Manny

1.2K

Hutch is rescued by a mysterious man.

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October 31, 1975

“And those of us with ravaged faces, lacking in the social graces, desperately remained at home, inventing lovers on the phone…” Hutch drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, singing along with Janis Ian’s soft voice.

“The Valentines that never came…” He continued then stopped, rolling his eyes and groaning.

“Jesus, that’s depressing.”

He reached over and punched several buttons on the LTD’s radio before another faint signal from a different station was picked up.

“I’m not Lisa, my name is Julie…” Jessi Colter’s voice crackled through the static.

“Nope.” He shook his head, stabbing at more buttons.

“Thank God I’m a Country Boy!” John Denver shouted.

“Yeah, that’s more like it.” Hutch smiled and rocked his head to the hillbilly beat, his hands once again tapping at the steering wheel as he maneuvered the battered car around the curves of the mountain road.

Hutch felt good. Better than he’d felt in what seemed like ages. He was heading to Starsky’s Aunt Sylvia’s and Uncle Sterling’s cabin in the California mountain region. Sterling had had a heart attack close to two months ago and was restricted from any strenuous activity for a while. They’d asked Starsky then if he’d mind closing the cabin for them, knowing they wouldn’t make it back up for the rest of the season, and Starsky had begrudgingly agreed. He loved his father’s sister and her husband, but spending any time, no matter how short, cut off from society was not on his list of favorite things to do. And he certainly wasn’t about to embark on the journey alone. He had talked Hutch, the couple’s “adopted nephew,” into going as well. They had made the plans weeks ago, but situations at work and in his and Hutch’s lives had made it impossible until now. This was the last weekend the duo would have off for a while, so it couldn’t be put off any longer.

The twosome had planned to leave together earlier in the day, but Hutch had been detained with his own family situation, waiting to hear news from Minnesota of the birth of his sister’s second child. A healthy baby girl had made her debut in the world just two hours previous, and now the proud uncle was heading to meet his forever impatient partner, who had decided to head up on his own in order to get things started so that he wouldn’t have to waste his entire weekend away from his precious city. Starsky, only having been at the cabin once or twice himself since the couple had acquired it, had hastily drawn a map so that Hutch could find his way, threw both of their gear in the Torino and took off in a fuming ball of fury, threatening unspeakable revenge should Hutch decide to stand him up. But there was little chance of that. To say the last few weeks had been trying for he and Starsky would have been an understatement. A couple days of solitude from the world was just what the blond had been craving. He was definitely looking forward to the short time away, provided he wasn’t forced to kill his whining partner with his own bare hands in the process.

What Hutch hadn’t counted on was the snow. It had started a few miles back and was increasingly picking up. The road was getting slippery and more steep and he found himself worrying if the tires he’d been meaning to replace had enough tread to get him safely to the cabin. It had also made it difficult to read the mile markers along the highway edge. He drove a few more miles and realized he had no clue as to where he actually was. Remembering the list of landmarks Starsky had written on the map, he began to search the car for the piece of pale blue Precinct letterhead. He finally spotted it in the back seat and turned to grab it. As he did so, the snow pulled at the tires, forcing the wheel to the left, then right, causing him to almost lose control.

“Easy there,” he breathed deep as he guided the car back into a stable track. “Not real smart, Hutchinson,” he chided himself as his eyes carefully drifted back to the map.

A few seconds later, his attention returned to the road, scanning the scenery to see if he recognized anything on the list. He craned his neck to the right, just in time to see a deer dart out onto the highway.

“Oh, boy,” he grimaced and threw the map down, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened on the wheel. The car began to fishtail and Hutch let off the brake, turning the wheel furiously to regain control. The deer darted back into the field as the LTD swung around in the road, sliding off the edge and right into the thick trunk of a towering pine tree. Hutch flew forward in the seat, his head thudding hard against the wheel and jerking back against the seat before the world went dark.

“Shtarshk?” Hutch’s voice slurred, the sound of wipers scraping against the windshield echoing in his ears as he attempted to open his eyes. A dark blur directly in his face drifted out of his focus and he snapped his eyes shut again, groaning at the blinding pain in his head.

“Easy,” the voice soothed. “Just take it easy.”

The hand reached for the ignition, stopping the rough idle of the car’s engine. It then rested gently on his upper arm, sliding down his left first, then his right, gingerly feeling for broken bones. Hutch kept his eyes closed and his head resting against the back of the seat, listlessly shifting it in the direction of the probing hand as it changed positions. The hand stopped at his right wrist, and he could feel the stickiness of warm blood trickling down his temple. He blindly reached up to brush it away.

“Hang on.” Another hand intercepted Hutch’s and brought it slowly down to his side, then let go. He could still feel the gentle touch lingering on his right wrist as he sensed the body in front of him shifting around. Suddenly he felt a soft cloth being held tight against the gash in his forehead.

“There,” the voice breathed and the hand gripped tighter on his wrist. “Just take it easy. S’alright.”

Hutch leaned into the hand holding the cloth against his forehead. His eyes remained closed as his senses began to come back to him and he took in a deep breath, drinking in the well-known smell of the man stooped in front of him. Relief washed over him at the knowledge that his partner had found him. It was going to be OK.

“That’s it, deep breaths.” The hand moved from his wrist to the back of his head, straightening it and pulling it away from the back of the seat. “Think you can open your eyes for me?”

Hutch grunted at the request, but decided he could… maybe. He blinked a couple of times, then slowly lifted his heavy lids.

“That’s it.” The face in front of him was fuzzy. “Slow and easy.”

“Oh, boy,” Hutch groaned, blinking his eyes rapidly, trying to focus on Starsky.

“Hurts, huh?” A crooked smile was swimming in and out of focus.

“Well, it doesn’t tickle.” Hutch groused, reaching up to hold the cloth on his forehead in place.

“Got it OK?” The hand relinquished its hold on the cloth.

“Yeah,” Hutch grimaced at the pain that shot through his head as he attempted a nod. He looked away from the blurry face and blinked rapidly, trying to regain focus. His vision began to clear slowly and he found himself looking through his open driver’s door at the tall, snow-covered pine trees.

“Ya think anything’s broken, buddy?”

The concerned voice and gentle hands carefully perusing his legs brought his attention back to inside the car. His vision still swimming, Hutch blinked down at the dark head and concentrated on how the lower half of his body felt.

“Don’t think so,” he answered.

“Well, I don’t feel anything broken either.” The head shot up and blue eyes blinked at Hutch. “What’s your name?”

“My name?” Hutch pressed the cloth closer to his head and tried to focus his confused eyes. “What do you mean, what’s my name?”

“I mean, what’s your name? You remember it, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I remember it, Star…” Hutch stopped short and gasped as the face before him suddenly came into focus.

“S’matter? You all right?”

Surprised, Hutch’s eyes darted back and forth over the man who so obviously wasn’t his partner. He was much younger and bigger than Starsky and was just… different. Funny, he could have sworn it was Starsky who’d been speaking so gently to him, who’d been checking him so carefully for injuries. And hadn’t he just smelled him even? He shook his head slightly and clearly focused in on the set of blue eyes staring questioningly back at him. He now noticed a shiny brimmed police cap perched atop the curly head and a dark blue uniform with a large silver badge adorning the breast pocket of the shirt.

“Hey…” the officer gently shook Hutch. “You all right?”

“I’m–I’m all right,” Hutch answered. ” I just–I thought you were someone else. ”

“Oh, I see.” Dark eyebrows rose, another gesture that seemed oddly familiar to Hutch. “Sorry to disappoint. You wanna tell me your name?”

“Ke–Ken.”

“Ken?”

“Yeah. Ken Hutchinson.” Hutch tried to push himself up from his semi-slouched position in the seat, but a firm hand on his chest stopped him.

“Whoa, Ken. Just take it easy. You’re not ready for any big movement yet. Just sit for a bit ’til you get your bearings back.”

“Yeah, OK.” Hutch didn’t offer any argument as another pain shot through his head and his vision clouded briefly. He pulled the cloth away from his forehead and looked down at the white material now stained a bright red.

“I don’t have a lot of medical training,” the officer turned Hutch’s head toward him and looked at the gash on his forehead, “but I don’t think that looks too bad. I think it’s even stopped bleeding.” He took the bloodstained handkerchief from Hutch and produced another one from his shirt pocket. “Always keep an extra just in case,” he placed the clean cloth over the wound and lifted Hutch’s hand to hold it in place.

“Thanks, uh… ” Hutch stammered for a name.

“Name’s Manny,” he grinned.

“Thanks, Manny.” Hutch returned the smile.

“Good to meet ya, Ken. Too bad it’s not under better circumstances. Think you need the hospital?”

Hutch thought for a moment, his teeth chattering in the cold. “No. No, I think I just need some aspirin and a blanket.”

Manny squeezed Hutch’s shoulder. “Well, that’s good, ’cause the nearest hospital’s 40 miles away. And with the snow, it’d take us ’til midnight to get there. But I’ll gladly take you, get you some help.”

“No, no. I think I’m all right.” Hutch shook his head, still feeling a strange familiarity in this man’s presence.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“OK.” Manny sighed as he stood. He looked around Hutch’s wrecked car and frowned, leaning on the roof with one arm and sticking his head back through the door. “I hate to break it to you, but this car of yours ain’t going nowhere. At least not ’til you can get a tow truck up here in the morning to pull it out of these trees. What happened anyway?”

“A deer.” Hutch chuffed, pulling the cloth away from his head and examining it. Manny was right. The bleeding had pretty much stopped.

“Shoulda known.” Manny tipped his cap back on his head, snow falling into his dark hair. “Not much up in these parts. Where were you headed anyway?”

“Ummm….” Hutch glanced over to the passenger’s seat and retrieved the map Starsky had drawn. “Here, I think,” he looked up at Manny and handed him the rumpled sketch.

Manny’s brow knit together in confusion as he turned the map around in his hand several times before finally deciding which end was up. He studied the drawing for a minute and scratched his head.

“This looks like the Weaver place. Is that right?”

“Weaver? Weaver?” Hutch thought for a moment trying to remember Starsky’s uncle’s last name. “Yeah. Yeah, Sterling Weaver. My partner is his nephew. He’s up here closing the place for the winter and I was supposed to meet him there.”

“Your partner?”

“We’re cops. ” Hutch reached into his back pocket and produced his badge.

Manny studied the badge, smiling as he handed it back. “Well, it’s nice to be able to help a fellow man of the law. I can take you to the Weavers’. I know right where it is and know Sylvie and Sterling well. Think you can stand?”

“Yeah.” Hutch grimaced as he turned to swing his legs out the door.

Manny reached in and took him by the elbow, helping him out of the car. Hutch swayed slightly as he stood

“All right?” Manny tightened his grip on the elbow to steady the teetering.

“Yeah.” Hutch nodded. “Yeah, I’m all right. Just need to get my legs under me.”

“I’ll help ya,” Manny placed Hutch’s arm around his neck and his own arm around the blond’s waist. Hutch leaned against the sturdy figure that stood just about the same height as him and they began the awkward trek through the snow and brush back to the road. By the time they reached the highway, Hutch had regained some of his stability and had pulled slightly away from Manny.

Manny’s car was parked along the opposite side of the road, pointing in the direction that Hutch had originally been going. Hutch’s mouth gaped open as he stared at the vehicle, which he guessed to be close to 40 years old. There were red lights attached to the roof of the large, round black and white sedan with the word POLICE simply printed in broad black letters across each side.

“This is your cruiser?”

“Yeah.” Manny smiled and nodded. “Ain’t she a beaut?”

Hutch shook his head, running his fingers along the hood. “What year is this thing?”

“1945. Just got her.”

Hutch squinted across the roof at Manny. “You just got a ’45… What is this? A Chevy?”

“Yeah. Caprice.” Manny nodded, his eyes shining with pride as they roamed over the car. “Custom made. Runs like a dream.”

“Well, that’s interesting. ” Hutch contemplated the car for a moment, then glanced over to his own ditched jalopy. “Kind of cool, actually,” he decided and opened the door. “How does she do in a chase?”

“Not too many chases in these parts, Ken.” Manny opened his own door and slid behind the wheel. “That’s just for the big city.”

“Good point.” Hutch nodded, taking in the big, polished dash before him and the antique police radio, its silence a sharp contrast to the constant blare of the Motorola units in both his and Starsky’s cars. A lot of work had obviously gone into the cruiser’s restoration. Hutch marveled at its uniqueness and smiled. “My partner would be all over this car.”

Manny returned the smile and glanced at Hutch as he turned the key. “Partner’s got a thing for fine automobiles, huh?” The loud engine rumbled to life.

“I wouldn’t say ‘fine’ automobiles exactly, Manny,” Hutch laughed, sitting back in the seat. “But, yeah, he’s got a thing for cars. He just got a new one not too long ago. Jazzed up hotrod, damn thing looks like a striped tomato.”

“Sounds like a man after my own heart.” Hutch watched the corners of Manny’s eyes crinkle as his grin broadened. God, he seemed familiar.

The two rode in silence for a few miles, Hutch rubbing at his forehead with his fingers and dabbing it occasionally with Manny’s handkerchief to check for bleeding.

“Has it stopped?” Manny broke the silence as he downshifted the old car up a sharp incline.

“Yeah,” Hutch nodded, shifting to look through the back window as the car fishtailed around a slippery corner. He turned back around and wiped at some frost that had formed on the inside of the windshield, his eyes darting worriedly around the snowy surroundings.

Manny noticed the concerned look and smiled reassuringly, reaching over to pat Hutch’s knee. “We’ll make it, Ken. Don’t worry. I’ll get ya there.”

Manny’s confident tone was comforting and Hutch relaxed slightly. “Hey what about you?” he asked. “You’ve got to get home, too. Do you live far?”

The glow from the dashboard’s dim light cast an eerie shadow across Manny’s gentle features. “I’m on patrol tonight,” he answered after a pause, his thoughtful, attentive eyes visibly scanning the road ahead of them. “I expect I’ll be out most of the night.”

Hutch nodded in understanding, his own eyes surveying the empty highway and vast wilderness surrounding them. He wondered what Manny could possibly have to patrol that would keep him out on such a treacherous night.

“Got a family?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Manny smiled, glancing at Hutch out of the corner of his eye. “A wife and young son and another one on the way.”

“Well, congratulations.”

“Thanks. You?”

“Me?” Hutch chuffed. “No, no family… not yet anyway.”

“Why not?”

Hutch shrugged. “It’s a tough life, Manny. My partner and I are homicide detectives. That always seems to get in the way.”

“Doesn’t allow much time for anything else, hmm?”

“Yeah, there’s that. And… ” Hutch’s fingers drummed nervously on his knees as he thought about some of his recent lost loves. Jeanie in particular. ” I don’t know, Manny. It’s just rough, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Manny answered softly, a perceptive look overtaking his eyes. “How about this partner of yours? He’s not married either?”

“Nope.”

“You two spend a lot of time together?”

“Almost every waking hour.” Hutch all but groaned. “Well, it seems like it anyway.”

“You must get along OK?”

“Get along? Yeah, we get along.” Hutch nodded and folded his arms across his chest, then smiled. “Actually, we argue more than anything.”

“Argue?”

“Constantly.”

Manny laughed at Hutch’s irritated tone. “Uh-oh. What about?”

“Just stuff.” Hutch shrugged and sighed. “Nothing important really. He’s a good guy.”

“Hmm.” Manny nodded. “You really like him then?”

Hutch thought about the question for a moment. There was no way to explain how he felt about his partner. No words could do justice to their bond. “He’s all right,” he finally answered lightly, certain Manny would understand.

‘Well, you must.” Manny flashed a knowing smile. “I mean, to come all the way up here in the snow just to help him out.”

Hutch blinked and stared straight out the windshield, his mind suddenly elsewhere. “He’d do it for me.”

“Would he?” Manny’s eyes briefly darted in Hutch’s direction.

“He’d do anything for me.” Hutch nodded, his eyes wandering downward as the recent memory of Starsky holding his heroin-ravaged body while he painfully convulsed and vomited over the side of the bed in Huggy’s stuffy apartment tore through his mind. “I’m sure of it,” he added, turning his attention out the passenger window.

Manny’s eyes lingered over the back of Hutch’s head. “Sounds like a good partner to me.”

“The best.” Hutch nodded, smiling out the window.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Partners for six years. But we’ve been friends since the academy.”

“So you were friends first?”

Hutch’s smile widened. “Yeah.”

“Well, that’s the way it should be.” Manny nodded his approval. “Already established trust.”

“Trust.” Hutch once again nodded, sighing as his finger trailed a drop of condensation on the window. He turned his attention back to his mysterious driver. “You work alone?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” A faint smile touched Manny’s lips. “I’ve got a boss I report to, but other than that I’m all by my lonesome.”

“Yeah, we’ve got one of those, too. He’s one tough son of a gun, that’s for sure.”

“So’s mine,” Manny chuckled.

An empathetic laugh escaped Hutch. “Must come with the job, huh?”

“It must.”

“I’ll tell you,” Hutch shook his head, still laughing, “there’s no one–and I mean no one–who can make him yell like my partner.”

“Really?” Manny shot an interested, amused look at Hutch.

“Really. And he just eats it up. The louder Cap yells, the happier he gets. He’s going to get us both in big trouble one of these days.”

“Sounds like my son. I swear, that kid does stuff just to aggravate me.”

“That’s my partner, all right.” Hutch nodded. “One big kid. He’ll never grow up.”

Manny turned his attention to his passenger. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way?”

The smile in Hutch’s eyes connected with the amicable warmth in Manny’s.

“Not for a second.”

The old car wound its way around a sharp corner, the tires spinning, shooting snow past the windows. Hutch wiped at more frost collected on the windshield and frowned.

“Not much farther,” Manny emphasized as he maneuvered the car through the drift.

“I’ve never seen it snow like this,” Hutch stared up at the sky through the windshield. “It’s really coming down.”

“Not even in Minnesota?”

“Not this early in the…” Hutch stopped mid-sentence, his brow furrowing as he shot Manny a confused look. “How’d you know I was from Minnesota?”

“Your jacket,” Manny pointed at Hutch’s chest. “You’re wearing a Minnesota Vikings jacket. You’ve got to be from Minnesota to be a Vikings fan.”

“Oh.” Hutch laughed and looked down at the gold Viking insignia stitched into the letterman’s jacket. “My partner got me this for my birthday. ”

“Nice.”

“Not very warm, I’m afraid.” Hutch shivered. “Jeez, Manny, does this thing have a defroster?” He leaned forward and wiped at more frost, then played with the lever on the heater. “You need to get this looked at. It’s on full-blast and look at all the frost.”

“Mmm, maybe I should have it checked.”

Hutch messed with the levers on the heater and held his hand over the air vents on the dash. “Nope, not getting much heat,” he sighed and leaned over, looking through Manny’s side of the windshield. It was surprisingly clear.

“Your side’s hardly fogged up at all.”

Manny laughed. “Well, considering I’m driving, Ken, I’d say that’s a good thing, wouldn’t you?”

“True,” Hutch sat back and pulled his jacket tighter around him. “Just kind of weird.” He eyeballed Manny and touched his forehead. The entire situation was weird.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Cold?” Manny shot him a curious look.

“Yeah. Cold. You’re not wearing a jacket.”

Manny briefly stared down at his uniform, then back into the dark night. “Must have left it at home,” he shrugged.

“You must be freezing.”

“You’d think I would be, huh?”

“I know I sure as hell am.”

“Well, I’m more acclimated to this kind of weather, I guess.”

Hutch continued to stare curiously at his makeshift chauffeur. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the strange feeling he had about him. There was something oddly familiar, yet so very different. His eyes roamed over the man, taking in the crispness of the uniform he wore with pride and the alert stance as he drove.

“Have you ever been to Bay City, Manny?”

Manny smiled. “Oh, I get down there once in a while.”

“Ever done any work for their police department?”

“Nope. Why?”

“I don’t know.” Hutch shrugged and looked away. “I just feel like we’ve met before or something.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it just could be, Ken. It’s a small world, you know.”

“True.” Hutch nodded. “True.”

The cold air tickled at Hutch’s nose, causing it to begin to run. He dug through his coat pockets in search of some tissue, finding a stiff piece of paper wedged deep into the material instead. He pulled it out and unfolded it, laughing as he read the message printed on the front.

“Tired of not fitting in? Now you, too, can be right-handed.”

“What’s that?” Manny questioned as Hutch continued to chuckle.

“Oh, it’s just a pamphlet I picked up the other day on how to become right-handed.”

“You’re a southpaw?”

“No, my partner is. I give him grief about it all the time. Guess I forgot to give this to him.”

“You should go easy on lefties, Ken.” Manny turned and waggled his eyebrows at Hutch. “They’re the only ones in their right minds.”

Hutch laughed. How many times had he heard Starsky use that line?

“Well, I’ll try. Truth is, he does have one mean left-cross. And his aim with his left hand is better than the majority of right-handers I’ve seen.”

“See?” Manny laughed. “Partner’s a real tough guy, huh?”

Hutch shook his head. “Naah. Only when he has to be. He’s gentle as a kitten most of the time. And he has a heart of gold, though he’d have you believe otherwise.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. You know, he puts on this streetwise act for the world. Wants you to think he’s a real bad ass. And it works great out on the street. Not too many dare cross him. But I know the real him. I see the way he suffers.”

“Suffers?” Manny took his eyes away from the road to shoot a curious look at Hutch.

Hutch sighed. “We’ve had a rough go of it the last few weeks. First I was…” He broke eye contact and looked down at his lap, absently brushing at some invisible lint. “Well, I got sick and had to take some time off. Then he ended up having to shoot an armed felon escaping from a hold-up. Turned out it was just a kid, though he didn’t realize it at the time. That really tore him apart.”

“I’ll bet.” Manny’s eyes wandered back to the road.

“Yeah, and it didn’t help that some nut job decided to take justice into his own hands and killed two fellow police officers in retaliation, then blamed it all on my partner.”

“Wow. He’s all right, though, your partner? ”

Hutch nodded. “He will be.”

“And you?” Manny’s eyes returned to the blond.

“Me?”

“You said you’d been sick.”

Hutch looked away from the inquisitive gaze. “I’m fine… now.”

“Good.” Manny’s hand reached across the bench seat and patted Hutch’s arm. “I’m glad.”

Hutch sighed and smiled at the friendly gesture, once again marveling at his complete comfort with this total stranger. He reached up to his forehead, gingerly rubbing at the bruise that was beginning to form.

“Of course, now I’ve got this marching band parading through my head.”

Manny laughed. “That was a pretty nasty bump you took. You sure you don’t need the hospital?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Hutch rested his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. ” I just need something warm to eat and to lie down.”

“Your partner will take care of you?”

“Yeah.” Hutch smiled at the question, his eyes remaining closed. “It’s what he does.”

Hutch pulled his jacket tighter around him and found himself beginning to drift to sleep. Though the air in the car was cold, the company was warm, and he allowed the comfort to envelop him. The events of the last few weeks had left him filled with suspicion and anger toward his fellow man and he’d began to fear he’d never be able to trust anyone but Starsky again. It felt good to allow this man he’d just met yet felt like he’d known for a lifetime to take control of the situation at hand and trust that all would end well.

“There’s a lot of bad stuff that happens in the world, Ken.” Manny’s voice broke through the silence as if reading Hutch’s mind.

“Huh?” Hutch opened his eyes and lifted his head.

“But there’s a lot of good stuff, too.” Manny nodded. “That’s what you’ve got to hold on to.”

Hutch swallowed, considering the simple pearl of wisdom.

“That’s not always easy, Manny.”

“Nope, it’s sure not. But then what is?”

“Not much.” Hutch conceded.

The old Chevy wound around one last turn, then slowed to turn in to a long driveway leading to a rustic-looking cabin, bright lights glowing from every window, smoke billowing from the chimney. Hutch chuckled at the snow-covered Torino parked close to the door, ready for a quick escape, he guessed, should trouble arise.

“That your partner’s car?”

“Sure is.” Hutch groaned, grimacing at Manny. “Told you it was awful.”

“Hey, I like it!” Manny laughed. “It’s sharp.”

Hutch rolled his eyes. “Oh, brother.”

The twosome exchanged a quick laugh as Manny brought the car to a stop.

Hutch swiped at more frost on the windshield, eyeballing the cabin. “Hey, ya wanna come in and get warmed up?” He turned in Manny’s direction. “My partner’s not much of a cook, but I’ll bet he’s got something going. And I know he’d love to meet you.”

Manny smiled, the dashboard lights highlighting a wistful expression on his face as his eyes roamed over the cabin.

“I’d sure like to meet him, too,” he sighed, then returned his stare to his passenger. “But I just can’t. I’ve got to stay out on patrol in case any more trouble pops up. I appreciate the offer, though.”

“Trust me, Manny, after what you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do.” Hutch reached for the door handle. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Manny nodded, his eyelids lowering in an exaggerated blink.

Hutch continued to hold on to the door handle, his gaze shifting from the cabin to his driver. “All right. I don’t know how to thank you. I’d probably be frozen to death by now if you hadn’t come along. You really saved my tail.”

Manny waved off the thanks. “Ahhh, your partner would have ventured out to find you, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, and he probably would have gone off the road and frozen to death as well.”

“Well, we couldn’t have that. I’m glad I could help.”

“Well… thanks, Manny.” Hutch turned the handle and pushed on the door with his shoulder, a hand on his arm stopping him from getting out. He turned to meet a serious expression on Manny’s face.

“Thank you, Ken.” Manny stated simply.

Hutch’s eyebrows rose. “For what?”

Manny shrugged. “For keeping me company and for the conversation. It can get kind of lonely out here sometimes.”

“I know.” Hutch breathed.

“And thanks for taking care of…. Well, for taking care of the bad guys, making the world just a little bit safer. I’m betting you’re a good cop, Hutch, and a good man. Don’t lose sight of that.”

Hutch’s eyes roamed Manny’s face for a moment, the chiseled features suddenly seeming older than their years. He sensed a great deal of wisdom behind the eyes that now bore almost uncomfortably into his soul. A small shiver coursed through his body as he stepped out of the car. Whether caused by the cold or the strong vibrations between him and his driver, he’d never be sure. A thought suddenly struck him, and he leaned back through the door.

“How’d you know?”

“Know what?”

“Hutch. People call me Hutch.”

Manny looked away briefly, then turned back and shrugged. “Lucky guess, Hutch. Just a lucky guess.”

Hutch stared at Manny for a moment, his uneasiness growing.

“Right,” he finally said and nodded. “Well, you take care, Manny.”

“Will do.” Manny’s smile and single nod lightened the inexplicable heaviness in the air. “And, hey, say hello to that partner of yours for me. I feel like I know him, too.”

“You got it.” Hutch smiled and shut the door, pounding the roof lightly and offering a small wave as the old Caprice began its backward descent up the long driveway. His hand absently reached to the bruise on his forehead as he turned to head toward the cabin. Taking a few steps, he decided to offer one final wave, his hand falling to his side and mouth dropping open as he stared in the direction of Manny’s car.

It and Manny were gone.

Hutch’s heart swelled at the sound of the familiar voice, despite the outward rolling of his eyes. “No,” he sighed. “It’s Bigfoot. For God’s sake, Starsky, let me in, would ya, before I turn into the Abominable Snowman?”

The door shut momentarily and Hutch heard the sounds of the chain lock being loosened. The door swung open again, revealing Starsky dressed in a red plaid flannel shirt, jeans and Redwing work boots, his Baretta held lax by his left side.

“Well, that’s just great, Starsk,” Hutch eyeballed his partner, then brushed past him. “I go through hell to get here, and you’re gonna shoot me.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know it was you?” Starsky’s eyes followed Hutch as he stomped into the cabin. Turning back to the door, he suspiciously peered around the snowy yard. “There could be anything out there.”

“I told you I’d be here tonight.” Hutch walked toward the fire, vigorously rubbing his hands together.

Starsky shut the door and hastily reattached the chain. He returned his gun to the holster hanging from a closet door and watched Hutch warm his hands by the fire.

“I thought maybe with the snow…” he began, then noticed the gash on Hutch’s forehead. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Had a little accident.” Hutch shrugged sheepishly.

“An accident?” Starsky hurried to his partner’s side, reaching up to touch his forehead. “You OK?”

“I’m fine,” Hutch attempted a smile at Starsky. That concerned look in his best friend’s eyes was becoming just a little too customary of late.

“Here, sit,” Starsky grasped Hutch’s shoulder and steered him toward the couch. “What happened?” he questioned as they plopped side by side onto the burnt-orange cushions.

“I don’t know, really. A deer jumped out in front of me, next thing I know, I’m in the ditch.”

“Anything broken?” Starsky’s hands started gently wandering up and down Hutch’s arms, eliciting a feeling of deja vu. He could have sworn…

“No.”

“You sure?” Starsky continued his examination of Hutch’s limbs.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Hutch patted Starsky’s hand and sat back, leaning his head against the couch. “Just one hell of a headache.”

“I’ll bet.” Starsky’s eyebrows rose as he turned his attention to the ugly gash. “It doesn’t look too bad, though,” he lied, leaning over to examine Hutch’s eyes. “Pupils aren’t dilated. Follow my finger.”

“Starsk,” Hutch lifted his head and grabbed the digit darting back and forth through the air. “I’m OK.” He squeezed the finger and nodded reassuringly.

Starsky pursed his lips together, his eyes giving Hutch a thoughtful once-over. “Well, you must be freezing,” he decided, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over Hutch’s shoulders.

Hutch’s teeth chattered as if on cue. “Sort of.” He smiled his gratitude.

Starsky tucked the blanket around Hutch and sat back, his arm falling to the back of the couch and loosely around his friend’s shoulders.

“Where’d it happen?”

“About 10 miles down the highway.”

“Ten miles! How’d you get here? You didn’t walk all that way in the snow, did you?”

“No.” Hutch shook his head. “A patrolman happened across the accident and brought me here.”

“A patrolman?”

“Yeah, you know, a cop.”

Starsky’s brow knit together in confusion. “Sure it wasn’t a Ranger?”

“No, it was a cop.”

“But there aren’t any cops up here, Hutch. There are hardly any people. No need for a police force.”

“Well, there was one tonight. He just dropped me off.”

“Did he have a car?”

“Of course he had a car. You think he snow shoed me here on his back?”

“All right, take it easy.” Starsky laid the back of his hand against one of Hutch’s red cheeks, checking for fever. “It’s just that I didn’t hear a car, is all. It was a patrol car?”

“Yes, it was a patrol car.” Hutch brushed the hand away and stood, deciding he’d never be able to explain the restored Caprice without Starsky putting a call in to the closest mental institute.

“OK, OK.” Starsky stood as well and followed as Hutch went to the window and pulled the curtain back. “I don’t see any tracks,” he said, peering over Hutch’s shoulder through the frosty pane of glass.

Hutch’s eyes darted around the empty yard as he considered the statement for a moment, realizing Starsky was right. There were no tracks. Not a one.

“Well, it’s snowing pretty hard,” he reasoned, pulling the blanket tighter around him. “They’re probably covered by now.”

“Not snowing that hard.” Starsky’s eyes met Hutch’s through the reflection in the glass. “You’ve only been here a few minutes. Your tracks are still there.”

Hutch stared at his footprints in the snow, then searched the driveway for any trace of the mysterious car’s presence and finding none.

“What, do you think I’m lying to you?” Hutch turned and pushed angrily past Starsky, the oddness of the situation gnawing at him like a hungry rat.

Starsky turned away from the window and watched Hutch pace in front of the fire. “I didn’t say you were lying. That’s a pretty nasty bruise you’ve got there, buddy, and…”

“And you think I’m delirious?”

“Well…” Starsky’s eyes crinkled with concern.

Hutch stopped his pacing and turned to face Starsky. “Look, I’m telling you, a police officer in a patrol car found me, put me in his car and brought me here. I’m not delirious. I didn’t walk 10 miles through the snow. It happened.”

“OK.” Starsky shrugged and held up his hands in surrender. “Where’s your car?”

“Well, see, that’s the weird part.”

“What?” Starsky gulped, his eyes widening.

Hutch dramatically cupped his bruised forehead, holding it as he spoke. “Well, as I was pulling away with the imaginary policeman, a spaceship landed. There was this big, bright beam of light and, poof, my car disappeared.”

Starsky considered the statement for a second, then craned his neck backward and blinked. “Nice try, smartass. There’s not a creature in the entire galaxy that’d steal that hunk of junk… only in my dreams.”

Hutch shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Well, where else do you think it’d be, dummy? I told you, it’s stuck in the ditch. We’re going to have to get it towed in the morning.”

“Mm-hmm.” Starsky rose an eyebrow and continued to stare quizzically at the blond.

“So this cop? He have a name?”

“Oh, for the love of…” Hutch stared skyward and shook his head.

“Well?”

“Of course he had a name.”

“So what was it?”

“Cop.” Hutch spat in frustration.

“Look, I’m just asking. What’re you getting so bent out of shape about?” The concern in Starsky’s voice was not so cleverly disguised by his attempt at aggravation.

Hutch closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wondering as well why the questioning was upsetting him so. He knew his partner was merely concerned for his well-being. But he just couldn’t shake the feeling that something truly bizarre had happened to him. And, truth be told, he was just a little frightened.

His eyes softened as he opened them and stared at his partner.

“Look, Starsk, I’m sorry. It’s been a strange night, you know? I’m cold and my head feels like it’s split in two. I just don’t need this right now. We’ll talk about it later, all right?”

“All right.” Starsky nodded after a pause. “All right. Look, your bag’s in the bedroom. Go take a nice hot shower and change into some dry clothes. There’s some aspirin in the medicine cabinet. And I’ll make us something to eat. That should make you feel better, you think?”

“Yeah, OK.” Hutch glanced around the cabin, searching for the bathroom.

“Through the bedroom,” Starsky pointed toward the other room. “And bring out the first aid kit when you’re done . We’ll bandage that cut.”

“Right,” Hutch headed in the direction Starsky was pointing, disappearing through the doorway.

“I’m taking you to the doctor tomorrow, though.” Starsky called after him.

“Starsk…” Hutch’s head popped back around the wall.

“Don’t even try it.” Starsky shook his head. “I don’t want to hear any arguments.”

“Right.” Hutch once again disappeared.

“Yeah,” Starsky nodded. “We just need to cover the furniture and load the cars—I mean, car—tomorrow. Once we rescue your heap, that is, and get you to a doctor.”

“Starsk, the nearest doctor is 40 miles away. It’ll take us the whole day to get there and back.”

“So we stay an extra night.” Starsky shrugged and stood, beginning to clear the dishes from the table. “You’re going, Hutch.”

“Mother hen,” Hutch grumbled, standing and gathering silverware.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Starsky returned to the table and swatted at Hutch’s hands. “I’ve got it. Go rest.”

“Starsk…”

“I said I’ve got it. Go.” Starsky hitched his thumb in the direction of the living room and grabbed the silverware from Hutch’s hand.

Sighing heavily, Hutch sauntered into the living room and nestled into the corner of the couch, listening to the noise of Starsky clearing the table and running water to wash the dishes.

“I can help, you know,” he called out.

“Stay put,” was the only reply.

Hutch stared at the fire, the slow crackle lulling him toward sleep. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, thoughts of his strange encounter with Manny drifting from the back of his mind.

“Hey,” Starsky’s voice next to him startled him from the brink of sleep.

“What?” Hutch’s eyes shot open.

“Should I let you fall asleep?” Starsky placed a steaming mug down on the coffee table.

“Starsky, that’s only when you have a concussion.” Hutch rubbed at his forehead.

“Well, how do you know you don’t?”

“Because I know.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Starsky snapped his fingers in the air. “You know everything. I keep forgetting.” He smiled and nodded toward the mug. “Cocoa.”

Hutch grinned at his retreating partner. “Thanks,” he said, sliding to the edge of the cushion and taking a sip. He noticed a scrapbook lying on the table and picked it up. “Weaver/Starsky Memories” had been written in calligraphy across the front cover. He sat back and laid the book in his lap, shifting through the contents.

Mixed among the various marriage and birth announcements were pictures of Starsky’s relatives–aunts, uncles and cousins, some of which Hutch recognized from having met on a few occasions. He discovered a younger version of Starsky’s mom and brother Nick and smiled as he found a teen-aged Starsky surrounded by kids close to his age just after he’d moved to California, he guessed. The faces were all similar–animated expressions, crooked grins, and thick heads of curly hair. Hutch chuckled at the obvious dominance of the Starsky gene pool.

The Starsky gene pool.

Hutch looked away from the book, a realization overtaking his thoughts.

“Starsk?”

“Hmm?”

Hutch drummed his fingers on the scrapbook , contemplating.

“Do you have any relatives up here?”

“You mean here, in the mountains?” Starsky leaned in the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands with a dishcloth.

“Yeah.”

“No, not that I know of.” He shrugged.

“No cousins, anything like that?”

Starsky thought for a moment. “Nope.”

“No one named Manny?”

Starsky’s brow rose. “Manny?”

“Yeah, Manny.”

“No. Just…” he trailed off.

“Just who?”

“Well, just my dad.”

“What?” Hutch stood from the couch. “Wait, your father’s name was Michael.”

“Yeah, it was.” Starsky nodded. “But his middle name was Manfred. When he started school, there were apparently a lot of Michaels, so they started calling him Manny. It kinda stuck, I guess. I’ve told you that, haven’t I?”

The blood drained from Hutch’s face as he stood silent, thinking. Starsky had told him about his father’s nickname and he’d forgotten. He swallowed hard, his eyes wandering around the room. Could it be…

“Hutch?” Starsky walked over to his partner and grasped his elbow.

“Hmm?” Hutch blinked at him.

“You OK?”

Hutch hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“Why’d you ask if I knew someone named Manny?”

Hutch looked down at the old scrapbook. “Oh, I just… I saw the name in here. I thought it sounded familiar. I must have forgotten about your dad being called Manny.”

“You sure?” Starsky’s reached down and took the book from Hutch.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Hutch nodded and sat down.

Starsky slung the dishcloth over his shoulder and sat next to him, opening the scrapbook.

“There are some pictures of Pop in here. Did you see them?”

“No.”

Starsky thumbed through the book, stopping at a page toward the back. A smile lit his face as his finger traced the old black and white photo.

“That’s him,” he said, sitting back and draping the book across his and Hutch’s laps. “With his new cruiser. Man, he loved that car. He still had it when he died. He was actually shot down right next to it. I ever tell you that?”

“No.” Hesitating to look at the picture, Hutch watched his partner’s reminiscent expression as the violet eyes roamed fondly over the old photograph. He finally let his own eyes drift downward, knowing exactly what he’d see. The familiar face of the man who’d come to his rescue on this cold, snowy night smiled back up at him, a shiny black and white police cruiser standing proud in the background.

“1945 Caprice,” Hutch whispered, smiling.

Starsky looked up from the photograph and into his partner’s misty eyes. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

Hutch looked away for a moment then shrugged, draping his arm around the shoulders of the cherished body next to him.

“Lucky guess, Starsk,” he sighed. “Just a lucky guess.”