Temple of the Sinai

136

Author’s Note: This story does deal with some religious issues, so a special disclaimer is in order. The group known as Temple of the Sinai is purely fictional and is not intended to resemble any existing religious organization that I am aware of. The rubella outbreak that is mentioned as part of the story line actually occurred, but it involved a group in Oregon (I think in the early 80’s), and the outcome was vastly different than that portrayed in the story. I apologize if this story offends anyone’s religious beliefs; that is certainly not my intention.

Chronological Note: This story occurs after the conclusion of the TV series. It occurs a few weeks after “Over the Edge” and prior to “The Saint” — stories also on this Archive.

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Part One

“So, what time are we leaving on Friday?” Starsky stuffed another handful of chips in his mouth, heedless of the greasy crumbs falling onto the map that lay spread in front of him. He was sprawled on his belly in the exact center of his living room floor, elbows on the map and his chin resting in his hands. “Think anyone would notice if we snuck away early?”

Hutch looked up from the table, where he was seated with some scratch paper and a travel guide. He had been comparing hotel rates and calculating mileage. Neither of the two had a lot of spare cash, and what they did have at their disposal would be best spent on food and entertainment on this trip. “Starsk, we have an entire week. Settle down. The earlier we leave, the sooner we run out of money and have to come home. Besides, if we time it wrong, we’ll just get caught in rush-hour traffic heading east.”

Starsky grinned mischievously. “‘Course, we could just run the siren all the way to Vegas. Wouldn’t hafta worry much about traffic then.” He ducked, neatly dodging a pillow that Hutch plucked off the nearby couch and sent sailing in his direction. He caught it and tossed it back on his couch. “Hey, careful with that. You coulda messed up my hair.”

“Who’d notice?” quipped Hutch. “Now be quiet for a minute. I need to find a hotel we can afford that’s still close to the action.” He returned to his perusal of the guidebook, although his thoughts remained slightly distracted. The trip to Las Vegas had been more or less a mutual decision, although Hutch would really have preferred something less urban. They didn’t usually go on vacation together, but they had made this time-off request weeks ago…and then Starsky had undergone his traumatic breakup with Allison. Hutch was reasonably certain that his partner had been planning to take Allison somewhere for a romantic getaway. Rather than let Starsky stay home by himself and brood, he had scrapped his own camping plans and suggested a road trip.

“Hey, Hutch, how about that circus place? Can we stay there?” Starsky rolled onto his back, doing further damage to the map. “You know, that new one with the trapeze acts ‘n everything?”

Hutch opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the telephone. Reluctantly, Starsky climbed to his feet and grabbed the offending device. “Hello?” A pause. “Hi, Cap’n. What’s up?” Another pause, a longer one. “Sure. He’s here, I’ll tell him. Nine o’clock? See ya, Cap.”

Starsky set the phone down. “That was Dobey.”

“So I gathered.”

“Wants us in his office in the morning, at nine. We’re supposed to meet with some social worker from Child Protective Services. Not from L.A., though; he says she’s from the Inyo County branch. Some town called Independence.” Starsky returned to his map, searching it. “Here it is. Geez, she works out in the middle of nowhere. That’s halfway to Death Valley.”

Hutch left the table to kneel on the floor behind his partner, peering over his shoulder at the map. “More than halfway. Independence is the county seat, but Inyo County covers a hell of a lot of territory. It’s almost all desert, though.” Something nagged at Hutch. “Hey, isn’t that where the Manson Family hid out, somewhere in there?”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” agreed Starsky. “But they’re mostly all still in jail. And Dobey definitely said this lady was from the state CPS. Why would she want to talk to us, anyway?”

Hutch snickered. “She’s discovered that you’re mentally only twelve years old, and she wants to arrest Dobey for violation of the child labor laws.”

~~~

The meeting took place in Dobey’s office as planned. As they knocked (for once) on Dobey’s door and stepped inside, Hutch saw an unfamiliar dark-haired, suit-clad woman sitting in the “guest” chair in front of Dobey’s desk. She rose as they entered and offered her hand to each of the detectives in turn.

“Kathy Fallinger. I’m with the state Child Protective Services office in Inyo County.” She grinned broadly as she sat back down, an expression that livened her otherwise rather plain face. “Of course, you could say I AM the CPS office there, all by myself. Usually, I don’t have much to do; it’s mostly rancher families out there, and they treat their kids like gold. I get invited to all of the social activities, and I never have to wear this suit except to come to the city for seminars.”

Starsky grinned back at her, obviously responding to a kindred spirit. “Must be kinda nice. So what forced you out of the desert and into the suit?”

Dobey cleared his throat, and the two detectives hastily sat down. “Ms. Fallinger was referred here by the California Highway Patrol to request our help with an investigation.” He motioned politely to the social worker. “Please, tell us the whole story.”

She sighed. “It’s a long one, I’m afraid. Especially since it starts in Montana, about twenty years ago.”

Starsky raised his eyebrows. “Montana?”

“In 1960, a religious group — I guess you could call them a cult, since they’re pretty far out of the mainstream–was formed in eastern Montana that called itself the Temple of the Sinai. In 1972, the group was getting pretty big, so about half of them split off and came south. They eventually ended up in Inyo County, purchasing a run-down old ranch. It’s primitive: no electricity except a generator, not much plumbing, but it’s at least got a good well. They took it over, and they’ve been very industrious. They’ve added several good-sized buildings and a beautiful barn. They’re raising some livestock–sheep and goats at least–and trying to irrigate and grow a few crops, heat-tolerant things.”

“Doesn’t sound like a second Manson Family, anyway,” injected Starsky.

Kathy grimaced. “Yes, that is what we’re famous for, isn’t it? But no…these people seem to be a very different breed. They’re strictly monogamous, and very authoritarian. No drugs, no alcohol. The women don’t seem to be allowed off the ranch. According to what we’ve heard, they believe that God will come to them only in the desert, in the wilderness, and they choose to live there to be reminded of the Holy Land. The adult converts change their names to Old Testament names. They make almost everything by hand. They don’t appear to own any weapons. They don’t believe in doctors, or in hospitals; instead they rely on faith healing.”

“Well, it’s not a lifestyle I would choose,” responded Hutch thoughtfully, “but overall, they sound like better citizens than most of the people we deal with on a daily basis. So, what’s the catch?”

“The children.” Kathy took a deep breath. “We were concerned about them from the very beginning, as some strange things can happen to kids in very authoritarian societies such as this one. There are about 15 to 20 children less than sixteen years old on the ranch. The Temple laws consider sixteen-year-olds to be adults, capable of carrying out adult responsibilities. The kids are getting schooling, from approved correspondence materials, plus some of the adult members have apparently had teaching experience. So we haven’t been too worried about their education. To tell the truth, we haven’t much of a public school system out there anyway, except in town.”

“So what’s going on, then?” Starsky interrupted. “Are they abusing them, physically?”

She shook her head. “No direct evidence of that, either. But about two years ago, they had a problem. Once a week, always on Mondays, an adult male member comes to town for supplies. One week, he took back a case of rubella as well.” Seeing Starsky’s blank look, she explained further. “Also known as German measles. We immunize for it now, but these people have refused on religious grounds, so they were pretty much all susceptible when it hit. It’s not actually much of an illness: a rash, some fever and body aches. Some of them probably didn’t even notice that they were sick.

“There was a bit of a panic when we heard about the outbreak. You see, we wouldn’t have even known about it at all, but we’d finally gotten permission from the ranch’s elders to send a nurse out to the ranch to do some nutrition classes and well-baby exams and a little prenatal care. She couldn’t give immunizations, but she could at least see how the kids were doing. And to be honest, to all appearances the children were healthy and happy. But she was out there the day the first few people got sick, and recognized the disease as rubella.

“And we were stuck. If they had panicked and run into town, we could have got help from the Health Department and the CDC to enforce a quarantine…but they very cooperatively quarantined themselves on the ranch and refused any outside intervention. In about a month, everyone on the ranch had caught it and was well again. Everything would have been fine, except for one thing: at least eight women, possibly more, were pregnant when the virus hit. Andrea, the nurse, had a special pregnancy nutrition class for them, so she had a rough ‘head count.’ Rubella can cause terrible birth defects, such as deafness, blindness, or heart defects, if a woman catches it during pregnancy.”

Hutch whistled. “So what happened?” he asked, intrigued in spite of a growing suspicion that the answer was going to have a profound effect on their vacation plans.

Kathy’s face grew more serious. “We really don’t know. We told them about the risks, and asked them to contact us when the children were born, since there was a good chance they would need special services. Then they sort of slipped through the cracks. Andrea went out there on one more visit a few months ago, but she saw no evidence of babies the right age to have been the rubella-exposed fetuses. The ranch has its own lay midwife, trained by their own people. They don’t believe in Social Security numbers or even birth certificates; we can’t prove those babies were even born or that those women were even pregnant. The cult members have become increasingly hostile and evasive. We were stymied…until Daniel came to us.”

“Daniel?” inquired Starsky. “Who’s that?”

“Daniel is a sixteen-year-old boy. His family joined the cult when he was twelve. He has a brother, named Aaron, who is about a year older. Daniel ran away from the ranch one night and was found in the desert the next day by some young people from town, out playing around in dune buggies. They brought him to the police and then to me. He tells me that his brother, who wasn’t exactly conforming to the community standards for behavior, is supposed to have ‘disappeared’ out in the desert. But Daniel believes that Aaron was killed, for breaking the rules and disrespect to the elders. He left because he was afraid he’d somehow be next. The boy hints at others ‘disappearing’ just like his brother, but he doesn’t know much, doesn’t have any tangible proof. But it’s enough to warrant further investigation.

“Our sheriff contacted the California Highway Patrol, since he felt that this was going to be a little too big for us to handle without support. They were helpful, but they suggested that they would prefer to contract with LAPD to handle the undercover support.” She took a deep breath. “That’s where you two gentlemen come in. We need someone to go out there, ‘join’ the cult, and get to the bottom of what happened…to those poor defective babies, and to Daniel’s brother.”

Dobey, who had listened in silence, now joined in. “This is voluntary, you two. I know you had vacation coming up… but I’ve told Ms. Fallinger that you’re the team I would recommend for the job. But it’s not on our turf. If you don’t want to do it, I’ll tell the boys in Sacramento to find someone else to do their dirty work. If you want it, I’ll make that week of vacation into two weeks as soon as the assignment is done.”

Hutch cleared his throat. “Captain, CHiPs aren’t exactly known for their undercover finesse.” He turned to his partner. “What do you say, Starsk? Can Vegas wait?”

“It’s waited this long for us,” snorted Starsky. “Aw, Cap’n…you know I can’t risk a sob story that’s got kids in it somewhere. That’s fightin’ dirty.”

“I take that as a ‘yes.’ All right. You can speak with this boy Daniel for some background; they’ve got him staying with his aunt in Pasadena. Ms. Fallinger can get you in contact with him. And, you’re going to have to decide who goes in first to the ranch. Two single men showing up asking to join the club is too conspicuous.”

Hutch laughed. “Guess I’ll have to wrestle him for it, then.”

“Whatever. Run your cover stories by me before you leave. Make sure you have good desert gear. If possible, I’d like you out in Independence by Saturday. Since someone from the ranch comes to town every Monday, that’s your only chance for contact for the week.”

“Lessee…five days…” estimated Starsky. “We oughta be able to manage that, Cap’n.”

Kathy rose from her chair. “I’ll see you two there, then. The ranch’s supply runner doesn’t usually get there until early afternoon, so I’ll have time to show you around a little.” She handed Starsky a business card. “The name and address of Daniel’s aunt is on the back. Call me if there’s anything more I can help with.”

Starsky watched her walk out. “Hey, Hutch,” he commented after the door was closed, studying the card in his hand. “What do you think she wears when she’s not in the city for seminars? Seems like a blue-jeans girl to me.”

Hutch sighed. “Starsk, you’re incurable.”

“C’mon, Hutch…if you’re not gonna take me to Vegas, I gotta have SOME fun.”

 

Part Two

Starsky, unwilling to surrender Kathy’s business card, placed a call to Daniel’s aunt and arranged for the two detectives to meet with the boy that afternoon after school. “His aunt says he’s settlin’ in really well, and hates to miss school,” he explained to Hutch. “I bet he’s gettin’ a kick out of having a normal life again. They’ll expect us at about three.”

“Okay. In the meantime, we need to work on our cover stories. Which means we need to go have that wrestling match, or coin flip, or whatever.”

Starsky studied his hands. “Uh, Hutch…we’re both goin’ in eventually anyway, right?”

“That was the general idea. Too dangerous for one man alone, I think.”

“You can go in first if you want to. I don’t mind,” shrugged Starsky magnanimously.

Hutch stared at him, incredulously. “You what? You feeling okay, Starsk?”

Starsky attempted to look dignified. “Don’t you think we’re old enough to stop snortin’ and pawin’ the ground over who gets to do what?”

“Oh, no, I know what you’re up to.” Hutch began to laugh. “You’re going to get me stuck out there alone with the Desert Puritans for a couple of weeks while you roll your puppy-dog eyes at Kathy and go sight-seeing. Starsk, I bet she’s one of the only single women in town. Be careful; those desert boys may not appreciate your city-slicker competition.”

“Yeah? What have they got that I haven’t got? Besides…I like her. Y’know, Hutch, I get the feelin’ she’s not the kinda girl to fall for my usual tricks.”

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to find out. So what’s my cover story?”

Eventually they came up with a sketchy background for Hutch, sticking as much truth in as possible. He would be a recently divorced man from Minnesota, coming out to California in search of a new life. Starsky would be an old friend, living in Independence and…doing what? A call to the Inyo County Sheriff’s Office introduced them to Sheriff McNeil, who was happy to arrange a cover “job” for Starsky, playing mechanic at the town’s only garage. “The owner’s my brother-in-law,” the sheriff explained. “He’ll know it’s just a cover story, but he’ll keep his mouth zipped. Truth is, no one here is too comfortable with the group up on the ranch. You can count on any help you need.”

“Friendly fellow,” commented Starsky, after the sheriff hung up.

“His brother-in-law?” laughed Hutch. “Starsk, why do I feel like I’m in a bad western?”

That settled, they returned to the task of fleshing out Hutch’s “motivations” for being interested in the cult in the first place. They considered and discarded several cheesy notions, then Starsky snapped his fingers. “Didn’t Kathy say there was another branch of the cult in Montana, where they first came from?”

“Yes, but – -”

Starsky cut him off. “Okay. You had a sister who joined. You don’t remember what name she took when she joined, but she seemed really happy, and you always wondered if the Temple of the Sinai would do the same for you. But, she’s dead now…in childbirth, maybe, and you were comin’ out there anyway to look me up, so you thought you’d check it out.”

Hutch mentally sorted through Starsky’s confusing pronouns, then nodded. “That would probably work. If she was still alive, it would make more sense to look up the Montana branch, but if she’s dead… How will we work you in?”

“Simple,” Starsky grinned. “I’ll be your skeptical best friend, coming out there to humor you and prove them wrong. No cult can resist a challenge, and that’ll be more believable than both of us bein’ interested.”

Hutch eyed him critically. “Let’s see, Kathy said they were hardworking, monogamous, pious, and respectful. Yeah, you’ll be a challenge, all right.”

~~~

Somehow, both detectives had expected Daniel to be a disturbed, withdrawn young man. Nothing could be further than the truth. The handsome redheaded boy who sat at his aunt’s kitchen table, devouring a bowl of ice cream with the healthy appetite of any teenager, seemed excessively polite but otherwise normal. But, Hutch said to himself…he was only in the cult a few years, and probably never really fit in.

The two detectives spoke with Daniel for almost two hours, and Hutch took pages of notes, mostly on the customs and mannerisms of the people he would have to infiltrate. He knew he would have to learn to fit in quickly to avoid suspicion. Daniel wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to the babies that had been exposed to rubella; but as a young single male he wouldn’t have had much to do with the areas of pregnancy, childbirth and babies. He did state unequivocally that he never saw any of those particular infants, alive or dead; and that the Temple had not held any funerals for the infants. “It was as if they never existed.”

When it came to discussing his brother, Aaron, Daniel had some definite opinions in addition to the few facts that he knew. “They killed him,” said the boy, flatly. “I can’t prove it, but I know that’s what happened. Aaron always had a hard time on the ranch. Most of the kids had grown up there; we were outsiders. We remembered what it was like to go shopping, go to school. I kept telling him to cool it, to wait until we were old enough to leave without our parents freaking out too much…but he wouldn’t listen. Every year, it got worse; he was always in trouble for one thing or another. The elders said he had a ‘rebellious spirit’ and that he needed to have it beaten out of him. He got whipped a lot.”

Starsky and Hutch exchanged glances. That admission alone, from this self-possessed teenaged boy, was sufficient grounds for an investigation. “What finally happened?” asked Starsky gently.

The boy stared at his bowl of Fudge Ripple, idly dragging the spoon through the half-melted mess. “Aaron blew his stack, said he was leaving ’cause he’d had enough. But they caught him…tied him up and tossed him in a shed. My parents were watching, and they didn’t even say a word to stop it,” observed Daniel bitterly. “Dad wouldn’t let me out of the house that night. In the morning, the shed was open, and Aaron was gone. The elders said he’d escaped and was probably lost in the desert. But, none of his things were missing, none of the water bottles were gone. Aaron wouldn’t have been dumb enough to run away like that. They killed him, and dumped the body.”

Daniel’s aunt, a tall woman with her nephew’s red hair, came up behind him and place her hands on the boy’s shoulders. He closed his eyes, and Hutch could see the hot tears seeping from beneath the boy’s eyelids. The aunt spoke softly. “He’s right. Those people out there are killers. If my own sister can stand by and watch that being done to her son, then there is no hope for them. You’ve got to do something.” She looked at the two detectives imploringly.

Starsky nodded. “We’ll do our best, ma’am.”

~~~

The remaining few days were spent in frantic education. Starsky, already reasonably adept at fiddling around with the Torino, spent more than a few hours at Merle’s garage. The mechanic gave him a fairly thorough crash course in the basics, although Starsky hoped he wouldn’t actually have to do much other than hang around the garage and look busy. Hutch had decided that part of his own cover would include a childhood spent on a dairy farm in Minnesota, so he tried to teach himself some useful farm skills. Dairy farms being scarce in the L.A. area, this was carried out mainly by reading and talking to friends who’d grown up on farms.

They had (somewhat reluctantly on Starsky’s part) decided that the Torino would be better off left in L.A. as it would appear decidedly out of place in the rural desert community of Independence. Instead, the department secured a battered Land Rover for them, well stocked with spare water and an emergency radio.

Starsky surveyed the vehicle gloomily. “God, this thing is ugly.”

Hutch looked up from the back, where he was stashing his belongings. It was Friday evening, and they planned to leave before dawn in order to get to Independence before the heat hit. “It’s practical, Starsk. Which is more than I can say for that damned tomato.” He closed up the back. “Actually, if I lived out in the desert or mountains, I wouldn’t mind owning one of these. Just the thing for camping trips.”

“Yeah,” agreed Starsky unenthusiastically. “So where do we put the camel?”

 

Part Three

Despite the seriousness of the assignment, both men felt their spirits lift as they left the city smog behind and sped out into the desert. Starsky, who hated mornings with a passion under the best of circumstances, was initially a little grouchy; coffee and donuts from a truck stop soon improved his mood to the point of making actual conversation. They speculated at length about the cult, wondering what they would find at the ranch.

“Hey, Hutch, how long do you think before I can join you out there?” Starsky swallowed the last bite of his third donut, looking regretfully at the empty bag.

“Depends on how suspicious they are, and how good of an acting job I do. I’d say about two weeks, though. I’ll try to come out on the supply run at the two-week point.”

Starsky was quiet for a moment, gazing at the sparse scenery. “You better be careful, Blintz. You can’t give them anything to complain about while you’re there. You won’t have any way of gettin’ hold of me if something goes wrong.”

“Believe me, that thought has occurred to me,” Hutch agreed fervently. “I intend to be a good little cultist, and do whatever they tell me to do. I’ll keep my ears open, but I think we should save any actual investigative work until you join me. Kathy thinks they don’t have any firearms, but we’ll still be outnumbered.”

“Speaking of firearms…Hutch, you gonna go in armed?”

The blond detective sighed. “I don’t see how I can, babe. Too dangerous. If they find out I’m a cop, I’m dead. This is one situation where it’s safer to be unarmed, Starsk. When I come back for you, you can pass me our weapons…they’ll trust me by then.”

Starsky considered that for a moment. “Yeah, guess you’re right. You should be safe, long as you behave and don’t mouth off.” He grinned wickedly. “Guess it’s a good thing it’s you goin’ in first, and not me! I’d be up to my ass in trouble by the first day.”

“Instead, you’ll be pestering Kathy and getting to know the sheriff’s brother-in-law. Try not to mess up anyone’s car too badly.”

“Try not to milk the wrong end of the goat, shepherd boy.”

~~~

In addition to arranging the cover job for Starsky at the garage (called, simply, Independence Garage), Sheriff McNeil had secured a tiny studio apartment for them. The location couldn’t have been better; it was on the second floor, across the street from the general store. On the ground floor was a decent little diner, and the two men headed there for something to eat as soon as they had stored their baggage. Even though it was only May, the air was already beginning to feel significantly warm by late morning; the shorts that they had felt silly wearing as they left L.A. now seemed to make a little more sense.

Since it was the weekend, the town was relatively quiet. Starsky popped into the garage and introduced himself to the owner, while Hutch waited outside. Even with the sheriff’s assurance of his brother-in-law’s trustworthiness, the two detectives agreed it would be better for the man not to have met Hutch. They located the public building, which housed the county courthouse and other county offices as well as City Hall. That accomplished, the remainder of their day stretched before them.

“If I really was newly divorced, and visiting you here for the first time in years, what would we do?” puzzled Hutch. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good cover. This place is so dead, it wouldn’t be my first choice as a place to take a depressed friend.” They had returned to the apartment, for lack of anything better to do.

“Well…maybe that’s a good cover story all by itself. We’ll just tell those nice folks out on the ranch that they HAVE to take you in, to save your life from terminal boredom.” Starsky threw himself down on the bed. “I need a nap. You picked me up in the middle of the night, and my brain’s fuzzy.”

“Of course, the chili dog and fries probably isn’t helping.” Hutch reached into his bag, pulling out one of the animal husbandry textbooks he had borrowed from the library at home. “Go ahead if you want. I’m going to study a little more.”

“Hutch?”

“What?”

“Don’t get too much into this ranch thing,” came the response, muffled by the pillow that Starsky had already buried his face in. “I don’t want you pulling any career-change surprises on me.”

Hutch smiled. “Not a chance, Gordo.”

~~~

On Sunday, Starsky and Hutch agreed to take the Land Rover and go exploring in the desert. That seemed like a logical thing for a local to do to entertain his out-of-town guest. They stayed far away from the area surrounding the Temple of the Sinai ranch, choosing instead to meander in the opposite direction.

“After all,” pointed out Hutch, “it wouldn’t be very good for my cover if they catch us snooping around their property.”

By midday, both men were stunned by the heat and thoroughly impressed by the arid landscape. Starsky shook his head. “Can you imagine trying to survive out here in this heat, without a car? That kid–Daniel–he’s got guts.” They were perched on a large rock, studying the view.

“In this weather, he would have died if those dune-buggy drivers hadn’t found him.” Hutch took a swig out of his water-bottle, suddenly noticing how good the warm and slightly stale water tasted. “Maybe he knew that, Starsk. Maybe he decided he’d rather die than live as a slave one more day.” He rested his chin on his hand. “He was free once, when he was younger, and he never forgot what it felt like.”

Starsky glanced at his partner. “You thinkin’ about what it’s going to be like, pretendin’ to join that group?”

Hutch nodded. “In a way, this will be the most alien thing we’ve ever tried to do as undercover cops. I think it’s human nature to question, to challenge authority occasionally. Shit, look at us with Dobey. We respect him, where it counts…but we’re also always trying to see how much we can get away with.”

“You’ll do fine, buddy. You can play by the rules when you need to.”

“I hope so.” He sighed. “That’s not what worries me the most, though. What if I get into it too much, start believing my own lies? What if they mess with my head so much that it all starts to make sense?”

Starsky shook his head. “Hutch, you said it yourself. You’ll remember…what the real world feels like, you’ll never forget what it’s like to be your own man, make your own decisions. People who go for this sort of thing…they want to be led, to have others make up their minds for them.

“They can’t screw you up too much in two weeks. And then I’ll be there.” Starsky grabbed the water bottle from his partner, took a generous swig. Hutch ineffectually tried to grab it back.

“Hey, give me that. Where’s yours?”

“In the car. Probably. I think.”

Hutch sighed. “Lawrence of Arabia, you are not.”

 

Part Four

Hutch stood in front of the small mirror, assessing his appearance. “Do I look non-threatening enough?” He was wearing faded but clean blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt, and work boots. Before they’d come out to Independence, he’d had his hair and moustache trimmed neatly.

Starsky snickered from his vantagepoint of lounging on the bed. “You look positively harmless. They might decide to keep you forever. Stop jittering, Hutch. The supply runner won’t be here for hours. You could still be asleep.” He yawned. “I could still be asleep.”

“I can’t just pop out there the moment the guy shows up,” explained Hutch, pulling a baseball cap out of his duffel bag and jamming it on his head. “That’d be way too suspicious. I should be sitting out by the curb, looking like a lost soul. Preferably reading something pious.”

“Getting sunstroke.”

“That’s what the hat’s for, dummy.” The battered headpiece proudly displayed the name of a feed store in Modesto. Hutch had been smug about finding it. “And there’s a spot down there in the shade. It’s not that hot yet, anyway.” He rifled through the small collection of reading material that he had brought to the desert. “I guess that the Reader’s Digest is pretty safe.” He rubbed his moustache thoughtfully. “‘Course, I stole it from Dobey’s office.”

“Oh, he won’t care. He just keeps that in there for me to read while I’m waiting to be chewed out for something stupid.” Starsky’s expression grew more serious. “Hey, Hutch?”

“Hmm?” Hutch was rearranging his duffel bag, selecting only innocuous items that he could take with him without raising suspicion.

“You know…you’re not a lost soul. Don’t let them make you believe that you are. If you go in there telling yourself you believe nothing, you’re gonna be even more vulnerable,” Starsky said quietly.

Hutch zipped up the bag and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You know I’m not exactly religious, Starsk, if that’s what you mean. That part’s going to be a little tough for me.”

“That’s not quite what I meant, but…yeah. Seems the only time I feel religious is when some creep’s got a gun pointed at your head, or mine. ‘Oh, God, please save our asses again!’ And most of what I was raised with, I don’t think about that often. But without the rules, without the window dressing…it all boils down to loving God, and loving your neighbor as yourself. Hutch, the first part’s your business, but I’d say you do pretty well with the second part. Neither of us is a saint, and there’s room in there for doubt, too, but….” Starsky trailed off lamely. “I guess you understand.”

Hutch squeezed his partner’s arm. “I think I do. If I’m just a…a blank piece of paper, it’ll be easier for them to just write their beliefs all over me; but if I can figure out what I do believe, even if it’s as simple as what you said, then they’ll have to use an eraser first.” He stood up, and abruptly changed topics. “Okay. Two weeks from today, I’ll be back. Stay up here that day, and keep your eyes peeled. Call in ‘sick’ to the garage or something that day, and make sure you have a few things packed. But don’t look too ready.”

“Yes, Mom.” Starsky sighed. “And if you’re not here? In two weeks?”

“Kathy has a map to the ranch. If I don’t come back, your best bet is to bring the Land Rover on out to the ranch, come ‘looking’ for me. Just play the worried friend. Either they’ll let you see me, or they won’t. If they will, I can pretend to convince you to stay for a while. If they won’t, then it’s up to you to bring in the troops and get me out of there.”

“You better believe it, Bozo. I’ll come in with a tank if I need to.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go down now and wait. When the guy shows up, I’ll ask him if I can ride out there as a possible new member. But I’ll tell him that I need to run up here and get my stuff and say goodbye. That should keep things from looking too canned, and it’ll let them know that I have a concerned friend in town who knows where I’m going. That should help protect me to a certain extent.” Hutch put his bag down, picked up the magazine. “Go back to sleep if you want; just make sure you’re here.”

“All right, farmer boy. See you in a while.”

~~~~~

Settled in the meager shade offered by the store awning, Hutch waited, half-dozing. Kathy had said that the Temple owned several Jeeps, but was unable to give the detectives much more help to identify the supply driver from the ranch. Several too-new, too-clean cars came and went, their occupants mostly coming back out of the store with groceries and cold drinks. A few locals wandered by on foot, giving the man on the sidewalk curious glances, but no one bothered him. Hutch tried to interest himself in the magazine, but gave up as it got hotter and the sun-glare made the letters dance recklessly on the page. He was just about to go inside the store for a few minutes to cool off when an appropriately dusty Jeep pulled up with a single occupant behind the wheel.

The man parked the Jeep practically in front of Hutch, and strode into the store without a backward glance. Tossing the magazine aside, Hutch got up and discreetly followed him in, fumbling in his pocket for loose change to buy a soda. He strolled around the store aisles for a while then selected a soda and got in line behind his subject. The Temple supply driver and the cashier finished their transaction (Hutch noticed that the man paid cash, a sizable amount), and Hutch hurriedly paid for his soda and stepped back out into the glare.

Out at the curb, the driver was loading bags and boxes into the back of the Jeep. Hutch carefully approached him. “Excuse me, sir,” he asked in his politest voice, “My name is Ken. I’m trying to make contact with the folks up at Temple of the Sinai. Would you be with them?”

The driver, dressed much like Hutch, appeared to scrutinize him slowly and deliberately. “I would. What’s your business?”

Hutch squelched an urge to smile brightly, and instead forced his face to remain serious. “I’d like to come up and talk with the elders, if I could. I’m…interested in visiting, maybe joining your group.” He was prepared to tell the rest of his story if necessary, but it would be easier if he could just tell them all at once and avoid trapping himself with inconsistencies. To his relief and surprise, the man shrugged.

“You can ride out with me today, if you want. But it’s up to the elders whether you can join.” He spoke slowly and laconically. Hutch nodded, trying to match the man’s deliberateness.

“Just let me go get my bag. I’m staying with a friend, and I should tell him where I’ve gone. Be right back.”

Hutch turned and walked unhurriedly across the street. As soon as the door to the apartment stairs closed behind him, he abandoned the nonchalant pose and ran up the stairs to the apartment. He burst into the room, startling a sleepy Starsky who was dozing in front of the television. “This is it! The driver doesn’t seem to mind.” He grabbed his duffel bag and denim jacket.

Starsky caught his elbow. “Hey, be careful, Hutch. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Hutch smiled. “That doesn’t limit me very much,” he answered lightly.

“You know what I mean, turkey. Just…be careful.”

“It’s just two weeks. We’ll both be fine.” Hutch reached down and squeezed his friend’s hand. “Don’t pester Kathy too much.” He turned and passed quickly through the door. Before I lose my nerve, he thought.

Starsky went to the windowsill and stared morosely out the window, watching as Hutch crossed the street and tossed his bag in the back of the Jeep. He sighed. “Hutch, how’d I let you talk me into this?” He shuddered. “You haven’t been gone thirty seconds, and already I’m talkin’ to myself. What a nutcase.

 

Part Five

Brother Isaiah, as Hutch soon learned his driver was called, was not much of a talker. The detective made a few efforts to stir up some conversation in hopes of finding out more about life on the ranch, but Brother Isaiah answered in monosyllabic grunts and kept his eyes fixed on the road. Hutch finally gave up, somewhat relieved, and settled back to enjoy the scenery. He glimpsed bright blue lizards, skinny raucous birds, and the occasional shiny snake, as well as a variety of vegetation. Aware of the punishing rays from the sun, now directly overhead, he opened up his bag and pulled out his tube of suntan lotion. Surreptitiously he managed to spread some of the white lotion on his arms and face. He felt a little foolish doing so, but realized that if he was supposed to have newly moved from the Midwest he would be even less accustomed to the desert sunlight than he actually was.

From the front seat of the Jeep, he could see that the terrain was becoming rougher, more hilly. Brother Isaiah turned the vehicle off of the main paved road onto a tiny scarred dirt road, and their pace slowed abruptly. The track wound up through the hills until Hutch had entirely lost his sense of direction. Several times, they had to stop because of rocks and boulders in the way. Each time, Hutch hopped out to move them, eager to ingratiate himself to Brother Isaiah. The last rock was the heaviest, and Hutch strained mightily, feeling as if his eyeballs were popping out, before he was able to move it.

Soon after that, the Jeep crested the hill and began to descend. Directly in front of them, below a stretch of amazingly steep dirt road, Hutch could see a tidy cluster of buildings and rail fences. As they jounced down the hill, the cluster resolved into a large, red-painted barn and several long, low white buildings. There also appeared to be several corrals as well as miscellaneous bits of farm equipment. Not exactly where you’d expect to find a den of killers, thought Hutch.

“Is this the place, Brother Isaiah?” Hutch asked politely.

“Yup,” came the answer.

~~~~

About twenty minutes later, Hutch was seated at a plain trestle table with a cup of surprisingly good coffee in front of him. Also seated at the table were three older men in work clothes, listening quietly to his “story.”

“After the divorce, well, I needed a change of pace. I’ve got an old friend living in Independence, so I mainly came out to visit him. When I called him, he mentioned that your group was up here, and it rung a bell with me.

“My sister, Elizabeth, was a member of the Montana branch of the Temple. I didn’t see her much after she and her family joined, but she always seemed content. She’s gone now, passed away three years ago trying to have a baby.”

There was a low murmur of sympathy around the table. After a brief pause, one of the men, whom Hutch had been introduced to as Brother Benjamin, spoke up. “Do you have any skills that will be of use to us here on the ranch? We’re a hard-working community.” With that question, Hutch felt the mood of the group shift imperceptibly, and he was certain he’d been accepted.

“I grew up in farming country, but it’s been years since I’ve done anything practical along those lines.” Better to be a fast learner, Hutch had decided, than to pretend to knowledge he didn’t have. “I’m a very hard worker, though.”

The three men rose as a unit. “Please,” said Brother Benjamin, “wait here a moment. We must go apart and pray, and therefore come to a decision.” They filed out, leaving Hutch alone with his thoughts in the half-dark room. Trying to appear the very picture of calm anticipation on the outside, he fretted and jittered internally until they returned.

They remained standing, so Hutch stood as well. Brother Benjamin gave a brief nod. “Welcome to the Temple of the Sinai. You will dwell amongst us and share our burdens. If at the end of a month you are still inclined to join us, you will then take vows and be given a new name. Until then, you are expected to live in obedience to all of the adults of the community. One of the younger brethren will show you to where you will sleep, and will take you around the rest of the ranch if you like. Tomorrow, we will decide what labor you are fit for.” The nod again, this time clearly a dismissal. Hutch nodded in return and left the building.

As he stepped, blinking, into the bright sunlight, a smiling ruddy-faced man approached Hutch. “I’m Brother Jacob. I’m to show you around, and tell you some of our customs.” He pointed at Hutch’s battered duffel bag. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Hutch nodded. Slipping the bag over his shoulder, he stuck out his hand. “The name’s Ken. At least, it is for another month.”

Brother Jacob shook the extended hand, then motioned for Hutch to follow him as they walked across the central compound. “You’ll stay in bachelor hall, across the way. We may as well get you settled, then I’ll show you around.”

~~~~

Starsky checked his watch. 4:50 p.m. He sauntered along the sidewalk to the county building, stopping to filch a pink rose from the bush standing by the main entrance. “Middle of the blinkin’ desert,” he grumbled to himself, “and they’ve got roses growing.” He scanned the black building directory as he walked in, noting that Kathy’s CPS office was on the second floor. As he emerged from the elevator, a sheriff’s deputy got on. Starsky automatically tucked the stolen rose under his arm, mostly succeeding in hiding it.

Kathy’s door was open. Starsky stuck the rose in his teeth and leaned around the doorway, wiggling his eyebrows Groucho Marx-style. The object of his affections was on the phone, arguing with someone in a heated voice. She nearly choked when she saw Starsky and his rose.

“Look, Harold, just get it done, okay? I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up the phone as Starsky swung himself up on one corner of the desk, removing the rose from his mouth and handing it to her with a flourish and his best smile.

“A desert flower for the original desert flower.”

Kathy took the thorny offering gingerly. “This looks awfully familiar, Detective. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was county property.”

Starsky smiled even more broadly. “Is it my fault this town doesn’t have a florist shop that I could find? A man does his best.”

Kathy giggled at him, her eyes on his mouth.

“Whassamatter, I got food in my teeth or something?” asked Starsky in a slightly wounded voice.

“No…. Aphids,” chortled Kathy, as Starsky headed quickly for the men’s room. She bent over the back of her chair, laughing, as strangled spitting sounds came from down the hall.

He returned a few minutes later, and Kathy was properly contrite. “I’m sorry, Sergeant Starsky. I shouldn’t have made fun of you like that. It was sweet of you to bring me the flower.”

Starsky grinned, good humor restored. “You can make it up to me by calling me David, and letting me take you out to dinner.”

“I’d love that. Where?”

“You tell me. The selection seems a little limited out here.”

She chewed her lip thoughtfully. Starsky noticed that she wore no makeup. “Well, there’s a little Mexican place. It’s only a few blocks from here. Great chile rellenos.”

Starsky offered his arm. “Lead on.”

 

Part Six

Night had fallen on the ranch, bringing with it a level of quiet that Hutch had rarely experienced except on solo camping trips. No traffic, no televisions…even the livestock was quiet, except for the occasional bleat or whimper. Once, faintly, he heard a baby crying, the sound of a hungry newborn. Hutch lay on his assigned bunk in the darkened “bachelor’s hall.” The room held about twenty bunks, though not all were occupied. In the dim moonlight coming from the windows, Hutch could make out the slats of the plainly constructed bunk bed above him.

A strange day, he thought to himself. Although he had been on edge when he arrived at the ranch, he had become more and more relaxed. His guide, Brother Jacob, had given him a detailed tour of the ranch, complete with a running commentary of people and customs. He was by far the most talkative person Hutch had met so far on this undercover episode.

It was hard to reconcile this harmonious, industrious enterprise with the story told by young Daniel, or the concerns raised by Kathy and her CPS people. Maybe it’s all a big misunderstanding, he thought drowsily. These people are strict, but it’s hard for me to imagine them beating their children, or sending a rebellious teen out to die in the desert. Maybe the boy had been unhappy, but it now seemed entirely possible that he ran away on his own after all.

Again, Hutch heard the infant’s faint cry, far off in one of the smaller family cottages. The sound reminded him of the other half of the investigation, the missing babies–or missing pregnancies, he amended. For all they knew, the poor women may have just miscarried from the illness…. Kathy had admitted that they hadn’t really been able to get much definitive proof of anything medical on the ranch.

He sighed to himself. Either there really had been crimes committed here, in which case he needed to keep his eyes open and his mouth shut, or there hadn’t been. If the latter, he was going to have a peaceful few weeks of the simple life, and he admitted to himself that he was actually rather looking forward to the experience. He grinned to himself, thinking about how Starsky would handle this plain, hardworking, Puritan atmosphere. No TV, radio or movies; no junk food or pizza delivery. Starsk, he thought…maybe you’d better hope I figure this case out before you get here.

~~~

“So who’s Harold?” asked Starsky. He and Kathy were strolling down the sidewalk of Independence’s main downtown street. The dinner had been simple, authentic and tasty; both had enjoyed a couple of beers with their spicy food. Starsky felt unexpectedly happy. As much as he already missed his partner, he had to admit that Kathy’s lively company helped a lot.

Kathy laughed. “Harold runs the garage. Technically speaking, I guess he’s your temporary boss. Didn’t you meet him yet?”

Starsky smacked himself in the forehead. “That’s right, that was his name. I guess I’d better actually go in tomorrow and play mechanic.”

“Just leave my car alone, please. Harold’s causing me enough grief as it is; all I need now is a cop pretending to be a mechanic.” She shook her finger at him threateningly, and Starsky took the opportunity to capture her hand and hold it lightly.

“He’s got your car? How’d you get to work, then?”

She threw her head back and laughed again. “Walked, of course. This isn’t LA, you know. We actually make use of our legs. I only live about half a mile from the office.”

They were passing the county building again, so Starsky hopped up onto the low concrete wall than ran in front of it. Still holding Kathy’s hand, he walked along the wall as if he were a tightrope walker, tiptoeing with exaggerated care. He stopped when he reached the stairs going up to the building.

“Do you need anything from your office? Because I intend to prove to you that LA people CAN walk by escorting you home.” He hopped off the wall and leaned close. “After all, there may be crazy cultists out, or snakes, or something.”

Kathy gently freed her hand. “It’s nighttime, David. The snakes are asleep. You’re welcome to walk me home, but I can take care of myself.” She smiled and patted his face, as if to take the sting out of her words. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Monster.”

“Monster?”

“My cat. He protects me from snakes, lizards and strange men.”

“Am I a strange man?” asked Starsky, trying to get a good look at her face in the dim light.

He heard her laugh softly, and felt her hand slipping back into his of its own accord. “Strange enough. But you’re cute, so we’ll see what Monster says.”

Fifteen more minutes of pleasant, companionable walking brought them to Kathy’s small house, a small bungalow that appeared white in the moonlight. She unlocked the door and led her guest inside. The house was tidy but sparsely furnished, with none of the feminine touches Starsky would have associated with a woman living alone. The floor was bare polished wood, and Kathy sat down on a chair near the door to remove her boots.

“Do you want me to take my shoes off, too?” asked Starsky, eyeing his dusty sneakers.

“Suit yourself. I just like the way the floor feels on my feet.” She wrenched the second boot off, and padded toward the living room. “Monster? Here, kitty, kitty!”

Starsky heard an answering sound from the living room: half growl, half chirrup. A scruffy orange cat walked stiff-legged into the front hallway, yowling back at his mistress. Kathy went down on one knee to scratch his ears.

“Come and meet him, David. He’s an old fellow, almost sixteen, but he still thinks he’s quite the fighter and hunter. Brings me little presents now and then, usually some poor lizard.”

Starsky stroked the cat’s back. “Why do you call him Monster?”

“I’m not sure who started that; might have been one of my old boyfriends. His real name is Promi. Short for Prometheus.” When Starsky looked at her quizzically, she explained. “In Greek mythology, Prometheus was the hero who captured fire from the gods and brought it back for mortals. I was going through a literary phase when I named him.” She rose and walked into the living room, gesturing for Starsky to join her. The cat followed them, weaving around their feet and bumping against Kathy’s ankles.

“You sound like Hutch,” commented Starsky, as they sat on the couch. “Every once in a while he comes up with obscure things like that.” He sighed. “I wonder how he’s doin’ out there.”

Kathy was amused. “David, he just left today. I’m sure everything is fine.” She sat back, and turned slightly to get a better look at her date’s face. “Do you always worry about him like this?”

“No, not usually…but I don’t usually let him go off by himself for two weeks like this. It’s gonna get to me even worse before it’s over.” Starsky snorted. “Maybe it would be better if I felt like I was going to actually do something useful here while he’s out there settin’ up our cover.”

“You mean, helping Harold mess up my transmission doesn’t sound useful enough?” asked Kathy with mock astonishment.

“I think I’ll spend a few hours down there tomorrow, but if it’s okay with you I’d like to come by your office and go through the files on the cult. Maybe I can find some little bits that’ll help me when I get out there.” Starsky glanced at the Kit-Kat wall clock hanging by the window. “It’s getting late, and you’ve got to work tomorrow.” He rose. “I’d better get on back.”

Somewhat to his disappointment, Kathy did not urge him to stay, but she did walk him to the door. “Have a nice walk, David, and sleep well. Thanks for dinner. And thanks for breaking up the routine around here a little bit.” She stood on tiptoe, kissed him lightly. “Don’t steal any more roses, though. There’s a fifty-dollar fine if you get caught.”

~~~

Hutch was awakened at an early hour by the sounds of the other men in the bunkhouse, preparing for their day.

There was an old-fashioned basin and pitcher at one end of the room, and he could hear sounds of splashing and shaving as well as the thump of heavy boots on the wood floor. It struck Hutch as somewhat odd, however, that he heard none of the joking banter and good-natured grumbling that he would have expected from more than a dozen boys and young men getting ready at such an unearthly hour. Such serious people, he thought to himself. Maybe I’m just so used to Starsky’s clowning around. Reluctantly, he climbed from the warm bed and dressed.

After a communal and silent breakfast of oatmeal and fruit, Hutch walked to the building he had come to think of as “ranch headquarters.” This was a smaller structure that served both as living quarters for Brother Benjamin and his family, who seemed to be the cult leader, and as an office for the ranch’s financial affairs. There, he was interviewed briefly by the elder and his wife, Sister Ruth.

“I think we’ll use you both in the dairy and in the school,” concluded Brother Benjamin. “You’re well educated, and we always need help teaching the young ones their letters. But they’ve got the week off right now to help with planting. Go to Sister Hannah in the dairy, and she’ll show you your duties.”

Thus dismissed, Hutch found his way to the dairy, having been shown the building the previous day. The Temple kept goats, but no milk cows, and Brother Jacob had told him that the group made their own cheese and yogurt with the resulting milk. Hutch stuck his head inside the clean little building. “Hello?”

“Come in,” answered a low voice. Hutch did so, and was surprised to see a young woman in front of him. For some reason, he had been expecting another Sister Ruth–stout, middle-aged and brisk. The dairy mistress appeared to be in her mid-twenties and had none of Sister Ruth’s bustling mannerisms.

“My name is Ken. I’ve just been admitted as a seeker. Are you Sister Hannah?”

She nodded, green eyes meeting his only for an instant before she looked demurely away. She was of medium height, and slender, with dark blonde hair coiled under a white kerchief. “I am.”

Hutch cleared his throat. “I’ve been assigned to help you, I guess. If…if that’s okay with you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “That will be nice. I haven’t had a helper for the last few weeks, since….” She trailed off. “Have you ever worked in a dairy before?”

Hutch gave her what he hoped was a winning smile. “No, but I’m a fast learner, and I’m sure you’ll be an excellent teacher.”

Sister Hannah blushed and looked away again. “No, I’m not a very good teacher, but the work isn’t difficult.” She took a deep breath. “Come. Let me show you what we do.”

 

Part Seven

Gradually, Hutch’s days on the ranch fell into a routine. Every morning he rose early and joined the others at breakfast, which was always eaten in silence. Mornings were spent in the dairy, processing the goats’ milk from the milking of the previous night and from that morning. Sister Hannah taught him how to make both a fresh cheese and a strong, salty cheese that was later aged. They were also responsible for the use and upkeep of the ranch’s single large refrigerator, run by a generator, that stored the cult’s most perishable items. For the most part, though, the members eschewed technological advances such as refrigeration, preferring to live off simple foods such as grains, fruits and vegetables.

Hannah explained that the Temple teaching did not require vegetarianism. “But we have little meat, only when we butcher one of the sheep or goats, so it is reserved for special occasions. Then, we roast and eat an entire beast at once.”

Since Hutch was much stronger, physically, that his slender instructor, he went out of his way to help her with the heavy jugs of milk and crocks of fresh cheese. He wondered about their conversation of his first day, how she had hinted at having had help in the dairy once before. On his third day he decided to broach the subject.

“There’s a lot of work around here for just one person,” he observed casually. “How did you keep up before they assigned me to you?”

“Not very well, for the last couple of weeks,” she admitted. She was growing less shy now, and seemed to be getting used to having Hutch around. She still, however, tended to avert her eyes when she spoke to him. “I used to come back in the evenings to finish, when I was supposed to be meditating.” She flushed guiltily. “Before that Brother Aaron and I kept up pretty well, even though he was just a boy.”

“Brother Aaron?” asked Hutch, innocently. “I don’t think that I’ve met him. Did he get tired of the dairy and move on?”

She shook her head, the slight movement rippling the snowy white kerchief on the head. “No…,” she said faintly, “I think this was the only place he was happy. He was like a little brother to me, especially after my husband died.” The words, spoken matter-of-factly, struck Hutch hard enough to distract him from his intention to pursue the subject of Aaron. This grave and gentle young woman was already a widow, at the ripe old age of, what? Twenty-three or twenty-four?

“I’m sorry,” murmured Hutch. The words seemed pitifully inadequate. “How…how did you lose your husband?”

She pressed her lips together, and did not answer for a moment. “An accident,” she said finally, walking out of the dairy with a pair of scoured milk buckets to return to the milking shed. She was already out of earshot before Hutch realized she still hadn’t fully explained what she knew about her former assistant, Brother Aaron.

It’s got to be the same one, Daniel’s brother! he thought excitedly. Same name, and Daniel’s brother had been only seventeen years old. Plus, Hannah had implied that the boy had been unhappy here on the ranch. Did she, perhaps, know what had really become of Aaron?

Did anyone?

~~~

Afternoons of his first week were spent, along with most of the rest of the ranch’s male members, working on the spring planting. The hard labor was not exactly pleasant, but it was mindless, and it allowed Hutch to free up his brain to begin to puzzle out some of the mysteries. What had really happened to Hannah’s husband, and to Aaron? Where were the missing babies? And why did Hannah seem to be hiding something?

Hutch had to admit to himself that he was becoming increasingly preoccupied with the young dairymaid; more so since she had let slip her widowed status. He’d noticed the plain wedding band at their first meeting; it had made sense, with her covered hair and serious adult manner. He had the feeling that these people married young. Yet now, when he was working at various mind-numbing tasks, he felt his mind wander back to her–to her soft voice, her shy half-hidden face, her graceful motions as she went about her tasks.

He put off reopening the conversations about Aaron and the deceased husband, curiously reluctant to disturb her composure. Instead, he coaxed her to talk about everyday matters. He discovered that, as a widow without children, she had moved back in with her sister and brother-in-law. He learned that she had a small patch of herbs growing by her sister’s cabin, and that she knew much of their culinary and medicinal uses. He found that she knew a surprising amount about nutrition and vitamins. Questioning her about this one day, he made a chilling discovery whose significance he almost didn’t see at first.

“How do you know so much about this?” he asked one day, watching her prepare an iron-containing tonic for her pregnant sister. He had maneuvered around behind her, looking over her shoulder, not-quite touching her back.

She smiled wistfully. “There was a nurse who came out here a while back, from town, to teach us. She had a special class for…some of us.”

Reflexively, Hutch shot her a startled glance. Head down, grinding away with a mortar and pestle, she didn’t appear to have noticed. He swallowed, throat suddenly gone dry, and tried to pick up the conversation without missing a beat.

“Well, you must have been a good student,” he said lightly. “Was the nurse training you to become the ranch healer, or something?” he asked, trying to get some clarification on what her words implied.

“No, I guess I just remembered better than the other pre…the other women in the class. I really wanted to learn something new.” The brief slip of the tongue, uttered in Hannah’s low voice, was unmistakable.

Pregnant. Hutch’s mind filled in the missing letters, and his head reeled. He struggled to keep his surprise off his face. Hannah must have been one of the pregnant women in the nurse’s nutrition classes, during the rubella epidemic two years ago. But where was her baby?

He cleared his throat. “It’s almost noon, I should be going. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled at Hannah as he left.

Today was Tuesday of his second week with the cult. This week he was spending his afternoons at the school, helping the children with their lessons one on one. The cult’s children were extraordinarily well behaved; the teacher merely taught a few lessons and then set them at their work. Hutch’s job was merely to drift around and help out when the youngsters were puzzled. He also taught a daily geography and history lesson, though the later was substantially watered down. Reading and mathematics were the main curriculum, but information about the outside world was scant.

Because of the desert heat, the children did their chores in the morning cool, then spent the long hot afternoon sitting quietly in school. It made sense, Hutch realized; but it also made the schoolroom a sleepy, stuffy place. He was glad when the session was over and he could return to the bunkhouse to wash before supper.

That night he lay awake, thinking about his conversation with Hannah. He’d been unimaginably lucky to be assigned to help her, he now realized. If he could be patient and earn her trust, perhaps he could coax the rest of the story out of her, and find out what had happened to her baby and the others.

And then what? Originally, the detectives had hoped to gather enough evidence to justify a raid on the ranch, sneak out, and send in a larger force with a warrant. Hutch now realized that if Hannah truly had knowledge of murders committed at the Temple of the Sinai, he and Starsky would need to sneak her out as well, to testify. Deep in his heart, he also knew that he didn’t want to leave her here in the hands of these people, if there was any truth to the story. Taking Hannah along would complicate matters greatly…. Hutch realized that he desperately needed his partner to confer with, to bounce things off of. Working alone was more difficult that he’d imagined.

He finally drifted off to sleep, only to have uneasy dreams in which he asked Hannah to leave with him only to have her betray him to the elders.

~~~

Sunday at the ranch was spent in quiet prayer and contemplation. Only absolutely necessary labor was performed. Unfortunately for Hutch and Hannah, goats didn’t take Sundays off. They met at the dairy earlier than usual to process the available milk and still be at the group worship service on time.

As they hurried to finish, Hutch laid a hand on Hannah’s forearm, almost without thinking. He had never touched her physically prior to this, and he felt her bare arm beneath his hand as if he had never touched human flesh before. She drew back and raised startled green eyes to his face.

“I’m sorry,” Hutch murmured. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted you to know I won’t be here tomorrow morning to help you. I’m riding back into town in the morning with Brother Isaiah. I need to talk with my friend, David, up in Independence. I want to see if I can get him to come up here for a while.” He smiled at her reassuringly. “But I’ll be back by late afternoon. I won’t be teaching on Monday, so I can come back and see if you need any help.”

Hannah looked away, and didn’t answer. Unwilling to end the conversation on that note, he pressed further. “Do you want me to bring you anything from town, Hannah?” He had never called her by her first name before, only “Sister.”

She shook her head. “Ken,” she whispered, “why do you want to bring your friend here? Leave him where he is, where he has a life.” Hutch was amazed to see her eyes fill with tears. She brushed past him and was abruptly gone in a rustle of skirts.

 

Part Eight

Starsky reached out and smacked the side of the tiny television with his fist, attempting to improve the picture. When he really thought about it, he knew that hitting it wasn’t going to help, but some primitive part of his brain felt better when he took out his frustrations on the inanimate object. Giving up, he leaned back on the lumpy couch and replaced his feet on the coffee table. Glancing up at the wall clock, he swore under his breath when he realized it was already noon.

“Dammit, Hutch, what’s taken you so long?” he muttered aloud. “You shoulda been here by now. What, are you travelin’ by mule this time?” He resisted the urge to peek out the curtains again; he had already done so many times that morning and had begun to realize that it must look suspicious from the street. He sighed, and popped open the can of soda that he held in his lap, lifting it to his mouth for a refreshing swig. Might as well enjoy the comforts of civilization while he could…. Edgy as he was, he nearly choked on the cola when he heard the key turn in the lock. He reached for his weapon, lying on the couch beside him, just in case it wasn’t Hutch. To his immense relief the door opened and Starsky was treated to the familiar sight of his partner, grinning widely.

Starsky slammed the soda back down on the coffee table, where it teetered precariously for a moment, and leapt to his feet. Annoyance forgotten for the moment, he greeted his friend with an exuberant hug. “Hutch! My God, am I glad to see you!”

Hutch stepped back, laughing. “So. Looks like you missed me after all.”

“You better believe it,” said Starsky fervently, running one hand through his hair. “I’ve been goin’ nuts here. What took you so long?”

His partner perched on the arm of the couch. “We ran over a yucca plant, gave the Jeep a flat. Took a while to get it changed. Are you ready to go?”

“Hutch, I’ve been ready for hours.” Starsky picked up a knapsack and swung it over his shoulder. He reached into a dresser drawer and handed Hutch the gun he’d left behind two weeks ago. “You want this back now?”

“Just bury both of ’em in your bag. They never even looked at my stuff, and I’ll just be sure not to let anyone carry it but me or you.” Hutch noticed the half-finished soda on the table. “Hey, you gonna finish that?”

Starsky snatched the can up. “That’s mine, buddy. You get your own.”

Hutch eyed the empties scattered around the room. “All right…but I should warn you: Brother Isaiah doesn’t like to make pit stops, AND he hits all the potholes.” He laughed as his partner abruptly put down the knapsack and headed for the bathroom.

On the way down the stairs, Starsky stopped and turned to his partner. “Hey, Hutch, instead of riding out with you and your new friend, why don’t I just drive that beast that you made us bring? That way, we’d have our own transportation out there if things go sour on us.”

Hutch shook his head. “No can do, buddy. I asked the elders that yesterday. They told me they don’t allow any vehicles on the property that don’t belong to the Temple. I don’t think Dobey would be too happy if we signed over the title on the Land Rover to the cult.”

~~~

In many respects, Hutch thought that his second ride out to the ranch was more difficult than the first, despite having Starsky’s company. The first time, he had been concentrating on maintaining his cover at first but had been eventually able to enjoy himself. This time…he was thoroughly sick of the bouncy ride of the Jeep and of the arid landscape, as well of being conscious of playing a role a far as his relationship with Starsky was concerned. For his part, Starsky did a splendid job of being the skeptical friend; he grumbled good-naturedly about Hutch’s interest in the cult and bemoaned this use of his “vacation” time. Hutch had to be conscious every moment of talking and acting like a Temple member: serious-minded and quiet. It was frustrating to have his partner with him again but to not be able speak freely or engage in their usual banter. Brother Isaiah, after the initial introductions, didn’t say more than two words the entire trip, and for the most part ignored his two passengers.

When they arrived at the ranch, Hutch was careful to make sure that he picked up Starsky’s knapsack with the incriminating firearms inside. He directed his friend to the room where he had been interviewed on his first day, and they sat to await the elders.

Starsky’s interview went a little differently than Hutch’s. Since they were trying to establish Starsky’s persona as that of the skeptical and concerned friend, Starsky didn’t pretend to be actually all that interested in joining the cult. On the other hand, if he came across as openly hostile, both men knew that the cult members would be suspicious of Starsky and their chances of learning any more useful information would be greatly diminished. It was a delicate balance they were trying to walk.

At first, the elders were more inclined to give Starsky “guest” status: to let him observe without participating or doing any work. Hutch managed to smoothly interject something about the inner peace he had found from the simple manual labor and how he was sure it would help his friend find direction in his life. Starsky shot him a dirty look that Hutch was sure was only partially feigned.

In the end, they assigned Starsky to help look after the cult’s four battered Jeeps and assorted tractors, since he appeared to have no other skills particularly useful to an agricultural community. They reminded both men that they were to live by the rules of the Temple, and dismissed them so that Hutch could show his friend around.

As they left the building, Starsky began to grumble under his breath. “Hutch, I’m sick of workin’ on cars.”

Hutch chuckled. “If you want, I’ll go back in there and tell them you’re an expert ditch digger, and you can help dig the new latrine.”

Starsky stared at him. “You’re kiddin’, right?”

“Welcome to paradise.” Hutch clapped his partner on the shoulder and led him to the bunkhouse.

~~~

“Hutch, this is a waste of our time, here. We got nothin’ concrete to work with. We need to stir things up somehow, make ’em show themselves. These people are on their best behavior for us.”

It was early evening on the ranch, three days after Starsky’s arrival. Supper had just finished, and the cult members were each slipping off for what they referred to as “meditation time.” Hutch had begun to suspect that the men mostly got together and talked, while their wives used the peace and quiet to get in a last hour or two of work. At any rate, it was the one time of day that he and Starsky could wander away and talk together privately. Since Hutch was supposed to be “converting” his reluctant friend, no one had bothered to interfere with their quiet, earnest conversations.

On the whole, the cult members had gone out of their way to be welcoming to Starsky. The curly-haired detective could exude a great deal of charm when he chose, and the inhabitants of the ranch had proved to be just as susceptible as anyone else. The older women tried to mother him; the younger ones giggled when he was near and even flirted shyly, as long as a proper chaperone was present. The other single men in the bunkhouse were quick to be kind and hospitable. But despite the careful friendliness, despite the many conversations that Starsky endured on the subject of his religious beliefs, the two men had yet to make any further headway on their investigation.

Even Hannah seemed to be guarding her tongue more carefully. She had been visibly relieved to see Hutch return from his trip into town, which gave Hutch hope that the dairymaid was starting to see her assistant as a friend and ally. But she made no more revealing statements, no more mysterious hints, and she seemed to watch Hutch more warily. Hutch wondered if she regretted having revealed as much as she had.

“Earth to Hutch. You spacin’ out on me?”

Hutch shook his head. “Sorry. Just thinking about Hannah. Starsk, maybe we should just snatch her and go. I know she’s not happy here.”

“Hutch, you said yourself you’re not even sure how much she knows. She might agree to go with you–I think she would, from what you say–but what if she doesn’t have any first-hand knowledge? And if she does, what if she won’t testify? We need more than that,” stated Starsky emphatically. “If we blow it, scram out of here too soon without enough for a tight case, no one’ll get another chance. They’ll be too suspicious out here.”

Hutch sighed. “Yeah…you’re right.” He glanced at his partner. “You got any ideas?”

“We need to set a trap, somehow. Force them to show their true colors.”

“And how do you propose to do this?” asked Hutch, with a feeling that he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“We use me as bait.” Starsky held up one hand as his partner tried to interrupt. “Wait, let me finish, Hutch. I know you’re not gonna like this…but it makes sense. They’re into obedience, right? And Daniel thinks that his brother was offed because he was rebellious? All I have to do is mouth off a little, break some rules. You know that’s gonna be more believable comin’ from me than you, golden boy. They’re ready to nominate you for sainthood.”

“Very funny.” Hutch ran his hand through his hair. “Starsk, it’s dangerous. I don’t like it. We don’t know what these people are capable of.” He looked thoughtfully at his partner. “Are you sure you want to try this?”

“Hutch, if we don’t do something, I’m gonna go nuts. I think I’m more in danger from boredom than from a beating.” Starsky’s face held a pleading expression.

Hutch nodded. “All right. But we’re going to be careful about it.” He smiled. “So, what exactly do you have in mind for your fall from grace? Nothing illegal, though.”

“I’ll work out the sordid details and get back to you, buddy.”

 

Part Nine

Hutch stared moodily into his coffee mug, swirling the dregs around. He was acutely conscious of the empty place next to him at the long trestle table, and it took no special acting effort on his part to appear worried and concerned. This was the third morning that he’d eaten breakfast alone, while Starsky snored obliviously back at the bunkhouse; Hutch could not help but notice the sidelong glances he was getting from the other men.

They’d had a long discussion that night, trying to figure out how best to get Starsky into trouble with the cult elders. Drunk and disorderly would have been a great start, but there was no alcohol on the ranch other that a little homemade wine used for ceremonial purposes. Seducing one of the single girls would certainly had worked, but both men objected to this for both practical reasons (most of the unmarried girls were minors) and personal distaste toward using an innocent person in that way. Starsky suggested that he swipe one of the jeeps and go joyriding in the desert, until Hutch reminded him that the jeeps were property of the cult. They needed to accomplish their objective without committing any blatantly illegal acts.

In the end, they were forced to resort to simply letting Starsky be an exaggerated version of his real self. He would stay out late (“Doing what?” Starsky had complained rhetorically), sleep late, show up at the “motor pool” for work only when he felt like it, and in general manage to break all of the community’s little everyday rules that the two detectives could think of. While Hutch knew that his partner really wasn’t lazy, slovenly or disrespectful, he knew that in real life Starsky enjoyed playing the rebel a little bit…especially when it came to teasing authority figures until they went over the edge. The cult elders were not the same breed as the blustering Captain Dobey, however; Hutch had the feeling that when the reaction came it would be quiet, cold, and deadly.

Having finished his meager breakfast, Hutch left the building and began to head for the dairy. A hand on his arm stopped him. He looked up into the sober face of Brother Benjamin.

“Your friend, David…he is not feeling well again?” asked the elder solicitously.

Hutch cleared his throat. “I’m not sure, Brother. I…just couldn’t get him to get up. He muttered something at me, told me to leave him alone.”

The cult elder nodded, his gaze impenetrable. “Perhaps he is not ill, then, merely homesick for his old life.”

“Perhaps.” Hutch swallowed. Uh-oh, he thought, they’re just going to kick him out, and we’ll never know….

“I myself will call on him this morning and see what may be done to correct this situation.”

“Yes, Brother,” answered Hutch meekly. “Should I be there as well?”

“I think not. Go on about your work. Sister Hannah will be expecting you.”

Hutch nodded. He knew that his own standing in the community was still too tenuous for him to get away with any significant back-talk. Starsk, he said to himself, I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.

~~~

Never had the morning’s routine chores in the dairy seemed to take so long. Hutch knew that he was having a difficult time hiding his distraction, and he was uncharacteristically clumsy. Milk was knocked over, salt was mis-measured…finally, Hannah spoke in her soft voice.

“Ken, whatever is the matter? You’re a million miles away this morning.”

Thinking rapidly, Hutch decided that his best refuge lay in honesty. “It’s my friend, David. He’s not really fitting in around here. Maybe you were right…maybe I should have left him where he was, in his old life.”

“He’s not happy here? No one will make him stay, if he doesn’t want to.”

Hutch thought he detected a hint of bitterness in her voice. “I’m not sure. Actually, he seems to be enjoying himself, but his attitudes…I’m afraid he’s going to get into trouble.” Greatly daring, he decided to press her on her comment. “Hannah? What if someone like you, who’s been here for years…what if you wanted to leave? How hard would it be, to get permission?”

She turned away, and Hutch could barely hear her answer. “It’s just not done. It seems that no one has ever wanted to leave.” This time, the bitterness was unmistakable.

Before Hutch could come up with a coherent answer to Hannah’s revelation, he was distracted by the sounds of shouting. Even from a distance, he could pick out Starsky’s voice, rising with belligerence and anger. With Hannah at his heels, he dashed outside to the center of the compound. Here we go, he thought.

With a burly cult member hanging onto either arm, Starsky was struggling to break free, and swearing at the top of his lungs. “Let me go, you sons-of-bitches! We’re going to settle this like men!”

Brother Benjamin stood, unmoving, in front of Starsky. “Calm yourself, Brother. There are women and children here. You are only making things worse for yourself.”

With enormous effort, Starsky actually managed to get one arm free momentarily. For a split second, Hutch thought his partner was actually going to take a swing at Brother Benjamin…but then he had to choke back a completely incongruous laugh as Starsky instead made a very obscene gesture before his arms were pinned once again. With relief, Hutch noted that neither his partner nor the cult members displayed any obvious bruises or other physical evidence of the altercation, other than Starsky’s mussed hair and wild-eyed appearance.

Starsky finally ran out of invective, pausing to breathe heavily. Brother Benjamin cleared his throat. “David, you have disturbed the peace of our community, and displayed a rebellious spirit.” Hutch repressed a shudder at the memory of the boy Daniel using those very words to describe his brother Aaron, before his death or disappearance. “It is fitting that you be punished for this. You will be confined by yourself while we discuss your punishment.” He motioned to the two men restraining Starsky. “Take him away, but do not hurt him, or allow him to injure you.” Throughout the entire episode, Brother Benjamin continued to speak in the same quiet, reasonable tone.

Hutch turned to Hannah, standing half-forgotten at his side, as Starsky was dragged away. “That’s it? Doesn’t he get a chance to say anything, to defend himself?”

Hannah shook her head, obviously confused and distressed. “What is there to say? You saw it, Ken. He treated the elders with disrespect; that’s enough.” She laid a trembling hand on Hutch’s arm; this time it was his turn to jump at the slight contact. “Ken…I hope your friend is strong. I’ve…seen this happen before.” She took a deep breath. “They will whip him, to drive out the rebellious spirit.”

~~~

That afternoon, events unfolded with surprising swiftness. Seated again at one of the long tables in the communal dining area, Hutch listened dully as Brother Benjamin read the pronouncement during lunch. “To our great distress, our newest seeker has shown himself to be in need of correction. This correction will be carried out today at one o’clock. All members are requested to be present to observe and pray for the soul of David, our seeker.”

Correction, Hutch thought to himself. What a lovely euphemism to use for the act of beating the crap out of someone. He’d tried to get permission to see Starsky, of course; he knew that simple concern wouldn’t blow his cover…but Brother Benjamin had refused to allow him to visit his friend. He toyed with the tasteless food in front of him, suddenly thinking of one of his partner’s beloved chili dogs. He realized that he was completely, thoroughly, sick of this place. Sick of the food, the routine, the mind-numbing dullness of the work. Sick of everything and everyone…except Hannah, he reminded himself. Hutch was more certain now that Hannah knew enough to make a valuable witness to illegal practices within the cult; and their last, abortive conversation renewed his hope that she might be willing to flee the ranch and testify. He knew that time was running out…that he needed to confront her, find out how much she actually knew. He wondered if he was simply getting too soft for this kind of undercover work…too weak to use Hannah’s trust and friendship against her, too weak to use his partner to bait a trap.

Hutch knew he would have to be there, watching, while the cult members whipped his friend. Not only would his absence get him into trouble with the elders and jeopardize his cover, but he needed to be there for his partner’s safety. He would carry his gun and badge, well hidden. If he thought for one moment that Starsky was in danger of more than pain and humiliation, he’d call a halt to the whole thing, and the hell with the investigation.

~~~

At the appointed time, the entire community gathered in the central compound. Hutch was horrified to see that the cult members’ children were present as well as the adults. He watched, feeling eerily spaced-out and disembodied, as a shirtless Starsky was led to a sturdy pole and his arms secured around it. Brother Benjamin, his face expressionless, supervised the preparations. When all was ready, he motioned one of the other cult members to come forward. No words were spoken as the other man, whom Hutch vaguely recognized, picked up a long leather bullwhip and approached Starsky.

Starsky turned his head, and for a moment his eyes met Hutch’s. Staring back at his partner, Hutch saw resignation, determination and a little honest fear. Then Starsky turned away, the man with the whip raised his arm, and Hutch closed his eyes in silent, nauseated sympathy as he heard the lash hit his friend’s unprotected back. Twenty lashes had been ordered, and the count was slow. Hutch forced himself to open his eyes after the first ten.

From this distance, he could see that Starsky’s color was good, his body still holding itself upright of his own accord. His back, though…his back displayed angry red weals, with bright red blood beginning to ooze. The second ten strokes proceeded with agonizing slowness, but Starsky made no sound, standing resolute and immobile.

As soon as he was certain that his partner was alive and conscious, Hutch stumbled away and lost what little bit of lunch he had been able to eat.

 

Part Ten

To Hutch’s surprise, Starsky was released to his partner’s care as soon as the flogging was completed. His hands were unbound, his shirt was replaced, and Hutch was allowed to help him carefully back to the bunkhouse. Starsky hissed in pain with each step as the rough fabric of his shirt shifted over the whip cuts, but he said nothing until they were inside the deserted sleeping quarters.

“Damn, that hurt,” he whispered, sitting down on Hutch’s lower bunk. Climbing up to his own upper bunk had been out of the question. Hutch winced when he saw that blood was already beginning to seep through Starsky’s shirt.

“Let’s get that off of you before it starts to stick.” Carefully, Hutch helped his partner remove the shirt, then coaxed him to lie down on his stomach on top of the bed. “God, Starsk…you’re a mess.”

“How bad is it?” asked Starsky, his voice barely audible.

Bad enough, thought Hutch, sitting down on the edge of the narrow bunk. Aloud he said, “Mostly just bad welts, but three or four of them are actually cuts, and that’s where the blood is coming from.” He swallowed. “You might scar a little from those.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Starsky’s face. “Hey, the chicks dig scars.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Hutch stood up, hands clenched at his sides. “Dammit, Starsk,” he said in a hushed but heated voice, “haven’t you got enough scars already? My God, in a few more years your back is going to look like a roadmap! This was a totally unnecessary risk for you to take. We didn’t learn anything, and we can hardly make much of a case out of one incident of corporal punishment.” He started pacing in the gap between bunks, which only allowed him room for a few steps. “Maybe we should call this whole thing off before one of us gets really hurt.”

Starsky waited until his partner was momentarily quiet. “Finished with your rant, now?”

Hutch sighed and sat back down on the bunk. “Yeah….” He dropped his head into his hands for a moment. “Starsk, do you have any idea how very tired I am of seeing you shot, beat up, poisoned, and kidnapped? After a while, it gets pretty old…makes me a little crazy.”

“Comes with the job, buddy. If we wanted a safe, boring life, we shoulda been accountants.”

Hutch smiled at that. “Now that’s a frightening mental image. You as an accountant.” He squeezed Starsky’s shoulder briefly, trying to avoid any of the welts. “Why don’t you just rest for a moment? I’m going to go talk with Hannah, see if she has anything to put on these cuts. Then we can figure out our next move.”

 ~~~

Hutch found Hannah in the dairy, straightening up for the day. When he explained his errand, she immediately stopped what she was doing and began rummaging in a basket. “Of course I’ll help him, Ken. The poor man. I had to close my eyes today, I couldn’t stand to watch. He looks too much like….” Her hands came up with a large roll of gauze and a small jar. “Ah, here we go.”

She insisted on accompanying him back to the bunkhouse, to tend to Starsky’s wounds herself. “It’s all right. No one will mind; I’m really the only one here who knows much about this sort of thing.” She shook her head ruefully. “And, you could say I’ve had some experience caring for victims of Temple discipline.”

Hutch wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but they had arrived at the bunkhouse. Hannah quickened her step, reaching Starsky’s side before he did. She knelt to inspect the wounds, and uttered a low wordless cry of distress at the sight. Starsky turned his head slightly to look at her.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered. “This angel must be your boss. You didn’t tell me she was so pretty.”

“Sssh, hold still,” answered Hannah, blushing slightly in the dim light. “I’ll need to wash your back, then we’ll put the salve on and wrap you up. You’ll be okay, but you’ll be sore for a few days.” She proceeded to suit action to words, cleaning and dressing the wounds deftly. Hutch knelt by his partner’s head, talking to him reassuringly but feeling generally useless.

He glanced over at Hannah, and was surprised to see that the look of gentle concern on her face had been replaced by one of tight-lipped anger. She finished securing the bandage and stalked around to the head of the bed where Starsky could see her. “You must listen to me, David, if you know what’s good for you. Either leave now, while you still can…or learn to do as you’re told, keep your mouth shut.” Her eyes filled with tears, and when she spoke next she used a whisper. “Why can’t you men learn? Why is your pride so important to you? Why–?” She stopped, unable to continue, and bowed her head.

Later, Hutch would never be able to remember how the flash of insight finally came to him…how his tired brain finally put together all of the little hints Hannah had given him. Maybe it was his subconscious working overtime, maybe it was just dumb luck; but he would never know exactly where his next words came from.

“Hannah, look at me,” he said softly. “Hannah, your husband. What happened to him? Was he beaten like this? Or worse?” Heart pounding, he waited for her to answer, or take flight.

For a moment, she stood there, trembling, and Hutch could almost feel her gathering her resolve. “Yes,” came the almost inaudible answer. “He was beaten. Many times.”

Time to take the next risk. “Enough to kill him?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and neutral.

Her answering shake was more emphatic this time. “No…at least…that’s not how he died.” She covered her face with her hands. Hutch started to go to her, but Starsky snaked out a hand and yanked him back.

“Just leave her alone,” Starsky breathed in his partner’s ear. “She’s gonna tell you. If you touch her, you’ll scare her.” Both men watched quietly as the dairymaid struggled to compose herself. She sat down awkwardly on one of the empty bunks; after a few moments she spoke again.

“Caleb always got into trouble with the elders, over little things. He was full of new ideas, wanted to improve everything. He thought we should send members out for more education. The first time he was beaten, it was for arguing about me. We weren’t married yet, just promised to one another. I told him that I wished I could go to college, study to become a nurse. He…felt strongly about it, and took my request to the elders. I guess he couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He was whipped, just like you were today, David. I dressed his wounds and pleaded with him not to make them angry.” She shuddered with the returning memory. “After we were married, he kept quiet for a while, then started speaking out again. He was whipped publicly three more times.”

With great effort, Starsky managed to sit up, supported by his partner. “Hannah,” asked the injured detective, “how did he die?”

She looked down at her hands, twisted together in her lap. “I was pregnant,” she whispered. “We were so happy. I wasn’t even starting to show yet, but Caleb was so proud. When the nurse from the county came out to teach her nutrition classes, he made sure I was involved. Then…people started getting sick, with a rash and fever, and the nurse got really worried. She told us that the disease could hurt my baby.”

Hutch realized, with a sickening clarity, that he knew where this was going. “What did Caleb say when he found out?”

“He wanted to take me away, to town…get me a real obstetrician, and have the baby born where it could get the help it needed. First, he asked for permission, but they wouldn’t let us go. So…we tried to sneak away one night, on foot. They caught us.” Her voice shook. “The elders sentenced him to death. Sacrificed, and burned upon the altar.”

Hutch didn’t trust himself to speak…he was afraid that if he did, he would be throwing up for the second time that day. It was Starsky who broke the silence. “Hannah…did you see this? Did those bastards make you watch?”

She nodded. “They made us all watch.”

“And your baby?” prompted Starsky gently.

“He was born six months later, with deformities. You could tell he was blind, and there were other things wrong.” She began to cry. “He was all I had left of Caleb, but they sacrificed him too, because he wasn’t perfect. Just like all the others, the other deformed babies.”

The two detectives looked at each other. Now was the time for sympathy, for reassurance…and for Hannah to get some answers. Hutch walked over, sat down next to the young woman. “Hannah, it’s all right. You were right to tell us…we’ll get you out of here. We’re undercover detectives, David and I.”

Her head jerked up, and her eyes widened in surprise in the delicate, tear-stained face. “Police? You’re really police?” They both nodded carefully. “And you’ll take me away?” she asked faintly. Hutch thought he could see a trace of hope returning to Hannah’s face, as he felt relief wash through his own body.

“Yes, we’ll protect you,” he answered firmly. Now he dared to place a comforting arm about her slender shoulders. “We’ll need you to testify, of course.”

She looked up at him, obviously puzzled, but with an expression of trust on her face that wrenched at Hutch’s heart. “But…I thought only men could testify!”

Starsky laughed despite his pain. “Sweetheart, have you got a lot to learn about the real world!”

 

Part Eleven

“So she’s set for tomorrow night?”

Hutch nodded in response to his partner’s question. “Yeah, she’s ready to go. I didn’t tell her much, just to meet me at midnight at the dairy. I figured if things went bad, we might be able to come up with a legitimate reason for her being there.” He looked over at Starsky, noting the way his friend still moved stiffly, noticeable even in the dim evening light. “How’s the back, Starsk?” he asked softly.

Starsky grimaced. “Healing. But still pretty sore.” The beating two days ago had left him looking exhausted, but the salve provided by Hannah had seemed to ease some of the pain. Privately, Hutch thought his partner was probably in a good deal more pain than he would admit to, but he realized that at least some of Starsky’s stoicism was necessary.

The afternoon of the beating, after Hannah had composed herself and left the two men to talk, they had painstaking begun to hash out their escape plan. Since Hannah had witnessed the murder of her husband and baby, and was more than willing to testify, the detectives had changed their goal from one of gathering information to one of getting their witness out safely. To that end, Starsky would pretend to be contrite and obedient after his “correction,” and in fact had already returned to his duties at the cult’s communal garage…a position that would prove to be pivotal in their escape from the ranch.

Hutch shook his head. “I wish we could manage to get out of here without stealing one of their Jeeps. That’s going to muddy the waters a bit, legally speaking.”

“Can’t be helped, buddy…not if we want to get our witness safely through the desert. I don’t think Hannah could make it too far on foot. Hell, I couldn’t make it too far on foot. In case you haven’t noticed, it gets hot out here.” Starsky grinned. “Besides, it ain’t stealin’. We, as law enforcement officers, are being forced to commandeer the only available transportation.”

Hutch snorted. “I hope Dobey sees it that way.”

“You worry too much, Hutch. ‘Sides, the Jeeps are owned by the cult, right? And Hannah’s a member, right? And she’s comin’ with us, so since she’s technically one of the owners…no problem.”

“No problem…other than the three of us in an ancient Jeep, temperatures of 100 degrees, rattlesnakes, and a tribe of well-disciplined homicidal maniacs on our tails.”

“Knew you’d see it my way, Hutch.”

 ~~~

Hutch stood at the doorway of the dairy, peering inside. He was surprised at how much calm Hannah was managing to project as she went about her routine work. He had expected that she would be nervous, on edge…yet on this last day, she gave no outward hint of any inner turmoil. No one, casually observing the young dairymaid, would suspect that she was going through these motions for the last time, that she was planning to leave everything and everyone she’d known…and would be doing so in a few short hours, with two men she barely knew. She completed each task in a meticulous, unhurried manner, with the same attention to quality and detail that she displayed every time Hutch had watched her work. If anything, she seemed more relaxed than usual, more animated.

Watching her face, Hutch thought he understood why. She’s at peace with herself, now, he thought…she’s come forward with her experiences to someone who cared, who believed her…she’s faced down those memories, and she’s winning. He smiled to himself as he realized something else: he was proud of Hannah, for the courage she was showing, and he would be prouder still on the day when she would someday take the stand and testify against those who had done irreparable harm to her. She would be an excellent witness, he felt sure.

Self-consciously, he cleared his throat, still standing in the doorway. Hannah looked up, momentarily startled, then smiled as she met his eyes. The change in expression transformed her face with warmth, brought a flush of pink to the too-pale cheeks. God, thought Hutch, do I smile like that at her? We’re going to have to watch that, or they’ll wonder…what the hell, we’re leaving tonight…Her voice interrupted his racing thoughts.

“Hello, Ken,” she said in her usual quiet, even voice. “I wasn’t expecting you back this afternoon. School is finished?”

“Yes…I thought I would come back and see if you needed any help.” He stepped inside, wishing he dared close the door to the dairy. He desperately wanted to touch base with Hannah, make sure she understood their escape plans, make sure that she wasn’t having any second thoughts. Shutting the door would only arouse suspicion, something they couldn’t afford tonight.

“I’m just finishing up; there’s really nothing left to do. But stay and talk to me while I wash a few things.” She flashed him another one of those heart-melting smiles, but this time Hutch thought he detected a trace of wistfulness in its depths. He sat down on one of the empty wooden crates.

“Hannah,” he asked softly, even though he was reasonably certain that there was no one within hearing distance. “Are you going to be ready to leave tonight? Are you still okay with that?”

She nodded emphatically. “I’m ready. I’ve been ready for a long time, I think…I just could never think of a way to leave the ranch,” she whispered, looking down.

“It must be difficult for you. To leave your sister, all your friends, every one you know.”

“Not all my friends.” She swallowed and looked up, meeting his eyes. “Ken…I have to know. You’ve been so kind, you’ve become such a friend. Did you…get to know me just because you had to? To find out what happened here, for your investigation? Or…” She paused, biting her lip, unable to continue.

Hutch nodded slowly to himself. He’d been expecting this question, or one like it, since he’d revealed his and Starsky’s true status. The toughest part of undercover work was remembering where the persona ended and the investigator began. He knew that on this case, the lines had blurred; while Hutch the detective had been busy investigating, Ken the erstwhile spiritual pilgrim had been forming a relationship with Hannah…just what kind of relationship, he still wasn’t exactly sure. He’d barely ever touched her, but he knew every nuance of her voice, every little mannerism.

“At first,” he answered carefully, trying to be as honest as possible, “at first you were just a nice person to work with. By the time I really thought you might know something, I was already starting to really enjoy your company.” God, that sounds stuffy, thought Hutch. “You’ve been my friend while I’ve been here, kept me from going crazy. I think even if you had turned out to know nothing that could help our case, I’d still be trying to get you out of here and take you with us.” He knew as he said it that it was true. “You deserve a better life, Hannah.”

“Will you still be my friend, after we escape? I’m not really going to know anyone else out there.” She smiled through tear-filled eyes. “It’s funny…since Caleb died, I’ve been alone here, even though I’m surrounded by people. Since I met you, I haven’t been lonely very much.”

Hutch didn’t remember standing or crossing the room, but dimly he realized that he must have done so at some point…since Hannah was now only a few inches away, looking up at him. Gently, he cupped her face with his hand, feeling her shiver slightly beneath his touch. He felt an impulse to take the crisp white kerchief from her head, remove the pins from the coiled dark golden hair…with an effort, he wrenched his thoughts back to her question.

“Of course I’ll still be your friend, Hannah.” He moved his hand to her chin, lifting her face slightly. “I’ll do everything I can to help you get adjusted, get settled. I’m not sure how often I’ll be able to see you, but I won’t abandon you.” He smiled teasingly at her, trying to lighten the mood and calm his pounding heart. “After we get you out of here, and you see what life really has to offer you…college, work, good-looking men…you’ll probably forget all about me, anyway.”

She shook her head. “Never,” she whispered. “I could never forget you.”

Somehow, to his distant surprise, her slender arms came up and around his neck; somehow, of their own volition, his own arms twined around her waist. She clung to him for a moment, standing on tiptoe, and Hutch could feel tears against his neck. He hugged her more closely, then gently drew back, resting his hands on her shoulders and smiling down at her. He reached one finger up to her cheek, wiping away a tear, then bent over, intending to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead…but she rose on her toes, and somehow their lips met instead. The kiss was brief, and innocent…then many things seemed to happen at once.

Hannah drawing back, looking at first pleasantly startled, then horrified as she looked over his shoulder at the open doorway…Hutch releasing her, whirling around, seeing Brother Benjamin’s look of righteous outrage…his own voice, trying to stammer out an explanation…the sharp smack as Brother Benjamin stepped past him and slapped Hannah…

“Whore!” shouted the elder, his harsh voice ringing in Hutch’s ears. “You dishonor your marriage vows, and the memory of your husband. How long have you practiced you harlotries on this man?”

Before Hutch could protest on Hannah’s behalf, he was seized from behind by strong and unyielding arms.

 

Part Twelve

Hutch struggled with all his strength, trying to break the grip of the men holding his arms. “Let go of me!” he shouted uselessly.

“Calm yourself, Brother,” said Brother Benjamin evenly. “Tell me what happened here. Has she entrapped you with her feminine wiles?” As he spoke, another of the brethren surged past Hutch to seize hold of Hannah’s arm, dragging her back to the far side of the room. She winced, but said nothing. Hutch turned his attention back to Brother Benjamin, suddenly chilled by the fanaticism he could read in the older man’s face.

He must hate her, though Hutch. I’ve only been here a few weeks, but he’s willing to believe that this poor girl is seducing me…why? Against his will, the thought crossed his mind: all he had to do was agree that Hannah had tried to corrupt him, and he would most likely go free. Free, he probably stood a better chance of rescuing her. And she had initiated the embrace, after all…though Hutch knew, instinctively, that Hannah had sought his arms for simple human comfort, not passion…friendship, not sex. Even the kiss had been less for pleasure and more as a promise, an alliance.

Logically, he tried to argue himself into playing along…but then his mouth opened, and he heard himself speak, as from a distance. “It’s not her fault. I forced her.” He took a deep breath, trying to will his voice to sound steady, convincing, slightly contrite. “She’s so beautiful, and we’ve been spending so much time together.” That much, at least, was utterly true. “I ordered her to kiss me. I just couldn’t help myself.” Hutch’s heart pounded. How long, he wondered, had the elder and his minions been watching? If they’d only seen the embrace, and the kiss, this might work…

Brother Benjamin turned to Hannah. “Is this true, Sister Hannah?”

She swallowed and looked at her feet. Hutch stared at her intently, trying to somehow wordlessly communicate with her. Say yes, Hannah, he thought at her. Please, trust me and say yes.

“Yes,” came the almost inaudible response. Hutch suppressed a sigh of relief.

“Look at me, Sister,” ordered the elder.

She raised her head and looked Brother Benjamin square in the eye. Fear filled her face, though…fear that looked real to Hutch. Either she’s a good actress, thought Hutch, or she really believes that I forced her. He mentally shook his head, dismissing the thought as unworthy of Hannah’s character.

“Yes,” she repeated in a stronger voice. “We were just talking, but he became…passionate, and grabbed me. He’s so much bigger than I; what could I do?”

“You should have screamed, Sister,” stated the man who’d been holding her arm, reproachfully. He released her, though.

“I was frightened, I couldn’t find my voice,” she whispered. Brother Benjamin looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then he turned to Hutch and cleared his throat.

“Ken, you have confessed to molesting a virtuous wife, in front of witnesses. This is adultery. You will undergo correction.”

Hutch’s head spun. “Wife? Adultery? But…she’s a widow!”

The elder’s accusing scowl deepened. “We do not view marriage as something ended by death. Hannah and her husband are bound for eternity, and will meet again. How would he feel if his wife had dallied with others, instead of faithfully waiting for him?” He directed his gaze back to Hannah. “Sister, you may return to your own house, to pray and meditate on this. Do not consider yourself blameless in this matter, as you must have tempted him in some way…but you are free to go.” He nodded to the men holding Hutch’s arms. “Let’s go.”

Hutch had once last glimpse of Hannah’s anguished face as he was pulled, stumbling, out of the building.

 ~~~

For what seemed like the twentieth time in as many minutes, Starsky checked his watch. Almost nine-thirty, now, and no sign of Hutch. He hadn’t been at dinner, and neither had Hannah. At first, Starsky had been slightly amused. It was no secret to Starsky that his partner was developing an attachment to the young woman…maybe they were off somewhere sharing their life stories. But as the evening wore on, and he was unable to find either of them, he was beginning to grow seriously worried. It wasn’t like Hutch to be fooling around when the situation was this serious, even if he was smitten with their chief witness.

Starsky had checked his partner’s belongings, carefully packed and stowed under the bed, and nothing had been disturbed. He knew that Hutch had been planning to check in briefly with Hannah before dinner, but had no other clues to his friend’s whereabouts. He ground his teeth in frustration, and decided to take one more walk around the compound to see if he could locate any sign of Hutch.

As he walked around the side of the dining hall, he spotted a man leaving a small shed. His stomach churned queasily when he realized that the man was Brother Benjamin…and the shed was the same one he had been kept in while awaiting his “correction.” He changed his course slightly to intercept the man.

“Good evening, Brother,” Starsky said with forced cheerfulness. “Say, you haven’t seen my friend Ken anywhere, have you? I had some things I wanted to talk to him about, but he wasn’t at dinner. Any idea where he might be?”

“No,” answered the elder blandly. “I haven’t seen him.”

Liar, thought Starsky, searching the older man’s face. I’ll bet you know exactly where he is…and Hannah, too.

The elder continued. “If you are of an unquiet spirit, young man, and need someone to talk to, I’m sure we can find one of the brethren who will give you guidance.” He stared unblinkingly at Starsky, reminding the detective of one of the many lizards that lived in the surrounding desert.

“Uh, thanks, but no…I’ll just go and do a little thinking by myself. If you see Ken, let him know I’m looking for him.” He nodded politely and headed off in the opposite direction, still feeling those lizard-eyes boring into his back, feeling his heart pound uncomfortably in his chest. They’ve got him, he thought to himself…ten to one they’ve got him tied up in that shed…how am I gonna get him out? He shook his head. What could Hutch have done to get himself into trouble with the elders? Had Hannah confessed the whole escape plan, somehow?

Starsky continued to walk aimlessly about the dark compound, sticking mainly to the shadows. As he came around to the back side of the dairy, he nearly collided with a slight, shadowy form standing against the dairy wall.

“Oh, sorry,” muttered Starsky. “Excuse me.” As he turned to go, however, a small hand snatched at his arm.

“David?” Hannah’s voice. Starsky froze for a second, then whirled around to face her.

As his eyes adjusted to the near darkness, Starsky realized that it was indeed Hannah standing in front of him, flattening herself up against the wall. He could see tears on her face, glistening slightly in the starlight.

“Hannah,” he breathed softly. Coming closer to her, he seized her arms gently. “Hannah, what’s wrong? Where’s Ken?”

She put her hands up over her face and moaned softly. “He’s been taken…it’s all my fault. Now they’ll kill him.”

Starsky gave her a little shake. “Stop that,” he said softly. “Tell me what happened, Hannah. I need to know.”

She took a deep breath, and, in a trembling voice, recounted the events for Starsky. “I’m supposed to be at my sister’s house…but they all went to sleep early,” she finished. “I came out to try to find you, but I was afraid the elders would see me.”

“S’okay, Hannah. You found me, or I found you. Whatever.” He released Hannah, thought for a moment. “Hannah, you said they’ll kill him. Why do you say that? Won’t they just beat him, like they did to me?”

She shook her head sorrowfully. “What happened today…David, my people take that sort of thing very seriously. They’ll kill him for sure.” She looked up at him. “Was there anything said at dinner tonight, about a scheduled correction?”

“No…nothing,” he answered her.

She nodded. “That’s because you were there, and they don’t trust you…or me now, for that matter. But you can bet that Brother Benjamin has been going from house, telling all of the adult members when to be present for the sacrifice.”

Chilled, Starsky could only stare at her for a few seconds. “Hannah, how much time do we have?”

A small sob escaped Hannah. “Sunrise. They killed my Caleb at sunrise.” She wiped her eyes with a shaking hand. “David, we’ve got to do something!” she whispered fiercely. “I won’t let them kill him, I won’t!”

He nodded slowly. “We’ll do something, all right. Sunrise…that gives us a little time.” The first ghostly beginnings of a plan began to form in Starsky’s mind. “Hannah, I’ll need your help…but it could be dangerous.”

“Anything, David. I won’t stand by and watch this happen again to someone I care about. Just tell me what to do.”

 

Part Thirteen

Starsky nodded slowly. “All right. Hannah, do the Temple members have any firearms? Guns?”

Hannah shook her head, seeming to calm down slightly. “No. None that I’ve ever seen, anyway. Knives and sticks, yes.”

“Well, I’ve got my weapon and Hutch’s, back at the bunkhouse. No one’s bothered his stuff yet.” He took a deep breath. “Hannah, go back to your sister’s house, but stay awake. Wait until about midnight, then meet me at the dairy like we planned earlier.”

“You’re not going to leave him here, are you?” Her eyes widened.

“No, of course not.” Starsky felt his throat tighten momentarily. “He’s my best friend, Hannah. We’ll get him out of here, but we need to be smart about this.” He put a hand on her shoulder and tried to speak reassuringly. “Meet me at midnight, but don’t bring anything with you. You need to look like you’re just out for a walk because you can’t sleep. You’ll have to leave everything behind, Hannah.”

She dipped her chin in a quick nod. “I can do that.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “Good. I’ll tell you the rest at midnight. And, Hannah?”

She had already turned to go, but stopped and faced him again. “What?” she answered softly.

“Thanks. Thank you for helping, for being willing to leave with us, to testify.” He reached out and touched her face briefly. “Like I said, he’s my best friend. I won’t forget what you’re doing.”

She smiled faintly and was gone.

 ~~~

Hutch sighed and shifted once again in the loose straw, trying to get comfortable despite his aching arms. The cult members had gagged him, bound his hands behind him, and tied his feet, but had not otherwise mistreated him. In fact, no one had even spoken to him since he had been dragged forcibly from the dairy.

He estimated he’d been there several hours at least, and guessed that he’d be stuck in there all night. I suppose in the morning I’ll be beaten, he thought. Just like Starsky was…there goes our plan to get out of here tonight. He closed his eyes wearily. Hopefully, Starsky would have found out what had happened, and they could just plan on leaving tomorrow night instead. In the meantime, he would try to rest.

A sudden noise jolted him out of the half-sleep he had managed to achieve. He started to open his eyes, and immediately blinked as lantern light shone into his eyes, half-blinding him. Brother Benjamin stepped into the shed, accompanied by another man carrying the lantern, and closed the door behind him. Hutch struggled to pull his body into a more upright position as Brother Benjamin cleared his throat and addressed the imprisoned detective.

“The council of elders has met tonight, and you have been found guilty of adulterous contact with a virtuous widow. The sentence will be carried out at dawn, when your earthly body will be sacrificed for the good of your immortal soul.” As quickly as they had entered, the two men departed, leaving a shocked Hutch staring into the impenetrable darkness.

My body will be sacrificed…oh my God, he thought. They mean it. They’re going to kill me. Starsk…buddy, please find me.

 ~~~

Starsky crept into the darkened bunkhouse and listened for a moment to the sound of snoring. Moving as quietly as he could, he reached under Hutch’s bunk and rummaged through the duffel bag until he found Hutch’s service revolver, stuffing it into an inside pocket of his jacket. He then retrieved his own weapon and popped it into the shoulder holster that he had slipped on earlier. He left the rest of their things under the bed, not wanting to be burdened down with luggage if he needed to move quickly. If the ranch was later raided by law enforcement officials, they might be able to retrieve their belongings…if not, well, nothing they had brought with them was irreplaceable.

He left the building as silently as he had entered it. His watch showed 10:15, and a quick glance about the compound revealed nobody in sight at the moment. Keeping to the shadows near the buildings, he made his careful way to the converted barn that housed the cult’s battered Jeeps and tractors.

 ~~~

When Hannah entered the dairy at midnight, Starsky had been waiting already for a good ten minutes, having arrived early with the purpose of getting his eyes to adjust further to the darkness. Through the cobwebby window, he spotted Hannah approaching the doorway…and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no one following her. As soon as she stepped fully into the building he slipped up next her and clapped a hand over her mouth. She struggled briefly until he hissed in her ear.

“Sshh, Hannah, it’s me.” He removed his hand slowly. “Sorry to scare you, but we gotta be quiet. I can’t be sure that someone might not be able to hear us,” he whispered.

She nodded and said nothing. Starsky noted with approval that she was wearing sturdy shoes and a dark coat and dress, and had removed her the spotless white kerchief that usually adorned her head. Nothing that would look too suspicious if she were caught, but she would definitely be less noticeable than he had feared.

“All right,” he continued in the same stage whisper. “We need to get over to the small shed behind the goat barn. That’s where they kept me the other day before they whipped me…and I saw our friend Brother Benjamin hangin’ around there earlier, the slimy bastard.” This prompted an incongruous brief giggle from Hannah. “I think the door just has a simple latch on the outside, ’cause I don’t remember seeing anyone use any keys to open it.

“We’ll sneak over there, and you’re going to hide by the goat barn and be my lookout while I go in and get him. If no one sees us, I’ll have him out in a flash, and then we head for the Jeeps as quick as we can. Simple.”

Hannah considered this. “Won’t they follow us?”

Starsky grinned. “Only on foot. I let the air out of the tires on everything with wheels, except the Jeep we’re taking. And even if they do get the tires changed, I took the liberty of removing a few vital engine parts.”

“David, what do you want me to do if I see someone coming? How should I warn you?”

Starsky took a deep breath. “You can’t. If they’re just passing by, and they don’t notice anything, keep quiet. If you see someone comin’ to the shed, and you think they’re gonna see us, you need to run out of where you’re hiding and do some serious acting.”

“Acting?”

“If we’re spotted, I want you to run up to me and yell and scream, act like you’re trying to stop me. Remember, you’re supposed to be playing the ravished woman in all this.”

“But…” She swallowed convulsively. “If I do that, how will we escape?”

“Hannah, you’ve got to trust me. No matter what I say or do at that point, trust me, and play along, even if it looks crazy.” He placed a finger under her chin, forcing her head up. “And…if everything goes horribly wrong, if Hutch and I don’t make it, you’ve got to stay alive long enough to get out of here. Eventually, if we don’t report in,, someone’ll come lookin’ to see what happened to us. Lie, call us every name in the book if you have to, but stay alive. You’re the only one who can end what’s going on out here. Got it?”

“Yes,” she answered, meeting his gaze finally. He patted her shoulder.

“Good girl. Let’s go.”

 

Part Fourteen

Only darkness and silence greeted Starsky and Hannah as they crept toward the small shed that Starsky was sure held his imprisoned partner. With a gesture, he directed her to a few scrubby shrubs against the adjoining barn, motioning her to hide herself behind them. Heart pounding, and feeling terribly alone and exposed, he approached the shed and inspected the door as closely as he could in the starlight. To his relief, he could find no true lock, only the rustic latch mechanism that he remembered–adapted to be opened from the outside but not from the inside. Apparently, the cult’s members had no fears that one of their own would ever break community taboos by freeing a prisoner. He pushed the door open and slipped inside.

At first Starsky could see or hear nothing…then his ears caught a faint rustle against the far wall, and the sound of ragged breathing. Stepping carefully in the darkness, he moved toward the source of the sound, finally kneeling down when he had nearly reached the wall. He put out one hand tentatively…and encountered warm flesh: an arm, that started violently at his touch.

“Hutch?” he whispered, as quietly as he could. “That you?”

“‘Arshky?” came the garbled response, relief audible even through the gag.

Working by touch in the dark, Starsky quickly worked the gag out of his partner’s mouth, then started on the ropes binding Hutch’s wrists. “Hutch, you okay?”

“Yeah,” came the breathless response. “They haven’t hurt me, yet. Starsk, they want to kill me at sunrise! We’ve got to get out of here!”

Starsky smiled to himself. Having freed Hutch’s arms, he moved to the tied ankles. “That’s the general idea, buddy. Hannah’s hiding outside; we’ll grab a Jeep and go.”

“Thank God,” breathed Hutch. He reached down to massage his legs, trying to rub some life back into them.

Starsky hauled his partner to his feet. “Can you walk? Steady, now…I don’t want to catch you, and you’re gonna make an awful lot of noise if you fall, big guy.”

“Pins and needles…but I can make it.”

Together, they staggered to the doorway, and Starsky propped Hutch against the wall while he slowly opened the creaky old door. He was just reaching back inside for his partner when his ears were assaulted by a sound he had been dreading: Hannah’s scream of fury. He froze, half inside the building as she ran toward him, an eerie greyish sprite in the starlight. Across the compound, two men with torches were approaching at a lope.

Hannah reached Starsky and pounded on his chest with her little fists. “No! You’re taking him away! You can’t do that! He must be punished for what he did to me!” Almost, Starsky thought she really had cracked, gone back to the cult…then he saw the fear in her eyes. Fear, not anger. Behind him, he heard Hutch’s startled grunt of surprise. Starsky took a deep breath, and pulled his revolver out of its holster, as the two cult members–one of whom was clearly Brother Benjamin–began to run faster.

With a quick fluid move, he seized Hannah around her shoulders, spun her around, and held the gun to her head…with the safety on, but he hoped the cultists wouldn’t notice that. “Stop!” he screamed at the approaching figures. “You get any closer, and I’ll kill the girl!” He could feel Hannah trembling in his arms, and he just had time to lean close to her ear and breathe, “It’s okay,” before Brother Benjamin got close enough to see the tableau in detail.

The threat had the desired effect. Brother Benjamin came to a halt and motioned his companion to do the same.

“Wait!” he shouted. “Don’t hurt her.” Starsky was gratified to see that the men had gone deathly pale. “What do you want?” asked the elder, in a quavering voice.

Hutch had now staggered through the doorway, covering his darkness-acclimated eyes against the glare of the torches. “Starsk! What the hell are you doing with her?”

“Hutch, just shut up! I know what I’m doing. Just stay out of the way!” Starsky answered grimly, then shouted at the cultist again. “You were gonna kill him, weren’t you? Well, we’re gettin’ out of here, and you, you son-of-a-bitch, are gonna stand there and let us go.”

The two cult members looked at each other and began to argue. Starsky couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he took advantage of the momentary confusion to enlighten his partner, who now stood within earshot of a whisper. “Hutch, it’s okay, she’s playin’ along, I’m not gonna hurt her, your gun is in my left coat pocket, please get it!” he said through clenched teeth. To his relief, a second later he felt Hutch retrieving the weapon in question.

“All right!” shouted Starsky. “I’m gettin’ real impatient, here! We’ll be on our way now! We’re both armed!”

As Starsky had predicted to himself, the cult elder was no match for two armed men and an apparent hostage. With Hutch covering their backs, they made their careful way towards the Jeeps, with Hannah even beginning to add some token struggling to her act. Brother Benjamin and his henchman remained where they had been standing.

Within the barn that housed the vehicles, Starsky led them towards the one functioning Jeep. “Get in, quick!” he yelled at Hannah. “In the back, with Hutch…and get down, Hannah!” Hannah and Hutch were barely in place before Starsky started the battered vehicle and plowed out the door. As they crossed the compound, they could see Brother Benjamin rousing the other cult members with frantic shouts.

As they reached the road, Starsky let out a deep breath. “I think…I think we’re okay, now. They won’t be able to get any of those other Jeeps started.”

“Starsk, where are we going?”

Starsky shuddered. “Anywhere, away from this crazy place.”

 

Part Fifteen

Hutch stared blearily at his watch as the Jeep wound through the quiet streets of Independence. 4:12 a.m. They had initially gotten disoriented in the desert, but had eventually found their way back to town, with no sign of pursuit from the cultists. “Starsk, you sure you remember where she lives?”

Starsky snorted. “The town ain’t that big, buddy…and I was stuck here for two weeks by myself. I think I’ll manage.” He peered ahead. “Aha, here we are,” he said with satisfaction, guiding the Jeep to a stop in front of Kathy’s house. “End of the line, everybody out.” He glanced to the back seat of the Jeep, where Hannah lay asleep. “Better wake her up, Hutch.”

Hutch moved to the back and began gently waking Hannah. “Starsk, you sure she’s gonna let us in at four in the morning? C’mon, Hannah, we’re here, at Kathy’s house. You’re safe.”

“No problem.” Starsky pointed to the living room curtain, which was moving. “I think she heard us drive up.”

 ~~~

Half an hour later, all three were comfortably ensconced on Kathy’s couch, sipping cocoa and filling their hostess in on their adventures. Kathy had taken their unexpected appearance with great calm and had already notified the sheriff of their return. She heard the tale through without comment, apparently amused by the two detectives’ habit of constantly interrupting one another, until Starsky reached the part about his punishment at the hands of the cultists. Though she said nothing, Hutch saw her eyes flash angrily as his partner recounted his experiences. He took over the thread of conversation at that point, and quickly brought everyone up to the present moment.

“I don’t think that the cult was able to get together any sort of effective pursuit,” Hutch finished. “In any case, I doubt they would try anything in town.”

Kathy nodded. “The sheriff said he’ll expect you sometime after eight to make a statement. That gives you boys time to get some sleep.” The social worker held out a hand to Hannah. “We’ll get you settled down for a little rest, Hannah; you can have my guest room, and these two can have my couches. Let me show you where everything is…” The two women left the room, Kathy’s warm voice trailing behind her.

Hutch turned to look at his partner, barely awake at the other end of the couch.

“Hey, Starsk.”

“Hmmm?”

“Thanks for pulling me out of there. I mean it.”

Starsky grinned through his fatigue. “Any time, buddy boy. Pullin’ your ass out of the fire…that’s what I do best.”

“How’s your back?”

“Stings a bit, still…but I’m so tired, I don’t care.” Starsky yawned deeply, to prove his point. “You know, your little dairy girl’s got spunk. She should get an Oscar for her performance.”

Hutch smiled absently. “Yeah…she’s something. I hope all of this, the investigation and trial…I hope it doesn’t rip her up too bad.”

“She’s strong, Hutch. Stronger than she ever knew she could be,” answered Starsky cryptically, his eyes closing.

Silence.

“Hey, Starsk?”

Snoring wafted from Starsky’s end of the couch…real or feigned, Hutch couldn’t tell. He smiled, and threw one of Kathy’s afghans over his sleeping friend. So am I, thought Hutch…stronger that I ever knew I could be, because you give your strength to me, without reserve.

    Epilogue

“Hutchinson! Someone to see you!” came a voice from the front.

Hutch looked up from the report he was laboriously generating from the ancient typewriter. The squad room door swung open as a young woman stepped in.

“Ken?”

For a few seconds, his work-numbed brain struggled to place her face, then she smiled shyly at him. “Have I changed that much in six months?”

“Hannah!” Hutch bounced out of his chair and stepped to her side, grasping the hand she offered. Laughing, she hugged him briefly, then stepped back.

No wonder he hadn’t recognized her, dressed in faded jeans and a sweatshirt like any college student. She had kept her long hair, now in a single braid, and had apparently even been experimenting with a little makeup. Her eyes glowed with health, contentment…and something else Hutch couldn’t quite identify.

“How are you? Come over here and sit down, and talk to me.” He dragged another chair–Starsky’s–to his desk, after first dumping its contents–Starsky’s paperwork–unceremoniously to one side.

Hannah perched on the chair. “I can only stay a few minutes. My cousin was coming this way, and I decided to ride along. She’ll be back any moment.”

“How is school?” Hutch knew, from Hannah’s one letter, that she had enrolled in a community college. Only a couple of classes so far, but the first step to fulfilling her aborted educational dreams.

“Midterms now, lots of studying.” Her voice hadn’t changed, Hutch noticed wistfully. Still soft and musical, just more confident. With a start, he realized that he knew what had changed about Hannah; she now believed in herself.

“We’re coming to trial soon, aren’t we?” she asking suddenly, breaking his train of thought.

“Yes…probably the first week in January. The D.A.’s office has taken its time. They want to build a good case.”

She nodded. “Guess I won’t sign up for any classes next term. I’ll be too busy.”

“Probably.”

The brief pause was broken by the return of Starsky, with take-out lunches.

“Hey! Hannah! You look great! You wanna join us in a Burpo Burrito?”

She giggled, suddenly seeming much younger. “Thanks, David, but it’s time for me to go.” She stood and grinned at both of the detectives. “Thanks, both of you. I’ll see you at the trial.”

Starsky watched her go. “Y’know, Hutch, she’s pretty cute. Hey, I have to admit…I thought you and she really had, y’know, somethin’ going there. Have you been holdin’ out on me?”

“Just friends, Starsk, we’re just friends.” Hutch reached for the food absently, for once not making any editorial comments about his partner’s taste in takeout food. “You’re right, there was a little electricity there for a while, but I think it was all just the situation. I’m glad she’s doing well, though.” He took a bite of his lunch. “Speaking of ‘just friends,’ what’s going on with Kathy? You and she seemed to be getting pretty cozy, last time she was over here.” Hutch figured the best defense was a good offense.

Starsky actually blushed, to his partner’s great interest. “Umm, yeah, very cozy. But…I can’t get her to make a commitment, or spend much time in L.A. She likes where she lives…and I don’t think she’s really interested in settling down.” He sighed, and began attacking his own lunch, trying to ignore his partner’s snickers.

“Poor man,” teased Hutch. “The woman only wants you for your body. This is just a little bit ironic, buddy.”

“Stuff it, Hutch…it’s not funny,” said Starsky plaintively.

Hutch eyed his partner critically. “You’ll get over it. Now, quit moping and let’s finish up here. I’m sick of paperwork.” He finally took a close look at his lunch. “Starsk? What is this?”

“What’s what?”

“What did you get me for lunch?”

“Oh…they called it a Taco de Lengua. Looked good.”

Hutch lowered the offending treat to his desk. “Did you get one for yourself, too?”

“Yeah, aren’t they great?”

“Starsk, how much Spanish do you know?”

“I know the difference between a taco and a burrito.”

“Taco de lengua…that’s a tongue taco, Starsk.”

Hutch watched with amusement as his partner turned a delicate shade of green. “Oh. Tongue. Right.”