Til Death Do Us Part

401

Starsky’s abduction and abuse at the hands of a psycho killer nearly takes everything away from Hutch. Can Starsky heal and make his way back?

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PART ONE

The shadows lengthened as day gradually lost the battle with night. The two men were alone. Their battle was over. In the darkening room one looked deeply into the other’s eyes; eyes that no longer saw, no longer cared. He stared, hoping yet again to find what he had been seeking for years. But he saw nothing, only the vacant look of death. Eventually he closed the eyes, not out of a sense of respect but rather out of a sense of failure.

Brassard stepped back and looked around the room, only now noticing that night had fallen. Glancing absently out the window at the well-lit street below he gazed at the people that passed by. Should he look for another tonight? There were many to choose from. And yet he had felt unsatisfied with his last three guests. None had stayed long and none had revealed to him what he most sought.

His mind wandered, reflecting upon another guest, the proverbial one who got away. That one had been different. There had been something in him that he had not sensed in any of the others. Brassard felt it from the moment the man had walked in the room. He had been sure that the dark-haired man would be the one to tell him so much. And yet, in the end, he had not. In fact, he had lived. Brassard had been amazed. No other had managed that, and there had been many.

In fairness to himself Brassard had to admit that he had not counted on the other man or the bond that the two shared. Even so, once he realized the importance of the other Brassard had still miscalculated the strength in that bond. He would not do that again.

He turned away from the window and looked at the body that hung from the ceiling. This one had been a particularly unaccommodating guest. Oh, he had been easy enough to lure up here and had even agreed to be chained to the ceiling, unaware that Brassard was not interested in some aberrant sex act. But as soon as the young man realized what was happening, his mind turned inward, unable to deal with any of it. Brassard had lost interest rapidly and ended the visit quickly. There was nothing left to see when the man’s physical death arrived, what constituted the man had quietly slipped away long before the body caught up.

Brassard sighed. When he had started on his quest he had thought that the answers he sought would come easily. And some did. With each subsequent catch he learned more, honed his skills until he became quite adept at keeping someone alive well past the point where they wished they were dead. True, none had learned to embrace the pain, but he never really expected them to. He knew that there were few capable of realizing how pure pain was.

But despite all that he had learned, his holy grail remained just out of reach. If asked to put a name to it, he would have called it the soul, the essence of what makes each living being different from any other. Brassard believed that pain brought a clarity to that essence that no other experience could. And he fervently believed that to capture it at the moment of greatest pain and fear, as it fled the just dead shell would be to capture life itself, to take on an immortality and understanding beyond his wildest dreams.

David was the key. He knew that now. All of the others had been merely preparation for this one man, the one who would help him to fulfill his destiny.

Brassard had much to prepare if he was to be ready for his next meeting with David. He glanced at the dead man who hung nearby and thought briefly of disposing of the body, noticing only now that he bore a superficial resemblance to David. No, he would leave it. A small calling card to let David know that he was not far away.

************

“Starsky it will be fun. Come on.”

“No way, Hutch. ‘She has a great personality,’ you might as well say she has a moustache. You go. I’m just gonna stay home and watch Gaslight on the early late show.”

“Laura won’t go if she doesn’t have a date for Kim. It’s only this one time. Kim goes home the day after tomorrow.”

“Hutch, you’ve only been seeing Laura a week, you’re not joined at the hip yet. What’s the big deal if you don’t do anything tonight?”

“Do it as a favor to me.”

“Hutch…”

“Listen, I’ll tell you what, the next time your cousin Rosalee is in town I’ll take her out.”

“Rosalee’s a great girl.”

“Yeah, and if I remember correctly she can see in two directions at the same time.”

“That’s not nice.”

Hutch simply stared at his partner.

“All right, all right, I’ll do it. But I’m calling Rosalee tomorrow and letting her know how much you’re looking forward to seeing her again.”

*********

“Not exactly the cover of Better Homes and Gardens, is it?” Starsky said as he looked at the house that he and Hutch had just pulled in front of.

Hutch doubled checked the address on the paper that Laura had given him. “It’s the right house. Number four-eighty Montcalm Street.”

“It looks like it should be condemned.”

Hutch had to agree. The paint on the small, ranch style house was cracked and peeling in places. In others it actually bubbled and looked almost as if it was running, reminding him of boils on a cankerous surface. Most of the windows were either boarded up or heavily shaded, only adding to the look of desolation. The small front yard was overgrown with weeds and what was left of the picket fence that once surrounded it lay decaying and useless.

In stark contrast, the houses on either side looked neat and well kept. Neither showed the amount of disrepair that this one did.

“Hutch, it’s not too late, we can still turn around and go home. The movie hasn’t started yet and I can make plenty of popcorn for the two of us. Whadda say?”

“We can’t. They’ve probably seen us already.”

As if on cue, the front door of the house opened and out walked two women.

Starsky whistled. “Hutch, which one is Kim?”

“The one on the right.”

“Well maybe this won’t be so bad after all.” Starsky watched Kim as she approached the car. She was small, with auburn hair and pretty features. She was definitely not what he was expecting.

As the women drew nearer, both men got out to open doors for them.

Laura, taller than Kim and more classically good looking, gave Hutch a quick kiss before introducing Kim.

“Kim, I’d like you to meet Ken Hutchinson. And this must be David.”

Greetings were made all around

As they settled into the car, Laura said, “You’ll have to excuse the house. It’s a bit of an eyesore. I just recently inherited it from a Great Aunt who died. She hadn’t lived here in years and obviously did not have anyone looking after the place. Pretty terrible, isn’t it?”

“It is a bit of a fixer-upper,” Hutch answered carefully.

“Always the diplomat,” Laura laughed. “We just stopped by to check on the inside. A realtor is coming by tomorrow and I needed to finish up a few things before he arrives. Unfortunately, the inside isn’t in much better shape than the outside.”

“Enough about houses,” Starsky piped in. “So how does dinner and dancing sound to you ladies?”

********

“Let’s sit this one out,” Kim said as she took Starsky’s hand and led him off the dance floor and back to their table.

“So, what made you decide to become a policeman?” she asked as she leaned in close to Starsky.

“My dad was a cop. I guess I always wanted to grow up to be just like him.”

“He must be very proud.”

Starsky looked down at his drink. “He died when I was just a kid.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s O.K. You didn’t know. But if he was still here I hope that he would be proud.”

Kim changed the subject. “You and Hutch are pretty close, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. We are.”

“I guess that you would have to be. I mean, in your line of work you need to really trust the person who is backing you up.”

Starsky nodded. “I trust Hutch with my life.”

“And does he trust his with you?”

“Sure.”

“Are you?”

Starsky looked at her oddly. “What do you mean? Of course I am. We’ve both risked our lives for the other. What kind of question is that?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m such a fool. I’ve just never had anyone who would do that for me.” She reached into her purse for a tissue.

“Hey, no, I’m sorry. I’m not upset, really. Listen, do you want to get out of here? We could go back to my place and talk. It’s a lot quieter. Hutch won’t mind catching a cab with Laura.”

“Sounds great.”

“Good. Let me just go and let Hutch know.”

Kim watched as Starsky made his way across the dance floor to where Laura and Hutch were dancing. She glanced at her watch and then caught Laura’s eye. Laura nodded her head slightly then smiled to herself. Things were going even better than they had expected. So far the boys were making things easy for them.

********

“David and Kim seemed to hit it off,” Laura said as she sat down on Hutch’s couch.

Walking in from the kitchen, Hutch handed her a drink and sat next to her. “It looked that way.”

They sat together and talked for a while, Hutch enjoying the easy give and take of their conversation. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman who was not only beautiful and intelligent but also accepted his partnership with Starsky. Too many women felt in competition with that friendship, but Laura accepted it for what it was, at least so far.

Eventually Laura rose from the couch and reached out to take Hutch’s hand, leading him into the bedroom. She guided him to the edge of the bed where they paused, Hutch bending over to kiss her. They lingered, enjoying the natural feel of the embrace. Laura then leaned into Hutch until he found himself sitting on the bed, Laura in his lap. He reached out and with great care unhurriedly began to unbutton her blouse. Once finished, he slid it off of her with equal care. From the player in the other room Sarah Vaughn singing What’ll I Do drifted in.

Laura heard the song and quite unexpectedly found herself beginning to cry. Hutch noticed and gently brushed the tears from her face.

“Hey, it’s alright, we don’t need to do this. I didn’t mean to…”

Laura looked into Hutch’s eyes and shook her head, placing her fingers on his mouth to silence him. She continued to hold his gaze as she reached out and, with a care that mirrored his, undid and removed his shirt.

Hutch kissed her again, this time letting his hands explore her as he did. Laura closed her eyes and swayed slightly, enjoying the feel of his hands on her.

They took their time, discovering what the other liked, until eventually they lay next to one another in bed, exhausted and content.

Laura watched as Hutch drifted off to sleep. Silently she wished that things could be different, that she had met him under other circumstances. She briefly thought about simply returning the money that had been paid to her and forgetting the whole deal but she quickly dismissed that idea. As attracted as she was to Ken, she was more afraid of crossing the man who had hired her. In fact, she was sorry that she had ever gotten involved with him. There was something about him that made her distinctly uncomfortable. She would be glad when the whole business was over.

Gently leaning over, she kissed Hutch. He sighed in his sleep but did not wake up.

“Goodbye Ken,” Laura whispered as she slid out of the bed. She quickly gathered her clothes and then, as she had been instructed, found Hutch’s badge. With a last glance at the sleeping man, she quietly let herself out of the apartment.

********

The women entered the darkened house. The hour was early and the sun had not risen yet. It would not have mattered if it had; the boards and heavy shades over the windows allowed little light to enter even at mid-day. A lantern set on a small table in the corner cast a faint circle of light, illuminating little of the room.

“Brassard, are you here?” Laura called out tentatively.

For a moment Brassard did not respond, choosing to study the women instead. He had selected them for their appearance; both were young and attractive, the kind of women that most men found appealing. The taller one was even moderately intelligent. Of course, they needed some ‘cleaning up’ before they had been ready to carry out the task he required of them but that was a small matter. They had been more than willing to do what was needed considering the sum of money he had offered them.

“Brassard?” Laura called again.

“Do you have the things I requested?”

Laura strained to see the man who stood just outside of the lantern’s faint glow. “Yes.”

“Wonderful. You both have done well.”

Kim spoke up. “How about our money?”

“All business, aren’t we my dear? Then business it is. Please place them on the table.”

“Not before we see the money.”

Brassard chuckled softly. It was not a sound that held any humor.

“I’m afraid that payment will not be forthcoming.”

“What is this?” Kim asked. Like Laura, she too was sorry that they had ever taken this job. Brassard had given her the creeps from the beginning. There was something about him that made her skin crawl whenever she was near him. But they had both needed the money.

“Listen Brassard,” Kim continued in a voice that did not quite hide the undertone of fear that she was now feeling, “either pay us or we’re out of here. I’m sure those two cops would be very interested in knowing about you.”

“Oh, but they already do know me, my dear. And with your help I am going to ensure that we rekindle our acquaintance.”

Laura grabbed the badge that she had and threw it in the direction of the table. “Take it,” she said. “I don’t want any money and I won’t talk to the police. I just want to leave.”

“Laura…” Kim started.

“You do what you want but I’m getting out of here.”

Neither woman made it as far as the door.

********

“Hey, Blondie,” Starsky said as Hutch climbed into the car. “I’m a big enough man to admit when I’m wrong and boy was I wrong about Kim.”

“Good time last night?”

“All I can say is that Kim is one imaginative girl. I’m just sorry she left before I got up. An encore performance would have been fun.”

“Funny, Laura was gone before I got up too.”

Starsky shrugged off the coincidence. “Maybe they wanted to compare notes.

“You know,” Starsky continued, “I would never have believed that there were so many different things that you could do with…”

Starsky was cut off by the sound of the dispatcher’s voice.

“Zebra Three, Captain Dobey would like you to report to his office immediately. Do you copy?”

“On our way. Zebra Three out.”

“All right Starsky, what did you do that Dobey needs to call us before our shift even begins?”

“Can’t think of a thing. Do you think that we have enough time to stop for breakfast?”

“Only if you want Dobey even angrier than he probably already is.”

“I guess not. Well, as I was saying, you would not believe…”

********

Dobey was standing in his office door when the two detectives walked into the squad room.

“Starsky, Hutchinson, in my office now.”

As the two officers entered their captain’s office, he ordered them to close the door. When he had their full attention he said, “Let me see your badges.”

“What’s this about?”

“Now, Starsky!”

Both men reached into their pockets to pull out the billfolds that held their badges and I.D.’s. They flipped them open and almost in unison looked at each other and then at Dobey with shocked expressions.

“They’re gone,” Hutch said, stating the obvious.

Dobey did not look surprised. “Where were you two last night?”

“We double-dated,” Hutch stammered. “We were together until about midnight and then we each went our separate ways with our dates. Why?”

“Two women, one blond and one a red-head were found dead early this morning. The station received an anonymous call at approximately six o’clock a.m. by a man stating that the police might be interested in something he had left at a house on Montcalm Street. When the unit arrived, they found two women, throats slashed and hanging from the ceiling by their wrists. Each woman had a badge pinned to her forehead. Your badges.”

Dobey watched as his detectives sang slowly into chairs. They both looked as if they were about to be ill.

The captain softened his tone some. “There was more.” He looked directly at Starsky. “Each women had something carved into her chest. One had the letter G, the other had and R.”

It was a moment before the significance of what Dobey had said sank in.

“Brassard,” Starsky whispered hoarsely, all the color draining from his face.

************

Brassard looked at his handy work and smiled. Not as subtle as he would have liked but it would certainly convey the message to David that he was near and ready for another tête-à-tête. His only regret was that he had not had time to enjoy the deaths. By necessity, the women had been dispatched quickly, their passing providing him no more than the briefest of pleasures and certainly were of no direct use to his ultimate goal.

Putting the finishing touches on his ‘calling cards,’ Brassard methodically walked around the room, ensuring that there would be nothing left for the police except what he wanted them to find.

He glanced again at the women who hung nearby, almost regretting not having afforded their deaths more meaning by allowing them direct participation in his life’s work. He believed that death was not something that should be wasted, as it all too frequently was by people. He had come to understand that society placed little value on death. Most either squandering it stupidly in petty vendettas, letting death spill out without notice or thought, or, conversely, they ran from it as if death were some unnatural entity that one must hide from, lest it find you.

Brassard had learned early on that there was no need to fear Death. His father had taught him that. He had told the young Alfred that Death was merely very good at keeping secrets, but, if one was clever, those secrets could be discovered and exploited. Never waste a death. Use each one to decode a little more of the secret. Alfred had been an apt pupil, ultimately better at his life’s work than his father had been. And yet the secret still remained tantalizingly out of reach.

But not for long, he thought. The game had begun. He knew that once the bodies were discovered David’s fear would begin. He realized now what he had not before, that mere physical pain would not be enough to unlock the secrets. He would slowly have to bring David to a level of psychological fear that would only heighten the physical pain. The pain would then be truly pure, encompassing all aspects of David. Then Brassard was sure that he would be able to obtain what he truly sought.

********

“No, it can’t be. If it was Brassard he would have come after me, not the girls.” Starsky looked from Dobey to Hutch. “Why? Hutch?”

“I don’t know Starsk. Maybe it’s a coincidence…”

“No,” Starsky whispered. “It’s no coincidence. He’s back. Oh god…” Starsky suddenly felt light headed and sick. He had to get out. Had to move. He bolted from the office before either Dobey or Hutchinson realized what was happening.

Starsky ran. He didn’t notice the looks of his fellow officers as he made his way to the garage. He didn’t notice Hutch until his partner lightly took hold of his shoulders and held him as Starsky leaned one hand on his car and lost the battle with his stomach. And he was barely aware of his partner gently guiding him to the passenger side of the Torino or driving him silently back to his apartment.

Once inside Starsky’s apartment, Hutch helped his friend to the couch and then went to the kitchen to make some tea. Starsky had still not said anything since leaving Dobey’s office and Hutch realized that his partner would not willingly start to talk about his fear of Brassard. The blond knew that his friend had locked away many of the memories of what had happened to him while he was held captive. Hutch had never pushed Starsky to talk about it and now he was regretting that decision. Whether he was ready to or not, Starsky not only had to deal with the reality of Brassard’s return but also with the fears that had laid buried over the past several months.

Hutch carried the tea into the living room and handed a mug to Starsky, who took it woodenly and stared at it a long time before taking a sip.

Taking a seat across from Starsky, he eyed he the dark-haired man for awhile. “Starsk,” he finally started, “we need to talk about this.”

Starsky looked up at his partner. “I can’t.”

“You can. Listen, I’m sorry that I didn’t try harder to get you to talk about this before. It would be a lot easier now if I had. But if we are going to get through this you need to tell me what happened to you in the woods. We need to be able to figure out why he’s back and we can’t if you…”

Starsky exploded. “What’s all of this we stuff?” he suddenly yelled. “We? You weren’t the one he took and you aren’t the one he’s after now. So I don’t get all of this ‘we’ have to do this and that! I don’t want to talk about it. O.K.? Just leave me alone!”

“Hey…”

“No, Hutch! Talkin’ about it isn’t going to make things any better and it isn’t going to bring the girls back or stop him from coming.” Starsky began to shake as he continued, his voice becoming huskier with the grief he was feeling. “It’s all my fault. They’re dead because of me. I’m so sorry, so sorry…” his voice broke off in a sob.

Hutch quickly moved to sit next to his partner, putting an arm around his shoulder. He repeated over and over to the distraught man that none of what had happened was his fault. For a long time the two men just sat there, Hutch doing his best to ease his friend’s feeling of anguish over the death of the women.

Eventually Starsky calmed a bit and Hutch gently began again. “Starsk, none of this is your fault. Brassard is a twisted, sick bastard and you can’t blame yourself for what he does. I don’t know why he’s fixated on you. Wish I did, it would make it a hell of a lot easier to stop him. But I do know that you need to talk about what happened to you so that I can help keep you safe. Maybe there’s a clue there that will give us some idea of his motives. We’re in this together buddy.”

Starsky looked at his partner, knowing that he was right but at the same time wishing that he could somehow forget it all. By talking about what happened he knew that he would have to relive it all over again and he wasn’t sure that he could handle it. Then he thought of the women again. He sighed and slowly began.

“I was working on a crossword puzzle when I heard a sound from the cell room. I went in to check on Brassard but his cell was empty. I was checking it out when I got this feeling that something…someone was behind me. I started to turn around and then I heard his voice. I don’t know, Hutch. It was like…” Starsky stared at his partner, unable to put into words what he had felt when he heard Brassard’s voice. After a moment he continued.

“It was like his voice was real thing. Like it could actually touch me,” then, more softly, “did touch me. I’ve never felt anything like it Hutch. I froze.” He stared plaintively at his partner. “I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up and found myself strung up by my wrists.”

Starsky paused and stared into his mug as if the answers to all of his questions could be found there. He shuddered involuntarily as his mind returned to what had happened to him. He finally forced himself to continue, not raising his eyes from his mug.

“When I woke up there was a hood over my head and I didn’t know where I was. Then I felt something jab me and everything shut down. I couldn’t move and then I couldn’t breathe.” Starsky’s breaths came is short gasps as he relived what he was saying. “I thought that I was gonna die right then. I…I…” Starsky stopped as he found he could no longer draw enough air into his lungs to continue.

Hutch quickly reached over and turned his partner’s head so that Starsky was looking at him. “Hey, buddy, it’s O.K. You’re here now. It’s over. Come on. Slow down and take deep breathes. That’s it. Easy.” After awhile, Hutch asked, “Can you go on?”

Starsky nodded. “I was scared, Hutch. Really scared. He, he did things. I tried not to cry out but it hurt so much. I just wanted it to be over.”

“I know that I passed out a few times. It got to the point where I just wanted it to end, even if that meant that I died.” Hutch tried to hide his dismay at Starsky’s last statement. What had Brassard done to make his partner want to give up all hope?

“But he wouldn’t let me go. He kept talking about the pain. About…about how I needed to learn to appreciate it. God, I was so tired and it hurt so much. But he just kept at it, at me. He said that if I didn’t stay with him that he would, he would go after you.” Starsky was trembling again but he forced the words out, unable now to stop. “I couldn’t let him do that, I had to keep going. I really don’t remember much else, other than the pain. It seemed to go on forever. I couldn’t understand why he was doing it. Finally he let me go. I’m sorry Hutch. I tried to hang on. I did. But it was too much.”

The control that Starsky had been trying so hard to maintain cracked and he felt his body wracked with sobs. All of the pain, fear and humiliation he had tried to bury since his last encounter with Brassard poured out. He felt Hutch pulling him close, holding him through the worst of it. Normally he would have pulled away, tried to maintain the tough guy façade he usually wore, but all his defenses were gone. He let Hutch hold him, drawing what comfort he could from him.

The two men sat that way for a long time, Hutch needing to comfort as much as Starsky needed comforting. The blond silently cursed Brassard for what he had done to his friend and wondered again why Starsky seemed to be the focus of such a madman. As he held his partner he tried to think over the things that Starsky had revealed. The only thing that even hinted at some deeper significance was the idea that pain was something to be appreciated. What had that meant? He wanted to question his partner more but he knew that Starsky had had enough for now. Hutch had no doubt that Starsky probably remembered more than he was telling but even the little bit that he had revealed had cost him dearly and now he needed to rest, regroup.

As Hutch continued to hold Starsky, he gradually felt the other man’s breathing even out. He looked down at the bowed head and realized that Starsky had started to fall asleep.

“Hey pal, let’s get you to bed. O.K.?”

Starsky merely nodded and allowed Hutch to help him to the bedroom. Once Starsky was settled Hutch called Dobey, letting him know that they wouldn’t be back that day. He also asked Dobey if he would have all of the files on Brassard pulled and sent over. Dobey grumbled but told Hutch that he would have a uniformed officer drop of the requested files.

True to his word, Dobey saw to it that the files arrived at Starsky’s apartment. Hutch checked on Starsky again and then sat down to mull over the information on Alfred A. Brassard.

Several of the files contained information on the murders that were either attributed to Brassard or that he was the prime suspect in. As Hutch looked at the photos of the victims his revulsion grew. Most showed people who had been brutalized before finally being killed. For whatever reason, Brassard appeared to want his victims to suffer as much as possible before they actually died.

Hutch continued to read through the files, finding nothing remarkable other than the sheer cruelty and apparent senselessness of the crimes themselves. The last file that he came to contained information of a more personal nature regarding Brassard. As Hutch began to read it, he was interrupted when he heard a noise from the bedroom.

He glanced up and saw Starsky standing in the doorway, hair even more tousled than usual. “Hey buddy, welcome back. Hungry?”

Starsky, still bleary eyed, nodded and then dropped heavily onto the sofa.

“Well, let me go take a look at what you’ve got in that fridge of yours that doesn’t have hair on it.” Hutch quickly left before Starsky had a chance to reply.

Starsky glanced over at the pile of files that were on the coffee table. He picked one up and absently began leafing through it. His hands began to shake as he looked at picture after picture of Brassard’s victims. They shook not only out of disgust but also out of anger. Anger that any person could inflict so much pain upon another human being and anger that he had not been able to stop this monster from doing it again.

“You son of a bitch,” he whispered as he looked at one particularly grisly picture of a young woman who had obviously been tortured.

Starsky’s voice rose. “You damned stupid, sadistic bastard.” Starsky stood up and kicked the coffee table over, sending the files flying.

Hutch ran into the living room in time to see his partner bend over and begin to fling the piles about the room.

“Starsky!”

The dark-haired man turned wild eyes on his partner. “Damn it, Hutch, why? You saw the pictures. How can a monster like that exist? What the hell does he want?”

“I don’t know but we sure as hell aren’t going to figure it out this way!” Hutch swept his hand to encompass the now scattered files and overturned coffee table.

Starsky drew a deep breath and ran a tired hand over his face. He glanced around the room and then gave his partner a sideways look and, amazingly, a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Hutch nodded. “Good. Now that we’ve established that proper investigative techniques does not involve a game of fifty-two pick-up, let’s eat. We can clean this up afterwards.”

The two men ate in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Hutch glanced at Starsky from time to time, trying to gage how his partner was holding up. He had known that his friend had been traumatized by Brassard but he was only just beginning to realize how deeply troubled

Starsky really was. Hutch knew of the physical damage, they had dealt with that, but what of the psychological damage that Brassard had inflicted? Since until now Starsky had not talked about it, Hutch was in the dark about everything that had happened to his partner.

Starsky caught Hutch staring at him. He sighed and put down his fork. “You got something to say or are you just going to sit there and stare at me? You know, I’m doing O.K. if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Sorry Starsk, I was just thinking about things.”

“Yeah, me too. Sorry I snapped.”

Hutch waved off the apology. “So, do you feel up to going through the file on Brassard? Maybe going over his history will give us some clues.” Hutch watched closely as a series of emotions quickly crossed his partner’s face, finally settling into a look of determination.

Starsky nodded. “Whatever it takes to stop him, we gotta do.”

The two men cleared their dishes and then headed back to the living room. Once the scattered files were cleaned up, they sat on the sofa and began going over the fragmented history of Alfred Brassard.

The file listed him as being the only child of Herbert and Yolanda Brassard. He had grown up in the small town of Meritsville, in a very rural area of Minnesota. Apparently the family had kept pretty much to themselves, in fact in interviews with neighbors it was said that no-one was even aware that Yolanda had been pregnant and given birth until a year after the fact. According to neighbor interviews, the Brassards grew most of their own food and rarely came into town. And even then, Herbert usually went alone, leaving Yolanda home. Once Alfred was old enough, he would accompany his father on the rare trip to pick up something that they could not grow or make on their own.

Both Herbert and Yolanda had lived in Meritsville all of their lives but neither was particularly well liked. They were considered odd and the people living in the area were just as happy that they had kept away. There were rumors that Herbert ‘did things’ to Yolanda but nowhere in the file did it state what these ‘things’ were.

Alfred never attended school formally. The school board at one time had tried to get the Brassards to send Alfred but, for reasons unknown, the matter was dropped and Alfred was schooled at home. Because of this and the family’s dedication to isolationism, the file contained little information regarding Alfred prior to the age of ten.

Around the time that Alfred was ten, the people about town began to notice some strange things. Alfred started to go to town alone. When asked where his parents were, the boy would merely state that they didn’t want to be bothered with folks and so had sent him instead. While people found this peculiar no one investigated further since most were happy not to have to deal with Herbert (although most also did not like dealing with young Alfred either). Additionally, people who drove by the Brassard place regularly also noticed the gradual disappearance of the livestock, which seemed very odd since the family was self-sufficient and needed the eggs, meat and such provided by the animals. Still, no one looked any deeper.

It was the following spring, a year since Herbert and Yolanda had last been seen, when the local sheriff finally decided that he needed to check out the situation. When he did not return home that evening the State Police were notified. What they found when they arrived at the Brassard homestead was Alfred, now eleven, sitting quietly at the table eating a sandwich. The sheriff was tied to a chair, very dead. The blood on the walls and on Alfred, as well as the condition of the body bore mute testimony to what had occurred. Upon further inspection the now decayed bodies of, it was assumed, Herbert and Yolanda were found in the back bedroom.

The stench and gore were so overpowering that two of the officers became violently ill. The report stated that eleven-year-old Alfred just sat there and continued to eat.

Alfred was of course taken into custody and a battery of psychological tests preformed. It was decided that nothing short severe and prolonged physical and psychological abuse could have caused this type of behaviour in such a young boy. Alfred had snapped. The medical reports also stated that the head psychiatrist in charge of the case felt that, with the proper therapy and environment, Alfred could be ‘cured.’ He was young yet and his mind malleable. There was no trial. Alfred was shipped off to the psychiatric ward where he could be cared for.

Ten years later, he was free, his medical report stating that he had been miraculously restored to good mental health.

Starsky and Hutch scanned the rest of the file. There was not much more there that had not been covered in the individual case files.

“It looks as if that ‘miraculous cure’ was very short lived. The first murder that they attributed to Brassard happened within a year of his release.” Hutch shook his head in frustration. “What the hell were they thinking? You don’t cure an animal like that. For God’s sake, he killed three people by the time he was eleven!”

Starsky nodded in agreement. He was still trying to understand how the oh so wise psychiatrists couldn’t see just how sick Brassard was. Finally he asked quietly, “So what do we do? There doesn’t seem to be any pattern to who he picks or when and where he strikes. They all appear to be random. So how do we catch him?”

Hutch thought about that for a minute. He had an answer but he knew that Starsky would not like it any more than he did.

As if reading his thoughts, Starsky said, “Bait,” in a voice almost too soft for Hutch to hear.

“I was thinking that but it’s just too dangerous. Starsk, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. We can’t, I can’t risk that. There has to be another way!”

“Hey, he’s gonna come after me anyway. At least we can be ready for him. Besides, we gotta stop him. If we don’t, he’ll just go on killing people.”

“Starsk…”

“Hutch, one way or another we have to end this. I can’t spend the rest of my life knowing that I could have stopped him and didn’t. And I can’t go on lookin’ over my shoulder wondering when he’ll be back.”

“Yeah, I know. Listen, we can talk to Dobey tomorrow and see if he has any ideas. Maybe after a night’s sleep we’ll come up with something.”

Hutch rose and walked over to the closet where Starsky kept extra linen.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? You don’t think that I’m going to sleep on the sofa without a blanket and pillow, do you?”

“Hutch, I don’t need a sitter.”

“Maybe not, but I need to be here.”

Starsky silently thanked the powers that be for sending Hutch to him. “O.K., I guess.”

As the blond got the sofa ready, Starsky went and double-checked the locks. As he headed into the bedroom, he paused and turned back to his partner.

“Thanks.”

************

Brassard looked around at his latest accommodations. Yes, he thought, this would do very nicely. Nicely indeed. The abattoir had been closed for years and not even the derelicts that lived on the streets bothered with it. The stench of long dead animals still clung to the air. If he listened carefully Brassard could almost here the screams of terrified animals being led to their deaths. He could not have asked for a more ideal location. A few modifications and it would be ready for when David arrived.

Brassard could not remember a time when he had so keenly anticipated the arrival of any of his guests. All must be perfect. He had been carefully preparing not only this location but also the tactics needed to prepare David and then guide him here. Oh, the dead girls were a fine start. He was sure that the detective was aware of his presence. But it was not enough. This one was resilient. It would take more than the deaths of two women to drive him to the state that would best suit Alfred’s needs.

The challenge that this one posed exhilarated him. He was confident that soon he would be able to reach his goal. But he must not rush. His father had taught him that. Patience was important if one was to succeed. Certainly his father had displayed patience. But Brassard learned early on that his father lacked the true passion needed to see the task to completion. He, Alfred, did not have that character flaw. He would succeed where his father, a weak man, had failed.

Whistling a tune to himself as he checked his equipment, he thought about the next step in his plan. He would have to be careful, he did not want David too arrive to early. That would not do at all. If that happened Brassard was sure that he would be unable to push David to the level of ‘awareness’ needed for success. That was obvious from his last encounter with the detective. And he did not intend to fail again.

********

“That went well,” Starsky said sarcastically as he threw himself onto his chair, banging his knee on the desk in the process.

“You can’t really be surprised, Gordo. You didn’t really think that Dobey would go along with the idea, did you?”

“Nobody has any better ideas!”

“Listen, we haven’t really had any time to think this through. We just found out that Brassard was back yesterday. And Dobey was right, we should be getting out there and trying to get some leads first.”

Starsky shook his head. “Yeah, like more bodies!”

“Starsk?” Starsky did not look up at his partner. “Starsky, hey, look at me.”

Starsky reluctantly turned his eyes on his partner.

“We talked about this, remember? Whatever Brassard’s plans are, you are not to blame. And if you don’t get that through that thick skull of yours you are not going to be much good out there. So come on, let’s go see if Huggy has heard anything. O.K.?”

The dark-haired man nodded. He knew that Hutch was right but somehow that didn’t take away the little voice in his head that kept him reminding him that those two girls might still be alive if… He shook himself. He knew that going down that road was too dangerous.

Out loud he said, “Well then, what are ya just sitting there for? Let’s go!”

The detectives arrived at Huggy’s to find the proprietor behind the bar cleaning glasses.

“Hey Huggy,” Hutch said as he sat down on one of the stools.

Huggy looked at the two men whom he had come to think of as friends. “Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t a social call?”

Hutch chuckled quietly. “That transparent?”

“Well, from the look on your partner’s face, I’d say this had to do with the deaths of those women yesterday.”

“Yeah, Huggy,” Starsky said, “do you have anything for us?”

Huggy shook his head. “Not much. Only that those two women may not have been all that they appeared. Word has it that they generally paid the rent through a variety of methods, including some, um, nocturnal activities, if you know what I mean.”

“Hookers?” Starsky said quietly.

“Sorry man but yeah.”

Both men were stunned. Starsky recovered first. “But why were they with us?”

“I’m not really sure but I know someone who might be able to help. You remember Willie Johnson?”

“Sure,” Hutch said. “Sleazy little guy who dabbled in anything that he could get paid for. We busted him a couple of times.”

“That’s him. Well, I’ve heard rumors that someone hired him to find a couple of girls. Maybe he might be the one you want to talk to.”

“Thanks Huggy.” Starsky was up and headed out the door, Hutch following behind.

“Hey, Hutch,” Huggy called. “Is he O.K.?”

Hutch merely shrugged and then turned to catch up with Starsky.

Two hours later they were no closer to finding Willie Johnson then when they had started. Nobody had seen him for at least a couple of weeks.

“Hutch,” Starsky said as he took a bite of his hamburger. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Does it hurt much?”

“Ha, ha! No, I mean what if Brassard did hire Willie to find the girls. Knowing what we do about him, do you really think that he’d just let Willie go afterwards? I mean, he wouldn’t want any kind of loose ends.”

“That thought had crossed my mind as well.” Hutch started to toss his napkin on the floor of Starsky’s car but stopped when he saw the horrified look on his friend’s face. “Sorry. O.K., let’s assume that Brassard did hire Willie to find the girls. Why? I mean, what did he hope to gain?”

Starsky had stopped eating and sat with his hands in his lap. “He wants me.”

“It’s more than that. If all he wanted was you, why not just go after you? Why the girls.”

Starsky sighed. “Why does he do anything that he does? Who knows?”

Hutch shook his head. “No, we’re missing something. There is more going on here than a simple vendetta.”

They sat quietly for a moment. Then, hesitantly, Starsky said, “I…I remember…”

“What?” Hutch asked gently.

“When he had me. I remember, towards the end, that he said he had chosen me. There was more but I can’t remember. It hurt so much.” Starsky paused and then looked up at his partner. “He’s evil, Hutch.”

“Yeah, he’s probably the worse psychopath we’ve ever run into.”

“No, don’t you see? He’s really evil.” Starsky struggled to find the words that would express what he needed to make Hutch understand. “I remember when I was little, my grandmother used to talk about demons that would roam the Russian countryside looking for souls to possess. Use to scare me to death.”

“Your grandmother told you this?”

Starsky chuckled. “I guess she liked to make sure that I was careful not to stray too far from the good path.”

He grew serious again. “When I first saw him, you know, in the cell, that was all I could think of. It scared me so much that I couldn’t move. Then, while he had me, I thought that he didn’t want to merely kill me but he wanted my soul.”

“Starsk, those were just stories.”

“Maybe so, but evil is real, Hutch.”

Hutch didn’t know what to say. He was not religious and did not believe in the kind of good and evil that his partner did. But he also knew that, if he pushed the issue, he would discourage Starsky from opening up. Starsky was proud and if he thought that Hutch considered his opinions foolish he would not feel comfortable sharing them.

Hutch decided to steer the questioning away from the topic for now. “Do you remember anything else?”

Starsky knew what Hutch was doing but let it go. Hutch was wrong about this but he knew that there was no way to convince him. So, he simply shook his head.

“Well,” Hutch said, “we’re not getting anywhere here. Let’s head over to the precinct and see if we can find anything out about Willie there.”

********

Brassard looked around the apartment. So many things to choose from. He picked up a photo showing two men standing on the beach with two women. He looked at it for a moment then put it back. No, that wouldn’t do. He continued his tour of each room, picking things up and then carefully returning them. He needed to find just the right item.

So far things had been going well. He wished he had been there to see David when he found out about the girls, for surely he had heard. After all, the blond one had spent the night with him. Why else would he do that unless he needed to comfort his distraught partner. Brassard chuckled to himself. Oh yes David, the fun is just beginning.

He glanced through the items in the medicine cabinet. The usual things, none of which would have just the right impact. He kept searching.

He wandered back out into the main room. His gaze fell upon the chess set which was set up. He smiled as he walked over to it and picked up the white knight. Oh yes, this would be perfect. With just a little work it would do quite well.

********

“What are you two doing here?” Dobey asked when he saw Starsky and Hutch at their desks. “Did you find out anything?”

“We got a lead on the girls. We think that Willie Johnson may have put them in contact with Brassard but we’ve come up against a brick wall trying to locate him. Seems that old Willie has dropped out of sight.”

Dobey frowned. “You can find him in the morgue.”

“Damn!” Starsky sighed. “How long ago did it happen?”

“Fernandez and Harrell found him dead next to a dumpster a couple of weeks ago. They were using him as a snitch and when he didn’t show up for a scheduled meeting they went out looking for him. They can fill you in on the details. I saw them here not long ago.”

“Yeah, thanks Cap.” Starsky smiled grimly. “Brassard’s thorough if nothing else.”

They caught up with the uniformed officers in the locker room.

“We heard you two found Willie Johnson dead a couple of weeks ago,” Hutch started.

Fernandez nodded. “Yeah, neck snapped like a twig. The guy probably didn’t know what hit him. You been looking for him?”

Hutch nodded. “We got a lead that he may be involved in the Grim Reaper case. Wanted to ask him a few questions.”

“Well I don’t think he’s gonna be much good to you now.”

“Keep thinking like that and you’ll make detective someday,” Starsky replied sarcastically.

“What’s your beef? We didn’t off the guy.” Harrell replied.

Hutch shot Starsky a look. “Never mind my partner, he’s a bit on edge today. The last time you spoke with Willie, did he say anything about looking for a couple of girls for someone?”

Fernandez shook his head. “No, he was feeding us some info on some guy involved in kiddie porn.”

“You know,” Harrell added, “he did seem a bit antsier than usual the last time we saw him. Remember.”

“Yeah, he kept saying stuff about having to do a job for some guy who was gonna pay big but he didn’t want the guy to think that he was talking to us about whatever that action was. He seemed kind of afraid of whoever it was. He just gave us the info we asked for and left. You know how he usually was, always tryin’ to get us to give him more money or listen to another lead that he’s sure we’ll want to pay for.”

“He didn’t mention anything about the guy?” Hutch asked.

“No. Like I said, he just gave us what we asked for and got outta there as fast as he could.”

“Alright, hey, thanks.” The detectives turned and left.

“We’re getting nowhere, Hutch. How in the hell are we gonna find him? He has a nasty habit of killing everyone he comes into contact with.”

“Not everyone,” Hutch replied softly.

“Not for lack of tryin’!” Starsky instantly regretted the words, knowing their effect on his partner. “I’m being a jerk. Sorry.”

“Forget it. Let’s grab a cup of coffee and try to figure out where to go from here.”

As the two officers reentered the squad room Starsky spied a package on his desk. He sat down in his chair and looked at the plainly wrapped box. There was no return address, just his name and office address. For a moment he just sat there staring at it. There was nothing spectacular about the package and yet for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to open it.

“What you got there Starsk?”

“I don’t know. It was just sitting here.”

Hutch picked up on his partner’s mood. “Whose it from?”

Starsky shook his head. “Dunno. There’s no return address.”

“There’s only one way to find out. You want me to open it?”

“No.” Starsky slowly pulled the brown paper off and held the small cardboard box in his hand for a moment. Then, even more slowly, he opened the lid and pulled out the item that the box held.

It was a knight from a chess set. A set that he knew well. One that he and Hutch had used often. Except now it had been altered. The knight’s head had been neatly cut off. Along with the knight there was a small card. In neat block letters it said, ‘Not all white knights can vanquish their lord’s demons.’

 

PART TWO

For a moment Starsky couldn’t move. He just continued to stare at the note and then at the chess piece. His world was spinning. Even when he felt Hutch gently take the note from his hand he remained frozen.

Hutch read the note and then looked back at his partner. Starsky looked as if he was going to pass out.

“Starsky.” No response. “Starsky!”

“Hutch, he…he was…was… in your apartment. He…he…”

“Hey, come on. Dobey’s office.”

Hutch gently lead his partner to their captain’s office.

“Don’t you two ever…” Dobey began before getting a good look at his detectives. “What’s wrong?”

Hutch helped Starsky into a chair and then signaled for Dobey to wait a minute. He went back and retrieved the knight and the note, handing them to Dobey.

Dobey looked at them and then back at his men. For one of the few times in his life he did not know what to say. Finally he asked, “Where did you find these?”

“The package was on Starsky’s desk when we got back from talking with Fernandez and Harrell. The knight is from a chess set in my apartment.”

Dobey looked stunned for a moment. This whole situation was getting worse by the moment and he had no idea how to keep that trend from continuing. For now, he turned his attention to the dark-haired man who sat across from him. Starsky had not spoken or looked up since he had entered the office. Hutch stood behind him with his hands on the other man’s shoulders but Starsky seemed unaware of his presence.

“Starsky,” Dobey waited a moment. “David, I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through but you have to hang in there.”

Starsky looked up at his captain. “I resign.” He pulled away from Hutch and started for the door but Hutch was faster.

“What the hell do you mean by that? You can’t run away from this. That’s not like you! He’ll find you no matter where you go and then…”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m not leaving so that he won’t find me!” Starsky’s voice shook with anger and frustration. “I’m leaving so that he won’t get you! What do you think that he meant by that little calling card? Huh? I’m not gonna sit around here and wait for him to kill anymore people, kill you, just so he can get at me!”

“It’s me and thee Starsk. Do you think that I can just let you go? What do you think that that will do to me?”

Starsky looked at his partner, his friend. He could plainly see the worry and anxiety on his face.

“Hutch…”

“I don’t want to hear it Starsky. We’ll find a way to stop this. Together. Please, don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”

Starsky’s shoulders slumped as his resolve faded. He felt helpless, more helpless than he had ever felt before. His world was spiraling out of his control. Even when Bellamy had poisoned him he had still felt that he had some control, some way to fight back. Now he simply did not know what to do. It was as if Brassard held all of the cards in a game that Starsky did not feel he could win.

“I’m afraid.”

Hutch knew what this admission had cost Starsky and all he could think to do was to pull his friend into a hug and hold him tight. “Me too,” he said. “Me too. But it’s not so bad as long as you’re here.”

Starsky leaned into the hug for a moment, wiping a hand across his eyes to clear them. When Hutch let go Starsky turned to Dobey.

“Cap…”

“Get out of here and find the bastard.”

Starsky’s mouth dropped open. He had never heard Dobey use that kind of language.

“And close your mouth along with the door on your way out.”

The startled detectives quietly closed the door behind them.

********

“Starsk, let me see the box.”

Hutch looked the box over. There’s no postage or UPS code so it didn’t get here by either of those means.

“Hey,” Hutch said to whoever was in the squad room, “did anybody see who delivered this?”

“Some kid brought it up. He said that he was told Starsky was expecting it.”

“Did you notice what courier service he was from?”

The officer shook his head.

“What did he look like?”

“Come on, Hutchison, who pays attention?”

“You’re a cop, you’re suppose to pay attention!”

It was Starsky’s turn to play piece maker. “Joe, you’ll have to excuse my partner. He’s a bit edgy today.” Starsky shot Hutch a grin at being able to repeat the words Hutch had used earlier to describe him.

“I see that. Listen, he was just a kid, around eighteen. He was wearing a baseball hat. Wasn’t even a Dodgers hat! It was a Cubs hat. Who roots for them?”

Starsky turned to his partner. “Well, it’s a start.”

********

“Hello, my name is Detective Ken Hutchinson and this is my partner Detective David Starsky. We’re trying to track down a delivery person who dropped a package off at Metro division earlier today.” This was the seventh delivery service they had tried already.

The woman on the other side of the counter continued to chomp on her gum as she answered, “Yeah, so what do you want from me?”

Starsky flashed her his best smile. “Well Miss…”

“Roberts.”

“Miss Roberts. We are trying to find the service that delivered the package. The boy who delivered it was about eighteen and wore a Cubs baseball hat.”

“What did he do?” she asked suspiciously.

“Nothing.” Starsky leaned forward and laid a hand on the woman’s arm. “We want to ask him some questions about the person who had him deliver the package.”

Miss Robertson gave Starsky a yellow-toothed smile. “Was it a bomb?”

Starsky made a show of looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was listening. It was all Hutch could do to keep from groaning and rolling his eyes.

“No, but the contents are a part of an ongoing investigation. I wish I could say more…”

The woman nodded knowingly. “It was probably Donny Caplin. He’s always wearing that stupid Cubs hat. He moved out here from Chicago a year ago and…”

Starsky leaned even further across the counter. “Miss Roberts…”

“Call me Wanda.”

Starsky smile again. “Wanda, where might we find Donny?”

“He’s finished for the day and I’m not suppose to give out any personal information about employees.”

“It would really help us in our investigation.” Hutch thought that Starsky’s face would break if he smiled anymore broadly.

“Well, I guess it would be alright.” She wrote Donny’s address down on a piece of paper and handed it to Starsky.

“Thank you, Wanda. You’ve been a big help.”

The woman blushed. “Your welcome. Maybe I’ll run into you again sometime and we could have a drink? Detective Hutchinson, wasn’t it.”

“Yes, maybe. And just call me Hutch.” Starsky tried to keep from laughing as he pushed his partner out the door before Hutch could say anything.

“Smooth, Starsky, real smooth.” Hutch said once they were out on the street again. “And if she calls me…”

“Something to look forward to!”

Hutch did groan this time as he climbed into car.

********

“Police,” Hutch said as he knocked on the apartment door.

It opened a crack and a voice said, “Yeah?”

“We’re looking for Donny Caplin. We’d like to ask him some questions about a package he delivered earlier today.”

“Hey man, I didn’t do anything. I just deliver what I’m told to, that’s all.”

“Your not in any trouble. We just need to talk to you.”

“You got I.D.’s?”

The detectives held them up to the crack.

The door closed again and the sound of a chain being removed could be heard.

“So what do you want to know?”

“Did you deliver a small package to Metro today?” Hutch asked.

“Yeah, didn’t even get a tip.”

“Can you tell us who you picked it up from?”

“Weirdest pick-up I ever had. I get this message to get a package from a place over on East Third. When I get there, there’s nobody around. It’s just an abandoned storefront. But sitting there in front of the grill is this package. It has instructions on where to deliver it and an envelope with enough cash to cover the cost. Really weird.”

“You didn’t see anybody?” Hutch prodded.

“No, like I said, the store was all closed up. So, I just took the package and delivered it. Is that it?”

“Yes, and thank you. If you think of anything else, please give us a call.” Hutch handed him a card.

“So?” Starsky asked as they sat in the car.

“We should check out the place where the kid picked the package up, just to be sure.”

“Yeah,” Starsky agreed. “And then I think we need to go and check your place out.”

The store turned up no clues. It was just as Donny had told them. Brassard had picked a good spot for the drop. The stores on either side were also closed, as well as the one across the street. There would have been no one around to see him drop it off and he could have stayed to watch the boy pick it up without being detected.

That left Hutch’s apartment.

They entered slowly, guns drawn. They didn’t expect to find Brassard there but they were both uneasy. A quick search revealed that the apartment was indeed empty.

Starsky sat on the sofa while Hutch looked around to see if anything else was missing. As far as the blond could tell, everything was as he had left it. Still, he shivered to think that Brassard had been there. Somehow the apartment now felt unclean.

“Want something to drink?” he asked Starsky, trying to shake the feeling that Brassard was somehow still around.

“Yeah, sure.”

The phone rang. Starsky answered it.

“Who is it?” Hutch called from the kitchen. He walked into the living holding two beers. He nearly dropped them when he saw Starsky holding the phone white-knuckled. All of the color had drained from his face and he was staring straight ahead, listening intently.

Hutch ran into the bedroom and picked up the extension. He could guess whose voice he was hearing.

“Ah, that must be Detective Hutchinson on the other phone. I was just asking David if he had received my little gift. Well David, did you?”

“You son of a bitch. What the hell do you want?”

“I thought that would be obvious. You.”

“Then come get me. Screw all of the games. I’m here, right now, so come on.”

“Oh David, I am disappointed. Impatience is a not a desirable trait. As a detective you should know that. No, I am not quite ready to play the proper host and you are certainly not ready to be an accommodating guest.

“Do you remember our last visit? We did have fun, didn’t we? Has he told you about it, Detective Hutchinson? He was really quite an apt pupil but unfortunately we did not have the time to properly finish the last lesson. You interrupted us a bit prematurely. But I am certain that we can rectify that issue before I meet with David again.”

“You’ll never get another opportunity,” Hutch said, his voice low and dangerous.

Brassard chuckled at this. “You truly are amusing, Detective Hutchinson. You are almost as worthy of my attentions as David is. Perhaps we can get together before David arrives.”

“Leave him outta this. It’s me you want. Just name the time.” Hutch did not miss the note of panic in his partner’s voice.

Brassard ignored Starsky’s outburst. “I have so many things planned for us, David. I’ve modified some of the games we played last time and I believe that you will find them even more enthralling. I will take to you levels of awareness you did not dream possible. Of course, you will unfortunately no longer be available to share what you have learned. However, that is but a small price to pay in the achievement of my ultimate goal.”

“I swear, Brassard, you’ll never get the chance to touch him again. We’ll find you…”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk Detective Hutchinson. Such idle words. David knows that I will have what I want. You understand, David. Your partner, for all his good intentions, does not fully comprehend my capabilities, but you do. You knew as soon as you saw me. I was really quite flattered, actually.

“Well I do so hate to cut this conversation short but I still have some final arrangements to make. Until we meet again.” The line went dead.

Hutch hung the receiver up and walked slowly back out into the living room. He sat down on the sofa next to Starsky, neither saying anything. The ringing of the phone broke the silence.

“What the fuck do you want!?” Starsky yelled into the receiver.

“Starsk, it’s me, Huggy. You better get down here right away.”

************

Hutch was out of the Torino before it stopped. He burst through the back door of Huggy’s, Starsky not far behind. The bar was crowded and at first they didn’t see Huggy. Then they spotted him near the stairs that lead to the second floor.

“What’s up?” Hutch asked.

“Upstairs.” Without waiting, Huggy lead the two men to the room at the top of the stairs.

Hutch entered first and immediately turned to try and push Starsky back before he could take in the scene before them. But it was too late. Starsky stood in the doorway staring in mute horror at what lay before him.

The room had been splattered with what looked like very real blood. It was everywhere. On the walls, the sparse furnishings, nothing had been left untouched. In the middle of room, dangling down from the light fixture was a body. Hutch’s body. It had been badly mutilated and, as with the room, it was covered in blood.

“It ain’t real,” Huggy said quietly. “Made out of some kind of rubber. I don’t know about the blood.”

A part of Starsky’s mind knew that it wasn’t Hutch. Hutch was standing next to him. But his overloaded senses would not, could not listen. The events of the last two days, and those that took place months before, came crashing down on him. He felt his vision start to fade as his overloaded senses could take no more. Without a sound he collapsed.

For a moment Hutch had trouble taking in everything that he saw. He felt sick and more than a bit scared. He had started to step further into the room when he heard a dull thud behind him. He turned and saw his partner sprawled out on the floor.

“Starsky!” Hutch yelled as he knelt down next to the still form. He checked for a pulse and let out the breath he had been holding when he found it to be strong.

“Huggy, help me get him to the other room.”

The two men carried the unconscious man into an adjoining room and laid him gently on the bed. Huggy left briefly and returned with some cool water and a cloth.

“Thanks. Listen, do you mind calling this in? Call Dobey directly and let him know what’s happening.”

“Sure Hutch. No problem.”

Hutch sat on the edge of the bed next to his partner. He gently wiped the cool cloth over his face and spoke quietly to him. In a few minutes, Starsky began to stir.

“Hey, take it easy for a minute. Just lie still.”

Starsky was disoriented. He tried to remember where he was. “What happened?”

“You passed out pal.”

“Passed out? Why…” Then the memories came flooding back. “Oh God, I remember. Please Hutch, it wasn’t real, was it?”

“Shhh, no, it was made out of rubber.”

“The blood?”

Hutch shook his head. “The lab boys should be here anytime now. We’ll know more then.”

“I’m sorry, Hutch. I feel like a fool, passin’ out like some school girl.” Starsky turned his head away from his partner, too ashamed to look him in the eye.

“Stop with the sorries, Gordo. You’ve held up a heck of a lot better than I would have. Don’t know how you do it.”

“Nice try, Hutch.”

“Starsky, I mean it. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of stuff has gone down in the last couple of days. And I know you, you’re feeling guilty and keeping it all in where it’s eating at you. You’re not the Lone Ranger, you know.”

“Yeah, you’re too blond to be Tonto,” Starsky said, trying to shift the conversation.

“Will you be O.K. for a minute while I go and check to see what’s going on?”

“I’ll be fine. Go ahead.” Hutch gave Starsky’s shoulder a gentle pat before rising.

Starsky watched as his partner left. What Hutch said was true, he was feeling responsible for what was happening, at least partially. He had no doubt that Brassard would kill whether he was the focus or not, but this game of cat and mouse and the fear that he was raining down of the people close to Starsky would not be going on. Quietly, he made up his mind.

********

Hutch walked back into the room to find that the lab crew had arrived. They were busy taking pictures and samples from the room. In the corner stood Dobey, personally overseeing the procedures.

“How’s Starsky?” Dobey asked when Hutch walked over to him.

“He’s O.K. Just a bit shaken.”

Dobey nodded.

Hutch turned his attention to the site before him. The effigy of him still hung from the ceiling. He noted with some disgust that the thing was wearing a shirt that Starsky had bought him for Christmas a couple of years earlier. It was now torn in places and of course covered in blood. The pants were also his. Hutch approached it slowly. Brassard had obviously taken great pains to make it authentic, right down to an old wristwatch of his. Hutch shuddered at just how realistic it was.

Huggy walked up beside him. “This is one sick dude.”

“When did this happen, Huggy?”

The dark man shrugged. “Don’t know. It was fine this morning then, just before I called you I thought I heard something fall. When I came up here to check it out this is how I found it.”

“I’m sorry that you were dragged into this, Hug.”

Huggy shook his head. “Hey man, it isn’t your fault. This guy is really doing a number of Starsky, though.”

“Yeah, and I’m not sure how much more he can take. You know Starsk. He’s blaming himself.”

“So what are you two gonna do?”

Hutch sighed. “I don’t know. Every lead we turn up is a dead end. Brassard covers all his tracks well.”

Hutch ran a hand across his face. Huggy noted how worn out he looked. “I don’t know how to protect him, Hug. He’s scared and to be honest, so am I.”

Huggy placed an arm around Hutch’s shoulders. “You know you have whatever help I can give.”

“Thanks, I know.”

“I’ve got my ears out now. There has to be someone on the streets who has seen this dude. I mean, the guy ain’t invisible.”

“Starsky thinks that he’s the embodiment of evil and I’m beginning to believe him. I must be getting tired.”

“Why don’t you two come downstairs and get something to eat? The place is packed and there’s not much chance that’ll he show up down there with that many people around.” It wasn’t much but it was all Huggy could think to offer.

“That’s not a bad idea. Let me go get Starsky and we’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”

Hutch let Dobey know of his plans and then went to get Starsky.

The room was empty.

********

Starsky waited until Hutch had left then he headed downstairs. He knew that Hutch would be angry but better that than dead. He now had no doubts that Brassard would kill Hutch to get at him. And that was something that he was not prepared to let happen.

He got into his car and quickly pulled away from The Pits. As he drove he tried to push down the feeling of dread that had been enveloping him since he learned of Brassard’s return. He took some satisfaction in the fact that at least now he was doing something, taking some control of the situation.

As he drove through the darkened streets he watched as people came and went from the shops and bars along the way. Was Brassard there, watching?

“Stop it,” he said out loud to himself. Hutch was right, Brassard was a man, psychotic to be sure, but just a man, not some evil being out of an old woman’s stories. Get a grip, he thought.

He pulled the Torino to a halt in front of his apartment. He needed to get some things before he left. He silently prayed that Brassard would not expect him to return here tonight. Still, he drew his gun as he made his way to the door.

The apartment was dark. Starsky reached his hand in to flip a switch, flooding the room with light. Then, slowly and methodically he checked the entire apartment, turning every light on as he went. It was clean. He sighed and holstered his gun. ‘You’re worse than a kid looking for monsters under the bed,’ he thought.

He grabbed a bag and threw some clothes in it. Next he went into the bathroom and grabbed his toiletries, tossing them in as well.

He paused when a picture that sat on the bookcase caught his eye. He picked it up, fingering the frame. It was a picture taken of Hutch and him at a field day last summer to help the kids of the neighborhood. He touched the glass, remembering how much fun that day had been. He was lost for a moment in the past when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Starsky turned, gun in hand. The room was empty. He chuckled mirthlessly to himself. ‘Your not going to have to worry about Brassard, your just gonna scare yourself to death’. He put the picture in his bag and took one more look around.

He thought about writing a note to Hutch but decided against it. The longer he stayed the more risk Hutch would be in. He went around turning off the lights he had turned on. Closing the door, he checked the lock and then walked back to his car, tossing the bag across the seat as he climbed behind the wheel. He never got the chance to start the engine.

************

Hutch raced to where to Dobey stood. “Have you seen Starsky?” Hutch asked, the anxiety clearly audible.

“No. I thought that he was still lying down.”

“He was but he’s not there now.” Hutch didn’t stop to here Dobey’s response. Racing down the stairs he took a quick look around the bar, not expecting to find Starsky but hoping against hope to be wrong.

“Shit,” he said loudly enough to make a few heads turn.

He ran out into the alley. A uniform was posted at the door. “Hey Hutch, you looking for Starsky?”

“Yeah, have you seen him?”

“He left about twenty minutes ago. Seemed to be in a rush.”

“Tell Dobey!” Hutch yelled as he climbed into one of the parked squad cars.

Hutch flipped the siren and lights on as he raced through the streets. He had a pretty good idea where Starsky had headed and he needed to get there before his partner did something stupid. ‘How could I have been such an idiot?’ he berated himself. He should have anticipated that Starsky would do something like this. ‘I never should have left him alone!’

As he pulled up to Starsky’s place, he saw the Torino parked in front. A small glimmer of hope started to form as he took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the door that hope faded. He pulled out his gun and pushed on the already partially opened door.

The apartment was dark. Just as Starsky had done, Hutch reached in to turn a light on. Laying in clear view of the door was a knife stuck into the floor, impaling a piece of paper. The simple message read, ‘You’re too late.’

Hutch fell to his knees, grief overcoming him. He was struck by a feeling of déjà vu. It was just like before, only this time he knew what he was up against and it left him feeling cold and hopeless.

‘Move!’ a voice in his head screamed. Hutch climbed to his feet, forcing himself to calm down. He wouldn’t do Starsky any good by losing it now. He did a quick search of the apartment, which turned up nothing. He was about to call Dobey when he heard the approach of sirens.

As Dobey pulled up he saw Hutch coming out of Starsky’s apartment. He didn’t need to ask if Starsky was there. The look on the man’s face told him all he needed to know. He reached back into the car and pulled the mike out.

“I want an APB put on Detective David Starsky. He was last seen at a bar called The Pits. He is most likely being held hostage by Alfred Brassard.” Dobey replaced the mike and then turned back to his detective.

“Hutch, he hasn’t been missing that long. There’s still time.”

“Time? Yeah, sure. We’ve been looking for Brassard for two days and haven’t turned up anything useful. Now he’s got Starsky and has probably gone to ground. How can we hope to find him while there’s still time? You got a fucking crystal ball that I don’t know about?!”

“Get a hold of yourself!” Dobey yelled back. “I’m not the enemy here! We’ll find him!”

Hutch looked at his captain. The man was as frustrated as he was. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know where to start. He’s been ahead of us each step of the way.”

Dobey took a deep breath. “I’ll have some uniforms start with the neighbors. It’s not that late yet. Maybe someone saw something.”

Hutch nodded. “I’m going to take a look at his car.” Hutch walked over to Torino and opened the driver’s side door. He saw Starsky’s overnight bag on the front seat. He slid in, pulling the bag to him. He looked inside. On top lay a picture of the two of them. Hutch ran a hand over the glass, a sob catching in his throat. He pushed the emotion down. Now was not the time. He dug through the rest of the items, finding nothing other that some clothes and some personal care items. Without wanting to, he found himself holding the picture again. ‘Were you sitting right here when he found you, Starsk? I wish I had been here for you, Gordo. Why’d you have to go it alone?’ This time he gave in, the tears flowing freely.

********

“You look terrible, my man.” Huggy said as Hutch wearily sat down on a stool.

Hutch ignored the comment. “It’s been three days Huggy. And nothing. It’s as if the guy never existed.”

“I know. I’ve been checking with everyone I know but nothings turned yet.”

“I wonder if he’s even…”

“No, Hutch. Don’t even go there. You start thinkin’ that way your not coming back. Listen, when was the last time you slept?”

“A couple of hours last night. I can’t sleep. Every time I do all I can see is Starsky in that cabin, hanging there.”

“You’ve got to get some rest Hutch. Hey, at least let me fix you something to eat.”

Hutch nodded wearily. Three days. What kind of hell must Starsky be going through? The pictures of Brassard’s handiwork kept flashing through his head. He was all too aware of what must be going on. Resting his head on his arms, he closed his eyes and silently willed his partner to hang in there until he could find him.

Huggy came back with a plate a food and found that Hutch had nodded off. He didn’t expect him to stay asleep long but any little bit was better than none. He brought the plate back into the kitchen and went to make a few more calls.

********

Two more days passed without any news. By this point Dobey had had to ban Hutch from the building until he had gone home, showered and slept a bit. Dobey hated doing it but Hutch had become not much more than a walking zombie. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and he was started to look sallow and not all together well.

Dobey sighed. He had personally been going through any and all reports from the men working on the case but none of them revealed anything new. Even with all of the men at his disposal out looking for Starsky he was beginning to believe that time had run out. Five days with a madman like Brassard might as well have been an eternity.

Although he would not admit it to anyone, he was very fond of Starsky. The thought of what the young man had gone through, he quickly corrected himself, was going through was enough to make him sick.

And then there was Hutch, the other half of the dynamic duo. Dobey was as worried about him as he was about Starsky. He knew that the blond would not stop searching for his partner. He would literally work himself to death before he gave up. And Dobey did not even want to think of would happen should they discover that Starsky didn’t make it.

He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and picked up the latest report.

********

Hutch took off his jacket and tossed it into the chair. He didn’t feel right about being here when Starsky was still missing but he grudgingly had to admit that Dobey was right. If he didn’t get a little sleep soon he was going to pass out. He was barely able to make the drive home without nodding off at the wheel.

He undressed and then stepped into the shower, letting the hot water run over him. He leaned against the wall, the water easing the tension in his body. Slowly he found himself relaxing a bit, despite the guilt he felt about it. He could no longer think clearly, the need for sleep taking over. He turned the water off and quickly dried off. Putting on a pair of pajama bottoms, he laid down on his bed.

He thought about Starsky and how he had looked the last time that he had seen him. Hutch had never seen him look so lost. Brassard had managed to work him over without ever laying a hand on him. Hutch’s last coherent thought before he drifted off to sleep was that maybe that was what Brassard had planned all along.

********

While Hutch slept, Dobey continued to read through reports. He was just about to toss another one on the pile when something caught his eye. One of the rookies, trying to be a thorough as possible, had jotted down some off hand comments made by one of Starsky’s neighbors. The woman, a Mrs. Hallauer, had been interviewed the day after Starsky had disappeared. She stated that she had not been home the previous night, it was her bridge club evening and she was at the home of a friend. She said that normally she would be out walking her dog at that time but on bridge night she didn’t get out until much later. Mrs. Hallauer went on to comment that it was certainly a shame about Detective Starsky. He was such a nice young man. Always helping her out when she had a problem. In fact she had planned to speak with him that very day about something that had happened while she was out walking her dog two nights ago.

Apparently her dog was doing his ‘business’ when she noticed a white van pull out from the side yard of a house that was for sale on the block. She normally wouldn’t have thought much about it except that she had just heard on the news about burglary rings and how they ‘cased’ the neighborhoods before choosing homes to rob. She had walked over to investigate the area where the van had been parked but it was too dark for her to tell for sure if anything had been disturbed. She wanted to alert Detective Starsky so that he could keep an eye out, just in case it was one of those burglary rings.

Dobey put the report down. It was a long shot but at this point they needed to follow every lead. He picked up his phone and had a unit dispatched to check it out.

************

Brassard stared down at the unconscious figure on the floor. He noted with pleasure the somewhat haggard appearance of the man he studied. Even in his drugged state, David twitched and moaned occasionally, causing Brassard to speculate on what was disturbing the man’s subconscious thoughts. He smiled as several ideas came to mind.

Everything had gone splendidly. Brassard’s excitement was almost palpable as he let his thoughts wander to the activities he had planned. The time was nearing, the culmination of his life’s work was now within his grasp. He nudged David with his foot, eliciting another soft groan. He bent down, absently running his hand through the tangle of curls.

“David, we are together again. My patience has been rewarded. Can you hear me? I have been waiting so long for this opportunity.” He looked around at his surroundings. “I have everything prepared and waiting.

“Did you know,” he continued, “that David means ‘beloved’? I find that very appropriate! Oh, not is the sense of a lover, but you are my beloved, the one I have longed for. Can you sense it even in sleep?”

Brassard watched with some anticipation as David stirred and mumbled something. Soon, he thought, soon.

********

Starsky felt himself drifting. It was as if he was deep underwater, being dragged down even as he struggled for the surface. He forced himself upward, awareness slowly returning. At first he was only conscious of the pounding, an incredible ache in his head. It blotted out everything else. Giving into it for a moment, he let him self sink again. Then, from faraway, he heard a voice, felt a hand gently touching his hair. Hutch, he thought as he fought back the darkness.

His eyelids fluttered as he slowly became more alert. He tried to force them open, to focus on the person near him. The light hurt and he closed them again. He waited, gaining strength, and then tried once more. This time he was able to keep his eyes opened. Slowly his vision cleared.

At first he was confused. He thought that he was still at Huggy’s. He had passed out, hadn’t he? Then his eyes fell upon the form that was leaning over him, stroking his hair. If he had been able to scream he would have.

As David’s eyes focused, Brassard saw first confusion and then fear. It was a fear that came from the depths of the soul. Brassard almost cried out with yearning. He was so very close!

With an effort, Brassard brought himself under control. He needed to remain focused on what lay ahead.

“I see that you remember me,” his voice showing no hint of the excitement he felt.

Starsky tried to yell, to strike out, but his body would not respond. His hand fluttered uselessly at his side.

“Oh, do not worry, David, that is merely the aftereffects of the drug. I couldn’t have you hurting yourself too soon! It will wear off shortly.

“I have so much planned and many things to tell you. I have been waiting for this moment since our last encounter. Do you remember? Ah, I am sure that you do. But unlike then I doubt that we will be disturbed. I have taken great pains to ensure that.”

“Hutch…” Starsky struggled to speak.

“Shhh, David. There is no need to concern yourself with Detective Hutchinson. He will not be bothering us.”

Panic overtook Starsky as he tried to understand the meaning of what Brassard had just said. His head throbbed and he was having difficulty concentrating. As he drifted off, he heard Brassard’s voice: “Yes, rest David, soon you will understand.”

********

“David, it is time for us to begin. You must wake up now.”

Starsky heard a voice calling to him but chose to ignore it. The blackness seemed safer. He started to return to its embrace when he was suddenly jarred back to reality by a blow that sent his head reeling.

He opened his eyes, wishing immediately that he hadn’t. He found himself secured to a chair, his legs and arms tightly fastened with straps. He was shirtless, tiny electrodes attached to various parts of his chest. He groaned inwardly realizing what was to come.

“Welcome back,” Brassard said as he moved off towards a nearby table. Starsky looked over to it but couldn’t quite make out the items that lay on top of it. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know.

While Brassard busied himself at the table, he spoke to the man behind him. “Our time has finally arrived, David. I have been searching for you a very long time. Even before our first meeting, I knew that you were out there, I merely needed the perseverance to wait until our paths crossed. But I was confident that I would find you. And all of the others who came before you taught me something, each in his or her own way. Now I will be able to use that accumulated knowledge to finish my life’s work.”

Starsky remained silent, still trying to absorb what was happening. Brassard continued, his back still to the man in the chair.

“You see, David. This quest that I have been on started when I was quite young. Actually it began with my father, who taught me much but did not have the fortitude to see the path to its conclusion. Oh, he did try, but he was,” Brassard paused for a moment, “limited. But his life was not wasted. Nor was my mother’s. While they could not hope to find the way, they both ‘offered’ themselves so that I might.

“Oh, to be sure, I was still floundering at that time with how to succeed. And then I was detained for several years, unable to properly pursue my work. But the time was not wasted. The tormented souls around me revealed insights that I would not have found if I had been free. You see, I believe that no opportunity should be wasted. Everything that we experience in our lives can be an opportunity to learn, one just needs to look at them properly.”

Brassard turned from the table and walked back over to where Starsky sat. He stood there silently for a moment, studying the detective. Starsky returned the stare, trying for an air of confidence that he did not feel.

“Screw you!”

A shadow crossed Brassard’s eyes. Starsky thought for a moment that he saw a hint of annoyance but it was gone before he could be sure.

“I see that you are not quite open to the lessons I have for you. No matter, that will change.”

Brassard flipped a switch.

Starsky’s body jerked, straining against the straps. The charge lasted only a few seconds but it might as well have been hours. As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. But Starsky did not have a chance to recover as another shock was sent through his body. This time a scream tore from his throat as he violently pushed against the restraints. A third shock caused him to lose control of his bladder and pushed him to the edge of unconsciousness. Even after the shock ended his body continued to spasm, his muscles contracting painfully.

Brassard watched the man in front of him. David’s head hung limply down on his chest, his breaths came in ragged gasps. Blood ran from his mouth where he had bitten his tongue and he had also soiled himself. Brassard felt a slight twinge of regret. He had not intended to push David to this point yet. Not that it had been unenjoyable, no; it was simply that David was not ready. But Brassard had let his anger flare, something he rarely did. He would have to be more careful. If he allowed this man to have control over him, to play to his baser emotions, then success might be jeopardized.

Leaning over, Brassard yanked Starsky’s head back. He watched as the detective tried to focus on him.

“Was the display of defiance worth it, David? You of all people should know that I will not be deterred from my goal. Your resistance will only mean that the lessons will take longer. Not that I find that prospect totally unappealing, but you might.

“Are you still harboring some hope that you will somehow escape? It would be best if you accepted your existence as it is now. You are mine and will remain mine until I am finished. Your life now has a higher purpose, one far more important than you can imagine. Let me show you, allow me to guide you, it will be far better that way. It will be difficult but ultimately well worth it. Do not resist me, for I will win regardless.”

  ********

Starsky fought to remain awake. He was vaguely aware that he was wet, but his mind could not grasp why, the pain overwhelmed everything. He felt a hand grasp his hair and pull his head back. Through slitted eyes he could see Brassard leaning over him. He tried to concentrate on what he was saying but he was fading.

His mind turned towards the only hope he had left. Hutch. He tried to remember something Brassard had said earlier but everything was fuzzy. He felt sick. Brassard was still talking but he didn’t care. Hutch would find him. As he clung to that thought, a slight smile played across his lips.

Brassard watched incredulously as the man before him smiled slightly. He quickly checked the rage he felt, calming before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry you feel that way David. This may take a little longer than I anticipated.”

With that he quickly and forcefully slammed the palms of his hands against Starsky’s ears.

************

Starsky no longer knew how long he had been there. Time was now measured by periods of blackness interspersed with times where all he knew was pain. He lay chained to the floor, unable to move more than a couple of feet. He was having trouble breathing and he was sure that a least a couple of his ribs had been broken. He tried to shift to ease the pressure but even that slight movement caused him to gasp.

Where was Hutch? He was beginning to fear that Brassard might have gotten to him. He tried to think. Hutch had been at Huggy’s with him, hadn’t he? In his confusion his mind recalled the scene of Hutch hanging, bloodied, dead. That hadn’t been real, he screamed silently. But he wasn’t sure anymore. If Hutch was alive, wouldn’t he have found him by now?

From somewhere he heard footsteps. He tried to curl up, to move away, but the chain would not allow it. He felt hands on his wrists, the shackles falling away as he was lifted and dragged back to the chair. He didn’t even have enough energy to struggle.

He was aware of the straps being secured, of a hand lifting his head.

“David?” His voice.

Starsky forced his eyes open. He knew by now that it would be worse if he didn’t respond.

Brassard smiled. Yes, things were now moving along nicely now.

“Have you been wondering, David, why you are here? Why I chose you? Perhaps it will easier for you if you know my motivations.” Brassard did not wait for a response.

“You see, as I told you earlier, you are part of my life’s work. Immortality. Ah, a lofty goal but not an unattainable one. Merely one that has taken time. But the time I have spent searching is small in comparison to the reward!

“My father understood but a small part of it. He started teaching me as soon as I could walk. At first just small things, rabbits we caught, the occasional cat or dog that wandered onto the farm. Killing became easy. I learned that if I watched closely, I could ‘see’ them at the moment they realized that the end was upon them. But animals do not possess the fear of death that people do. They accept it.

“As I grew older, I experimented on larger beasts. We had cows. Stupid creatures really. But each death added to my understanding.”

“My father watched, pleased with my progress. But I soon came to realize that he really knew nothing at all. His motivations for killing were base, unrefined. He thought that death alone was reason enough for killing. And poor mother, she was locked in a world of her own, merely a shell, a tool which allowed my father to be free to pursue his work.” He paused, lost for a moment in some distant memory.

“But I knew, or at least sensed that death alone meant nothing. It was simply a passage to another plane. What lay there I did not know, but surely there were secrets that could be learned.

“I began to read books on Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, all the major religions as well as many obscure ones. Oh, their talk of gods was of no interest to me. Mere stories made up to placate and keep the masses under control. But most agreed that there was existence after the mortal death. That we do not cease to exist when the body gives out.

“Did you know, David, that there is speculation that some ancient Druids believed in a kind of universal Life Force, flowing to and from all living things? What power would one possess if they were able to tap into that?”

Starsky listened with growing horror as Brassard continued.

“I tried to discuss this with my father but he was a simple man, not taken with great thoughts. I knew that I would have to advance my studies on my own. And what greater respect could I pay to him than to allow him to be the first step towards my awareness?

“The soul. It is a word that I am sure you are familiar with but it does not really explain anything. It denotes an individual’s essence, but it is lacking. It does not encompass the whole of what is beyond. Its usage merely allows man to see his singular passage, as an individual. Man has fought so hard to deny the totality of all that is. But in that totality lies all; knowledge and power beyond what even I can imagine.

“It is that essence which I wish to see, to become a part of. But I do not wish to die, for that would not allow me to impact upon those left behind, to act as a guide of sorts. There are others out there, others like me who seek the truth. I have found no one who has come as close to it as I am, but the fact that they are searching excites me, gives me hope that not all is lost. With the understanding that my success would grant me, I, and others like me, could live as the gods so many people profess to worship. A new age could be shaped.

“And the key to the beginning is capturing a piece of that totality at the moment the individual becomes aware of it. At first I thought by being there when death moved in and escorted the individual to the whole would be enough. I experimented, tried many things before I comprehended that the ‘soul’ had a strong drive to move towards that totality. In order to divert it there would need to be some secondary force to, let’s say, distract it at the moment of its union.

“That’s when I realized that pain and the subsequent fear that accompanies it were the keys. Even as the one strove towards the whole, the fear would pull it back. Fear at the time of death would be generalized, the soul would not only fear the pain but the totality. At that moment it could be diverted, captured if you like, as it made its final step.”

Brassard’s face was now flushed, his fervor evident. Starsky almost wept at the madness before him. How could someone like this exist? He whimpered, his mind refusing to believe what it was hearing.

Brassard heard the sound and ran his hand almost gently across David’s cheek. Starsky felt bile rising at the touch.

“You understand now just how important your death is. And yours, above all others, is the one needed. You recognized me the moment we met. In your ignorance you thought me evil, but now are beginning to see the truth.

“You have flittered with death many times, I could see its touch on you. But beyond that you have also tasted the wholeness of what is beyond. At first I thought that I was mistaken, you are not like me and my kind, how could you know? But the other, your ‘white knight,’ has allowed your essence a glimpse, even if it is on a subconscious level, of what lies beyond. The bond between you two is a oneness of sorts. You are the key to open the door for me, to bring the two together.”

Brassard reached for Starsky’s hand, caressing the fingers. “It is almost time. We are close. Do you feel it?” With a quick movement he snapped the finger, breaking it instantly. Starsky shrieked.

“Yes, you do.”

 

PART THREE

“Hutchinson,” Dobey yelled from his office door.

Hutch turned with a start. He had been reading a report on the investigation and was startled by Dobey’s voice.

Dobey watched as the man approached. He wasn’t sure that what he had to say might not make matters worse. Sometimes hope could work against you.

“Yeah, Captain?” Hutch still looked tired. The sleep he had gotten the night before had been punctuated with nightmares. He could hear Starsky calling him but he was unable to reach him, to help.

Hutch looked at Dobey expectantly.

“A rookie took a statement from one of Starsky’s neighbors who said she had seen a van parked nearby the night before Starsky disappeared. I had a unit check it out. They found what looked like a piece of a canvas bag on the spot where the van had been parked. I had the lab run some tests on it. They just called. I thought you might want to go find out what they discovered.”

Hutch’s heart leapt. Dobey saw the change in his expression and placed a hand on his arm, stopping him before he could leave.

“Hutch,” he began softly, “it may be nothing. It’s a long shot at best.”

“Maybe not!” Hutch said as he almost ran from the office.

Dobey shook his head and said a silent prayer for both of his boys.

************

Kate Wallis looked up as she heard the door to the lab open. “Hutch, how you holding up?”

“I’m O.K. What have you got?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Hutch. It’s not much.” She reached behind her and picked up a piece of material. “The officer found this piece of canvas. I’m not even sure what possessed him to pick it up.” She handed it to Hutch as she reached for the report.

“I ran a series of tests on it. The material itself is not remarkable, ordinary canvas, probably ten or twelve years old, at least. But I did find some blood stains on it.”

She watched as look of fear crossed Hutch’s face. “No, its not human blood. It’s most probably from a pig.”

“Kate, what could this possibly have to do with Starsky? For all we know it could have been sitting out there for years!”

“Hold up for a sec. It has not been sitting out there long; there are no signs that it has been exposed to the elements. Next, I don’t think that it is the kind of thing you would find in that neighborhood. When I discovered that it was pig’s blood on it, that got me to wondering what in the world it was doing there. If it was from meat someone had bought in a store then why would it be on canvas? Even if they had carried it in a canvas bag, the meet would have been rapped. So I looked a little further and turned up a couple of more things. First, there were traces of salt on the bag. Second, while I had it under the scope, I discovered the faint hint of what I think was probably some kind of logo. All I could make out were the letters SE.

Hutch looked at her blankly.

“If I had to guess, and this is a very way out guess, I would say that the bag may have come from a slaughterhouse. I mean, we don’t exactly have livestock roaming the streets around here. And salt is used as part of a brine solution for curing various cuts of pork. The bag could have held salt and maybe the bloodstain happened at the plant. Of course, it could be a lot of things that I haven’t even thought of.”

Hutch knew that she was reaching but at this stage he was willing to grab onto anything.

“Thanks, Kate, you’re right, it’s a long shot but right now it’s all we’ve got!”

********

Cold, so cold. He could no longer remember a time when he had felt warm, when he did not hurt. Had there been a time? He tried to think.

He was no longer chained, but the thought of escape no longer occurred to him.

God it hurt. He was alone. No, that wasn’t right. There was the other. He wanted something, something important. What was it? If he could only remember then maybe it would end.

He shivered, his body still fighting for a life his mind no longer cared about. He wished that he could just slip away, but the other would not give him release. Only pain.

Tears flowed down his face, but he did not notice them. He prayed to God for release. None came.

From somewhere a picture formed in his mind. A man. Blond with blue eyes. The other? No, this was someone else. Someone who did not bring pain. He knew this man. Who was he? He concentrated on the face, trying hard to remember. More images: being held, a cool cloth on his face, a gentle touch.

Hope. This man meant hope.

Without volition, his swollen lips and tongue moved, tried to form a name that his mind had latched onto.

Brassard walked over to the broken man who lay on the floor. He saw the tears and smiled. Six days. He was truly amazed that David had been able to persevere this long. But the time was almost upon them now. Soon each would be able to fulfill his destiny.

Brassard bent down and wiped the tears, causing an involuntary shudder from the man.

“David, the end is near. We have little time left together, at least as we are now. Death is drawing close but I’m afraid that it will be painful for you, very painful, but there is no other way.

“I must prepare you soon. You will need to be more alert when the time comes. What nightmares do you have left, I wonder? Some secret fear that you keep hidden.

“Ah, but I think I know. The thing that you fear the most is not your death, no, but that of the blond one. So I have arranged a little surprise for you. It should be arriving any time now. But before it does, you must be ready.”

Starsky felt a sting in his arm but it barely registered.

“This will help you David. I need you more coherent for our final moment together. I can’t have you slipping away without me, now can I?

“The drug will take awhile, be a good boy while I’m gone. But don’t worry, I’ll be back soon with a special guest.” Brassard left Starsky where he lay as he went to finish his preparations.

************

Hutch drove slowly past a row of deserted factories and warehouses. This would be the third one he had checked out. The other two had turned up no leads and he was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t made a mistake. Each moment wasted on dead ends was just that much longer that Starsky was with Brassard. But he had no other choice. This was the only lead they had gotten and he needed to do something, anything. He didn’t believe that Starsky was dead yet, somehow he felt that he would know if he were. But a rising sense of dread told him that there was little time left.

He parked a short distance away from the third building on his list. “Zebra three to dispatch. Let Dobey know that I’m checking out O’Neill’s Meat Processing Plant. I’ll radio back in twenty. Over”

“Gottcha, Hutch,” came back Millie’s voice. “Be careful, over.”

“Thanks, Millie, I will. Out.” Hutch hung the mike up and got out of his car. He felt a bit foolish radioing in at each stop but it was the only way that Dobey let him go without backup. Hutch had feared that, should he come across Brassard, there was a greater chance of being spotted the more people that were around, and that could spell disaster for Starsky. He prayed that the Reaper’s overly confident ego would not allow him to even consider the possibility of capture.

He walked slowly over to the building, keeping as out of sight as possible. He checked the door and his heart jumped. It was not locked. He eased it open slightly and peered in. From his vantage point it looked empty, there was no sign that anyone had been there recently. He slipped in and stood for a moment, listening.

Hearing nothing, he carefully made his way deeper into the building. He shuddered involuntarily at the possibility of Starsky being trapped in this place. It had a cold, dead feeling to it.

As he moved farther into the building the sense of dread he had had earlier grew. He rounded a corner which lead into another area of the building. He paused, peering into the dimness ahead.

He froze and that one moment of hesitation cost him. At the instant that his mind registered a still form on the floor in front of him something hard came down on the back of his head. He slumped forward, his last conscious thought a silent apology to the one he had failed.

************

“Come,” Dobey yelled at the knock on the door.

“Captain, sorry to bother you, it’s probably nothing but…”

Dobey looked at Millie with something less than patience. Hutch was not the only one feeling the effects of Starsky’s disappearance. Dobey’s nerves were frayed and it was all he could do to keep from taking out those feelings on his people.

“Well?”

“Hutch hasn’t checked back in,” Millie blurted out. “It’s been half an hour since his last call, ten minutes longer then it should be.”

“Damn! What was his last location?”

“O’Neill’s Meat Processing Plant over near Boyton.”

Dobey was on the phone calling for backup before Millie made it to the door.

************

A hard slap brought Hutch abruptly back to reality. His first realization was that he was suspended painfully by his arms, his feet barely touching the ground. The next realization broke his heart.

Starsky, slumped over in a chair, unrestrained but unmoving. He was naked from the waste up and the sight of his damaged body was more than Hutch could bear. If there was an inch of flesh not touched Hutch could not see it. The once healthy skin was now mottled purple, the bruising extensive. Cuts, some still oozing blood, were interspersed across his torso along with what looked like blackened burn marks.

Hutch’s eyes fell upon Starsky’s right arm, which rested at an odd angle on the arm of the chair. He thought he saw a glint of white protruding through the skin. He could see blood staining the legs of his pants and could only wonder at the damage that was hidden from sight.

A sob caught in his throat as he called out to Starsky. There was a slight stirring and he watched in horror as his partner raised his head. The lips were swollen and cracked and the face was as bruised as the rest of his body. One eye was almost completely swollen shut, the other stared blankly ahead, not acknowledging that Hutch was even there. Then the head slowly sagged back to his chest.

Hutch felt sick and could not stop the bile that rose in his throat. He threw up, sending painful waves to his already strained arms as his body spasmed. He tried to hang his head forward but only partially succeeded.

“Messy, Detective Hutchinson, very messy. No matter, it will shortly not make a difference.”

Hutch turned his head to the side and saw Brassard standing there, eyeing him.

“Son of a bitch…”

“Witty and original, detective.

“I see that you got the little clue I left. I wasn’t sure that it might not be too subtle but you are clever, aren’t you? And you arrived just in time. I’m not sure how much longer poor David could hold out.”

Brassard walked over to stand next to Starsky. Hutch’s skin crawled as the man laid a proprietary hand on Starsky’s shoulder. He bent over and whispered something and Hutch watched as his friend began to shake.

“Don’t touch him!” Hutch screamed. Hutch watched as Starsky fought to raise his head again. Brassard ignored Hutch, still speaking softly into Starsky’s ear. Slowly, with an agonizing effort, Starsky brought his head back up and looked at Hutch.

“H…hut…?” The word would not form through the abused mouth.

For a moment nothing existed for Hutch other than the man in front of him.

“Yeah Starsk, it’s me. I’m sorry, buddy.” The words could never express the depth of emotion Hutch was feeling.

“Sokay.” Hutch felt his vision blur at the simple release from blame that his partner offered.

“Touching,” Brassard said. “And now David, it is time.”

Brassard chose a knife from the table and turned back to Starsky. He slowly ran the blade across Starsky’s chest, not hard enough to break skin but enough to elicit a moan.

Starsky felt the blade run down his chest but he ignored it. The pain became secondary to the blurred image in front of him. He heard Hutch yelling. He wanted to tell it was okay, that he was tired and just wanted it to end, but he couldn’t seem to speak.

Then the knife was gone, replaced by a cold touch. Brassard was talking to him, he tried to focus on the words but it was too hard. He started to close his eyes again.

“No, no David. Not yet. There is one more thing that you must see before I let you go. You must watch as I take away the one thing that you have left.”

Brassard turned away from Starsky to face Hutch.

“You see, detective. I learned from my last encounter with David that he did not fear his own death enough to aid me in my purpose. But he did fear yours. Without knowing it will be instrumental in my success.”

Starsky heard the words and understood. From somewhere deep within himself the last of his reserves snapped. He screamed and lunged forward as he watched the knife plunge into Hutch.

************

Dobey sat in the waiting room. He was tired and drained. Maybe it was time to retire. He just didn’t seem to have the stomach for this anymore. He sighed. The first rule of being a captain is not to get too personally involved. But what he had seen that night had shaken him to his very core. He had witnessed many gruesome things over his years on the force but he knew that he would never shake the image of what he had seen this day.

When the officers had stormed the processing plant, they had come upon a scene out of a nightmare. The images continued to haunt him.

Hutch, hanging from his arms, the hilt of a knife protruding from his abdomen. His eyes, oh god Dobey didn’t ever think that he would forget that look. How Hutch had even remained conscious was a mystery, but the naked terror and total helplessness that showed on his face as he struggled weakly against the ropes, trying desperately against all hope to help the man who lay on the floor, would stay with him the rest of his life.

And Starsky. Dobey fought back the tears at the memory. Brassard, supporting the man in a vile parody of an embrace, holding him so that he could see Hutch even as he clutched his hands to the young man’s throat, strangling out whatever life there was left in the abused body.

The shot. Dobey hadn’t even realized that he had fired his gun. Brassard had turned and smiled at him even as the bullet struck.

It was bedlam after that. Police and paramedics everywhere. Shouted orders, desperate pleas for assistance.

And now the waiting. But for what? How could anyone survive what he had seen? Even if somehow the physical self recovered, what of the mind?

********

It was quiet now. Blissfully quiet. The darkness was soothing really, not at all what he had expected. Why had he fought against this for so long?

From faraway he felt hands, but it didn’t matter anymore. The fight was over, there was nothing left.

He had always thought that there would be a light, a tunnel of some sorts. Isn’t that what everyone said? Maybe that came later. Maybe for now he would be allowed to enjoy the nothingness.

Images came and went. Good. At least part of the scenario was playing out as he had expected. Visions from his life: his childhood, his time on the force. The visions weren’t quite right though, were they? Something was missing. What was it? He thought for a moment. No, not something, someone.

He tried to recall the person but the blackness called, tantalizing in its plea to let go. He started to give in again, to drift. That was better, really. It was easier.

But there was a tug, he sensed it rather than felt it. It was tenuous, but there. Please, he begged, let me go. No more. I can’t.

He hated the silent thing that tried to keep him from the resting, from knowing nothing.

Shit, he thought as he felt a jolt to his body.

************

“Captain?” He felt a hand on his shoulder.

Dobey turned to look into the eyes of Huggy.

“Been here before, haven’t we?” Huggy said as he seated himself next to Dobey.

The captain nodded wearily. “Too many times. It’s not good.”

The thin man nodded. He had talked to one of the uniforms on his up and knew the situation.

“He was clinically dead when they brought him in. I don’t know what’s going on now.”

“They’ll get him back.”

Dobey shook his head. “You didn’t see, Huggy. You can’t imagine…” Dobey tried to get himself under control. “We could lose both of them.”

This struck Huggy hard. He had seen Dobey before when things were bad, but never had he witnessed the despair that he was seeing now.

They sat together, keeping a silent vigil. It was all either of them could do.

************

Damn it hurt. I must not be dead. It’s not suppose to hurt when you’re dead. For some reason that thought tickled him. Then he remembered why he was hurt and amusement turned to anguish. He had failed. I tried. But it wasn’t enough. The pain of failure far outweighed any physical sensation. What’s the point now? I promised to protect him and what good did I do? He remembered the simple word that his partner had spoken to him, the last word he would ever speak. Even after all he had been through he could still forgive. But I can’t forgive myself. You were so afraid and I let him take you. What had those days been like? No, he screamed. It wasn’t fair! I can’t live while he…

Someone was calling him. He wanted badly to ignore it, to sink into the torment that was to be his hell. He deserved it. But the voice was insistent. He had no choice but to listen.

********

“Hutch? Kenneth, can you hear me?”

Hutch stirred, opening his eyes slowly, reluctantly. For a moment he was disoriented, unsure of where he was. Then his eyes fell upon the man standing over him.

“Starsk?”

“Kenneth, it’s Captain Dobey. You’re going to be all right.”

He wanted to yell, to tell him that nothing would ever be ‘all right’ again but the words would not come. Instead, he repeated his request.

“They’re still working on him. I haven’t heard anything yet. You need to rest, I’ll…”

But the rest of the words were lost. He latched onto the hope that Starsky was still alive. How was that possible? He had seen what Brassard had done. Nobody could live through that. But Dobey had said that he wasn’t gone. Hutch let his eyes close again and prayed to anyone who would listen to give him one more chance to keep his promise. He would not waste that precious gift again.

Dobey watched as Hutch’s eyes closed, the tears on his cheeks mirroring the ones he was watching.

************

The doctor approached the two men who sat in the waiting area, removing his mask as he walked. He had never seen the damage, the sheer destruction of a human body that he had just witnessed. And he hoped never to again. No person should ever have to go through what that man had. They had worked on him for hours, trying to fix what by all rights was not repairable. He didn’t know what to say to the men who now stood in front of him.

“Doctor?” It was Huggy who asked.

The truth would have to do. “He’s alive, but just barely. The damage…extensive doesn’t really describe it.” He knew that words hurt but false hope would hurt more. “He’s not stable yet. As soon as we can, we’ll move him up to ICU. Beyond that…”

Dobey nodded. It was no more than he had feared but still more than he had hoped for.

The doctor saw the look. He had seen it many times before.

“Listen, please, even though he pulled through the initial surgery I don’t hold out much hope. I’m sorry, I know that hurts, but you need to be prepared that for the fact that he probably won’t make it.” He wiped his eyes tiredly with his arm. “I’m truly amazed that he made it this far. He must be quite a man. He deserved better.”

It was Huggy’s turn to nod. “The best. Can we see him?”

“Once he’s moved to ICU you can go in briefly. I need to warn you that he does not look good. The injuries are,” he searched for a word, “graphic and he’ll be hooked up to a variety of machines.”

The two men watched as the doctor turned and left. Dobey knew that he should thank the man but right now he had little thanks in his heart.

************

The night had been a long one. Hutch had remained unconscious but his vital signs had improved. The doctors expected a full recovery. He had been lucky they said. Had the knife been pulled out before he had gotten to the emergency room he most likely would have bled to death.

Dobey shifted uncomfortably in the chair that he had pulled up next to the blond man’s bed. What the doctors didn’t understand was that the physical healing was only a small part of what lay ahead.

He sighed and thought of the man who lay two floors above him. Things looked no better now than they had yesterday. Dobey had been up several times throughout the night but each time was the same. Starsky remained comatose, machines taking over most of what constituted physical life. The nurses moved in and out of the room, checking monitors, taking vital signs, but Dobey noticed a detachment. There was no point in getting involved with a man who almost certainly would not pull through.

His thoughts were interrupted by a low moan from the man next to him. He gently reached out and took his hand, watching as the eyelids opened.

“Welcome back, son,” Dobey said quietly.

Hutch turned his head and let his eyes wander around the room before returning them to Dobey.

“Starsky?” His voice sounded scratchy.

“Let me get you a drink.”

Hutch clutched his hand. “Tell me.” A command.

“He’s upstairs in ICU.” Hutch searched Dobey’s face, looking for the truth.

“Bad?”

“Yes, Kenneth, it’s bad.” Dobey could not lie. He would know.

“I need…” Hutch tried to rise but his body failed him.

“No, you need to stay here, to rest.” Dobey gently placed a restraining hand on his shoulder even as Hutch’s body sank back down.

Hutch wanted to argue but could not find the strength. He felt the room begin to spin, his vision cloud. He fought it, needing desperately to get through.

“Please…go…tell him…”

“I will,” he said to the now unconscious man. “I will.”

************

The blackness still surrounded him, but it had changed. It was not the warm darkness that had embraced him with such gentleness, this was a blackness filled with pain. Pain of the body and of the mind. The memories bombarded him. Torture, helplessness, desolation. He wanted to flee but did not know how. Something kept him here, would not allow him the release he so desperately needed.

Why? he pleaded. He had been through so much. Wasn’t it enough? What more could be asked of him?

Then suddenly the answer came, the thing he could not remember before. The one who needed him. A name. Hutch. For a moment he felt warm, almost whole, but then the despair returned. Please, don’t do this, he begged. You are asking too much. If you love me…

But he knew his pleas would go unanswered. And he hated him for it, even as he loved him still.

********

The nurse checked the I.V. tubes leading into the man who lay still in the bed. She paused, staring at his battered face. She wondered what he had looked like before. She knew little of the circumstances that had caused the injuries, although she was sure that as the day wore on the hospital rumor mill would swing into full force. She was not sure that she wanted to know.

She took a cloth and gently wiped his forehead then glanced up at the monitors. She shook her head. They told he as much about the man’s condition as did his appearance. She looked at the nametag above the bed.

“David,” she said softly to no one in particular.

Adjusting his covers, she silently turned and left.

************

Hutch moaned. He saw Starsky, broken, defeated. He wanted to hold him, to comfort him but something was keeping him away. He tried to reach him, to tell him that he was there, but his friend was drifting further out of reach. He called to him, pleaded with him to stay. He felt a mixture of emotions wash over him. But one stood out. There was love, he had expected that, but the other was foreign.

“No,” he groaned out loud.

The doctor looked up from the chart he had been reading. He watched as the man’s head began to move back and forth on the pillow. He checked the chart again and then prepared an injection.

As he inserted the needle into the I.V. tube he heard the man mumble something. It sounded like ‘don’t hate me.’ He wondered briefly about the words as he waited to make sure that the sedative took affect. Then he noted it on the chart and went to check on his other patients.

From somewhere else in the hospital a monitor droned on. Beep, beep, beep, counting out the beats of a heart that had died long ago. Doctors came and went but that concerned him little.

He let his mind go, almost able to feel what had nearly been his. He had been so close. But at the very instant that he felt success it had been ripped from him. At first he had rejected the defeat, desperately reaching out even as it slipped from him. Then, for a while, there was nothing.

When awareness returned he allowed himself a moment of regret. But then he had sensed something. He concentrated, opening himself up to the vibrations. No, it was not possible, was it?

But there it was, unmistakable.

He needed to heal. There was still time.

************

The nurses started to speak with him as they went about their routine. It had been a week and somehow he had managed not to die. He was still unconscious, in a coma, and his vitals remained low, but he was alive. They talked of the weather, trivial matters that they needed to attend to, anything that came to mind. And they worked around the blond man who, for the last three days, sat at the bedside almost constantly.

The doctors marveled at the fact that the man was alive. The nurses did as well. So did the blond and the other two men who came regularly to visit the detective. The only one who seemed unimpressed was the one who was the focus of the attention.

The week had not been without its low points. They had nearly lost Starsky more than once. Even now the doctors discouraged too much hope. Hutch didn’t care. The only thing that mattered at the moment was that Starsky was still with them.

Dobey had tried to speak with Hutch. He knew that the man carried guilt over what had happened. But Hutch was deaf to what Dobey said. He spoke only to Starsky; reading to him, telling him of the vacation he had planned for the two of them when Starsky was better, anything other than the events that had brought them there. He had an overwhelming fear that if he didn’t stay with his friend, remain in contact, that Starsky would just slip away. Although Starsky had shown no signs of coming around, Hutch sensed that there was an internal struggle being waged, one that Starsky’s heart may not be on the right side of. He could not explain it to Dobey, or even Huggy, but he knew it was true.

He remembered a faint impression, a dream, of Starsky turning away, leaving, begging him to just let it be. It was ephemeral but nonetheless unsettling. Never in the all too many times that Starsky had been close to death had Hutch felt his partner’s resolve to keep going slip. He felt it now. Brassard had taken even that from him.

But Hutch couldn’t just let go. He had to somehow make Starsky see that there was still hope, still a reason to go on. But was there? Starsky had suffered so much, even if he recovered he may not do so totally. The doctors had warned him about that. The trauma to him, both physically and mentally could leave permanent damage even if he survived. Hutch had dismissed the warnings, he had to. Right now he needed to simply help Starsky to want to try.

So he sat there until the nurses made him return to his bed at the end of the day. He went, reluctantly, and returned early. They said he would be released soon. He then planned on spending the evenings with Starsky as well.

************

Huggy entered the room, seeing exactly what he had expected to see. Starsky, still and hooked up to machinery, and Hutch, sitting there reading the newspaper out loud. He pulled a chair up next to him and sat for a moment, not saying anything.

Hutch finally turned and acknowledged him with a nod.

“Nice to see you, too,” Huggy replied with mock hurt. He grew more serious. “Any change?”

Hutch shook his head. They both sat staring at the man in the bed, each lost to his own thoughts.

“Brassard?” Huggy finally asked.

Hutch shot him a look and rose, pulling Huggy out of the room. “Don’t even mention that name in front of him,” Hutch hissed.

“Hutch…”

For a moment the blonde’s eyes blazed and Huggy almost took a step back.

“The son of a bitch is still alive. Fucking bullet didn’t do its job.” Huggy did step back this time. He had never seen such pure hatred in Hutch before.

“Hey man, I know how you feel…”

“You do? Sure you do! Did you let your closest friend fall into the hands of a man who could do…who did that to him?” He gestured back to the room. “Did you have to hang there and watch as the last breathes were strangled out of him? Did you see the fear? Tell me again that you know how I feel!” Hutch moved away from Huggy and sank down to the floor.

Huggy leaned down next to Hutch, putting an arm around his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Hutch. Brassard wasn’t gonna stop until he got to Starsky. Once Starsk left…”

“He left to protect me,” Hutch whispered.

“Yeah, he did, and he wouldn’t want you sitting out here on the floor blaming yourself.”

“He doesn’t want to live.” The words came out before he could stop them.

“What?”

“Starsk, he’s given up. He doesn’t want to go on.”

“Man that ain’t no way to talk. He’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. Ain’t no way he’s gonna quit.”

Hutch shook his head sadly. “Brassard’s won.”

Huggy was angry. This was foolishness and he had to make Hutch see that. “Listen to me Hutch cause I’m only going to say this once. He loves you. Damn, I’ve never seen two friends closer, it’s almost scary. As long as you need him, he’ll fight. How do you think he made it through all of the shit he’s gone through? You. That’s how. Now get off your ass and let him know that he matters. That you need him.”

“It’s not enough this time.”

Huggy rose, a look of disgust and worry on his face. “You givin’ up on him, Hutch? Well I ain’t.” He turned and walked back into the room.

Hutch just sat there. Huggy’s words had hurt but he was also afraid that they held just a bit of truth as well. Maybe just a little part of him had given up. It hurt so much to him like that and the thought of what lay ahead…

Hutch’s shoulders shook. No, he hadn’t given up, at least not the way Huggy had meant. He wanted Starsky to live but at what cost? The nagging doubt that Starsky wanted to live struck him again. No, buddy, it’s the one thing that I can’t give you. I need you too much. Hutch rose and followed Huggy into the room.

************

Starsky struggled upwards. Damn you Hutch. You should have let me go. Slowly he became aware of sensations. First there was the pain. It washed over him, threatening to drag him back down. Then, slowly, he became aware of sounds. They were jumbled together like ‘white noise’ from a television set on a channel that had gone off the air. Gradually they took on individual identities. Some were mechanical, beeps and hisses. Some were human. People talking. He focused on those. He couldn’t make out the words, the effort that took was too great, but the tones were soft, and he sensed that, for the moment, he was safe.

He rose a little more. Now he felt tubes, in his arms and down his throat. He panicked for a moment, unsure of what it all meant. There was a hand touching his cheek and the panic increased. He remembered a hand that touched him like that but it had brought pain along with the touch. He wanted to flee, started to withdraw, but then the voices broke through again. He pushed the fear down, concentrated instead on the voices, the voice.

His eyelids fluttered, his eyes watered at the onslaught of light that assaulted him. He closed them, waited, tried again. This time he could make out the blurry image of someone leaning over him.

********

Hutch was speaking quietly with Huggy, gently touching Starsky as he did. He glanced over at his partner and felt his heart stop when he saw the eyes open. He leaned in close, afraid that he had imagined it. He tried to speak but found that he could only stare at the sight before him. Finally he found his voice.

“Starsk,” he said unsteadily. “Hey buddy, it’s good to have you back.” The words felt stiff. No words could convey the emotions he was feeling.

The eyes cleared for a moment, held his gaze, and then slowly closed.

Hutch remained where he was, not caring who saw him crying.

************

Brassard opened his eyes and looked around him. He was alone. Good. Slowly he flexed his muscles, feeling the stiffness of inactivity. His chest ached, no doubt the result of his earlier carelessness. But pain could be ignored. He had more important concerns.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, searching for the answer to his question. He had sensed him earlier, just a brief flicker, but undeniably him. Now he needed to know if there was still a chance. A bombardment of sensations washed over him and he sifted through them with a skill born of years of practice. In this place there was so much anguish from so many that he became light-headed, not with shared empathy but with a giddiness that would disgust most.

There it was. A bit stronger than before but still weak. He opened himself to it and almost shouted with joy. It was better than he could have wished for. Yes, he was still alive, but so close to the edge.

Brassard probed deeper and a slight smile crossed his face. Ah, David, he thought, you have tasted death again but this time you have allowed it to gain a hold. You doubt and that can be used. Slowly Brassard pulled his mind back.

He would have to move quickly while David was still vulnerable. Tonight.

From somewhere else in the hospital, a man moaned.

************

“What the hell do you mean he’s gone?” Hutch yelled. Dobey had just returned and insisted that Hutch come out into the hall with him.

“Calm down! We’ve sealed off the hospital. We’ll find him!”

“How could you let that lunatic go? Wasn’t there a guard at his door?”

Dobey nodded. “When a nurse went in to check on Brassard she found the guard dead inside of the room. Brassard was missing.”

“This can’t be happening!” Hutch paced up and down the hall, the rage he felt barely controlled. He absently held a hand to his stomach, wincing slightly as he did so.

“Hutchinson, calm down!” Dobey said for the second time. “You’re not doing yourself or Starsky any good this way. I’ve already ordered an extra guards for Starsky’s floor. There is no way that Brassard will get to him.”

“Just like before, huh? We did a real good job of keeping him safe the last time. So good that he’s lying in there just hanging on.” Hutch knew that he was being unfair but he didn’t care. “Even if he doesn’t make a move now, he’ll be out there waiting. Do you think that Starsky can go through that again?”

“Hutch…”

The blond waved him off angrily. “Just find him,” he said as he re-entered Starsky’s room.

Hutch sat down and tried to compose himself. Although Starsky was not alert enough to realize what was happening, Hutch didn’t want to take any chances. If Starsky somehow realized that Brassard was free Hutch wasn’t sure if his tenuous hold on life would last.

He took a deep breath and picked up Starsky’s hand. “Hey, you know what?” he said to the silent figure before him. “I’m going to spend the night here. What do you think? We need to work on those vacation plans. I promise, no woods this time. Maybe some tropical island. Lot’s of beautiful women and those drinks with the umbrellas in them. Sound good?”

The only response was the hiss of the respirator.

“Listen, I’ll be right back. I just have to go and grab a couple of things from my room.” He squeezed the hand once and then quickly left.

************

Brassard sat quietly, allowing himself time to work out his plan. This would truly test his abilities. But he had no doubts that he was up to the challenge. By now they would have realized that he was gone, most likely the building was sealed off. But that did not matter, he had no intention of leaving. What he wanted was inside, not out.

There would be guards and of course the other detective. The guards he did not worry about. They would be easily taken care of. It was the other that would prove the most difficult. He would be there, watching, prepared.

He would need to be careful. Rising, he left to set his plans in motion.

************

Dobey looked at the discarded gown that the officer held.

“How long ago did you find it?” Dobey asked.

“About five minutes,” Wyand responded. “I had just relieved Johnson and thought that I would check the alley and I saw this by the dumpster. The armband was next to it.”

Dobey nodded. Somehow Brassard had gotten out before they had secured the hospital. He would still maintain the security, just in case, but he doubted that Brassard would be back, at least not soon.

He sighed as he spoke into the walkie talkie he carried. “All units, this is Captain Dobey. It looks like Brassard made it out of the building. Maintain security, keeping an eye out for people entering. Out.”

Dobey re-entered the building. He was in a section of the hospital reserved for staff only. There were a few offices, maintenance rooms and, of course, the morgue. He wasn’t surprised that Brassard had escaped using this exit. He could have easily gone unnoticed here. Even at its busiest, there was never that much activity in this wing. And at this time of day, it was almost deserted.

This is a logistical nightmare, he thought as he continued to walk. There was really no way to keep track of everyone coming in and out; between shift changes, visitors and the emergency room patients, it was virtually impossible. He had doubled security on Starsky’s floor, that being at least more manageable. He hoped that Brassard would give up on his fixation with the detective but he suspected that the man would go somewhere to lick his wounds and recover, coming after Starsky at some other time.

And then there was Hutch. He was not going to handle this news well at all. Although generally calmer than his somewhat hot-headed partner, Hutch was a force to contend with when he was angry. And Dobey didn’t think that angry would even begin to describe how the man would be when he learned of Brassard’s escape.

He reached the elevator, pushed the button, and waited for the car. Then, like out of some bad horror movie, he suddenly felt as if he was being watched. He turned, looking down the corridor behind him. It was empty. He laughed softly at his own nervousness and then turned back to the closed doors. Next you’ll be expecting the boogey man to jump out of the elevator as the doors open, he thought. He drew his gun. Never can be too safe, he added to himself.

The bell signaled the arrival of the car. Without realizing it, he held his breath and as the doors slid open, he tensed, raising his weapon. He found himself aiming at nothing. Like the hallway, the elevator was empty.

Dobey holstered his gun and ruefully thought that he badly needed some rest. He was just stepping through the open doors when a sound from behind caused him to turn. Officer Wyand stood at the end of the corridor, leaning on the edge of the corner wall. Dobey called to him, taking a step closer as he did. He watched in horror as the man slid to the floor.

Moving quickly towards the fallen man, he again drew his gun. He scanned the area and, seeing no immediate danger, bent down next to the officer. He was checking for a pulse when he suddenly felt something hard hit his right side. He fell, already somewhat off balance from kneeling, and landed on Wyand in the process. Before he had time to recover he watched in horror as a knife was plunged into his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of Brassard, smiling, before a blow to his head brought unconsciousness.

************

Brassard looked at the large man sprawled over the now dead uniformed officer. He checked the shoulder wound, nasty but not fatal. Perfect, he thought, I need you alive for just awhile. He dragged the man down the hall and through the swinging doors of the morgue.

************

“Shit!” Hutch said as the guard on Starsky’s door told him the news of Brassard’s escape. “This is never gonna end!”

He returned to Starsky’s room, checking his gun for the third time. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He knew that Brassard would be back. It wasn’t a question of if but of when. The man wouldn’t give up until he either killed Starsky or died trying.

Why the hell was he so fixated on Starsky, Hutch thought. He had not been able to figure it out. And Starsky, if he knew, had not told him. What would the killing of this one man accomplish? Why Starsky?

Hutch looked at the sleeping figure on the bed. What secrets have you kept, Starsk?

The man in the bed stirred, as if hearing the unspoken question.

Then the lights went out.

************

Before Hutch had a chance to react, back-up generators kicked in almost immediately, restoring partial power to the building. The dim lighting cast a brownish glow throughout the room. Two nurses came rushing in to check the equipment that helped to keep Starsky alive, ensuring that all was still working. Satisfied, they left to check on other patients.

This is it, Hutch thought. A cold, hard stillness overtook him as he placed a chair between Starsky’s bed and the door. He didn’t need to ask what had happened. He knew. And he waited.

********

Brassard stood back and admired his handiwork. The morgue, he thought, how fitting, if a bit cliché.

Deep inside the room, but in partial view of the small windows on the swinging doors, sat a chair. On the chair, Dobey slumped forward, the ropes that secured him keeping him from falling off. Blood still seeped through the wound in his shoulder, staining his shirt. Brassard had removed the man’s jacket so that the injury would be more apparent. Tape across his mouth completed the image.

Leaving Dobey momentarily, Brassard went and checked the doors. He had securely fastened them from the inside. It would be difficult and time consuming for anyone to get through them.

Next, Brassard walked over to the dead body on the floor. He casually bent over, pulling the walkie talkie from the officer’s belt. He then went and checked on Dobey one last time before leaving through the only other exit in the room, a door leading into the next office. Once out, he sprayed epoxy into the lock as an added precaution against unwanted guests.

He made his way down the hall to where the main breakers which supplied power to the hospital were kept. Now for some mood lighting, he thought. Sparks flew as he smashed several of the boxes. He smiled as the emergency generators kicked on, the lights only at partial power. Much better.

Now for the final touch.

“Hello,” he said into the walkie talkie he had retrieved earlier. “I do so hate to disturb you fine officers but it seems that there is a bit of a situation down in the morgue. Your captain Dobey has been foolish enough to get himself captured. And poor Officer Wyand, well let’s just say that he won’t be collecting his pension. Now, I have a few demands, so, if you wish to see your fine captain live to collect his, you’ll consider responding positively. I’ll be in touch.”

Brassard then made his way upstairs.

“We’ve got him, Hutch, he’s locked himself down in morgue. He killed Wyand and is holding Dobey hostage.”

Hutch listened as Donaldson related what was happening. “Dobey’s hurt and that crazy shit has a list of demands he plans to make.”

“How bad is Dobey?”

Donaldson shook his head. “Can’t tell. He’s tied to a chair. He’s got a shoulder wound that’s bleeding and it looks like he’s out cold. Can’t tell much more than that. Brassard’s barricaded the room. We can’t get in yet without risking Dobey.”

Hutch glanced back into Starsky’s room. He was torn. He wanted badly to go and try to help Dobey but he was not comfortable leaving Starsky. What is something happened and Brassard managed to get free? Hutch had no doubt that the first place he would head for would be Starsky. Still, if they could capture him now, while he was trapped, it might put an end to this nightmare. He finally came to an uneasy decision.

“Listen Donaldson. I’m going to go down and check out the situation. Don’t let anyone in this room unless they have a hospital I.D. No one. You got it?”

“Sure, Hutch, no problem,” he replied, a bit taken aback by the Hutch’s tone.

With one more glance at his partner, Hutch quickly turned and headed for the stairs.

************

The man watched from the shadows, his anticipation growing. He marveled at how easily deceived people were. They saw what they wanted to see, believed what they chose. That fact generally made things much easier for him.

He saw the blond man hesitate and look back into the room. He could sense the moment of indecision, then the resolve as he left.

Brassard chuckled softly. So predictable. He waited for the man to enter the stairway and for the guard to return to his chair, then he silently made his way down the hall.

************

Hutch took in the scene before. A dozen policemen stood at various points throughout the hall, the dim light highlighting their grim expressions. He eased himself as close to the doors as he dared and peered through the windows. Dobey was just within sight, still unconscious. Brassard could not be seen.

“Has Brassard made contact again?” he asked.

“Not since his initial communication,” the officer closest to him answered.

Hutch leaned against the wall. What the hell could he want? Why hole up in the morgue when he could have easily escaped? He obviously had overpowered both Wyand and Dobey so there had been nothing stopping him. Even if he wanted to get at Starsky again right away, why choose this method? Brassard was smart, why would he back himself into a corner like this?

Suddenly Hutch stood up straight and looked through the window again. Nothing had changed.

“Has anyone actually seen Brassard this whole time?” he asked, a sense of urgency taking hold of him.

“No, he’s staying out of sight, not giving us a clear shot.”

“Or,” Hutch said as a picture began to form in his mind, “he’s not even in there. Is there another way out of that room?”

“Yeah, but he must of put somethin’ in the lock cause we can’t get through that way.”

“From the inside or out?”

“What?”

“The lock, was it jammed from the outside?” Hutch was practically yelling now.

“From the outside.”

“Fuck!” Hutch yelled as he raced towards the stairwell.

************

“Excuse me, young man, is this Detective Starsky’s room?”

The officer turned, startled, he had not heard the man walk up. He started to draw his gun and rise as he said, “Who wants to…”

He never finished. Brassard had grabbed him before he had gotten halfway up. The last thing he saw before his neck snapped was the man next to him smiling. Brassard unhurriedly dragged the body out of sight before turning his attention to the man who held the key to his destiny.

************

Brassard entered the room, absently taking in all of the machinery. He moved over to the bed and stood for a moment, staring down at Starsky. He noted the man’s pallor, the dark circles which rimmed the eyes. Reaching out, he touched the face, running his hand down the cheek, pausing for a moment, then letting his hand continue down to the chest. He closed his eyes and felt the heart beating beneath his hand. Squeezing slightly, he was rewarded with a slight moan.

“Yes David,” he said softly, “I’ve come back for you. But you always knew that I would, didn’t you?” He turned from bed, again looking at the machines. Finding what he was looking for, he flipped a switch before returning his attention to Starsky.

He leaned over, his face just inches from Starsky’s. “It is time, David,” he said before roughly pulling the tube from Starsky’s throat.

************

Starsky slowly became aware of a change. Initially he ignored it, tried to go back to the oblivion where nothing mattered. But whatever had roused him was persistent. It demanded his attention and he had no choice but to comply. The touch registered first. Gentle. But then he felt the pressure, the pain sharpening his senses, a feeling of anxiety growing. Next the voice. Without being able to make out the words he still knew, without question, who it was. His eyelids fluttered and then opened, the panic only increasing his awareness of what was happening. He felt something being ripped from his throat. Gagging, he gasped for breath, his lungs working hard to continue to fuel the body.

He tried to focus on the dimly lit surroundings. As his lungs adjusted, his vision cleared slightly. He wished it hadn’t. His head moved sluggishly from side to side, his mind rebelling at what was happening.

********

Brassard watched the feeble struggles of the man before him. “So David, this is to be our last meeting. It is almost a pity really, you have proved quite worthy of my attentions. However, there is a greater need that must be attended to and there is no point in waiting any longer.

“You have touched the blackness, I even know that you yearned for it. Now I will show you the way.”

Starsky weakly tried to push Brassard away, to yell, but his body refused to obey. He could do nothing as Brassard almost delicately touched his mouth.

“No David, the time for fighting is over. You are alone. I have removed all the obstacles that have intruded on us in the past. Yes, your white knight is gone. His final moments were difficult and I am afraid somewhat painful. But that was your doing, no? Had you been more willing, more respective, this all could have ended much sooner.”

Brassard watched as meaning of his words sang in. The body before him registered its understanding by slowly stopping its struggles, merely staring in mute horror.

“That’s right David. There is no reason for you to resist. The thing that meant the most to you is gone. While you may not have directly killed him, no, that pleasure was mine, your role in his death was instrumental. Now it is your turn.”

********

Starsky moaned again. No, Hutch couldn’t be dead, but he couldn’t help but register the truth in the words. He was alone with Brassard, that could only mean that…

An overwhelming sense of grief flooded, blocking out all else. Brassard was right, it was his fault. In his confusion and weakness he gave in to the inevitable. He felt Brassard’s hands tighten around his throat as they had done before. But this time he felt no remorse, no need to fight. He had killed Hutch and nothing less than his own death should be expected.

The blackness came quickly this time, hungrily. Brassard was there with him; he could feel the sense of triumph in the other.

Then, suddenly, there was another sensation. Surprise? It registered briefly before everything faded.

Hutch stood in the doorway and fired a second shot. He watched as the body collapsed, first falling over his partner and then sliding to floor, blood seeping from wounds in both his back and his head.

The room was suddenly inundated with hospital personnel, some frantically checking the man on the bed, others bending over the fallen body. Hutch just stood there in the middle of the confusion, the gun he had held laying on the floor beside him. Someone pushed him aside and he nearly fell. He sank to the floor, head in his hands, and wept.

************

The two men sat together, silently. Hutch glanced at the man next to him. It had been five months since it had all ended. But it really hadn’t, had it, he thought. The physical injuries had healed, or were well on their way, but the silence had only grown. His partner ate, although not enough, and slowly regained the ability to care for himself physically but he rarely spoke beyond yes/no answers to questions. He had withdrawn into himself and Hutch had been unable to break through.

He had moved in with Starsky, afraid that if his friend were alone for too long that he would simply stop. Stop trying, stop going on, give in to the depression that shrouded him. Even the assurances that Brassard was dead offered not consolation. Starsky would merely look at him with eyes that said it would never end, death was no guarantee.

Hutch tried not to become impatience, to let his own worry and fatigue show. Dobey, once he had recovered, had given them both extended leave, so time was not really an issue. But Hutch feared that with its passage, Starsky was fading away.

Huggy had been with them, helping in whatever way he could, and Hutch was grateful for the support. They often spoke quietly, while Starsky was sleeping, which was far too often. Huggy would even occasionally join them in therapy sessions. But neither man knew how to help Starsky, make him see that there was still a reason to go on.

Hutch rose and walked over to the window, looking out at the people strolling by. People who were blissfully unaware of the turmoil that was going on only a few feet away. He turned as the doctor walked in.

“I’m sorry to keep you both waiting,” he said as he made his way to an empty chair. “So, what would you like to cover today?” He looked at Starsky but the question was really directed to Hutch. Starsky rarely participated in the sessions.

“Starsk?” Hutch asked quietly. His partner shrugged slightly.

“Damn-it Starsky, we can’t keep on like this! You’re killing me! I can’t stand watching you just give up.” The words were out before Hutch even realized it.

Then, more quietly, “Please, tell me what to do.”

Starsky’s response was equally as quiet and filled with a pain that was almost physical. “Just let me go.”

For a moment Hutch sat there, too hurt and shocked to reply. Then all of the anguish he had felt over the last several months came out. He grabbed Starsky, drawing him in close. “Fuck you, Starsky. How dare you say that to me! How dare you think it! I never gave up on you, I could never do that. Why the hell are you giving up on yourself? He’s dead. He can’t touch you anymore. It can be over if you want it to be!

“How do you think I feel everyday, watching you move farther away from me?” He pushed Starsky away, turning his back for a minute. “You’re finishing what Brassard couldn’t. If he beats you, he beats us both.”

Starsky hadn’t moved since Hutch had grabbed him. He stared silently at the blonde’s back. Something in him stirred then. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

His voice shaking, he spoke almost too softly to hear. “I’m scared. I…I see him everywhere. I feel him. I don…don’t know how, Hutch, how to make it stop. I’m sorry.”

Hutch turned then, sat next to his partner, his friend, and held him. Starsky tried to pull away but Hutch held tight.

“He took so much, Hutch, maybe too much. I…I…” the words were cut off by sobs that began to wrack his body. Hutch held him, would not let go as his partner broke down, held him as he retched from the force of emotions which had finally surfaced.

The doctor sat back, a silent observer to process of healing which had finally begun.