to burn the other gang.

The warehouse on the docks was the destination. Captain Dobey met with the group of plain clothes and uniformed officers going on the bust and instructed them to be careful.

“I shouldn’t have to point out to you men that this is a dangerous group of armed felons and they’ll be present in large numbers,” he admonished. “They’ve already proven twice that they can be highly volatile and won’t hesitate to fire on anyone who isn’t one of theirs. Detective Hutchinson will be in charge and you’ll move in on his signal. Hutchinson, Forsythe, and Caldwell, I want a few words with you.  The rest of you are dismissed.”

Hutch had a feeling his boss had put him in charge to keep him out of the initial action. As irritating as that was on one level, he couldn’t blame Captain Dobey. The ratio of bad guys to white hats was concerning, but they could only mobilize so many officers and still remain unseen until the time was right.

After the other officers dispersed, Dobey pointed at Forsythe and Caldwell and said “I want you two to stick to Hutchinson like white on rice. He’s used to having a partner that knows and anticipates his every move and he doesn’t have that today. Watch out that he doesn’t dust you rushing into the middle of things.”

Hutch opened his mouth to argue with that, but he shut it when he saw the look in the captain’s eyes. Of the two partners, Starsky was the most impetuous, but not by much. He wouldn’t purposefully disobey Dobey’s orders on this, but if circumstances warranted it, his stand-in partners might need to be fast to keep up with him.

Dobey looked right at Hutch and said, “You need to be careful. I know you want in on this. I’m allowing it on the condition that you stick with these two.” He pointed to Forsythe and Caldwell. “Remember that they aren’t used to your technique and your methods like Starsky is. Be sure you tell them what you’re thinking and what you’re planning to do. Tell them OUT LOUD. Don’t expect them to read your mind, Hutchinson.”

As much as he didn’t like it, the captain was right and Hutch knew it. So was his partner when he’d given him similar instructions on the phone the previous evening. Still, he had to wonder what his fellow detectives thought about the situation. The only response he offered came in unison with Forsythe and Caldwell.

“Yes, sir.”

Hutch wished he’d had the opportunity to call and check on Starsky before things started to move, but there was no time for it. He had climbed into the back of Caldwell’s white Galaxie 500 and they were heading for the docks by 7:15. The initial plan was for a large number of officers to be waiting out of sight of the warehouse. Hutch’s group would position themselves on the water side where they could watch the front of the warehouse. Another team would watch the back. At Hutch’s signal, they would move in for the bust.

After they were in position and had done an equipment check to verify that all the teams were on the air, Caldwell said, “Let’s talk about how we’re gonna work this.”

Hutch was the ranking officer on this bust. Although he and Starsky had been working with the other two detectives for a while, they hadn’t yet been out on a big bust with them. Forsythe and Caldwell had come from a quiet suburban precinct and they were still green to the gritty realities of the street in an inner city police department. They were reliable officers and they had been learning the ropes quickly, but Hutch was concerned that this bust was significantly out of their league. As much as possible, he knew he would need to keep a close eye on them.

“Here’s how these things usually go down,” Hutch answered. “The ranking officer either acts as the ignition point or appoints someone else to do it. Today that will be me. We’ll watch and wait for as many of them to get here as we can. Mailer himself being key. When the time is right, I’ll call it out on the air and we’ll move in.”

“How will you know the time is right?” Forsythe asked.

Hutch shook his head and said, “I wish that was something I could teach you, but I’m afraid it isn’t. That’s an instinct thing and if you have good radar, you’ll pick it up in time. All busts have an unpredictable element, but this one is a powder keg. Usually, unless something unexpected happens, you just know when you know.” He could tell that wasn’t the answer the other officers had hoped he’d give, but they nodded that they got it.

“If Starsky were here, we’d probably split up and one of us would go in through a side or back entrance and either try to be inside just ahead of the call or right outside to move in as soon as it was made. Which one of us went in and which tack we took would depend on the circumstances.” He knew it would be impossible to explain how one of them could be inside both undetected and right before the call was made, so he didn’t try.

Caldwell’s brow furrowed. “Why don’t we have anyone going in that way this time?”

“Remember Dobey telling me to tell you my plans out loud? You’ve been around me and my partner enough to realize that Starsky and I don’t work the way other teams do. A lot of what we do isn’t spoken; we just read each other and can anticipate each other’s moves. That’s why Dobey said that. When we’re working together on something like this I know where Starsky is and he knows where I am and we don’t have to use a lot of words to work effectively and safely. We don’t always even have to be in each other’s line of sight. I wouldn’t put anyone else in that position. Someone could get his head blown off that way and I promised my partner that you two would return me to him in one alive and unventilated piece.”

“Right,” Forsythe said. “Speaking of your partner…” He pulled a phone message sheet out of his pocket and passed it to Hutch to read. The message had come in to the switchboard at six twenty that morning. Hutch read it and chuckled.

“Watch my partner’s back” — Starsky.

“Yep, like I said,” Hutch remarked, passing the sheet to Caldwell.

Caldwell laughed when he saw it. “I gotta know, how long did it take for you two to get so in sync with each other?”

Hutch thought a moment and answered, “We met at the academy and were friends for quite a while before we became partners. That probably helped speed things along, but I’d say it only took a few months for us to get pretty attuned and it’s still a work in progress.”

The captain had given Hutch a list of names and descriptions of the men they were expecting to bust. He passed it to Forsythe to review with Caldwell while he got himself positioned to watch the warehouse through field glasses. Cars began to pull up within fifteen minutes.

Activating the radio, Hutch said, “This is crow’s nest. Ships sighted.”

“Both fore and aft,” the officer watching the back replied, indicating people were arriving there, too.

“Look sharp. How many passengers?”

“Four.”

Hutch turned to the other men and said, “I really want Mailer. He may be inside already, but we’re gonna give him a while to show before we strike.”

A few minutes before 8:00, a black sedan with darkly tinted windows pulled up in the front. Mailer and two men on Hutch’s list named Shank and Lutz got out with a man not listed. Hutch figured any additional collars they made would be a bonus. The four men conferred for a few minutes and then the first unexpected thing happened. They split up with the unknown subject heading toward the warehouse and the three named men heading in another direction. Hutch thumbed the radio.

“This is crow’s nest. The postman has arrived and isn’t coming aboard. Leave the anchor down.”

“Aye.”

Caldwell asked, “What are we gonna do?”

“We’re going after them as soon as I give the signal to move.”

Forsythe looked at his partner, his dismay clearly evident on his face. “Is that a good idea?” he asked.

“It’s the only idea,” Hutch replied. “If we head in with the rest, we’ll miss Mailer. He’s the lynch pin. We have to collar him or we’ll never shut down this gang.”

The next unanticipated thing was about to happen. Hutch knew something was up when the unknown man didn’t go into the warehouse, but kept walking, hastening his pace and hugging the wall. The other three men kept walking away and didn’t notice. Hutch thumbed the mic and said, “Crow’s nest. Keep sharp, something’s about to go down.”

He no sooner got that out than the black sedan exploded.

“Iceberg ahead! Anchors away,” Hutch called into the radio. That was both the emergency move now signal and the originally agreed upon go signal. The scene erupted. Before the cops pulled in front of the now burning warehouse, two vehicles screeched up out front. Hutch and his shadows were descending from their observation perch when Hutch saw several men pile out of the newly arrived vehicles. He saw what was about to happen and spun around to tell Forsythe and Caldwell.

“Molotov cocktail!” he shouted.

By this time cops were arriving and the bullets were beginning to fly. Hutch knew that the other gang had jumped into the fray.  He had to assume that the fourth man in that sedan belonged to Burgio and possibly Burgio had other gang members inside the warehouse wreaking havoc.  He knew for certain that he was about to find out just how fast the other detectives could run.

“Keep up!” Hutch directed and Forsythe and Caldwell did their best to do just that.

Mailer, Shank, and Lutz were now streaking toward the fishing boat, Sorry Charlene.

Hutch ignored the sounds of gunfire and breaking glass, the shouting and the other superfluous noise. He didn’t devote any attention to whether or not his cohorts were behind him. Like Lot’s wife, they either were or they weren’t and Hutch couldn’t spare a heartbeat to risk turning them into pillars of salt. His focus was entirely on the fleeing suspects ahead. When he followed them around a building he quickly realized they were breaking for a boat, and that could mean eluding capture and escaping to parts unknown. Hutch slid into instinct mode without realizing it and Forsythe and Caldwell were struggling to keep both the pace and the threads of what he was going to do next in their minds.

Like a heat seeking missile, Hutch streaked away from the older detectives toward the fishing boat at an alarming pace, his speed and long strides eating up ground faster than they could match.  If he wanted to catch the fleeing men, he couldn’t worry that he was widening the gap between himself and the other detectives with every passing second, effectively preventing them from sticking to him as they had promised their captain.

The three criminals were still far enough ahead of Hutch that they made it onto the boat and into the wheelhouse to start her up and move away from the dock before he could get there. Lutz worked on the mooring rope and released it. The engine had leapt to life and the boat started to pull away just as Hutch landed on deck, tackling Lutz. After a brief struggle, Lutz lay unconscious, cuffed, and disarmed on the deck and Hutch moved forward to find the other two. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder and could see that while Forsythe was closest, even he was too far away to do him any good. At least they wouldn’t get in any trouble on the dock.

Hutch hugged the side of the wheelhouse as he slinked around to get the drop on the man piloting. A look inside told him it wasn’t Mailer, but that didn’t matter. He needed to stop the boat from getting any farther from the dock. He dove through the door in a roll that brought him up to face the shocked man with his Magnum trained at his head.

“Police, freeze!” he said. Jason Shank immediately obeyed, putting both hands in the air. Hutch had come equipped with two sets of handcuffs. He pushed Shank to the deck and turned the wheel back toward the dock before he frisked, disarmed, and cuffed his suspect to the bulkhead too far away to reach the controls. That left just Mailer to apprehend.

Mailer had headed forward as soon as he got on board. Hutch didn’t see him go below deck through the forward hatch. While Hutch was dealing with Shank, Mailer was running through the area below the deck. Hutch’s turn of the wheel had brought the boat back within jumping distance from the dock and Brad Forsythe had just made the leap and landed on the boat, shouting, “Go get backup!”

Hutch made his way aft as cautiously as possible seeking cover behind whatever was available. When he heard the sound of a hatch slamming open and back against the deck, he spun to find himself facing an armed Mailer.  Mailer may have told his men that killing cops wasn’t an option, but he appeared to be willing to make an exception to that rule this time as he swung his gun into position. They fired simultaneously. Hutch’s slug tore into Mailer’s chest, silencing any additional attempt to flee or do damage. The man died instantly. Hutch had thrown himself to the side on top of a pile of nets as he fired, so Mailer’s bullet missed him, but it cut through the rope securing the net boom. Hutch had just gotten to his feet, precariously standing on the pile of slippery nets when the boat rammed the dock. The impact caused the now freely moving boom to swing around toward him. He put a hand up instinctively just before it hit, but the momentum of the heavy boom knocked his gun out of his hand as it slammed into him, picking him up off the deck and swinging out over the side, dumping him into the harbor with a splash.

~*~*~

After shouting at Caldwell to go for reinforcements, Forsythe had immediately begun searching for the man Dobey had told him to stick to like white on rice. He spotted the first suspect down on the deck, but he couldn’t see Hutch. He also couldn’t see the back of the boat.

Forsythe quickly made his way to the wheelhouse. Leaping into the doorway in a crouch he saw that Hutch had subdued a second suspect. He reached over and cut the engine. Knowing there was only one suspect left and Hutch was after him, he slithered through the door back to the front of the boat intent on tying it to the dock so the backup officers his partner would be bringing could get to them. On the way, he heard the roar of a large gun along with the report from a smaller one shortly before the boat slammed into the dock. Knowing it wouldn’t do anyone any good if the boat just drifted he continued forward to where he could reach the mooring lines. Looking over his shoulder every few seconds, he managed to keep his head down and secure the boat to the dock before he headed aft in search of Hutch. He hadn’t heard a thing since those two gunshots.

When Forsythe reached Mailer’s lifeless body, he holstered his weapon and called for Hutch.

“Hutch!” he shouted, moving away from the dead gang leader toward the back of the boat. “Hutch!” When he came across Hutch’s Magnum lying unaccompanied in the nets he felt like his heart had plummeted to his feet. The boom was still moving toward the back of the boat and it was over the water. If the Colt was there and Hutch was not, he could only be one place–over the side.

~*~*~

Starsky had promised himself he would be patient waiting for Hutch to come and tell him the results of the raid. He recognized the hollow nature of the promise, but his partner had told him he’d be done and back by lunch time and he swore he wouldn’t freak until then. Promise notwithstanding, when Doctor Jameson strolled into his room with his chart at around 8:30, Starsky had worked himself into quite a fret. He had tried to get out of bed to pace and immediately discovered it was a bad idea.

“What are you doing out of bed, David?” the doctor asked.

Starsky was sitting in the chair beside the bed clutching the side rail of the bed to keep from falling out of the chair.

“Oh, I figured I’d go for a quick run,” he quipped.

Jameson put the chart down and took Starsky by the arm to steady him. “You gonna pass out on me?”

“Not on purpose.” Starsky’s ears were ringing, his face was covered with perspiration, and he had tiny pinpricks of light crowding his vision. “I’ll be okay in a sec.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s get you back horizontal.”

Starsky’s night nurse had moved his IVs to a pole so he could go to the restroom, but he wasn’t supposed to get out of bed unattended. He was still too weak. While he had fully intended to keep his promise to call if he needed to get up, he forgot that when his anxiety level for Hutch increased to a point where he simply had to move to dissipate some of it.

Lying back in bed and feeling extremely foolish, Starsky closed his eyes to let his visual field settle. He remained silent and passive while Jameson checked him. When he heard the doctor click his pen open to write in the chart, he opened his eyes, glad to see things had settled down and he no longer felt like passing out was likely.

Knowing it was probably a stupid and untimely question, he still had to ask. “When can I blow this taco stand?”

Jameson didn’t lift his head from his writing, but he looked at Starsky over the top of his bifocals and said, “I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood your last question. I know you didn’t really just ask me when you could go home, did you?”

Starsky sighed. “I guess not.”

“Uh-huh. David, you’re still in no shape to be discharged yet. I know you’re feeling better, but now is not the time to compromise all the progress you’ve made in the past twenty-four hours by trying to do too much too soon. Your blood pressure, pulse, and temperature are all up from Linda’s last check just thirty minutes ago.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. I’m just worried about Hutch.”

“Linda mentioned that you were getting a bit worked up this morning. What’s happening?”

“Hutch is out on a big roust this morning and every nerve ending in my body is telling me that something is wrong.”

Jameson was checking his arm while they talked. He smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’re just imagining the worst. Arm looks better, by the way.”

“Maybe. My ma would say not to borrow trouble, but I can’t help it where he’s concerned. He’s out there with probably a dozen or more officers and there isn’t any real reason for worry yet. It’s only been half an hour since the raid was supposed to happen. Still….”

Jameson pulled the chair around and sat down. “Have you two worked together for a while?”

“A little less than three years, but we’ve known each other for a lot longer. He’s my best friend, Doc.”

“I gathered that. From what I’ve seen, the two of you have excellent communication between you and you even seem to have almost an extrasensory sort of connection.”

Starsky was amazed that the man was perceptive enough to have picked up on that. “You could sure say that.”

“I’ve seen that a few times. Not many, but a few.”

“Other cops?” Starsky asked.

“No, this is pretty new for me. I spent the past twenty years in the military.”

Starsky was intrigued by that. “Really? What branch?”

“Army. They put me through medical school.”

“No foolin’? I was in the army, too.” If nothing else, the chat was calming Starsky’s frayed nerves.

“No fooling. I finished out my service at Walter Reed.”

Starsky smiled. His already high level of respect for the doctor increased. “You ever serve in combat?”

“I worked in MASH units in Vietnam for a while before I was transferred back to the states. What about you? I assume you served in ‘Nam. What was your MOS?”

Starsky’s face got serious. He wasn’t sure how to answer without getting into uncomfortable territory, but he decided he should. Jameson had earned an honest answer. He looked him in the eyes and answered, “I was 11B… but I carried an XM21.”

Jameson raised an eyebrow and nodded. He obviously understood what that meant. “I see. Ever wounded?”

Starsky nodded. “I took some shrapnel in my left shoulder. That sent me home.” That was only a partial truth, but it was all Starsky was willing to reveal and it was more than he’d shared with anyone in a long time. Even his partner didn’t know he’d been wounded.

“Glad you made it back in one piece, David. Now, let’s talk about when you can go home.”

“Good, that sounds like a better topic.” Starsky smiled at him again, grateful for the doctor’s perceptive skills.

“I want to see your temperature under 100 for twenty-four hours, ideally.” The doctor put a hand up when Starsky started to protest. “Let me finish. Do you know what phantom pain is?”

That took Starsky by surprise. “No, what does that mean?”

Jameson explained. “This is just an analogy, so hear me out, okay?” Starsky nodded his agreement, and Jameson continued. “When I would see men who had been in my trauma unit at Reed and had lost a limb, they often still felt pain in it even after it healed. That doesn’t make a lot of sense that you’d feel pain in a limb that’s no longer there, does it?”

“Sure doesn’t. Why does that happen?”

“We don’t really know for certain, but it may come from the severed nerve endings. Lots of study has gone into it. One thing we do know is that stress and anxiety can exacerbate the problem. Do you know why I’ve brought this up to you?”

Starsky wasn’t a clinician, but he was a detective. He thought he knew where Jameson was going. “You think maybe sometimes me and Hutch are like that severed limb when we’re not together?”

“Basically. You said something was wrong and that every nerve ending was activated, right?”

After pondering for a few moments exactly how to describe it, Starsky said, “Yeah, like every nerve in my body is vibrating. I get that way when he’s in danger. He calls it my ‘Spidey’ sense. Doc, it’s not like I get that feeling when he goes home at night and I don’t see him ’til the next day. I don’t get it unless he’s in trouble. I’m nervous. I’ve got a feeling.”

“That’s exactly what I was getting at. You’re anxious and stressed and it’s not doing your physical condition any good at all. I could order you something to take the edge off…” Starsky’s second protest caused the doctor’s hand to raise again. “Hold on and let me finish. I know you won’t allow that at least until you see him and that wouldn’t fix the problem really. The best treatment I think I can recommend in this case is cut you loose at the earliest time I can live with that won’t put you at risk. I’m willing to concede to 100 or under for twelve hours if your better half will keep an eye on you and bring your can back immediately if you get worse.”

Starsky gave him a smile. “What was it this time?”

“Sorry, but it was 101. You relax and rest until your partner shows up safe and sound. If it drops to NO MORE than 100, you’ll be out of here in twelve. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Jameson sat and talked with Starsky for a few more minutes, explaining he had extra time due to a light rounds schedule. Starsky suspected his doctor had taken a special interest in him and his partner. They were talking about non-verbal communication when Jameson heard his name on the overhead.

“Doctor Jameson, please call the ER. Doctor Jameson.”

He dialed the extension from Starsky’s phone “Jameson,” he said into the phone. He listened for a while and looked at his watch with what Starsky perceived as boredom. “Okay. Tell Don I’ll be right down and will you please find Keith Hansen for me? Thanks.”

He turned back to Starsky and said, “Alas, duty calls. I’ll be back to check on you and find out what happened with your partner and the big roust later. Stay horizontal.”

“I will. Thanks, Doc.” Starsky watched Jameson breeze out of the room and tried to quiet his feelings down again.

~*~*~

Forsythe scrambled to the side of the boat. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Hutch!”

He looked over the rail and couldn’t see any sign of the man. He immediately kicked off his shoes, took off his jacket, and pulled off his holster and gun.

“Hutch! Can you hear me? Hutch!”

The bad guys were all dead or taken care of, so he just left his things on the deck. He clambered onto the rail and dove into the cold dark harbor water. The water temperature was only sixty-five degrees, cold enough to be a shock. He surfaced and gulped in air while he looked around for Hutch. Desperate for any clue which direction to go, he looked up and saw the net boom. Since the boom was still in motion when he first saw it, he assumed it was responsible for Hutch’s unscheduled departure from the Sorry Charlene. Using that as a judge for how far out Hutch might be, he swam out a few feet and dove for another look.

The third time he tried was the charm. He found Hutch about four feet under the surface. His elation at having found him was immediately replaced by multiple concerns. First, Hutch wasn’t moving at all when he found him. He could be shot, or hurt some other way, but he was definitely in trouble. Second, he had no idea how he was going to get Hutch out of the water to safety. Third, if Hutch wasn’t breathing, he didn’t know if he could help if he couldn’t get him onto the boat or the dock. In short, he was terrified.

Forsythe pulled Hutch to the surface and took a deep breath. He was panicked by the color of his friend’s face, by the blood running in his hair, by the fact that he could only find a weak, thready pulse, and that his friend wasn’t breathing.

“Shit!” He treaded water and looked anxiously up toward the boat. Hutch couldn’t have been in the water long and Forsythe wished he knew if he had gone under immediately. He started rescue breathing, unsure how effective it could be in the water.

Hoping by now that some help had arrived, he stopped his efforts long enough to shout, “Help! Anybody up there?”

Hearing Caldwell’s voice call his name in answer was the most welcome sound he’d heard in a long time.

“Darren! In the water! I need help!” he shouted frantically. “Don’t you dare die, Hutch. Please, God!”

Caldwell’s anxious face appeared over the rail on the boat above him. “Oh, my God!”

“We gotta get him out! He’s not breathing,” Forsythe called up to him.

Caldwell turned the other direction and yelled for paramedics. He turned back and said, “I’m gonna throw you a line!” He found some rope secured it to the boat and tossed the other end down to his partner.

By the time Forsythe got the rope secured around Hutch, a couple of uniformed officers had reached Caldwell and they helped to haul Hutch onto the deck of the boat. When the officers turned their attentions back toward him and tossed him the rope, he wondered if his partner had taken over trying to revive Hutch. He tied the rope around himself and helped pull himself up to the boat.

When he reached the deck, he confirmed that Hutch was still in serious trouble. Caldwell was doing rescue breathing. Forsythe stood stock still and watched the effort, shivering and dripping on the deck. Just as the paramedics reached them, Hutch jerked, gagged, and started to cough up water. One of the paramedics turned him on his side as he continued to wretch and to expel the seawater he had both breathed in and swallowed.

“How long was he under?” the second paramedic asked.

Forsythe answered, “Maybe a minute or two. I found him pretty fast. He had a weak pulse, but wasn’t breathing so I started rescue breathing. Took us maybe another minute to get him up on the boat.” He didn’t know for certain if Hutch had gone down immediately or if he lost consciousness before or after he hit the water.

The paramedics wasted no time, rapidly relaying information to the base at Memorial and getting Hutch prepped for transport. Forsythe and Caldwell watched their practiced and smooth movements in disbelieving silence as within a few tense minutes the two men put Hutch on oxygen, started an IV, lifted and secured him to a stretcher, and whisked him away to their waiting ambulance. Their friend hadn’t come around by the time it screamed away Code 3.

The partners looked at each other for a few horrified moments while they tried to come to grips with what had just happened. They ignored the activity going on around them. Finally, Caldwell took his jacket off and handed it to his shivering partner. “We need to get you into dry clothes.”

While Caldwell gathered his partner’s things from the deck, Forsythe stood staring in the direction the ambulance had taken. His heart was still pounding and the shivering was as much about adrenaline as it was the cold.

“Come on, partner,” he said, touching Forsythe on the elbow and trying to get him into motion, but the man’s feet were firmly planted.

After another futile try to get him moving, Caldwell stepped in front of Forsythe, looked him in the eyes and shook his shoulder. “Brad, snap out of it!” he said.

Forsythe’s eyes opened wider and he said, “Oh, my God. What if he dies!”

Caldwell’s chest tightened both at the suggestion and his partner’s anguish. “He won’t.”

“He could! What if I was too late?”

“This isn’t doing him any good. I’m gonna take you home for dry clothes and then we can go check on him.”

“No, I want to go straight to Memorial.”

Caldwell got around beside him again and successfully got him walking in the right direction. They had gotten back onto the dock and were turned in the right direction to get to the car when Forsythe suddenly stopped and said, “Oh, God, Starsky! What are we gonna tell Starsky?”

The bust had exploded when Burgio’s rival gang arrived on the scene and the aftermath was unprecedented. The warehouse was torched, several vehicles were destroyed, numerous gang members were wounded or killed, and three police officers were injured, including Hutch. The injured and wounded were being triaged to three different trauma hospitals, including Memorial where the cops were taken. The suspects went to Receiving and to UCBC Medical Center’s burn unit.

~*~*~

When Doctor Jameson responded to the overhead page he’d heard when he was in Starsky’s room, the nurse on the phone alerted him to the incoming injured officers. She also told him that the worst off was probably the unconscious thirty year old near drowning victim. That was the news that caused him to school his features due to the chilling suspicion that David Starsky might just be right and the incoming man was his partner. He had asked for one of the pulmonology attendings to meet him.

Jameson reached the ER as the first two police officers arrived. One had a through and through gunshot wound to his shoulder and the other probably had a broken arm and a cut on his chin that would need stitches. Both men were stable. Jameson quickly assessed and assigned teams to treat. He was just finishing that up when the third ambulance arrived and the paramedics brought the near drowning victim into the unit. Even soaking wet, Jameson realized the pale hair he could see probably belonged to Ken Hutchinson. When he got a better look at his face he knew the man was in respiratory distress. Doctor Keith Hansen came into the treatment room right behind the victim. The two doctors got a quick debriefing from the paramedics and got to work on their patient.

~*~*~

Linda Johnson answered the phone. “Four North, Linda Johnson speaking.”

“Linda, it’s Doctor Jameson. I need you to take care of something for me. I can’t get up there for a little while and we have situation.”

“Okay, how can I help?”

“I have David Starsky’s partner in the ER. He was brought in unconscious after nearly drowning a while ago.”

“Oh, no,” Linda said. “Is he going to be okay?”

“I think so. Dr. Hansen from pulmonology is working hard to get him to okay. Listen, I don’t want David to find out about this until I can tell him for certain what’s happening with his partner. Don’t let anyone in there ‘til I can get upstairs.”

“I can do that, but he’s already antsy. You saw how he was. I was in there about fifteen minutes ago hoping he’d be sleeping, but no dice. Not ’til Blondie gets back here.”

Jameson sighed. “That might be problematic. He’s only semiconscious and he won’t be going anywhere under his own steam. I’m planning to have him brought up there to share a room with David. My concern is that as soon as he finds out what happened, he won’t stay put no matter what we say to him. What was his temp last time you checked?”

“100.6,” Linda replied. The ding of the elevator arriving on the fourth floor stopped the conversation.

“Uh-oh. I think we have an issue coming down the hall. I’ll call you back.”

~*~*~

After Linda hung up the phone, she darted around the nurses’ station and placed her four feet eleven inches directly in the path of the two men who had gotten off the elevator, putting both hands up, palms out toward them.

“Whoa, there, gentlemen. You wouldn’t be here for David Starsky, would you?”

Darren Caldwell answered, “Yeah. We need to talk to him.”

Shaking her head, Linda said, “No you don’t.” She pointed back toward the elevators and said, “Go back to where those chairs are and have a seat. I’ll come down there in a few minutes and we can talk, but you can’t go in there just yet.”

The man who hadn’t spoken yet looked at the ground and his shoulders slumped. The man’s clothes were wet and she knew why they probably were. He looked defeated.

“Please, I’ve gotta tell him something.”

Linda put a hand on his arm and said, “I think I know what you have to tell him and you just can’t right now. She steered him about face along with his partner and gave them both a gentle push toward the waiting area.

“Come on, Brad,” Caldwell said.

Linda could hear him talking to his friend as they walked away, saying anything he could to make him feel better. With that almost disaster diverted, she went back to the phone to call back down to the ER.

“Sorry about that,” she said when the doctor returned to the phone. “David told me two other detectives were supposed to keep an eye on his partner for him. I assume they’re the same two distressed and damp men I just diverted from his room.”

“No doubt you’d be correct. Give me another fifteen. Hutchinson is still in treatment three with Hansen and I want to be sure where we stand before I come up there to talk to David. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way up there.”

Linda went down the hall to talk to the two men she had just banished.

~*~*~

Starsky was trying to read the newspaper Linda had brought him earlier when the door opened and Doctor Jameson came into the room with Forsythe and Caldwell in tow. He had stopped down the hall to speak with the anxious detectives and had agreed to let them come in with him. Starsky immediately went into what’s-going-on-here mode, asking a series of rapid fire questions.

“What’re you two doing here? Where’s Hutch? Forsythe, are you wet? Doc–”

Jameson put a hand up and said, “Hold on, David.”

“Where’s Hutch?” he asked again.

“He’s going to be all right.”

“You mean he’s not all right now? Where’s my partner?”

“He’s here in the ER,” Jameson replied.

“WHAT?” Starsky looked right past the doctor, glaring at his distressed looking colleagues. He threw the covers back and started to get up, but Jameson was too quick for him.

The doctor put a hand on Starsky’s shoulder and said “Just give me a minute to tell you what’s happening. I’m having him brought up here in a while and you can see him then.”

“You’re admitting him?” Starsky asked.

“Yes, but like I said, he’s going to be all right. I can tell you what’s going on and your cohorts here can explain how we got here.”

“You’re sure he’s okay?” Starsky asked.

“He is. I just want him here under observation for a day or two.”

“Okay, so tell me about it,” Starsky said.

“I guess the big bust was successful, but it got intense. Your partner wound up in the harbor for a short time and Detective Forsythe had to fish him out. He took a knock to his head and he has a sprained wrist. He’s conscious and he’s been improving since he got here. He’s down in the ER with my colleague getting his breathing stabilized. They’ll bring him up here when he’s ready to go to a room.”

Starsky looked stunned. “What do you mean he’s getting his breathing stabilized?”

Forsythe was looking at the floor when he said, “He almost drowned.”

After a gasp, Starsky said, “Where the hell were you two?”

Doctor Jameson said, “Now, don’t be too hard on them. If it weren’t for them, I’d be up here having a very different conversation with you, David.”

“It was that close?”

Jameson nodded. “I’m afraid so. If your friends hadn’t kept cool and acted quickly, he would have drowned. Fortunately, you and your partner seem to have a guardian angel looking after you, though based on everything you’ve both put her through this past week, I think you owe her a break.”

“I’d vote for that,” Starsky said. “Can I go down and see him?”

“Let’s just hold off and wait for him to be brought up here. I doubt it will be much longer. I need to get back down there to check on him, so do you have any other questions?”

“The head injury is okay?”

Jameson smiled at him. “He should be fine. We mostly need to watch to be sure he doesn’t get back into trouble with his breathing. We’ll put him in here and you can keep an eye on each other.”

After the doctor left, Starsky noticed the other two detectives shifting on their feet, obviously waiting for Starsky to say something to them. He didn’t make them wait long. “Does Dobey know?”

Both men nodded. “Yeah, he’s down in the ER waiting room.”

Starsky calmly said, “You’d better tell me what happened.”

Forsythe started, “I don’t know exactly. I can only guess how he got in the water because I didn’t see it.”

“Where were you?”

“I was on the boat, but I couldn’t see him from where I was when it happened.”

Starsky frowned. “I thought the bust was supposed to go down at the warehouse.”

Caldwell interjected, “So did we. Hutch was in charge and we were up on the roof of the next warehouse over watching the front. Just when he was going to call the go ahead, everything went to hell in a hand basket. Mailer and some other men had arrived and after they moved away, their car exploded. Next thing we knew some other cars came and there was shooting and fire and a Molotov cocktail and I swear it was the wildest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Forsythe picked up from there. “When that car exploded and Hutch called for everyone to move in, we got down to the ground and he took off after Mailer and two other guys. They were headed for the docks.”

“Your partner runs fast,” Caldwell said.

“Like the wind,” Forsythe said in support.

Caldwell continued, “We ran after him as fast as we could, but he got too far ahead and next thing we knew he was jumping on this fishing boat after them.”

“I was ahead of Darren,” Forsythe added, “but they were pulling away from the dock fast with Hutch on board. I don’t know what all happened, but somehow he got the boat headed back to the dock. When it got close enough, I jumped for it and yelled back to Brad to go for backup. The first guy I found was out cold and cuffed on the deck so I went for the wheelhouse. That guy was cuffed to a big pipe. Since Hutch was obviously after Mailer I turned off the engine and headed to the front of the boat to tie it off again when it got to the dock. I was about halfway there when I heard your partner’s Howitzer go off at the same time as a smaller gun. A few seconds later, the boat slammed into the dock. I got to the lines and tied it off, then went looking for Hutch.”

Caldwell said. “I had run for backup, but some uniforms were already on the way. Guess they saw us running the other way back when everything exploded and figured we needed them. I was on the way back when I heard the shots.”

Starsky asked Caldwell, “Couldn’t you see anything?”

“The boat hit the dock pretty hard. ‘Til then, I couldn’t see the back, but it started to swing around. By the time the back was in view, I couldn’t see Hutch anywhere.”

Forsythe said, “When I got to the back of the boat, I found Mailer dead on the deck, but no sight of Hutch. I looked around and kept calling his name and that’s when I saw his gun lying in a pile of nets. Right above the nets was this huge boom arm that they use with a winch and pulley to put the nets out and it was swinging out loose over the water. I knew he had to be in the drink, so I went in after him and found him floating a few feet under the water.”

Starsky’s felt himself pale.  “How long was he under water?”

“It can’t have been long. I got right back there after the gunshots and he had to have been on deck then.”

“Did he breathe right away?”

“No. I started rescue breathing in the water and we got him up on deck within a minute or so. Caldwell took over and I’d guess it took maybe two more minutes before he coughed up a bunch of sea water. I think maybe that boom hit him in the head and tossed him overboard. The paramedics got him out of there fast.

“Did he ever come around?”

“No, he didn’t,” Forsythe replied.  “I’m so sorry, Starsky. We both are.”

“Yeah,” Caldwell agreed. “Everything happened so fast. Hutch was like a blond windstorm. He took care of all three of those guys by himself before he got beaned by that boom.”

Starsky’s pride in his partner overcame his worry briefly and he smiled.  “He’s like that. Hutch has a quiet way about him that some people don’t realize covers up a dangerous dude. Underestimating him is a bad idea.”

Forsythe said, “I believe it.”

“Brad was pretty scared he hadn’t gotten there in time, Starsky,” Caldwell said. “We both were. This was definitely a freak thing. Hutch said we were supposed to bring him back to you in ‘one alive and unventilated piece’ and I suppose we did. Still, this isn’t what we had in mind. Like Brad said, we’re both sorry we let you down, Starsky.”

Starsky wasn’t happy with the situation, but he had to concede that his two friends had done their best and if Doctor Jameson was being entirely honest with him, they had gotten to Hutch in time.

“I don’t like what happened,” he said, “and I have to wonder how it would’ve gone down if I’d been there. Either way, it sure sounds like you did your best. Thank you for saving his life.”

The three men talked about the events of the day for a while longer. The next time the door opened, two orderlies were pushing Hutch into the room on a gurney. Starsky couldn’t get a good look at his face while the two men were in the way as they worked to get Hutch, his IV, and his oxygen situated. After telling Hutch that a nurse would be in shortly, they left.

They were no sooner out the door than Linda sailed into the room. She pointed at Starsky and said, “You stay put while I get your partner settled.” Next, she pointed at Forsythe and Caldwell and added, “And you two need to go home so these two renegades can rest.”

“Glad you’re okay, Hutch,” Caldwell said. “Come on, Brad. I think it’s about time you got some dry clothes. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Forsythe said, “Thanks. Hutch, we’ll come by tomorrow.”

Hutch gave them a thumbs up, but said nothing. Within five minutes, Linda was out of the room also, leaving the two best friends alone. Before she left, she’d helped Starsky out of bed and into the chair next to Hutch.

~*~*~

Starsky carefully inspected Hutch’s sprained wrist, wrapped in an ace bandage with swollen fingers sticking out from the underneath it. He shook his head. “How’d you get this?”

“Boom,” Hutch said, his voice husky.

“Should’a ducked instead of blocked, huh?”

Hutch nodded. “Now you tell me.”

Starsky poured some water for Hutch and helped him to drink it.

“Thanks, that helps,” Hutch said, his voice sounding stronger.

“How’re you doing?”

“Okay, I guess. Hurts. How are you?” Hutch reached up and touched Starsky’s cheek with the backs of his swollen fingers. “Still feverish.”

“I’m fine, let’s talk about you. So, what’s the big idea almost drowning on me when I’m out of commission for a few days?” Starsky asked, half joking, half not.

Hutch shrugged and closed his eyes, turning his head away from his worried partner. “Sorry.”

Uh-oh. Wrong tack. Starsky put a hand on Hutch’s arm. “Hey,” he said softly. When Hutch didn’t open his eyes, Starsky squeezed the arm lightly. “Look at me.”

Hutch did as he was asked. He turned back toward Starsky and when their eyes locked, the sadness Starsky could read in them was terrible.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean that to come out like it did. You just scared me. I wasn’t there to watch your back.”

Hutch coughed a couple of times and said, “Wouldn’t’ve mattered. Just a stupid accident. Sorry you were scared.”

“Hutch, you’re apologizing to me again. Talk to me.”

“Don’t know what to say.”

“Okay. Just start with what happened on that boat.”

Hutch sighed and said, “I took care of two of the three guys and went after Mailer. I headed aft looking for him. I didn’t know he’d gone below deck ’til he popped up behind me out of the hatch. I heard it and spun around to see him drawing down on me. I lunged to the side and fired. He missed and I didn’t. I guess his bullet must’ve cut the line holding the net boom. I was trying to get my balance on top of all of these nets. When the boat rammed the dock, the boom swung around and clocked me before tossing me overboard. I don’t remember hitting the water or anything else before I woke up here in the ER.”

“Man, that’s scary. Forsythe said it took a while before you breathed. You took a big chance jumping on that boat alone. If I’d been there, maybe I could have–”

Hutch said, “Quit that. I’ve got nobody to blame but myself. You weren’t there because of me.”

“How do you figure?” Starsky knew how, but he wanted to keep his partner talking.

“Starsk, I don’t want to talk about this now and you need to rest.”

“No you don’t. Not this time. Hutch, you gotta tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I want to help. Is this about what happened at your apartment?”

Hutch snapped at him. “Of course it is! What do you think? If I hadn’t been acting like such an idiot, you never would’ve needed to blow off steam somewhere. You’re still not well. You could’ve died from an infection like that and it would’ve been my fault!” Hutch was so wound up he had to stop while he coughed a few times before he could continue. “I told you days ago I was okay–safe–and you didn’t need to worry about me. My being okay shouldn’t have come at a cost to your safety.” He reached over with his uninjured hand and lifted Starsky’s bandaged arm by the wrist.

Starsky was stunned. He had known what it was probably about, but hearing it lashed out at him like that left him speechless for a few moments. Finally, he said, “That’s not fair.”

Hutch nodded his agreement. “Yeah, you’re right it’s not. All you’ve done this past week is try to help me and all I’ve done is put you in harm’s way. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” His voice caught and he closed his eyes tightly. “How can you trust me now?”

“Whoa, partner. Of course I trust you. Why would you think I wouldn’t?” Starsky put his hand down palm up and gently placed Hutch’s injured hand on top of it. “You’re not responsible every time I get hurt. You’re not the one who decided to go at an innocent derelict car with a baseball bat. I did that. You’ve gotta stop kicking yourself for things you can’t control… things like me. We all make choices. What if I’d gone for a run instead of to the scrap yard? I thought about it. I made a choice. What if you hadn’t called me, Hutch? You made a choice to reach for a lifeline.”

Hutch opened his eyes again and said, “Starsk, I almost put a bullet in my head and you don’t wanna know how close I came.”

Not liking the path they were on, Starsky interrupted, “Hutch–”

“Let me finish or I’ll never get it all said. You stepped in front of that bullet, partner. Every bit as if some perp in an alley tried to kill me with it and you got in between, but the perp was me. I’m not sure why I snapped like that. I’ve thought about it a lot. I’m not sure it was even mostly about Vanessa really. I think it was about failure and loss and facing a future where all of my plans had gone up in flames. I was feeling worthless and like nothing was ever going to be right again. Like I didn’t deserve to take up air space. She hates me, Starsk. She was supposed to love me. I was feeling like maybe I didn’t deserve to be loved. Since that night I’ve come to realize that Vanessa wasn’t worth half of what you are to me. When I think about what it would have done to you… How can you forgive me for this?”

“Can I talk now?” Starsky asked. Hutch nodded. “You gonna let me have my say?”

Hutch nodded again. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

“There ain’t a thing to forgive, Hutch. You were distraught, out of your head. You were thinking about as clearly as I was when I woke up with that high fever yesterday. Hell, that note the Ice Princess left would’ve been enough to push most men over the edge. She’s been chipping away at your heart and your soul since you started at the academy. I guess she decided to just be done with it and kill you all at once. That’s something I can’t ever forgive. Yeah, I stood there on that cliff with you, but you came back toward me. You backed away from the edge and day by day you figured out what was important. You saved my life by not pulling that trigger. If you had, it would’ve killed me. What if it had been me instead of you? Would you blame me?”

Hutch turned his eyes away from his friend, staring at the wall, but not answering.

Starsky was insistent. “Answer me, Hutch. Would you? Would you think you needed to forgive me for being out of my mind?”

“Of course not. But–”

“But nothing. Why is it any different because it was you who was devastated? Why is it any different, huh? I love you, Hutch. You know I’d do anything in my power for you. You don’t need me to forgive you because there’s nothing for me to forgive. We take care of each other. You would’ve done the same for me and you know it. What we both need is for you to forgive yourself. If you can’t, Vanessa gets to go on hurting you and I can’t stand that. Please, partner. Give yourself permission to heal. Your heart has so much to give to other people, can you spare just a little bit of it for you?”

Starsky watched his partner’s face as his words sank in and he pondered them. Hutch was a deep thinker and the standards he set for himself were so much higher than those he had for his best friend, Starsky knew it was a big part of why he was in so much pain.

“Let it go, partner,” Starsky said.

The door opened just then and Linda came in to check on them. “Okay, boys, that’s enough for now. David, you need to get back in bed before Doctor Jameson finds out you’re not horizontal and filets us both.”

She helped him get to his feet, however reluctant he felt about it.

“Are you still feeling dizzy?” she asked.

“No.”

“Good. Feel like you can get up on your own? Tell the truth.”

“Yeah, I can.”

“Okay. I’ll be back in to change your IV out in an hour and I want to find you resting. If you still feel pretty good and your fever is down, you can demonstrate for me.”

After she got him settled, she checked on Hutch. “You rest, too. Call me if you have any trouble breathing.”

“Don’t worry,” Hutch responded. “If I don’t, you can be sure he will.”

After the door closed, the room was quiet. Starsky patiently waited, hoping Hutch was coming to the right conclusions in his pondering. He knew Hutch would eventually say something that would either give him another launching point, or reveal that he was getting Starsky’s message. His partner was the brooding type. He was easily dispirited and given to dark moods at times, but Starsky had never known him to give up before this. All he could do was hope. Please see what I see, Hutch. Please know how much you’re worth. He was comfortable that Hutch was no longer a physical danger to himself, but his emotional state was another matter. If he couldn’t forgive himself and move on, Starsky feared the darkness would consume him.

Finally, after five long and agonizing minutes for his partner, Hutch said, “Starsk?”

“I’m still here,” Starsk answered, turning his head to meet Hutch’s eyes from across the room.

“How do you do it?”

Starsky smiled, knowing he had gotten through to his friend. “What? Know what to say to you?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t always, but I try real hard. It’s important to me.”

“You swear you still trust me?”

“With my life, buddy. Just like always.”

“Might not be all at once, but I’m gonna try to let it go like you said.”

“Good. Promise?”

“I promise.”

Starsky was content. Some of the pain had left Hutch’s voice and his eyes looked more at peace. He believed Hutch would keep his promise and he wouldn’t bring the subject up again if it looked like Hutch was doing well.

“Good. You should get some rest before the munchkin comes back and threatens to separate us.”

Hutch laughed. “She really is about as big as my thumb, isn’t she?”

“Mini, but mighty.”

The room grew quiet again and within a few minutes, Starsky started to drift off to sleep. Just as he was about to slide out, he heard Hutch speak softly. Something that required no response, but sent him the rest of the way into sleep feeling like his world was all right again.

“I love you, too, Starsk.”

~*~*~

After the partners were released from the hospital, they went back to Starsky’s place to continue their recovery. Captain Dobey had promised them he would stop by after work that first day to catch them up on things. They were both anxious to hear what had happened while they were sidelined. He and Hutch were sitting at the kitchen table and Starsky was in the kitchen puttering.

“So, how are you two doing?” Dobey asked.

Starsky handed him a cup of coffee and said, “Great. We’ll be ready to roll in a couple of days.”

Hutch added, “He has a follow up on the arm tomorrow morning and I have a check off date with the department physician in the afternoon. With luck, you should be able to put us on the roster by Friday.”

“That’s good. So, I guess you want to know what’s happened. Let’s start with the roust. In the end, Ed Dalton gave us twelve suspects and we rounded up eight of them. Mailer, and a guy named Alex Lester are dead, leaving just two of them at large. The gang is essentially done. We’ll either scoop up the stragglers pretty soon or possibly they’ve beat it out of town.”

“Good,” Hutch said. “What came out of the counterattack that day? The exploding car and the Molotov Cocktail.”

“Seems Burgio had two men inside the Mailer outfit. One of them was the man you, Forsythe, and Caldwell saw walking away just before the car exploded. He’s still in the wind. The other man was inside and he died in the fire at the warehouse.”

“And Burgio?” Starsky asked.

“He survived the shooting and was sprung. He’s not likely to go down for any of it anyway. No one who could pin him as the puppet master will talk.”

Hutch said, “So, he winds up the big winner in the Vic Monty sweepstakes.”

“Terrific,” Starsky added. “At least the shooting is probably over with now.”

Dobey nodded. “As for Vic Monty, no one has seen him for a few days. Chances are he returned to the east coast and we won’t have him in our back yard again ’til snow season.”

“Good riddance,” Starsky said. “What about the ones in lockup? Since they’re not talking about Burgio, is anybody giving us anything useful?”

Dobey shook his head. “Not for the most part. They all know who bought it and they’re mostly trying to pin blame on the guys that died at the warehouse and the other shootouts.”

Hutch said, “How’s Dalton? Is he out on bail?”

“He’s out on bail and the DA gave him permission to get out of town as long as he stays in touch about where to find him when it comes time for the trial. Glassman was worried some of the guys he fingered might go after him, but now that Mailer is dead I doubt that’ll happen.”

A knock on the door interrupted their discussion. The voice on the other side said, “Hey, Flatfeet. It’s the Bear.”

Starsky chuckled. “It’s open, Huggy.”

Huggy strolled in with a bag from a local sporting goods store in his hand. He’d been sent out on a mission for Starsky, who hoped the contents of the bag might mean he’d been successful.

Dobey asked, “What’s that, Huggy? Presents for the walking wounded?”

“Not exactly,” Huggy answered. “Curly here sent me out on a mission of procurement.”

Hutch raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh, really? For what?”

“For you,” Starsky said with a grin. “Give it to him, Hug.”

Huggy handed Hutch the bag and said, “Starsky, you gotta know that finding this particular item ain’t easy in Southern California in August. I had to go to a sporting goods store and a ski shop to get a proper selection.”

Starsky laughed at that. “Sorry I missed that. I should have gone with you.”

Hutch opened the bag and pulled out three black hats. One was a knit ski cap, one was ski mask, and the last was a plain black ball cap. He looked at Starsky and Huggy in turn with complete confusion in his eyes. “We planning to rob a bank or something?” he asked, holding up the ski mask.

“Hutch,” Starsky said, “do you remember me sayin’ something to you about a hat when I woke up in the hospital?”

“Now that you mention it. So?”

“Well, I finally remembered what that was about. When Chandler grabbed me, do you know how he figured out I was there?”

Hutch shrugged. “I guess I figured he’d heard us talking or something.”

“Nope. I’m sorry to tell you this, buddy, but it was you. Your hair is so fair he saw it in the dark. Either when you first got to me or when you were heading back to call for the troops. He told me I really oughta get you a hat, so there you are.”

Hutch’s face quickly displayed incredulity, anger, embarrassment, and finally good humor. He started to laugh. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“He ain’t,” Huggy said.

Dobey was laughing heartily. “Next time you two go out on a stakeout in the dark, I think he wants you to wear one of those,” he said.

“Hmph. Maybe I should just dye my hair,” Hutch responded.

“No way, Blondie,” Huggy said. “That just wouldn’t be right.”

“Nah,” Starsky said. He winked at Hutch and added, “I’m partial to blondes.”

Hutch pulled the ski mask on and over his face. “Is it me?” he asked.

Dobey snickered. “Gives new meaning to undercover cop.”

February 1977

Hutch had been missing for a third day when Starsky found him pinned under his car in a canyon. His immeasurable relief at having found his partner alive had been immediately offset by concern over Hutch’s condition. Dehydrated, sunburned, and in considerable pain from his trapped leg, Hutch was weak and only conscious for brief periods. In some ways, that was a relief to Starsky as he had to watch helplessly while firefighters and paramedics struggled to extricate him safely. One of the paramedics had told him it was a bit of a backhanded blessing the way Hutch had landed. If he had been completely ejected from the car he quite likely would have died of a head injury. Although suffering from crushing pain from the pinned leg, the angle he landed at with his legs higher than his heart was possibly responsible for keeping him from going into shock and dying from that before Starsky could reach him. Regardless, by the time Starsky found him, Hutch was nearly out of time.

The frenetic race to the hospital coupled with the interminable wait to hear if his partner would survive, much less be all right, had nearly tapped the last of Starsky’s reserves. When he had finally been given the prayed for news that Hutch would be all right, he was so relieved he had to sit down for a few minutes until his body stopped shaking.

This was the second time in a month he thought he’d lost his partner. The last time was when he saw Hutch crash through a plate glass door after being blasted by a shotgun on a kidnapping case they were working. Starsky had forgotten his friend was wearing a bulletproof vest. That time there hadn’t been a trip to the emergency room, although Hutch probably should have gone to stitch up some of the cuts he’d received and check out the bruising the shot had caused to his chest, despite the vest. This time, Huggy and Captain Dobey had been there waiting with Starsky until they both had to leave. They hated to leave him to wait alone, but Edith Dobey was out of town and the captain had to go home to be with his children. Huggy was so short-staffed at the bar, Starsky had told him to go and that he’d let him know as soon as he could what was happening. Huggy had reluctantly agreed and promised that he’d be back as soon as he could if he hadn’t heard a report from Starsky by then.

Starsky gratefully drank the cup of water Hutch’s doctor had gotten for him after he’d dropped him into the chair. “Thanks, Doc,” he said. “You’re sure he’s gonna be fine?”

“I’m sure,” the doctor replied reassuringly. “Given the nature of his accident, your partner is an extremely lucky man, especially that you found him when you did. I doubt he would have made it through another cold night. He’ll be off that leg for weeks and will need some rehab before he can go back to active duty, but that’s the worst of it. Everything else is under control and on the mend. Are YOU going to be all right?”

Starsky smiled at him. “I will now that I know he’s safe. Thanks. When can I see him?”

“Come back in a few hours. He’s in recovery now and the nurses would have my hide if I let you in there. He should be in a room by…” the doctor paused briefly to consult the wall clock and then continued, “Nine o’clock.”

“Great. That gives me time to run down to the station to take care of a couple of things.”

“Maybe you should consider a nap instead. When was the last time you slept?”

“Don’t worry about me, Doc. Just keep an eye on him.” Starsky was feeling all right now, so he stood and put his hand out for the doctor to shake. “Thanks for everything.”

Starsky stopped at a pay phone in the lobby to let the captain know his partner would be fine. Then he called Huggy and promised to come to the bar before returning to the hospital so Huggy could feed him.

Despite his exhaustion, Starsky was so relieved and elated he got a new burst of energy. He wanted to stop at the station to get a look at Hutch’s car. Captain Dobey told him he had already had it brought up out of the canyon and to the station so the crime lab team could go over it.

Another thing Starsky was grateful for was that he had groused at Hutch so much about the state of the inside of his vehicle a couple of weeks ago, the man had completely cleaned it, storing or disposing of all of the clutter. The final straw had been when Hutch had to come to a sudden stop and a heavy book had flown out of the back seat and whacked Starsky in the back of the head so hard he saw sparks. When Starsky pointed out that he really didn’t want the police blotter to someday reflect that Hutch had been killed in a minor accident by a flying bowling ball from the back seat of his car, Hutch had no counterargument. Starsky shuddered to think what else might have happened if the junk yard had still been in place in the back seat.

Chet Stevenson was just wrapping up when Starsky arrived. The car had already been completely processed including dusting for fingerprints and collecting dark paint left on the Ford by the truck Roy Slater had used as his deadly weapon of choice in his attempt to snuff out the car’s owner.

“Hey, Stevenson,” Starsky said in greeting. “Find anything we didn’t know about?”

The man shook his head. “Nothing crime related. I will tell you that it’s a damned lucky thing your partner was almost out of gas. The fuel line was severed and if he had just filled up, we might have found him two days ago at the flashpoint of a mysterious canyon fire.”

That thought sent a chill up Starsky’s back. “I’ll never bitch at him about running his car on fumes again.”

“Go ahead and look her over if you want. I’m all done. Oh, I put a box on the floor on the passenger side with the contents of his glove box. You might want to take that with you. He’s probably got stuff in there he’ll want to keep.”

“Thanks.”

Starsky walked around the car slowly a couple of times. He inspected the dark paint and the new dents and scrapes the car had acquired. The car was barely wheezing through the end of its useful life prior to this. He knew he’d need to do something to get Hutch some wheels if the squash couldn’t be resuscitated.

The state the front seat was in was frightening. Stevenson had collected blood evidence and some pieces of torn and bloody denim from Hutch’s jeans. He looked over the radio Hutch had tinkered with in futile attempts to raise dispatch to call for help. He was thankful that kid who’d heard him on the radio hadn’t given up and had stayed with the transmission until it stopped. His call to the station was the thing that led Starsky to the old Colonel he’d dismissed as a drunk down at the station. He’d kick himself for that for a while longer before he’d let it go.

When he’d seen all he needed to, Starsky collected the box and decided to go ahead and leave for Huggy’s. Paperwork could wait another day.

Starsky found a booth at Huggy’s so he could sift through the contents of the box while he ate his dinner. He’d just pitch out anything unimportant so Hutch wouldn’t have to deal with it. Huggy brought him a beer, a hamburger, and a bag to put the trash in when he joined him in the booth.

“All of that was crammed in his glove box?” Huggy asked.

“Hard to believe, huh? I guess he figured that didn’t count when he cleaned up the rest of the squash. You know he’s still got his registrations and insurance info going back to when Noah built the Ark? Some of them are from other cars he doesn’t own anymore. He must just grab it out of one beater and shove it in the next one every time he changes wheels.”

They both had a laugh over that. About the only things worth saving were the two-way radios, a box of bullets and an extra cartridge for the Colt, a broken necklace Starsky knew Hutch had been meaning to take in for repair, and a small book on meditation. Huggy had left him to go tend to something in the kitchen when he got to the bottom of the box. He found a stained and dirty envelope upside down in the box. He flicked off a few dried raisins he found stuck to it and turned it over to see what it was. The single word written on the front in what was clearly Hutch’s handwriting, although it looked like he had written it with a shaking hand, caused Starsky to stop and stare for a while. What was written on it was his name.

The envelope had probably been in there for a long time. The contents of the box were like an archeological dig. Stevenson had apparently grabbed things in a big pile and put them into the box as a stack so the newest items were on the top and the oldest ones were still near the bottom. This envelope was bent and his name was written in ink that was now smeared and covered with goo and something greasy. Starsky was almost afraid to open it, but something compelled him to do so and it was addressed to him so it didn’t really seem like an invasion of Hutch’s privacy.

Starsky’s hands were trembling when he opened the envelope and pulled out the note inside. As he read it, he started to feel like he’d just fallen through a hole in the ground into a dark pit. His eyes filled with tears and he fought to not lose complete control based on what he’d seen on the paper. Huggy got back to the table with another beer for him just as he finished reading it for the third time.

“What’s up?” Huggy said. Starsky knew he had to have noticed how the paper was shaking in his trembling hands.

Starsky looked up at Huggy, sure the man could see the tears and the anguish in his eyes, but hoping he wouldn’t press him too hard to tell him why. “Huggy, I need your lighter.”

“What?” Huggy asked. “You’ve never needed my lighter before.  What does that say?”

Starsky shook his head and repeated. “Your lighter. Please!”

“You got it.” Huggy reached into his pocket, retrieved it, and handed it to Starsky.

Without a word of explanation, Starsky held the paper over his empty plate and lit the corner of it. He carefully watched it burn, being sure it didn’t get out of control, but also sure that the fire completely consumed the paper. When it was out, he used a fork to crush the tiny charred fragments as if he wanted to obliterate them from the earth.

He handed the lighter back. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, bro’.”

April 1981

Hutch walked out of the house and handed an evidence bag with a piece of paper in it to one of the uniforms to take to the station. He patted the younger man on the arm and walked over to where Starsky was leaning on the Torino. He had finished with the deceased officer’s partner and was just waiting for Hutch.

“Hey,” Hutch said. “Man.  That was pretty awful.”

Starsky nodded. “Pretty awful out here, too. His partner’s gonna need a long time off to get past this, if he ever does.”

“That bad?” Hutch asked.

Starsky looked at him and was careful not to say what he might if he didn’t have those memories from nearly eight years ago crowding into and troubling his thoughts. He said nothing like “How do you think it would be with one of us under these circumstances.” Instead, he just said, “Yeah.”

They both got into the car, tired already and it wasn’t even noon. They had responded to suicides before, but nothing like this. Nothing where a fellow officer had turned his service weapon on himself, leaving nothing but a devastated partner in his wake.

The interview with the surviving partner had left Starsky shocked by the similarity of the circumstances. He was feeling both thankful and terribly guilty for trying to handle it alone when it happened to Hutch.  He had reason to give himself an extra hard kick in the backside for attempting it. That situation could have ended just like this one and the thought was almost more than he could stand. As troubled as he was, he knew Hutch had to have been feeling at least as bad as he did. Neither of them said anything as they drove to the station to file their report.

Hutch was staring out the passenger window, deep in thought. Starsky glanced his way every so often, worried about the vibe his partner was emitting. He decided he’d better draw him out before Hutch went into a full on brood.

“Was that a suicide note I saw you hand to that uniform?” he asked.

Hutch nodded. “Yeah.”

“Did you read it?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry, buddy. Was it bad?”

Hutch nodded, but didn’t answer out loud. They were almost to the station when Starsky decided to pull over in a parking lot where they could talk for a few minutes. Hutch had a look on his face that read like both worry and the expression he got when he couldn’t remember where he’d left his car keys.

When he parked under a tree and turned off the engine, Hutch didn’t even ask him why they were stopping. He was staring ahead at the glove box and so deeply in thought he didn’t seem to have noticed.

Starsky touched his partner on the arm to get his attention. “Hey.”

Hutch looked at him, the pain in his eyes deep. He started to say something, “Starsk, I–”

Starsky squeezed him on the arm and said, “I burned it.”

Hutch’s mouth dropped open and he said, “W-what? You what?”

“I said I burned it, buddy. A long time ago.”

Hutch sighed and looked relieved. “When did you find it?”

“After the squash did its swan dive into the canyon, the crime lab guys gave me a box of stuff from inside your glove box. Remember me giving it to you when I brought you home from the hospital?”

Hutch shook his head. “No. The note was in there? Oh, my God. Starsky, I completely forgot I’d written it until today. When I read that note, I remembered. Oh, God.  I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”  He put his right hand over his eyes and shook his head again.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“Shhh. Stop that.  You know that was all a long time ago. Don’t apologize to me for a time when you were out of your head.”  Starsky patted his friend on the thigh and waited for him to drop his hand and look him in the eyes. The look he returned was full of compassion, but also with curiosity.

“Hutch, I don’t want you to get into a funk about this, but there’s something I’ve gotta know. When did you write it? I was so sure you were gonna be okay. You swore to me that you were safe and I can’t believe I missed it somehow that you’d gotten so despondent again. Please tell me.  When did you write it?”

The partners hadn’t discussed this subject since the end of the case they were working on back then. Having this conversation now was awkward for both of them, but Hutch answered.

“You didn’t miss anything, Starsk. I wrote that note before I called you that night. When I got home from work and found things like I did, I drove around for a while getting more and more upset. I know it came from left field because it’s just not my nature to give up.  I don’t even want to discuss that part. I wound up at the boardwalk. I wrote that note and left it on the driver’s seat before I took a walk out onto the beach. I got to a secluded place and climbed up onto some rocks at the base of the cliff. When the sun set, I was going to–”

“Don’t,” Starsky said. “You didn’t, thank God. Just tell me what happened after that.”

This day had brought all of that pain back to Starsky.  His professional demeanor with the dead man’s grieving partner was a heavy mask for the sorrow he was recalling in the back of his mind on multiple levels.  All of the uncertainty and worry from that time rushed at him.  The gut wrenching pain he’d gone through fearing that somehow he might let his guard down for an instant that would be just long enough for him to lose his best friend forever weighed on him.

Hutch nodded. “I decided I needed to say goodbye or maybe I just needed to hear your voice. I really don’t remember. So, I went back to the car and shoved the note in the glove box. Then I went back to my place for a while and called you. I was pretty worked up by then and I wasn’t thinking straight, you know that. Confused. Despondent. I almost didn’t call you.” He paused and added softly, “Then, I almost didn’t wait for you.”

“But you did wait, Hutch. I thought you were gonna do it right in front of me. I’ll never, ever forget that night.”

Hutch made a fist and punched his thigh with it. “Dammit. I’m sorry, Starsk. I can’t believe I didn’t remember that note. Thank God you never found it back then.”

Starsky felt the blood drain from his face. “Yeah. Thank God.” Deciding he was done with this conversation, he reached toward the key to start the car, but Hutch stopped him by grabbing his wrist gently.

“Starsk,” he said. “Please, God, tell me you just burned it. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you found it, but at least tell me you didn’t read it.”

Starsky closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He wished he could lie successfully and tell Hutch he hadn’t read it, but he couldn’t. They didn’t lie to each other. A mournful sound escaped him and his eyes burned with tears threatening to reveal the lie if he even tried to say it.  He opened his eyes and said, “I’m sorry, buddy. I can’t tell you that.”

Hutch let go of Starsky’s wrist and his eyes opened wider. Starsky could see he was close to crying, too. “Oh, my God. Starsky, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve gotten rid of that. I should’ve remembered.”

Starsky shook his head and rubbed his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the nearly shed tears in them. “Hutch, I told you to stop it. All of that was a long, long time ago. Even me finding that note was four years ago. It’s all been over for a long time and you remembered the thing you most needed to remember.”

“What’s that?”

“Your promise that you’d always call me and you’d always wait. You swore and you’ve kept your word as far as I know. That’s the only apology I’ve ever cared about or needed.”

Hutch said, “I also promised you I’d let it go and I did. I mean, well… I will with this, too.  I just–I might need a little time to do it.”

Smiling at him, Starsky said, “You just be sure you do. What I’m feeling isn’t just about you, partner. ‘S about me.  As hard as it was to be inside that apartment, you didn’t have to deal with the man’s partner. Dammit. He tried to do the same thing I did.  He tried to handle it and he failed.  What if I’d been wrong? What if I’d screwed it all up and you ended up dead, huh? I don’t know if I could have gone through that again.  I just don’t know how–”

Hutch put a hand on Starsky’s arm, instantly stopping him. “Again? What do you mean again?” he asked.

Shaking his head, Starsky said, “It’s nothing, Hutch. We’d better get back to the station.”

Worried blue eyes locked onto Starsky’s.  He knew he’d said too much, and that he would need to explain that remark, but he wasn’t sure if he could. The explanation was in that category of things he never wanted Hutch to know. His stomach did a somersault. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know if I can.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I hope you will. Please let me help.”

Please let me help. Starsky wondered if maybe talking about it could help. Maybe he had kept this secret for too long. Maybe not.

Starsky’s head fell back against the headrest and his eyes closed again.  He struggled inside, weighing whether he could fall back on his running statement that he didn’t want to talk about his time in Vietnam against his best friend’s need to understand.  Certain things were best left buried, especially when they brought pain and guilt and fear into a man’s heart. Hutch was waiting for an answer and finally he decided the time had come for him to at least open up about this one thing.

Not opening his eyes, Starsky began. “You aren’t the first partner I’ve had.”

“I know that, buddy.” Hutch responded.

“That’s not what I mean, Hutch. I’m talking about long before us.  Before the police academy and everything that’s happened since.  I’m talking about my time in the army.”

He paused, keeping his eyes closed, and waited to sense that Hutch understood, hoping and knowing he would get how hard this was for him to reveal.  When he was sure, he continued.

“You know about the sniper thing.  At least you know some of it. I don’t want to talk about that, but I owe you this much.”

“Starsk, you don’t have to tell me.  You don’t owe me. I’m the one who owes you.”

Focusing on the past, Starsky almost thought he could see the man he was about to describe to Hutch.  The feelings from that time flooded his memory and his head began to throb.  Struggling not to shutter those feelings and thoughts away again, he went on before he could let his defenses stop him.

“Dan Jensen. He was my best friend when I was in country. Dan was my spotter. Do you know what that is?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t matter.  Just know he was my partner. We worked as a team. Like you and me. Knew everything there was to know about each other.  Until the day he snapped.”

“Starsk–”

“Please don’t stop me, I need to tell you. I want to. Dan had been feeling pretty bad.  Every time we talked it seemed like he was one step closer to falling into a dark pit. Things I was able to stuff inside and not really look at were eating at him. Burning a hole in his heart. A couple of times he tried to tell me where his head was, but I wouldn’t listen. I was too young and cocky. Why is it when we’re young we think we’re bulletproof and invincible? We saw some terrible things, Hutch.  Things that still come to me in my dreams. Back then I thought I could do anything, take anything, overcome anything.” Starsky paused in his recitation and took a shuddering breath.

Hutch put a hand on Starsky’s shoulder.  He could feel his friend trembling slightly, caught in a memory that he seemed determined to set free after all this time.

Starsky continued. “Dan was a good guy, Hutch. Funny thing, he was a lot like you. Strong and deadly, but sensitive and artistic, too. He got drafted and left college.  Could have maybe gotten a deferment, but he didn’t want that. Said it was his duty. Dan was a music major. Played several instruments, but I never got to hear him play.  I guess it’s kinda hard to lug a piano around in the jungle. I did get to hear him sing. Man, he was good. Like you, buddy.”

“How long did you know him?” Hutch asked.

“Couple of years. Funny how fast a guy can get close when you face death with him every minute. I couldn’t read Dan like I do you, but I thought I understood him and he damn sure understood me.  Thing is, he had heart.  Too much heart for his own good, like you a lot of the time. I loved that about him, too. When I could go all street steel and hard when I needed to, he couldn’t if something really bad had gone down.  Things chewed on him.”

“Can you tell me about what happened?”

Starsky shook his head. “I ain’t gonna tell you what happened that caused it. Not now; maybe never. I just can’t, but I’ll tell you what became of it.  I pushed it down. Buried it deep where it still lives today.  Dan, he just snapped.  When we were finally alone after it was all over, he lost it.  He started to pace around and was talking like he was sliding over the edge.  I thought I could pull him back in like I’d done a dozen times in the past year. I thought I could help.”

“I can’t, Dave. Aw, dammit, I can’t!”

“Come on, man, calm down.”

“Calm down? I’m never gonna calm down again, Dave. Never!”

“I know it hurts, but it’ll get better. Give it time, you’ll see.”

“No.”

Starsky shuddered again at the memory.  “Before I knew what was happening he pulled a gun and pointed at his head.  I swear, I nearly pissed myself. I knew he wasn’t foolin’ around.  He had been talking about dying for months and I’d been telling myself it would pass. I took a step toward him and put my hand out, praying all the while that I could stop him.  Next thing I knew he pointed it at me and I froze. I was about five feet from him, I guess. He told me to stop and said he didn’t know how I could live with it.  Didn’t understand how I could stand it, but that he couldn’t. I couldn’t move fast enough, Hutch. He turned that gun and blasted a hole in his heart before I could reach him.”

Stopping there, Starsky wouldn’t describe the memory of holding Dan’s lifeless body and crying. That was a burden he’d keep in his own heart instead of tearing up his sensitive friend with it.  He had said enough.

“Ah, Starsk,” Hutch said in sympathy.

Starsky swiped a hand down his face, as if he was trying to wipe something off of it.  Then, he held trembling hands out in front of him. “His blood. I… sometimes I can still see it, Hutch. In my nightmares.”

~*~*~

Hutch stared at his friend.  Starsky had dropped his hands into his lap and he let go a sigh as his shoulders slumped and his chin dropped.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”

“I couldn’t tell you before.” Starsky looked back up and into Hutch’s eyes. “I could barely tell you now.”

“You were young, partner.  You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I do. But, that night back in your apartment brought all of it back and I swore I wouldn’t let it happen again. Dan and me… we were close, but not like you and me. Losing Dan that way nearly killed me.  Losing you would have. I was ready to die before I let you do it. I tried to stay too close for you to do it without me getting in the way and I accepted what could happen. If I’d let you kill yourself, I would have been just as dead.”

Hutch absorbed that.  He felt even worse now that he knew what had happened to his partner in the past.  Knowing his actions put his friend right back there surfaced a lot of guilt.  How could it not? Responding to this morning’s suicide had done damage he was sorrowful over, but it also opened a chink into one of the most painful things in his friend’s past.  A chink that might let him in to help chase away the pain. Maybe that was to be his penance. Like Starsky had accepted what could have happened to both of them so long ago, he could accept that.

“I’m sorry, Starsk.  I’m sorry you had to go through that with Dan and I’m damn sure sorry I took you there again.”

To his surprise, Starsky said, “Buddy, don’t feel guilty because your pain was inconvenient to me.” He snorted an almost laugh. “You really are too much sometimes.”

Hutch smiled a little. “You really see me that way?”

“Yeah. I do. I can usually put the pain in boxes when I need to. You feel it and carry it all around with you.  No compartments.  Not sure which way is best, but I know how much you hurt sometimes and I wish I could make it go away for you.”

Hutch knew he had hands that could defend and protect, as well as make music.  He had the soul of an artist along with a brave spirit. He knew that was something Starsky understood better than anyone.  “You can’t, but you do make it better. You make it tolerable and you remind me to breathe, babe. That’s a big deal.”

Hutch had just learned something new about his partner. That didn’t happen often in a long term friendship like theirs. He had a new appreciation for how much it meant that Starsky had been able to overcome the trauma of his time in Vietnam and for how much it meant that he’d opened his heart to him like he had.  His partner was right that emotionally, he was tougher.  Hutch knew that.  His street tough partner was plenty sensitive, but Hutch admired Starsky’s ability to put things in their places and he knew his friend had gone through a lot in his life that he might never know.  That just made him treasure Starsky’s friendship and open heart more.  How one man could be so dangerous and so vulnerable at the same time was amazing to him. Starsky still could tap into his inner child in a way that Hutch hadn’t done in a lot of years and a lot of miles.

“Thanks for telling me,” Hutch said.  “I know it was hard.  I’m sorry I put you through what I did, but you have to know that you saved my life in more ways than just talking me down off of a ledge that night.  You’ve been saving it ever since.”

“It was worth it, buddy. Without getting all soapy, I can’t tell you how many ways it was worth it.”

Hutch wanted to dispel the grief that swirled around the inside of the car like a dust devil.  One of the things he’d promised himself when Starsky miraculously recovered from Gunther’s assassination attempt, was that he was going to try to fly closer to the light than to the darkness. Between prayer and medical skill and his partner’s tenacity, he had been given a gift he feared was gone forever–the treasure of Starsky’s friendship and the chance to make every day a testament to both of them for having the grit and the courage to make it through a trial by fire that would have destroyed most men.  Should have destroyed them. Time to go in a new direction.

“So, lighten it up, partner. Tell me a good story from your time on the road. Like the one about Wendell Scott.”

Starsky smiled.  “A good one, huh?”  He started the car and paused to think for a few moments.  “Do you know what a circus roustabout does?” he asked as he put the Torino into gear.

~*~*~

When they got to the station, Captain Dobey called them into his office along with two other detectives. They had been working together on a ring of car thieves stealing high end cars and taking them to a chop shop. They had been investigating a couple of possible locations for that chop shop and a tip had come in that narrowed it down to one.

“We got the stakeout set up for tonight. I want you four down there. Our informant says there are plans to snag several cars from a benefit over at the Civic Center. The benefit starts at eight o’clock.”

“Finally,” Hutch said. “That’s been weeks setting up.”

“Thanks, Cap. We’re on it,” Starsky said.

The four men walked out of Dobey’s office to work on their strategy. Starsky let the others walk out first. As Hutch passed through the door, he put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Hutch, I think you’re gonna need to drag out that dark hat.”

The End