Two’s Company

747

An early days story. Hutch struggles to fit both Vanessa and Starsky into his life. When three is a crowd then usually two’s company. As usual in relationships, someone is going to get hurt but it doesn’t usually result in this!

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Prologue

— in the past

The large house stood foursquare on the corner plot at the end of the street. It looked much the same as every other house in the neighbourhood; white picket fence, neat, well maintained lawns and a profusion of bright, blood red geraniums in window boxes, bright splashes of colour against the silvery tones of the clapboard. A huge tree cast deep shadow on one end of the front yard and on the porch there was a swing, its seat decorated with a colourful blanket and old, comfortable cushions. Not that anyone seemed to sit on the swing. In fact, no one seemed to live in the house. If it hadn’t been for the well tended garden and the clean curtains up at the windows, the house could very well have been empty; abandoned; an enigma.

The group of girls stood idly by on the opposite corner of the street. It had been a long, hot Californian summer and tomorrow would mark the return to school. The long six weeks had passed in a blaze of pool parties, sleep over and trips to town with various Moms in order to have hair cut followed by milk shakes at the nicer coffee bars in South LA. School uniforms had been replenished, pens and pencils bought and now the prospect of the long haul until the Christmas break hung like a pall over the small group.

All the girls were pretty. Long hours at the hairdressers and hundreds of dollars spent at orthodontists meant that each could flash a brilliant smile and toss long curls over their shoulders. Days spent by the pool or at the beach had given them that all important golden tan and at 14 years old, eye liner and lip gloss were used to full advantage. Coupled with the shortest shorts, skimpiest tops and carefully chosen strappy sandals to emphasise long legs, each was a magnet for the boys and they had played the “hard to get” game all summer, each girl targeting their ideal beau and going after him like a heat seeking missile.

Today, however, the last day of the summer vacation, there was an air of boredom. The boys school had gone back a day early, leaving the quartet lonely and with hormones raging. They needed something to take their minds off double mathematics and another bout of sex education with Professor Duckworth who was quite probably the oldest man in existence — he was at least 55. As usual, their talk turned to the house across the road. All summer long, since the new occupant had taken up residency, rumours had been rife amongst the quartet. Vanessa had been in trouble twice already for making a nuisance of herself, but any house that had an unseen owner was sure to cause a stir…..wasn’t it?

‘My Dad says he only comes out at night’ Rachel said as she nodded at the house across the street.

‘My Dad says he’s a zombie’ Natasha joined in.

‘Your Dad’s a zombie Tasha. There’s no such thing. I think he’s a vampire.’ Vanessa tossed her long auburn tresses over her shoulder and giggled behind her hand. The house across the street, and its occupant had been an enigma all summer. While every other resident on the street had been out polishing their new car, or watering their lawn, the front door of the house on the corner remained resolutely closed, peaking interest and becoming the basis for ever more lurid stories.

‘Now who’s talking crap. How could he be a vampire?’

‘Well let’s think about it for a minute. We don’t see him during the day at all, so that means he must only come out at night.’

‘So do owls but they aren’t vampires’ Natasha giggled.

Vanessa gave her a withering look and continued. ‘Someone has to look after his flowers and I don’t see a gardener coming so he must do it in the middle of the night. I think he comes out when the moon is full and moonbathes.’

‘Huh?’

‘Like sunbathing, but he lies out under the full moon. I think that’s how he gets his strength you know. He moonbathes and then catches racoons and mice and things to suck their blood.’

‘Vampires drink human blood’ Rachel said sagely.

Again Vanessa looked pityingly at her friend. ‘And whose blood is he going to drink around here? Have you heard of anyone going missing? He has to have something to eat so he takes animals instead.’

‘You’re all wrong.’ Donna, the fourth of the group had been silent up until now. At the words Vanessa swung around angrily.

‘And what makes you such an expert little miss know it all?’

‘My Dad knows him. He’s called Mr Rosen and he’s Jewish. He’s sick so he doesn’t come outside very often.’

‘Jewish? Eeew.’ Vanessa looked askance. Visions of little old men with fingerless gloves and long, straggly beards came unbidden to her head, so different from the sexy vampire she’d imagined.

‘Whats wrong with Jewish people?’

‘Oh my God, don’t you know? They have weird traditions — I mean weird with a capital W.’

The girls gathered around. ‘Like what?’

‘Well, I read this book and they um…’ Vanessa looked around her as though checking that no one was listening. ‘….they make love through a hole in a sheet so that they never touch. How weird is that?’

The group giggled. ‘How come he lives here?’

‘Where would you want him to live?’ Donna asked.

‘I dunno. Anywhere but here. My Dad says all Jewish people are money grabbers. I prefer that he’s a vampire.’

‘Why? So that he can suck your blood?’

The girl with the long dark hair smiled. ‘Anything is preferable to going back to school tomorrow. They say…..’ Vanessa giggled again and blushed. ‘….forget it.’

The others crowded around her. ‘They say what?’

Satisfied she had her audience hooked Vanessa continued. ‘They say that when a vampire sucks your blood you have an orgasm.’

‘A what?’ Rachel asked, her nose wrinkling.

‘An orgasm…you know, like when you have sex and you go all….. Well like that.’

‘Oh my God! Really? That is so…….sexy! I wish he’d bite me.’ Just think, having THAT feeling for ever.’

‘If he’s going to bite anyone it’s me. No-ones ever seen him, but I bet he’s tall, pale skinned with long dark hair. He’s bound to be good looking, all vampires are…’

‘Why don’t you go and find out?’ Donna threw down the challenge. ‘If you’re so sure, I dare you to knock on his door.’

‘How much do you dare me?’ Vanessa’s dark eyes twinkled dangerously. All her friends knew it was pointless challenging her to do something. Vanessa was fearless and a little foolhardy.

‘A date with Chuck’, Donna knew Vanessa had been wanting her boyfriend all summer.

‘Deal!’ Vanessa squared her shoulders and looked critically at the house. Her heart beat a little harder now, but she’d accepted the challenge and she’d never backed away from one in her life. While the rest of her friends looked on, holding their breath, Vanessa walked purposefully across the road, pushed open the neat, white gate and walked a little nervously up the path to the front door. Pulling back the screen, she knocked on the door, wondering how long she could convincingly wait before running away. Suddenly, what had seemed like a cool thing to do felt somehow wrong. Maybe Donna’s Dad was right and Mr Rosen really was a sick old man. Or maybe she was right and he was one of the undead. Did she really want to be bitten? Was skipping school worth that? Surreptitiously Vanessa smoothed down her short shorts and flicked her hair over her shoulders.

Counting off the seconds in her head, Vanessa was just about to turn tail and run back down the path when the front door creaked open a crack and a middle aged man looked out at her. His face was indeed pale and framed by dark curly hair cut very short. His eyes were narrowed against the bright sunshine and his cheeks were dry looking and sunken.

‘Yes?’ he asked in a cracked and breathy voice.

‘Oh um….Mr Rosen! I um…..I was just um…well I….’ Vanessa stumbled over her words. He didn’t look at all like the sexy, handsome vampire of her dreams. If anything, he looked sick.

‘Come to snoop have you girly?’

‘No! No I….well it’s job week with the Girl Scouts’ Vanessa lied ‘and I wondered if you needed anything doing?’

Rosen looked at her suspiciously. ‘Jobs such as what?’

Vanessa was very aware of the impression she was making with her friends across the street. Not only had she knocked on the forbidden door, she was talking to the man. If she could get inside the house, just think what a heroine she would be! ‘Oh anything’ she continued. ‘The dishes, maybe washing your car….if um….if you have a car.’

‘Don’t look like a Girl Scout.’

‘I um…..the maid is washing my costume. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I should….’

‘Come in.’ the words were said more as a command than an invitation and Vanessa’s heart stopped beating for a second. She almost turned and ran down the path, but the thought of a night out with Chuck Ferris, the most wonderful guy in Junior High spurred her on and with a shiver running down her spine, Vanessa followed Mr Rosen into the dark interior of the house.

The place was large, dismal and smelled musty, the way a house smells when no-one lives there. The old man showed Vanessa into what should have been the family room and indicated a chair. She perched on the end of it, uncertainly. There was something about Mr Rosen — an undercurrent of anger — that made her feel as though she had done something terribly wrong.

‘You’re a liar, aren’t you girly?’

Vanessa whirled. ‘What?’

‘You aren’t looking for jobs to do, You came to snoop didn’t you?’

‘No….I um….I.’

‘I knew it. You’re all the same. You can’t leave a man in peace just because he’s a little different. Schmuk.’

‘I can go.’

‘You can stay put young lady. You came to snoop, so snoop.’

Vanessa swallowed hard. ‘Donna’s Dad said you were um…Jewish?’

‘So? Is that a crime? “I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, heal’d by the same means warm’d and cool’d by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”

The 14 year old swallowed hard and tried for bravado. ‘You talk weird.’

‘Haven’t you read Shakespeare? The Merchant of Venice?’

‘Who?’ Vanessa looked bewildered as Mr Rosen’s eyes sparkled dangerously.

‘You came to check me out, just like all the other snoopers. You want the truth little lady? Well here it is in all its glory.’ Rosen rolled up his shirt sleeve and trust his forearm under the young girl’s nose. A fuzzy blue tattoo of some numbers was scrawled on the withered pale flesh. ‘My number in Auschwitz, tattooed on me when I was about your age.’ The man took a silver photo frame from the piano in the corner of the room. ‘My Mother and Father, taken to the gas chamber right in front of me. I never saw them again. And this.’ Rosen tore open the front of his shirt, small buttons flying through the air as Vanessa sprang from the chair and bolted for the door.

‘I was a twin. I met a doctor at the camp. My twin saved my life. This scar?’ he indicated a huge scar down the front of his chest and belly ‘…inflicted because Josef Mengele wanted to see if we were identical on the inside as well as the outside. Are you satisfied my dear? Seen enough?’

Rosen was talking to an empty room. Vanessa bolted out of the room, ricocheting off the walls of the hallway as she hurled herself towards the front door and the sunlight. She emerged from the house with all the speed of a cork exiting a champagne bottle, her hair flying and tears streaming down her face. No longer the brave leader of her pack, she rushed past her startled friends and didn’t stop running until she was safely inside her bedroom.

Hours later, Vanessa’s Dad stood quietly at the bottom of her bed. ‘You’ve disappointed me Nessa. How many times have I told you to leave that poor man alone? This is the last straw. You’ve cause nothing but trouble this summer. You’re running wild. Your Mom is at her wits end and frankly I don’t want you around here right now. I’m sending you to boarding school. It’s a good place and I’m sure you’ll grow to enjoy it.’

Vanessa looked up at her parent through tears. ‘I don’t want to go Daddy. Don’t make me…..please don’t make me.’

‘It’s too late for that Nessa. Too late for a lot of things. I should have stopped this a long time ago. You’ve been given too much freedom and you’ve abused it. It’s no use crying now. Pack your bags darling, we have a plane to Duluth to catch in three hours time.

 

Chapter 1

‘He’s in room 25’ the greasy haired man on the reception desk refused to look either Starsky or Hutch in the eye as he fumbled for the spare key from the hook on the wall.

‘Now that wasn’t hard, was it?’ Hutch said reasonably. ‘We’re gonna take a walk up to the third floor and we’re gonna go talk to Malahide. We’d be real pleased if you didn’t tell him we were here.’

‘Sure thing boss. Anything you say’ the man agreed a little too readily.

Starsky snorted. ‘Anything we say huh?’ Leaning over the sticky wooden desk, the curly haired cop grabbed the telephone wire and yanked it from the fixing in the wall. He held the end of the frayed wire in front of the man’s nose. ‘Security….just in case you were tempted’ he snapped.

‘That’s vandalism!’ the receptionist yelped. ‘You cops are all the same. You come in here and….’ His words were cut off as Starsky grabbed a hold of his collar and pulled him over the counter top until he was glaring into the man’s misty green eyes.

‘Shut the fuck up and sit down. We’ll be down in a minute’ the brunet snarled. He let go the collar and the man slithered back into the chair.

‘And brutality’ he muttered as Starsky started to take the stairs. Behind him, Hutch shrugged at the man as he set off to follow his partner. ‘He’s had a bad day’ he grinned and took the steps two at a time leaving the receptionist to glare at the two detectives.

On the landing of the third floor, Hutch and his partner stopped for a moment, checking out the door numbers. Both drew their guns and thumbed off the safeties. It wasn’t Malahide’s M.O. to use weapons. His victim of choice wasn’t usually able to hold a gun. The oldest of his victims had been a 13 year old girl, the youngest barely 3. All were kidnapped, held for a while whilst Malahide raped and sexually assaulted them and then their bodies were found bruised and battered on the nearest garbage heap, thrown away like some disposable commodity Malahide had bought from the 7/11.

Starsky and Hutch had been on his trail for months. Three of the deaths had happened while they were investigating the man. They had initially had three suspects but when Steve Storan had turned up dead with a bullet through his head from some flake’s gun and Geoff Modlinski had been found residing in one of the rougher Texan jails, the only other name they had to go on had been Rupert Malahide. Slowly but surely, they had closed the net around the paedophile, patiently piecing together the clues, sifting through the evidence until finally, last night, they’d had a tip off that the slimy flake was living over on the east side of the city in a run down apartment block.

Discussing their next moves with Dobey, the two detectives arrived at the block early, before any self respecting paedophile would be up and about and now, they were within feet of their target.

Cautiously, Starsky walked quietly down the hallway and stopped outside a dirt encrusted door with a tarnished 25 on it. He nodded to Hutch who joined him at the other side of the doorway.

‘On three?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘One, two, three.’ Starsky, as was his usual way went in low whilst Hutch aimed high. As the door swayed drunkenly on its hinges, they heard a yelp from the bedroom and a sob. Rushing inside with their guns still aimed, Hutch dived into the bedroom, skittering to a halt as he saw a young girl of maybe 12, naked and chained to the foot of the bed. On the bed, Malahide was staring around wildly as he clutched the grimy sheets to his chest. He started to protest as Hutch lunged towards the paedophile, grabbing him from the sheets and pushing him to the floor to be cuffed.

‘Rupert Malahide, I’m arresting you on suspicion of……’ Hutch’s voice started the familiar litany of the Miranda as Starsky gently approached the terrified girl.

She trembled as he came closer, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear and she shrank away from him, pressing herself back against the bed. Her hands trembled as one flew upwards to her barely formed breasts while the other covered the centre of her body. Her long brown hair hung in rats tails around her face and hid her thin cheeks, but it was obvious that she had been starved and beaten. Bruises stood out blue and black and various shades of green across her frail body and her bare feet were dirty, the nails chipped and broken. Blood smears decorated the floor upon which she was sitting showing why she was not sharing Malahide’s bed that night — even he had standards. The brunet shouldered out of his jacket and carefully draped it around her slim shoulders to hide her nakedness and knelt down in front of her.

‘You ok honey?’ he asked gently. ‘I’m Dave, and the blond bombshell over there is Hutch. We’re cops. We’re gonna get you out of here. Can you tell me your name?’

The young girl sniffled once and then her face crumpled as tears fell from her deep green eyes. Her chin dropped to her chest and she sobbed uncontrollably pulling the worn leather jacket tightly around her, the chain around her waist rattling miserably in time with her breaths. Looking around Starsky snapped his fingers at his partner.

‘Keys. I need keys for the padlock’ he snapped.

Hutch grabbed Malahide and sat him up. ‘Do one decent thing and tell me where the key is’ he grunted at the chubby middle aged man.

‘Bedside table. Top drawer’ Malahide whined and Starsky got to his feet and searched through the garbage in the drawer. He found the key and gently inserted it into the lock, wincing at the reddened, blistered skin of the girl’s waist when the chains links fell away. ‘S’ok honey. C’mon. I’m here now. We’re gonna make it better’ he crooned as the girl snuggled into the front of his tee shirt and wrapped her arms around his chest. The brunet looked over to his partner. ‘We need an ambulance. She’s in shock.’

Hutch nodded and looked around, detecting a phone in the small grimy living room of the apartment. He dialled the operator and asked for a black and white and an ambulance to meet them at Malahide’s address and once the arrangements had been made, he went back to the bedroom. Malahide was sitting where Hutch had left him, still whining about Hutch hurting him. The blond ignored the man and crouched by the side of his partner.

‘How’s she doin’?’ he asked softly.

Starsky looked down at the girl who was holding onto his tee shirt so tightly that she resembled a limpet. ‘We’re ok aren’t we honey? You gonna tell me your name yet, huh?’

‘Mary’ the muffled voice from the depths of his jacket was almost indecipherable.

‘Mary huh? That’s a pretty name. You think you can sit up on the bed Mary?’

In answer, the girl clutched Starsky’s tee shirt even tighter and buried her head in his chest. He smelled good to her. Sandalwood and coffee aromas mixed together making her feel like she was at home again. Beneath his tee shirt, the cop’s chest was warm, solid and she could feel the muscles moving when he breathed or moved. For the first time in two weeks, she felt safe and wasn’t about to give up that safety without a fight.

Eventually however, the ambulance arrived and the female paramedic walked into the room. At the same time, the black and white arrived and as the paramedic bent to make her assessment of the girl, the uniformed officers hauled Malahide to his feet and pushed him, protesting loudly, out to the waiting car.

The paramedic crouched down by the side of the frightened child. ‘Honey? My name’s Sharon, I’m gonna see to it that you’re all better. How’s she doing?’

‘This is Mary and we’re doin’ just fine’ Starsky said gently. ‘Mary honey, this lady is gonna take you to the hospital and then you can be with your Mom again. How’s that sound?’

‘Don’t leave me Dave’ the voice came up from the depths.

‘I’m not gonna leave ya honey, but don’t you want to see your Mom again?’

‘Uh huh, but I’m scared. I don’t like this place.’

‘I know you don’t. Sharon is gonna look after you though. Maybe you could go with her?’

But Mary’s young brain couldn’t take in the changes. She’d been through so much in the last two weeks that the thought of giving up this strong warm man to go with someone else was just too much. She started to cry again, her sobs getting more and more agitated until she was almost hysterical. Whatever Starsky said or did, it seemed to make no difference and finally Sharon drew a small amount of liquid into a syringe and gently injected the contents into the girls arm. Mary seemed hardly to notice the bee sting of the needle, but rapidly her sobs abated and her body relaxed until Starsky was holding her limp form tenderly in his arms. He looked down at Mary’s face and gently brushed her hair from her eyes, wiping away the tears with his thumb.

‘She gonna be ok?’ he asked.

‘She’ll be fine. Her Mom will be waiting for her when she wakes up. From then, she’ll see a child psychologist. Those guys are skilled at making this seem bearable. She’s young. It’ll take time, but she’ll get over it.’

As Sharon took Mary from Starsky’s grasp and took the child away, the brunet got stiffly to his feet and heard a snicker behind him. He turned to see Hutch grinning.

‘What?’

‘I never saw that side of ya. Starsky the Daddy. Love that!’

‘Shudup’ the curly haired cop muttered darkly, although he too had been staggered by his almost paternal feelings for the girl.

‘Sure partner, whatever you say’ the blond dead panned as he headed for the door.

‘What do you mean, “Whatever I say”? Hutch? Hey, Hutch’ Starsky shouted as the blond man walked out of the room without and answer.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

‘I don’t know which was worst, arresting the guy and seein’ him naked with that young girl, or having to spend four hours in an interview room with him this afternoon.’ Hutch stared morosely into his glass of beer.

‘Sounds to me like a hundred miles is too close to be to a turkey like him’ Huggy muttered. He refilled three glasses and perched himself on the stool at the end of the bar.

The Pits was buzzing at eleven o’clock that night. The disco was in full flow, there was a small line to play pool and a steady flow of customers at the bar. The Bear looked on happily. Punters meant money and if he had to earn an honest buck, this was the way to do it.

‘Better’n that though was the sight of my partner, up close and personal with the little lady’ Hutch snorted.

Starsky gave him a black look. ‘I told you to quit that. She was a cute girl and she wanted a hug. What’s so crazy about that?’

‘Nothing’ Hutch said mildly.

‘See, there you go again with your “nothing” shit. Out with it Hutchinson. What’s suddenly got you about all this huh?’

Hutch gazed over the top of his glass into the familiar deep blue eyes opposite. ‘I always knew you were a ladies man, but….’

‘You’re a sick man, you know that? She was barely 12. She wanted some comfort and….’

‘And Daddy Davey was there. Yeah, I know. All I’m sayin’ is I saw a different side to you today.

‘Different to what?’

‘Well, we’ve been partners for what….10 months now? And before that I knew you at the Academy. In all that time I’ve seen you angry, I’ve seen you drunk, happy, sick, but I’ve never seen the softer side of Dave Starsky.’

‘I keep it on hand for the chicks. I ain’t about to get all touchy feely with you Blintz!’

‘And for that I’m truly thankful’ Hutch grinned. ‘But still, it was different….kinda cute.’

Huggy snorted and the froth from the top of his beer flew across the bar top. The brunet gave the bar tender a look that would have stopped a flake in his tracks at forty paces. ‘Enough already! So, I have a softer side, it don’t mean I’ve gone soft. And speaking of ladies men, there’s a great lookin’ broad over there who’s been makin’ eyes at me all night. If you two gentlemen will excuse me?’

Hutch and Huggy watched as Starsky’s lean hips strutted across the room towards his target. The girl looked up, giggled to her friend and then the dancers on the floor got in the way and the brunet was hidden from sight.

‘He sure has a talent’ Huggy grinned as the two men watched Starsky on the dance floor 15 minutes later. The girl with him seemed unable to take her eyes off the curly haired man and Hutch snorted softly.

‘Uh huh, he sure does. Let’s hope this one is “normal” huh?’

‘You’d hope so, but he don’t seem to do “normal”. He’s a party animal alright and it looks like she’s gonna be going back to “Chez Starsky” tonight’ Huggy grinned as he watched the girl melt into the curly haired cop’s arms, losing herself in the indigo blue eyes. The dance ended and another began and still the two were inseparable and eventually after more than half an hour, the brunet led the girl off the dance floor and past Hutch towards the door.

‘See you tomorrow partner’ Hutch called. A wave of the hand was his reply.

‘Bright and early, and bushy tailed Starsk.’

This time a single finger indicated what Starsky thought of that comment.

 

Chapter 2

The red and white Torino drew up outside Ridgeway and Starsky bent down and kissed the top of the girl’s head. On the way back from the Pits they had spoken little, but after the traumas of the day it felt good to have the delicate feminine head resting on his shoulder as he drove.

‘We’re here’ the brunet said softly as the woman stirred and stretched. She looked up at the trees around the apartment and smiled. ‘Nice place you have here.’

‘It serves its purpose’ Starsky admitted. ‘C’mon, I’ll show you the rest of the royal residence.’ He got out of the car, trotted around to the passenger door and opened it as Cathy got out, her long, slim legs encased in nylons looking every inch like the cabin stewardess she was.

Silently she followed the man up the steps to his front door admiring his slim hips, the tightness of the denim material over his butt and….. she dragged her mind away from the front of his jeans and instead satisfied herself with the way the man seemed to strut into his house. It wasn’t an over exaggerated affectation, merely the walk of someone who is confident in their own skin. It suited the brunet’s feral, almost dangerous look and made Cathy want to get to know him all the more.

Inside Ridgeway, Starsky snapped on a couple of lamps, creating pools of warm amber light in dark corners. The lamps lit up a room that was comfortable, tidy and full of the things that made Starsky who he was. The back of the sofa was decorated with a brightly coloured striped throw, a treasure he’d brought back from a trip into the mountains with Hutch. They’d stopped by the roadside to look at a small stall selling Huichol Indian crafts and the throw had taken Starsky’s fancy. On the bookcase behind the sofa books ranging from a Dennis the Menace Annual through Practical Photographer to the teachings of the Lord Buddha rubbed shoulders comfortably with each other and a Nikon camera in its case was resting on a coffee table.

A photograph of Starsky and a tall blond man, taken on a beach somewhere took Cathy’s eye and she picked it up, running her fingers delicately over the plain silver frame. ‘This was the guy you were at the bar with’ she said, admiring the smiles both men wore.

‘Uh? Oh, yeah, that’s Hutch….um, Ken Hutchinson. He’s my partner. We’re um….we’re cops’ Starsky admitted suddenly feeling absurdly embarrassed at the job.

‘Cool. I have my very own body guard’ Cathy said, putting down the photo and drifting around the room.

‘Drink?’ the curly haired man asked. ‘I have beer, red wine or tequila.’

‘Do you have salt and lime?’

Starsky grinned. ‘Is there any other way to drink tequila?’ He produced the bottle, salt shaker and cut a couple of limes in quarters. Pouring shots into two small glasses, he watched as Cathy licked delicately at the skin between her thumb and forefinger, shook a little salt onto the wet skin, licked again, downed the shot and then sucked at the lime. He did the same and refrained from wincing at the bitter after taste.

‘That’s fine if you want the tourist way of drinking tequila. I prefer a tumbler, ice and nothing more’ he said. His eyes dared her to disagree, but Cathy held his gaze with a quiet confidence.

‘Whatever you like Dave’ she whispered. ‘Although I’m not really thirsty any more.’

‘No? What else did you have in mind?’

She smiled enigmatically. ‘There are better things to suck on than a lime.’

Starsky almost choked on his drink. There was forthright, and then there was Cathy! He’d never come across a woman so confident that she could suggest a sex act so readily and yet with so much grace. Not even Sweet Alice referred to sex in such a confident open manner.

‘Now?’ he asked as smoothly as he could.

In answer, Cathy took his hand and looked around the living room. The brunet took the lead and walked with her to the bedroom. He reached for a box of matches, struck one and lit a trio of candles at the foot of the bed, their light bouncing off the walls and flickering in the mirror over the bedstead. Cathy looked up at their reflections, joined hand in hand and she giggled. ‘Now this is what I call a bedroom.’

Starsky could hold back no longer. The pure raw sensuality of the woman had been teasing him all night and now, he pulled her roughly to him and covered her mouth with his own, claiming her lips and pushing his tongue against hers until she allowed him entrance. The brunet raped her mouth with his tongue, plunging into her as though he were making love to her and Cathy moaned softly, pushing her body against his hard muscular torso as her hands pulled the tee shirt free of his jeans. She claimed the skin of his back, raking her nails down his flesh until Starsky writhed against her, his spine tingling from the harsh stimulation.

He pulled away, breathlessly and looked into her sex-bright eyes, taking in her feline beauty as though he’d never seen her before. Cathy was tall — almost as tall as Starsky and willowy slim. Ordinarily, the brunet preferred his women to be more athletic than skinny, but Cathy’s lightly tanned skin, her long, long legs, her mane of chestnut curls and her shining green eyes had him changing his mind in a heartbeat.

Carefully, he bent and unbuttoned the front of her blouse. The thin cotton material gave way, revealing two small but perfectly formed breasts devoid of support. Starsky leaned in and gently sucked one of the rosebud nipples into his mouth, running his tongue over the firm nub of flesh as Cathy purred above him. His hand joined his tongue and in concert he played her body until she was mewling with pleasure and thrusting herself against him, seeking more and more contact with this powerfully sexy man.

Together, they manoeuvred towards the bed and as Cathy sat down on the edge, she put an arm around Starsky’s waist and drew her to him until he stood between her parted thighs. Delicately, she unbuckled the belt, drew it from its keepers and dropped it onto the floor. Swiftly, she dealt with the zip, released the button of his jeans and pulled the folds of denim apart to reveal black boxers beneath. A huge bulge tented the thin black material and the woman expertly pulled the rod of flesh from its hiding place breathing in Starsky’s musky aroma. Almost in awe, the brunet watched as Cathy’s pink tongue flicked the end of his manhood. He shivered and she raised huge green eyes upwards so that she could watch his reaction as she drew his entire length into her mouth.

‘Oh God’ Starsky gasped as her tongue played diabolical games with the centre of his body. His hands caressed her hair and became entwined in her chestnut curls as she continued her work and Starsky pulled her closer in to him. As her tongue worked at the front of his body, Cathy’s nails dug into the muscles of his butt, clawing at the taut flesh there as though she wanted to gouge handfuls of the man away from his body. The extra sensation, although painful, seemed to compliment the feelings of sensuality so well that for a moment Starsky became dizzy with the sensory overload.

Swiftly he pulled away from her before his steely grip on his reactions became lost. Tonight he would make it last. Tonight he vowed to take the woman to the heights of passion, to a place he hoped she’d never been before. His eyes sparkled in the candle light as he pushed Cathy backwards onto the bed. She lay on her back, gazing at him as he shucked off his jeans, underpants and tee shirt and crawled panther like up the bed towards her.

‘Are you gonna search me Mr Policeman?’ she asked temptingly.

‘Uh huh. I’m known for bein’ thorough.’

‘So that would be a full body search?’

‘Oh yeah. First, I should probably pat you down some’ Starsky said huskily, his lips claiming the angle of her neck. Gently, he bit down, hard enough to make Cathy gasp beneath him. As he kissed her, his hands roamed over her lightly tanned skin, pushing the blouse all the way from her shoulders so that the material pinned her arms to her sides. Starsky’s mouth raved south, kissing not her breasts, but the valley between them, teasing Cathy with his tongue. She tried to roll her body to bring her nipples into his range, but her forced her back gently and continued his exploration.

Cathy’s short skirt was the cotton variety — short and ruffled and luckily held up with just an elasticated waist. Expertly, Starsky pulled it over her hips as Cathy obligingly lifted her body clear of the bed and the brunet smiled to find that she wore nothing beneath.

‘Did you know it’s a federal offence to be caught without proper um…..coverage?’ Starsky asked, looking seriously into her green eyes.

‘Does that mean you’ll have to take me in for questioning?’ she asked softly.

‘Uh huh. Very serious offence. It could mean hours and hours of community service.’

‘Such as?’ she gasped as his fingers reached the secret place between her legs.

‘Dunno, let me think. We wouldn’t want to pay lip service to it, would we?’ Starsky bent and his tongue licked a slow line along where his hands had just rested. Cathy gasped and her body quivered in anticipation.

‘You’re lips can service me all they like’ she whispered as the brunet bent to his task with a vengeance.

Three times that night they made love. Three times they reached the heights of passion with very little sleep, but towards morning, even their fortitude reached its limits and they fell asleep, Cathy’s head resting on Starsky’s chest while his right arm held her to him.

Sunlight permeated the room when the brunet finally awoke. For a long minute, Starsky lay on his side his eyes half open as he remembered the passionate night. God, the woman had been good! No, way better than good, she’d been amazing and Starsky too was pleased at his performance. Three times in one night was something of a record even for him and he snickered at the private joke Hutch and he shared. Three times was one of those goals they wished to attain — a little like climbing Everest. One in the eye for you Hutchinson.

And now the bed was empty and there was none of that messy “morning after” conversation. They always made the brunet feel slightly nauseous. The fire of passion had gone, the heat in his loins had dissipated and all that was left was the girl dressed in one of his shirts as he tried to make polite conversation while not noticing the smudged mascara around her eyes and her mussed hair.

That was the difference between men and women, Starsky mused. Women never really did understand the concept of a one night stand. Whilst most men wanted to satisfy their bodies with a beautiful woman and then have her disappear into the night, most women took sex as a prelude to marriage……and “in-laws”……oh, my God, and babies! At least this woman seemed to have the same mind set as Starsky. She’d had the common decency to leave his bed and high tail it home.

With a groan of contentment, the brunet rolled over onto his back, winked at his reflection in the mirror above him and was just about to get up for a shower when he froze. From the kitchen, he heard his kettle starting to boil and the quiet clatter of crockery on his draining board.

With a small sigh of annoyance, Starsky got up, slipped his legs back into his jeans and padded towards the door of his bedroom. He was about to get ready for the recriminations, the crying and the beseeching eyes as the girl pleaded for another night of love making when a note propped against one of the extinguished candles caught his eye.

Dave — it was wonderful but now I gotta flyyyyyyy. Cathy xxxx.

For a moment the brunet experienced a pang of guilt and yet for him, this was the perfect scenario. Love ’em and leave ’em. Not that he was callous or uncaring. Far from it, but for Starsky, the mess of a relationship seemed far off into the future. For now, he was happy with one night stands and the joy of new women — unlike his unhappily married partner.

Speaking of which.. Starsky opened the door to his bedroom and padded out wearing nothing but a smile. In the kitchen, Hutch was busy with the coffee grinder, slamming cups down on the bar top and muttering under his breath.

‘Well good mornin’ to you’ Starsky grinned as he headed for the bathroom.

The blond man turned and scowled. ‘Mornin’.’

‘Ouch! Another night of marital bliss with Mrs Hutchinson?’

‘Soon to be ex Mrs Hutchinson if this carried on.’

Starsky would have made a joke of it had the pain behind his partner’s eyes been less evident. Hutch had been married to Vanessa when they had first met at the Academy. The brunet had tried to like the auburn haired beauty, but for some unfathomable reason Vanessa blanked him at every opportunity to the pitch where Starsky had almost given up trying. If it hadn’t been for his friendship with Hutch he’d have ignored Vanessa altogether and yet for the blond’s sake, he kept on trying the friendly approach — and kept being knocked back.

‘Bad night huh?’

‘Understatement Pal. Starsk, I have something to ask.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘We need to get away for a couple of days. Me and Van. But I can’t face us being alone right now. This is make or break time and…..well. Would you come away with us? I mean you and your girl? It’d mean a lot.’

Starsky’s heart missed a beat. ‘Where to?’

‘I hired a cabin up in the hills. It’s beautiful. Set in a clearing next to a lake. Clear air, sunshine…..’

‘And bugs.’

‘Yeah, I know how you love the great outdoors, but I wouldn’t ask unless…..’

The curly haired man heaved a sigh and plastered a smile onto his face. ‘Sure, I’ll come with ya.’ He closed the bathroom door behind him and rested his head against the wood. ‘Terrific!’ he muttered. ‘Bugs, cold water, no pizza for miles — and Van. Just t’rific!’

 

Chapter 3

‘You’re beginning to irk Detective Hutchinson.’ Starsky said mildly as he sat astride the hard wooden chair in the interview room facing Rupert Malahide. Malahide stared back, unmoved. Beside them both, Hutch strode up and down the wall of the small room, banging his fist on the wall and cursing and generally playing “bad cop” to the hilt.

Malahide had been incarcerated in the Metro cells for over 12 hours. With time ticking away until the time they would have to release him without charge, both detectives were beginning to pile on the heat and suddenly the blond cop turned, lunged across the table and grabbed the flake by his collar, dragging him across the Formica top until he was inches from Hutch’s blazing crystal blue eyes.

‘Tell me what you were doing with a 12 year old in your room’ Hutch snarled into Malahide’s face. For the first time there was a flicker of fear behind the hazy green eyes and Malahide looked away. Hutch shook him again. ‘Don’t ignore me, punk. I asked you a question!’

Starsky stood up slowly and took a hold of Hutch by the shoulders, his face showing concern. ‘Hutch, buddy. Remember your blood pressure huh? I’m sure Rupert here will remember in time. Ease off buddy. Hutch? Hey….oomph!’ the breath whistled out of Starsky’s teeth as Hutch slammed him back against the wall. For a moment, it looked as though the flaxen haired cop would hit his partner full on in the face but at the last minute Hutch’s fist deviated from its path and hit the wall by the side of Starsky’s head. With a snarl that would have put a tiger to shame he rushed from the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving Malahide visibly shaken, alone with the brunet.

Starsky pushed himself from the wall and made a show of dusting himself down shakily. ‘I told you it wasn’t a good idea to upset him’ he said. ‘I’m um….I’m gonna go and um…. well I’ll try and calm him down. I don’t think it’d be a good idea to have him come back in here when he’s all riled up like that. The last guy still hasn’t learned to speak through his busted jaw yet. Shame… he was a male model too. We only had him in here for a parking violation.’

Malahide gazed back at Starsky and gulped. ‘I um….this is police brutality. I’m not saying a word until I see my attorney.’

Suddenly the brunet stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel. ‘Now why would you need to see your attorney Rupert? Unless you had sumthin to hide? Should I go get my partner to come in and hammer it out of ya?’

Knowing he’d given the cops some leverage, Malahide clamped his mouth closed and shook his head. Starsky grunted, opened the door and closed it gently behind him. He grinned at Hutch who was leaning, ankles crossed against the wall opposite.

‘He’s crackin’ We should have him in another hour or so’ the brunet announced as he got himself a cup of water from the vendor.

‘Dunno Starsk. He seemed as tight as a clam.’

‘Well with your little show in there, you rattled him some. Are you sure that was all play acting?’ The brunet had seen something in his partner’s eyes that did not equate with trying to get a confession out of the punk in the interview room.

Hutch snorted. ‘No it wasn’t play actin’ buddy. Punks like him make me feel like castration is the only answer. I mean what gets him off with young kids huh? That poor girl was only 12 for Gods sake! Is she ever gonna recover?’

‘She’s getting’ help.’ Starsky looked down at his feet. That wasn’t the answer he needed to explain the sheer anger in the blond man, but for now it would have to do. ‘Meanwhile we should get him to talk and then he’ll be somewhere he can’t do that any more huh? You ready?’

‘Are we going with scenario A or B?’

Hutch considered. ‘A I think. Gimme about a minute and then come in huh?’ The blond walked to the door, winked at his partner and then burst into the small interview room making Rupert Malahide jump. Hutch closed the door behind him and the flake licked his lips nervously.

‘Where’s the curly one gone?’ he asked with a shake in his voice.

‘He’s gone for a bathroom break. Which gives me just enough time to have a few words with you alone.’

‘I thought you had to have two detectives in an interview at all times’ Malahide muttered, backing himself up against the back of his chair.

‘You’ve been watchin’ too much “Ironside” punk. That’s the thing about real life Rupert, it ain’t like the TV. The flake in those cop shows always breaks at the last moment, just before the blond cop resorts to violence. Ya see, here, there ain’t no commercial break to stop me hammering my fist into that sorry excuse for a face.’ Hutch balled his hand into a fist in order to emphasise the point and Malahide gulped, paling visibly.

‘I demand to see my attorney.’

‘You’re not in a position to demand anythin’. Now if you were to tell me the truth, then I might be able to accommodate ya. But until you decide to do that, maybe I should just get a couple in before…..’ the flaxen haired cop counted off the seconds in his head and at the right moment, he advanced on the cowering flake, his fist raised as if ready to land a blow. As the move looked inevitable, however, Starsky burst through the door with timing a professional actor would have been proud of. The brunet appeared to be panting slightly and at the sight of his partner leaning over Malahide, he lunged forwards and took a hold of Hutch’s hand.

‘Hutch, buddy! No don’t do nuthin you’ll regret. Remember the last hearing huh? They gave ya one more chance, don’t blow it. Look, let me get you a drink outside and maybe me and Rupert here can have a friendly little chat huh?’

Hutch made a display of fighting with his partner before allowing Starsky to grab his wrist and lead him from the room. At the door, Starsky turned and winked at Malahide. ‘Be right back’ he said and closed the door behind him leaving a shaken and pale prisoner wondering what would have happened if the curly haired cop hadn’t saved him from the blond lunatic.

Outside, Hutch shrugged. ‘Enough?’ he asked.

‘I thought it was me who played Camille. You could’ve got an Oscar for that performance. You missed your way buddy. You should have starred in one of those cop films. There was a guy who looked like you in “Dirty Harry”.’

Hutch shook his head. ‘I saw that. He didn’t look nothin’ like me! OK, you’ve given him long enough. Now get in there and be Rupert’s best friend huh?’

Starsky nodded and walked back into the room. Inside, Malahide looked visibly shaken but relaxed slightly when he saw it was the brunet coming back in and not the crazy blond.

‘Sorry about my partner’ Starsky said apologetically. ‘He’s passionate about his work, but sometimes he gets carried away. They’ve told him about it before but….. Anyways, it’s just me and you now. Wanna smoke?’ The brunet sat down companionably at the table wile Malahide shook his head.

‘No? Ok. Drink maybe? You must be dry by now’ Starsky tried again. ‘I could get you a coffee…..water maybe?’

‘No, nothing…..thanks.’

‘Well, maybe we should just talk then.’

‘About what?’ Malahide said, relaxing marginally at the “safe” conversation.

‘Ooh, I dunno. Maybe you could tell me what the girl was doin’ in your room?’

‘She um….she was my niece.’

‘Uh huh. Do you always keep your niece naked and chained to the bed?’ Starsky asked mildly.

‘It was a punishment. She um……she didn’t eat all her supper and I’d warned her and she um……well you know what girls are…..’

‘Yeah, headstrong huh? Always wanting their own way’ the brunet agreed, playing along with the flake.

‘Exactly! I told her, she needed to eat otherwise she’d fade away, but she didn’t listen so I had to teach her a lesson.’

‘By chaining her to the bed?’ Starsky asked without putting any inflection into the question.

‘Well it wouldn’t have been right for me to hit her. I’m against violence. I just wanted to teach her a lesson.’

‘Why strip her naked Rupert?’ Was that to teach her a lesson too?’

‘She didn’t do as she was told. I warned her. I told her she should obey me, but she didn’t. You know what these kids are like. You know how they look at you, with that look in their eyes.’

Starsky leaned over the table closer to Malahide. The prisoner had a far away look in his eyes as though he were reliving the moments in his house with the girl and Starsky knew he was on the verge of breaking through Malahide’s carefully preserved defences.

‘Tell me Rupert.’

‘They stare at me. They look at me like they hate me and I have to teach them not to hate me. I have to let them know that I love them. I have to let them know that when I’m……’

‘When you’re what Rupert? When you’re?….’

‘When I hold them. I have to let them know that I love them when I’m holding them close…..when they’re in my bed……when I ……’

‘When you fuck them Rupert? Is that what you were gonna say?’ Starsky asked, his voice still calm and gentle — every inch the understanding little cop.

‘When I teach them what its like to make love, yes’ Malahide murmured before he’d really had a chance to think about his answer.

The curly haired cop stood up, his hands on the table top as he stared into Malahide’s eyes. ‘I should’ve let Hutch punch your lights out Rupert. There aint no place in this world for the likes of you.’ With barely contained anger, Starsky pushed the buttons on the internal phone in the cell. ‘Hi this is Sergeant Starsky. Send a stenographer down to interview room 7. Mr Malahide has something he wants to tell us.’

With one final glare at the sweating flake, Starsky exited the room and gave Hutch a triumphant thumbs up. Some days, it was good to be a cop.

+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+

The pair sat in the Metro’s small canteen, drinking coffee and relaxing after a mornings work well done. Malahide had spilled everything and the paperwork was now on its way to the DA’s office. They’d done their part of the job, now it was down to the guys in the black suits to make sure Rupert “enjoyed” some time in the state penitentiary.

Hutch had a far away look in his eyes as he toyed fitfully with the single narrow gold band on the third finger of his left hand and finally, after trying unsuccessfully to strike up conversation, Starsky patted the table in front of his partner.

‘Zebra Three to Hutchinson. What planet are you on please?’ he mimicked Mildred’s dulcet tones.

Hutch looked up, surprised. ‘Huh?’

‘You were miles away. What’s the crack huh? What’s eating you up?’

‘Oh! Nothing.’

The curly haired man shook his head. ‘Nope. Don’t buy that one. Tell your old friend all about it.’

‘One word. Van.’

‘Ouch! Are things still bad buddy?’ During the time he’d been partnered with the blond, Starsky had seen the way Van treated Hutch. He’d also had a taste of the famous Van temper and her coldness himself, although he had no idea why. The first time they’d met, he had tried hard to get to know the woman, to become friends with her even though she was definitely not his type. Whatever had gone in on that first conversation; whatever he’d said, or done, somehow Van seemed to have taken an instant dislike to him and whatever Starsky said or did was met with snorts of derision or some contemptuous remark or in the best case scenario, a wall of silence. She’d once asked him where he got his “poodle curls” and Starsky had laughed it off, telling her it was his Italian/Polish/Jewish background. The woman had seemed to fasten onto that last word “Jewish” and their relationship had gone even further downhill. Eventually Starsky had stopped trying to get along with her and had simply tolerated the brunette for the sake of his partnership with Hutch. He’d never actually met with anti-Semitic feelings before. In multi cultural New York where he’d grown up it had simply never arisen. Hutch had always been cool with his background and as he did not practice the faith, Starsky had never thought about it before. With typical Starsky humour, he put it down to an absence of education on Van’s part and tried his best to ignore the barbed comments flung at him when Hutch was out of earshot.

The blond was still thoughtful. ‘You have no idea. I don’t know where we’re going with this relationship Starsk. One minute she’s sweetness and light and the only woman I want to spend the rest of my life with and the next…. Well let’s just say she fights dirty.’

Starsky turned off his usual joie de vivre, turning suddenly serious. ‘Has she hurt you?’

Hutch snorted. ‘I’m not one of those sad guys that gets beaten up by his wife, no. She doesn’t hurt me physically, unless you count the talon tracks down my back when we’re in…. Well, no. She doesn’t hurt physically. But mentally? I’m all over the place Starsk. I can’t concentrate on the job, my temper is in serious danger of erupting, I don’t sleep….’

‘You need food.’

‘Huh?’ the flaxen haired man looked non plussed as he watched his partner unwrap a slice of cold pizza and stare lovingly at it.

‘When you can’t figure out a woman, go eat. It’s the only thing we men understand. Eat what you want, enjoy it and sometimes things look a whole lot better afterwards. Believe me. In the past, when I’ve had woman trouble I’ve used the trick and it works wonders.’

Distracted from his woes, Hutch watched fascinated as the brunet applied mayonnaise, tomato sauce and the like to the wedge of congealed cheese topped pastry.

‘Starsk you bought that pizza three days ago!’

‘Uh huh. It’s matured.’

The blond shook his head in disbelief. ‘Matured? Festered more like! That’s is supposed to take my mind off an impending divorce?’

‘Try it. It stops me thinking about serious stuff. Any time I get serious with a chick, I take a backwards step, get a beef burrito with everything and take my mind off ideas of marital bliss.’ He broke off a piece and offered it to Hutch. The blond shook his head and tried not to look nauseous.

Starsky shrugged and looked lovingly at the junk food as he took a bite, the ketchup squidging out of the corner of his mouth as he bit down on the soggy pizza.

‘Somehow Starsk, I don’t see that approach working for me.’

The brunet shrugged again. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and continued to demolish the slice as Hutch looked on. As the last bite disappeared, the blond shook his head.

‘Why the hell would any woman want to marry a garbage can on legs anyway?’

‘Why would any woman want to marry a guy who eats measly?’

‘That’s muesli, Pal, and I eat healthy. It’s good for you.’

‘Are you gonna eat that on this weekend away?’ Starsky asked suspiciously. ‘A weekend with a chick is fine, I can even deal with a broken down shack in the middle of the damned woods, but I need pizza…..and beer….and dogs with onions and mustard and….’

‘What about fillet minion, a good Beaujolais and crepes Suzette?’

‘Does Suzette mind you eating her crepes?’

Hutch rolled his eyes. ‘This is gonna be the longest weekend….’

Starsky too was having his doubts. He stood up from the table and went to put his pizza wrapper in the trash. ‘Terrific. No pizza, no beer and HER. Jeez, the things I do for my partner huh?’

 

Chapter 4

Hutch drove home through the darkening streets after dropping Starsky off at his home with his usual speech about being packed and ready early the next morning. Starsky, with his usual attitude told his partner that he’d meet him at the cabin….sometime the next day, banged on the roof of Hutch’s old brown beater and bounced up the steps to his house.

The blond’s heart started to hammer as he turned the corner and drove down the broad street towards his home on the canal in Venice. His heart often hammered as he turned that corner. Once upon a time he would have floored the gas pedal to get home to Van. Once upon a time he would have been certain of a welcome fit for a king. Vanessa would be waiting for him, smelling of Estee Lauder Youth Dew and wearing only her satin negligee and a smile. Then his heart hammered with lust and love for the beautiful brunette. She in turn spent her time making him happy — and spending his money.

Gradually however, things started to change. It was subtle at first. One day Hutch came home late from work and Van seemed unhappy. The next day she tried to talk him out of his chosen career, echoing his father’s reasons that he could do so much better for himself. Hutch tried to reason with Van. He told her he’d tried medicine but it wasn’t for him. He told her that he’d never been happier than now, with a wonderful wife at home and a wonderful partner by his side on the street. That gave rise to a snort of derision from the woman and a torrent of vitriolic abuse against New Yorkers and Jewish people in general and David Starsky who represented both of them in particular. Hutch had been taken aback by her attitude, especially as she’d hardly met his partner, but from that day forward, they argued more and made love less, week on week.

That had started ten months ago, when Hutch had first been partnered with Starsky. At first, he’d kept his worries to himself for a whole host of reasons, the primary one being that to the blond, even thinking about a divorce was the same as admitting defeat — admitting he was a loser because he couldn’t keep his woman happy. In the Hutchinson family divorce was unheard of. Marriage was for life and if you fell out of love with your partner, you simply soldiered on for the sake of the children. Hutch and Van had no children, but the blond cop had often thought about what it would be like to be a Dad, He’d vowed he would be so different from his own overbearing parent and secretly harboured ideas of little league ball games, picnics in the park and long, lazy days with his imaginary family at the beach.

As Hutch drew to a halt outside his white picket fenced house, he sighed deeply. Somehow Van was more Rodeo Drive than North Bay Beach — if they ever got as far as a family.

With a heavy heart, Hutch got out of his car and walked up the narrow path to his front door. His hand lingered on the handle. What would he find inside? A cooking pot narrowly missing his head because Van was still pissed at him, or…. He opened the door and walked in, looking around cautiously. Jeez, this shouldn’t be the way a man went into his own house. It was more like looking through a flakes apartment than coming home! There were sounds of domesticity in the small kitchen and as the blond man made his way through, he stopped at the interconnecting door, amazed.

Vanessa had her back to him, the strings of an apron tied around her waist so that whatever she was cooking didn’t spoil her beautiful chocolate coloured satin dress. The small table was set for two with crystal glasses sparkling in the warm candlelight and cutlery gleaming by the side of Van’s favourite, expensive plates. The smell of pot roast and roast potatoes was redolent in the air and the woman was humming softly to herself.

‘Honey I’m home’ Hutch said with a smile. He still couldn’t quite understand the seed change in his woman but for the moment he decided to enjoy.

Van turned and smiled back. ‘I poured you a glass of wine. Sit down, dinner is almost ready.’

The blond put his arms around his wife’s waist and buried himself in her hair, nuzzling the nape of her neck. ‘To what do I owe this honour?’ he whispered. Her body pressed back against him, her ass rubbing tentatively against his groin.

‘Can’t I surprise you once in a while?’

‘This kind of surprise I can live with.’

A shadow fell over the woman’s face. ‘Don’t spoil it Ken. Don’t say anything tonight. I know I can be a bitch, but tonight I want us to be like we used to be. I need you to be my lover — my friend. Maybe we can….. I dunno……get back some of the romance?’

‘Are you ok? You’re not sick or…’

‘No! I’m fine. I just…. Well I just want to make things up to you, you know. For being such a pain in the ass.’

Hutch grinned. ‘It doesn’t take pot roast to give me ideas of romance love’ he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and looked longingly towards the bedroom door. ‘Is the food ready right now?’

Van giggled and the sound sent shivers run down Hutch’s spine. When she giggled like that it was as if they were 17 again and the cares of the world were a million years away. That giggle had always been like a thousand feathers playing down his spine and her voice was like delicious fur on the air — warm, inviting and just a little decadent. ‘Pot roast always keeps honey. Why do you think I made it?’

‘In that case…’ Hutch picked his wife up. Van threw back her head a laughed. It was such a musical sound and immediately the blond man was transported back five years to better times. They had seemed to laugh at everything then. Their marriage was a fairy tale and he was the Prince Charming to Van’s Sleeping Beauty. They made a perfect couple, Hutch’s golden good looks a perfect foil for Van’s sultry brunette. Things had changed, there was no denying it, but given the chance to reclaim those loving moments? The blond walked effortlessly to the bedroom and laid Van down on the bed. She lay with her auburn tresses fanned out around her head — a brunette angel ready and willing to give him whatever his heart desired. Hutch’s heart melted and all thoughts of arguments and divorce fled from his head as he knelt on the bed above her.

She smiled up at him and her eyes locked onto his as he started to unbutton the front of her dress, deftly and with such confidence. As she watched him, her hands were working at the belt to his pants and then the button at his waistband and finally the zip. Van parted the fabric and gently coaxed the rod of flesh from its place, her fingers soft as feathers on Hutch’s hot skin. He groaned, finding it suddenly hard to concentrate on the dress but finally the last of the buttons parted the satin material and he pushed the fabric from Van’s shoulders. She wore nothing beneath and the cop bent to taste her skin, delicately lapping at pink rosebud nipples that soon became hard with desire.

The two began their love dance. This was when they had always been at their best. Hutch was a consummate lover and Van hedonistic enough to lay back and allow her husband to do whatever he wanted. The blond had always been inventive, almost reading her mind as to what she liked, what felt best and what would finally tip her over the edge into a world of pleasure. It never once occurred to Hutch that she never gave him the same attention in return. In his generosity, the blond always assumed that it was his role in life to be the one to pleasure his wife. His own pleasure would come at the end, when he would plunge one last time into that warm, wet cavern, throw back his head and roar his gratification to the world.

Tonight was no exception. Van lay contentedly as Hutch took the lead, stroking her silken body, kissing, nibbling, coaxing every last millimetre of enjoyment from her body until she was finally readied enough to take his huge cock inside her. He entered her gently; gradually, allowing her body to become accustomed to his bulk. With superhuman effort he kept himself in check until Van was clawing at his back, urging him to go deeper and then — only then, did Hutch allow himself to abandon himself to his own needs. He picked up his rhythm, his strokes faster and faster until he too lost himself in the moment. Their bodies fused, becoming one organism connected only by their pleasure in each other until finally, as one being, they were overcome by a huge, wracking, trembling orgasm which receded finally leaving them both weak, satiated and exhausted.

The couple lay in each others arms, bodies still entwined and glowing with the after effects of their love making. For an age, even words were too much effort. Vanessa had her head on Hutch’s shoulder, his right arm wrapped around her shoulder as he played with the ends of her hair, stroking it along the line of her shoulder. Their world had shrunk to the size of their bedroom and everything outside it was of little or no consequence. Only their appetite for each other and the prospect of more pleasure to come seemed relevant. For an age, there was silence in the small, cozy room but eventually, Hutch roused himself enough to get his brain working again.

‘The pot roast will be trashed’ he whispered into Van’s hair.

She snuggled further against his side. ‘It was worth it — they get better with keeping. Can we have another go?’

‘I may be reasonable in the sack, but even I won’t be able to manage anything else for a half an hour. Just enough time to eat and build my strength up….and tell you about my little surprise.’

Playfully Van stroked the centre of Hutch’s body, his cock twitching with sudden rekindled desire. ‘That’s not what I call a “little” surprise.’

‘Not that! I booked a weekend away for us. I just thought we could do with some down time.’

‘A weekend away? Oh Ken! There’s this wonderful hotel in Malibu. I read about it in “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous”. It has beautiful suites and a view of the ocean and…’

‘I booked us a cabin up in the mountains’ Hutch chipped in before Van could carry on with her fantasy. ‘It’s quiet, away from it all and it will give us time to be together and talk and things.’

‘A cabin huh? In the mountains? Great’ Van’s voice sounded hard, the disapproval palpable on the air between them.

‘We can have some great times honey. There’s a lake right by the cabin, the beautiful mountains, great walking….’

‘Somehow it doesn’t seem as attractive as Malibu.’

‘Or expensive. I know honey, but it’s all I could get at short notice. It’s not about the place, it’s about us.’

‘We could talk just as well on the beach.’

‘There’ll be candle light, and an open fire.’

‘And a fur rug on the floor?’

‘Right where we need it to be honey’ Hutch said, seeing the romance rekindling in his wife’s eyes. Suddenly Van propped herself up on one elbow.

‘If we’re going to the mountains, I’m gonna need a whole new wardrobe.’

‘A new….? Van you have three closets full of clothes. No-one is gonna see you honey. You don’t need to dress up.’

‘There you go again, Mr Cheapskate. Can’t I have just a little bit of fun if you’re going to drag me to the back of beyond? Don’t spoil this for me Ken….please?’

Hutch sighed and got up off the bed. He took his billfold and peeled off $200 from the $210 he had in there and handed the wodge of notes to the woman. ‘Knock yourself out honey’ he smiled, wondering how he was going to afford the gas to get the car up to the cabin, let alone the food.

Van took the money and counted it. ‘There’s only $200. that’s’ not half the sum I need to get a proper set of clothes’ she pouted.

The cop shrugged. ‘It’s all I have Van. Besides you wouldn’t want to spend a fortune just to get your nice new clothes dirty would you?’

‘Well…. So long as it’s just you and me and the critters….’

Hutch held his breath, not wanting to spoil the moment by telling her he’d invited Starsky and Cathy too. ‘No…. just you, and me, and a couple of critters’ he agreed quietly.

 

Chapter 6

The fragrance of pine filled the interior of the car as Hutch drove quietly with the windows down and his elbow resting on the window rim. The road had petered out from a blacktopped highway to a dirt track and the suspension of the brown beater did nothing to ease the way up the mountain. Spirits seemed high however and Van sat with her designer shades jammed on her nose and her luxuriant tresses tied back in a loose pony tail. Hutch’s $200 had gone a long way to improving the brunette’s mood and now Gloria Vanderbilt jeans encased her long legs and brand new cowboy style boots in shiny brown leather decorated her feet. An oyster colour satin shirt completed the outfit and DandG suitcases crammed with similar outfits rode comfortably on the back seat.

‘How far did you say this place was?’ Van asked.

‘I didn’t. I wanted it to be a surprise for you.’ Hutch threaded the steering wheel confidently through his hands as he negotiated another hairpin bend.

‘Well, I was hoping for a beach and mojitos, but I have to say, it is beautiful up here.’

‘Almost as beautiful as you honey’ the blond reached out and squeezed his wife’s knee affectionately. There were times, like these, when he felt they would always be together; when Van wasn’t angry and he wasn’t hurt by her attitude.

‘You say there’s a lake by the cabin? Can we swim….naked?’

‘Um…..it wouldn’t be my first choice.’

Playfully Van leaned over and patted Hutch’s crotch. ‘I guess the water would be too cold. We wouldn’t want Mr Wiggly to fall off before we’ve made good use of him would we?’

‘Well that’s one reason’ Hutch hedged.

‘What’s the other reason? Is there something that you aren’t telling me?’

Up until that point the blond cop had kept secret fact that they would be having company on the weekend. Hutch had tried more than once to broach the subject, but each time her started thinking about telling Van about Starsky and Cathy, she would say something cute, or loving or just plain suggestive and the flaxen haired man’s resolve would crumble. Hutch grasped the wheel of the car more firmly. It was now or never, He needed to tell Van that they would not be alone and now was as good as any time, He took a deep breath, opened his mouth and then they crested a rise on the road and there, spread out before them like Kinkade oil painting lay the clearing with the cabin and the lake

Van drew in a breath and sat forwards in her seat spellbound by the view. ‘Oh Ken. It’s just beautiful! It’s heaven. Who needs a beach when you can have this huh? And it’s all ours for the whole weekend? Just the two of us, like “Little House on the Prairie” with sex!’

‘Well um, it’s not um…..’ Hutch’s voice petered out as he saw the rapture on Van’s face. It didn’t happen too often these days and he was loathe to see the scowls and pouts return quite so soon. Maybe once she was in and settled, and Starsky and his girl had arrived, she might not be quite so angry. For now, it was enough that she was happy. They could open the bottle of champagne he’d brought, light the open fire and sit quietly, enjoying each other’s company and maybe talking about where they went from here and what had gone wrong in the past.

The car lumbered into the clearing and pulled to a halt outside the cabin. Close up it was evident that this was no weekend fixer upper. The surrounding area was clean and free of weeds, the paint on the porch and front door fresh and bright, and as they pushed into the house, there was the smell of fresh linen and flowers. The interior resembled a polished cigar box. Everywhere was wood, mellowed and shining and there was a large stone fire place at one end, logs ready stacked and with matches ready. There were three rooms off — two large bedrooms and a bathroom, while the kitchen area was integral to the main room. It was cozy and had an old world charm which captivated Van. She threw her arms around Hutch’s neck and kissed him full on his lips, her tongue brushing against his teeth and promising better things later on in the afternoon.

‘It’s perfect. I love it. And it’s so quiet. Listen. There’s not a sound other than the birds and the breeze in the trees. It makes me feel like we should make love right here and now.’

‘Well don’t we need to unpack? I mean it’s um….’

‘To hell with unpacking. We can do that later. This weekend was supposed to be about picking up where we’d left off wasn’t it? So pick up Ken. Make love to me like we used to. Where’s the spontaneity gone?’

Hutch thought fast. The idea of throwing his woman to the ground and having his way with her right there and then was more than appealing and he felt the beginnings of the centre of his body swelling and stretching the material of his jeans. Thoughts of thrusting into her body and having her plead with him to finish her were almost more than he could deal with and yet he had no idea when Starsky would show up. Damn! Why the hell had he invited his partner? Love may have to wait just a little while.

‘Why don’t you go into the bedroom and um….make yourself comfortable? I have a bottle of fizz in a coolbox and I can rustle up two glasses. I thought we should set the mood. Draw the curtains and I’ll be there in a minute.’

With a toss of her pony tail, Van grinned and pushed open one of the bedroom doors. Hutch sighed, found the bottle, two glasses and even a couple of candles. He made his way into the bedroom and stopped at the door. Van lay on the bed, naked atop a faux fur throw. She smiled up at him with hungry eyes and for a moment the cop was transported back five years to better times. Carefully he put down the champagne and the glasses, arranged the candles by the foot of the bed and lit them. Van had drawn the curtains and now, the amber pools of light danced around the shadows of the room, highlighting the red in Van’s hair and emphasising the pale perfection of her skin.

The blond dropped onto the bed by the side of her, his hands going instinctively to her hair, He stroked it gently, twining the curls around her face between his fingers. Beneath him Van purred with contentment.

‘I love you Ken Hutchinson’ she murmured as she laid down a line of molten love on his chest with her fingernails.

‘I love you too honey. More than I can say. This weekend is just gonna be perfect, I know it is. We’re gonna get our relationship right back on track and then…..’ Hutch stopped with a barely stifled groan as Van’s hand started to work at the mound tenting his jeans. Her fingers felt like tongues of fire against his overheated flesh and it was all the blond could do not to allow himself release right there and then.

‘Ssh’ the woman commanded, putting a perfectly manicured finger to his lips. Lie back and enjoy. Feel the clean mountain air on your skin and listen to the perfect silence. Let me entertain you.’

‘Not too fast honey. We don’t want it going off in your hand.’

‘Are we talking about your gun, or something else completely?’

‘Well….’ Hutch’s words were cut short as suddenly Van stiffened.

‘Listen. Can you hear that?’ she asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

Hutch’s heart plummeted. Great timing Starsk! ‘Hear what honey?’ he asked innocently.

‘That sound, like car engines. And they’re coming closer. I thought you said this cabin was ours for the weekend.’

‘It is. I just….well I may have um….’

Van got up and pulled her shirt about her, tightly, her face ugly in its anger. ‘What exactly does “um” mean?’

‘I may have invited some other people to um…..join us. But it’s fine. We have our own space….Van? Van?’ Hutch was talking to an empty room. The woman gathered up her clothes, blew out the candles and rushed into the adjoining bathroom just as the car engines outside cut off and voices could be heard piercing the silence. The blond sprang from the bed and followed Van, knocking on the bolted bathroom door. ‘Van, I couldn’t help it. You were angry at me and I needed some….’

The door opened a crack. ‘You needed that bloody partner of yours to back you up like always. Shit Ken, are you two joined at the hip or something? We don’t have a marriage because HE gets in the way the whole time. Why don’t you just marry Starsky and have done with it?’

‘But Van. Please honey. Try to understand…..’ Hutch found he was talking to the bathroom door and with a huge sigh he turned just as Starsky knocked on the cabin door and opened it.

‘Hey there partner. Great place. Not a bug in sight and….wow, real open fire and…… oh, Cathy’s here but she can only stay one night. She has to go early in the morning so she brought her own car.’ Dropping his voice, the brunet looked around and memoed ‘Where’s Van?’

‘Bathroom.’

Starsky took that as read and didn’t question. Instead he helped Cathy in with her bag. ‘Which room’s ours?’

Hutch pointed, trying to keep the look of anxiety from his face. Things had been going so well and now, with the arrival of his partner and Cathy, Van was angry as hell and their relationship had taken a huge leap backwards. So much for mending their marriage. If one tiny (ok Hutchinson, not quite tiny) thing cause her to fly off the handle, what hope did they have for a true reconciliation? Why? What the hell caused him to ask the brunet and his girl to join him for the weekend? Hutch paused, analysing his own feelings. Why indeed? Could it be that because he knew that however romantic, this would never work and he wanted backup from the only person who truly understood him?

Starsky and Cathy were ensconced in their bedroom with the door closed. There were giggles and laughs coming from inside the room and for an moment Hutch felt a pang of jealousy, not because he wanted Cathy but because he wanted that kind of relationship back. Living with Van was like living with a volcano. He never knew where or when she would erupt, but he lived with that ugly possibility every hour of every day and his nerves were shot to hell.

Turning his attention back to his wife, Hutch banged none too gently on the bathroom door. ‘We’ve got company. We’ll be on the porch when you feel like joining us.’ He received silence in response and wearily set to making coffee for the four of them. He carried the cups out onto the porch where there were six comfortable chairs arranged around a rustic table. Starsky and Cathy joined him, sitting very close to each other, the brunet with his arm around his girl. Several times Cathy nuzzled Starsky’s neck, or rested her head on his shoulder. They looked good together; happy. Hutch once again felt the pang of jealousy and, yes, loneliness at what he once had and was now missing from the relationship he had with his wife.

Maybe half an hour later Van put in an appearance. Starsky had wisely not asked where the woman was although he had seen the echo of embarrassment in his friend’s eyes. The tall, auburn haired woman stalked onto the porch, her hair brushed until it shone and her makeup beautifully in place; a mask hiding the anger beneath. She smiled politely at Cathy, ignored Starsky completely and sat at the opposite end of the table from Hutch. In a bored manner she examined her nails and refused to join in the conversation. Eventually, after watching Cathy snuggle once more into Starsky’s side and nibble his ear affectionately, she sighed and glared at the curly haired man.

‘Your bedroom is the second on the left. It looks like you need to make use of it.’

‘Do I look tired?’ Starsky asked innocently. Cathy giggled. ‘I think Vanessa means if we wanted to freshen up before dinner, we should probably do it now.’

‘I think you’re fresh enough for both of us’ the brunet winked. Again Cathy burst into peals of giggles and stood up, pulling Starsky up too.

‘Is there anything we can do to help you with supper?’ she asked. ‘Maybe lay the table?’

‘It’s fine’ Van snapped. ‘Ken will do that. We’ll call when dinner is ready.’

With a final look at his partner, Starsky started to walk away from the table. ‘You sure you don’t need backup?’ he asked as he bent low and leaned on Hutch’s shoulder. Van tutted loudly and Hutch winced.

‘I’m good. Go and um….enjoy yourself buddy. Work up an appetite huh?’

‘Don’t know if I’ll have the strength to eat after….’

Cathy slapped her man playfully on the shoulder. ‘Less talk, more action’ she grinned and led the way to their bedroom.

 

Chapter 7

Van clattered around the kitchen slamming pots and pans down on the workbench and muttering under her breath. For the most part Hutch tried to keep out of her way, but her anger was up and her husband was the closest thing she could lash out at.

‘We’ll have a romantic weekend together. We’ll hire a cabin in the hills. We can recapture the romance’ she snapped as she started viciously taking her feelings out on an innocent onion for the chili she was making. ‘How the hell did you think we were gonna capture our romance when Captain Cretin and the vacuous blond in there are busy making like rabbits?’

‘Starsky is my partner. He’s been through a lot and I thought it….’

‘You thought? That’s your problem Ken. You never think. What is it with you two? Are you joined at the hip or something? There’s three of us in this marriage and it’s kinda crowded. I want you to myself and all the time we have “Brain of New York 1901” hovering in the background. Did you see how he draped himself over you? Whispered in your ear on the porch? That’s not normal for a man. He’s gay. You need to watch yourself Ken. He’s no good for you.’

‘He’s a better man than you’ll ever know’ Hutch said quietly, his voice masking the misery he felt at the turn the weekend had taken.

‘Better? Better than what? He’s a moron! He’s loud, he’s stupid and he’s…he’s Jewish!’

‘What the fuck does that have to do with anything?’

‘You have no idea. They’re all the same you know. You’ll see. One day he’ll be your friend, the next he’ll do something; he’ll turn and suddenly your life will turn upside down.’

Hutch grabbed Vanessa around he shoulders and pulled her to him. ‘Don’t blame Starsky for what happened to you back then. If you hadn’t been made to come to Duluth, we’d never have met and we’d never have married and we’d never have had…’

‘What? A failed marriage? Arguments every hour of the day?’ Van pulled away and turned her back on the blond.

‘I was gonna say we’d never have had the happy times. You do remember those don’t you? We used to be good together. We used to be like Starsky and Cathy.’

‘We were never like them! We at least had an ounce of decorum, listen to them, my God don’t they have any shame?’

Hutch listened. From the bedroom Starsky and Cathy were sharing he could hear that his partner was having a good time and was a vocal as ever. Hutch didn’t know whether to grin or blush as he tried not to listen to Starsky’s sex-husky voice.

‘Oh God…do that again. Take it all honey….yeah….oh yeah. I’m gonna…..can’t hold on…. I’m…..oh God!’

There was silence for a few seconds and then Cathy coughed and spluttered and then giggled sexily. ‘What the… where the hell did all that come from?’

Van shook her head and put her hands dramatically to her ears. ‘It’s too much Ken. Just listen to that little whore. She was….she was….and he…..in her mouth. Oh my God that is soooo disgusting.’

‘Sounded like fun to me’ Hutch said almost sadly.

‘And that’s your problem Ken. You’ve changed. He’s brought you down to his level. You never used to like anything like that.’

The blond turned away, unable to continue with yet another vitriolic argument. ‘How would you know?’ he muttered as he walked out of the cabin and closed the door behind him.

+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+

Dinner that evening was a strained affair. Vanessa sat at one end of the carefully laid table and Hutch sat at the other. Cathy and Starsky sat opposite each other and played footsie beneath the white table cloth.

While Van had continued taking her anger out on the chili which was tonsil burningly hot, the blond had gone to sit on the porch outside, contemplating the downturn of events. The place was so beautiful. The quiet, mirror waters of the small lake captured the last rays of the setting sun, reflecting orange, magenta and purple hues in its waters. Above the lake, tall, stately pines crowded around the waters edge as though needing to see their reflections in the depths. The rapidly darkening sky brought with it deep, dark shadows and the warm amber lights from the cabin windows threw pools of illumination out into the clearing in front of the cabin.

Ordinarily it would have been heaven for Hutch to be up here in the clean mountain air. He enjoyed the mountains. Hiking, climbing, fishing and hunting had all been his passion since he was small. His Dad never had time to take him, but his Granddaddy Wilbur had often taken him climbing and trail walking in the Misquah Hills and he was never happier than when he had nature all around him. Ordinarily this would have been the perfect weekend break — just Hutch and his wife and his closest friend enjoying the great outdoors and yet….

Was it the feeling that his marriage was finally over despite his best endeavours to save it? Was that what had the blond feeling so low? Or was it that he felt a failure because even up here in the unspoiled wilderness he still could not make his wife happy? Maybe he tried too hard. Maybe he should have told Van long ago that she was a spoiled brat and that she should start to behave like an adult. She had spent a goodly amount of his inheritance, indeed she had almost bankrupted him at one point and yet he still forgave her. In the early years, Hutch had idolised Vanessa, not quite believing that a woman so beautiful could fall for a down-home “boy next door” type. It wasn’t until much later that he found out she was in the marriage purely as a gold digger. She’d seen his family — the huge house in the prime location by the lake, the new cars, the designer wardrobe worn by Mrs Hutchinson senior and had decided that marriage to what she perceived as an average man was worth it for the fringe benefits.

It was not until Hutch was at his lowest ebb, disowned by his family for dropping out of medical school and new to the Police Academy that he met Starsky and the brunet started to build up his friend’s shattered confidence. From then on, the two had been inseparable, much to Vanessa’s dismay. Thinking back, Hutch realised that it was true — he had changed since he’d met David Starsky. Carefully and quietly and with his own brand of quirky counselling, the curly haired man had drawn Hutch out of his shell. The stammer that always became evident when Hutch was angry or upset, and which had become the bane of his life, had subsided and once more the blond became interested in himself, honing his body to the peak of physical fitness through running and weights and once more asserting himself — becoming conscious of his own desires.

Vanessa had hated the fact that Hutch was becoming his own man rather than purely an open check book and even if she had not found out that Starsky was Jewish (in Van’s eyes the worst crime imaginable) she would have hated the brunet for taking away her meek and compliant husband and replacing him with a confident and handsome man who more than once had turned down offers of love, or a bed for the night from other desirable women. That was when the marriage really took a tumble and although Hutch would not for the world have gone back to the way he used to be, he still felt miserable that Vanessa could not accept it, be happy for him, and love him as he loved her.

By the time Vanessa had called dinner, Hutch was morose, depressed and wanted nothing more than a quiet beer with Starsky and Huggy Bear and a quite night beneath the stars. If he could have had Van too, that would have been the frosting on the cake, but her mood permeated the air around the cabin. He knew the latter would be impossible and he braced himself for Van’s behaviour although he didn’t realise just how bad it would get.

The foursome sat quietly to begin with. Vanessa had set the table with candles and a white table cloth. The blue rimmed plates were now full of chili and rice and the woman reached for a bottle of wine.

‘David, would you like to see the vintage?’ she asked sweetly.

Starsky reached for the bottle. He knew something of wine, although he preferred to keep that to himself, believing that wine buffs were a superior breed. He twirled the bottle in his hand and looked at the label on the back.

‘Why don’t you read it to us?’ Vanessa asked quietly, a smile on her face that did not light up her eyes.

The curly haired cop squinted at the writing. It was in French and made no sense to him whatsoever, but he decided to try to read it, for a laugh if nothing else. He cleared his throat. ‘Ok I’ll give it a go. Um… Set boootay de van veeant de bowjolayt.’ He emphasised his own accent to give the reading more of a comic feel, although he felt a little stupid at not being able to make out the words properly.

Besides him, Cathy giggled her low, sexy laugh. ‘Oh my god Dave, you’re so cute. Here, let me see. ‘Cette bouteille de vin vient de Beaujolais. Choisi des raisins freshest, il a un bouquet fruité. Appréciez avec la viande rouge ou tout seul. This bottle of wine comes from the Beaujolais region. It is chosen from the freshest grapes and has a fruity bouquet. Enjoy is with red meat or on its own. Good choice Vanessa. I love Beaujolais Nouveau. Do you like wine?’

‘I like good wine. You speak French very well.’

Cathy nodded graciously. ‘It’s part of the job. As a flight attendant I have to speak at least one other language, but actually I speak German and Spanish also.’

Van looked impressed. ‘You do? Ken speaks German, some of his family live in Düsseldorf.’

‘Oh, I wish I could speak it like a native, but I learned all my languages at college. I majored in modern languages there.’

‘Really?’ Van smiled wolfishly. ‘Ken was at medical school before….this’ she made the last word seem somehow dirty. ‘He would have made a great doctor. I graduated in fashion and design. David, what did you do at college?’ Van knew the answer already. Starsky had never been to college, joining the Army at 17 instead, but that didn’t count in Mrs Hutchinson’s world.

‘I graduated in the school of life’ the curly haired cop mumbled through a mouthful of chili. ‘Didn’t go to college.’

‘Ah, I see. Couldn’t cut the grades huh?’ Vanessa asked innocently.

‘He didn’t go coz he was fighting in ‘Nam’ Hutch interjected. He didn’t like the way the conversation was going, but Vanessa was in full flow.

‘You know David. It isn’t too late to go back and get some education. I mean there are remedial classes for adults springing up all over the place. They take you back to first grade and build up from there. Reading, math. You might find it useful?’

The barbed comment sent flickers of discomfort around the table and by his side, Starsky could see Hutch start to bristle. If the brunet had been by himself, he would have coldly told the woman where to get off, adding in some of the more colourful “foreign” words he’d accumulated over the years. But this was meant to be Hutch’s weekend and despite the fact that his partner already looked uncomfortable, Starsky refused to make the situation worse. Instead he ground his teeth, plastered a grin on his face and took a deep breath.

‘Oh I get along. If I can’t read the words I look at the pictures and last week I even discovered how to tie my own Adidas. I don’t need to read, I have Hutch for that, right partner?’

Hutch smiled back, determined to join in Starsky’s comments, although his discomfort levels had reached new highs.

‘Yeah, he drives, runs and shoots and I do the brain work. It wouldn’t be good to have two geniuses in the car, would it?’

‘Genii.’ Van snapped. ‘The plural of genius in genii. My goodness Ken, David’s lack of any education is rubbing off onto you too now. You really should get a new partner. One that is more brain and less brawn.’

Cathy looked aghast. She had never heard such vitriol from anyone at a dinner table before but she was too well mannered to start an argument. Instead, she got up and walked around the table to drape her arms around her man’s neck. ‘I love a brawny man’ she smiled. ‘So much more to cuddle up to in bed.’

‘Uh huh. But not too much honey. More than a handful is a waste’ Starsky grinned up at her.

‘What should I do with the other hand then sweetie pie?’

Vanessa stood up so suddenly her chair teetered on its back legs and almost fell over. She glared at Starsky and Cathy and started gathering the plates together noisily.

‘It’s obvious you won’t want desert’ she snapped. ‘It seems you have each other.’

‘And there ain’t nothing tastier’ Starsky said huskily as Vanessa whisked past him with a barely suppressed sigh.

 

Chapter 7

The cabin was finally quiet. Not surprising considering it was 5.30 in the morning and time all self respecting little cops and their snappy wives should be asleep.

The evening had finally ended when Vanessa had announced that she had got a headache and that all the noise was driving her insane. Cathy had clucked over her like a mother hen, had fed her two aspirin and a glass of water and had supervised while Van dramatically staggered to the bedroom clutching her head. It was 10.00pm and the foursome had been on the go since early that morning and so, shortly after Van had retired, Starsky and Cathy wished Hutch a good night too and took themselves off to their room. There was no repeat performance of earlier in the afternoon. Cathy needed to be up and back at LAX by 8.00 the following morning to board her flight to Hong Kong. It would be a two day lay over meaning she wouldn’t be seeing Starsky for almost a week, but she knew she needed to be up and fresh as a daisy for her work.

At 5.30, the two got up as quietly as they could, Cathy packed up her bag again and after a cup of freshly ground coffee Starsky followed her outside to her car. She’d driven herself up the mountain following the brunet’s Torino, knowing she wouldn’t be staying for the full weekend.

‘I’m gonna miss you honey’ Starsky said as he buried his face in her long, blond hair. ‘Can’t you call in sick and stay with me? I could make it worth your while.’

Cathy slapped at him gently. ‘You’re incorrigible. I need to go.’

‘Not if I won’t let you’ the cop grinned. He made a grab for Cathy’s arm and she let out a surprised shriek and ran around the opposite side of her car. Starsky chased after her and a game of ring-a-roses ensued with Cathy laughing and Starsky pretending to roar after her. Eventually she allowed herself to be caught and the brunet gathered her up in his arms.

‘Go now before I change my mind’ he mumbled, kissing her on her forehead.

‘I’ll see you next Friday. I’ll call you from Hong Kong.’

‘Don’t want a call, I want you.’

Cathy side stepped another kiss and got into her car. She wound down the window. ‘I hope things are better here’ she said quietly. ‘Tell Hutch I hope he’s ok.’ She started the engine and set the car in motion back up the dirt track towards the road back down the mountain.

Starsky stood quietly for a long time after the car had been lost to view. ‘I hope things get better too’ he mumbled to himself. The previous night had been an ordeal and much as Starsky himself felt uncomfortable and just a little hurt by Van’s behaviour, the brunet cared more about how his blond partner was taking the events. Hutch didn’t talk much about his wife at work. She loomed in the background of their conversations like a malevolent spirit haunting his every word and yet, like the gentleman he was, he never said a wrong word about her, laughing off the dark rings around his eyes and the sometimes low frame of mind as “one of those marriage things”. Hutch was as loyal to Van as he was to Starsky, but although the brunet hadn’t witnessed the woman’s temper first hand, he knew something was far wrong in his partner’s marriage. He knew Hutch too well for throw away comments to satisfy his worry for his friend.

The curly haired cop sighed the early morning chill. The breath he exhaled hung in a nebulous cloud in front of his face before warming and withering away like a will-o-the-wisp. Looking up to the milky early morning light in the sky, Starsky could see clouds billowing in from the crest of the mountains. Clouds outside, seeming to echo the clouds forming inside the cabin too. Turning, Starsky made his way quietly inside the lodge in time to hear Vanessa’s voice, shrill in her temper, taking up where she’d left off the previous evening.

‘What do you mean you were asleep? Ken I swear to God you could sleep through a nuclear explosion!’

-A mumbled comment-

‘No, they aren’t doing it. Thankfully that moron seems to have kept his dick to himself for once. But they’re making enough noise to raise the dead though. It sounded like they were going to do it outside. Oh my God why did you have to bring Him along? He’s so….so…uncouth. He and that….that floozy of his. With her “I have a degree in modern languages”. Do you believe that? More like she has a degree in being a whore. That’s just the sort of woman David would go with. Someone who only wants a body. Someone who will jerk him off at every convenient moment.’

Vanessa’s voice continued to lecture her husband on Starsky’s worst points. She was just loud enough for the brunet to hear every word clearly and he stood in the middle of the living room with his fists balled. It was bad enough that she had started at the dinner table last night. Then, Starsky had managed to turn most of her comments into jokes, although some of them struck home and hurt. This morning, having just said goodbye to his girl and feeling very alone, the comments were more than spiteful. If Van wanted to, she could rant and rave about him to her poisoned heart’s content, but to bring Cathy into the equation was too much. For a second, the brunet thought about marching into the bedroom and yelling at Van, pointing out some of the woman’s less endearing features. He took a step forwards and then stopped himself. Despite how Starsky felt, Hutch was still in the middle of all this. It was bad enough that Starsky felt wounded by Van’s comments. It would make the brunet feel even worse if Hutch was drawn into this too, and so, with a growl deep in his throat, Starsky headed for his own bedroom, lay down on the neatly made bed and picked up the book he’d brought with him to read.

In the other bedroom, Van was still in full flow. ‘I’m going to give that sex maniac a piece of my mind. Keeping everyone awake all night with his….’

‘You aren’t gonna do anything of the sort. This is his weekend as much as ours’ Hutch said, his voice taking on a hard edge. He hated when Van argued and usually tried his best to smooth things over, but her behaviour in the past 24 hours had worn him down so much that now, all he wanted to do was shut his wife up, lock her in the bedroom and go and have a civilised breakfast with civilised conversation with his partner.

‘His weekend? His? I thought this was our romantic time Ken. Oh, I get it. Just like at work, you wanted him to watch your back….to be there for you. Why? What did you think I was going to do?’

‘Just what you are doing. Making this whole fucking weekend into a nightmare’ Hutch snapped, his temper teetering on the edge.

Van whirled and stared at her husband with soup plate big eyes. ‘Don’t you use your guttersnipe language with me Ken Hutchinson. I’m not one of your petty criminals. I have morals and standards and…’

‘Then try using them. You’re making enough noise to wake the dead. Make yourself useful and go and put the kettle on.’

‘How can you think of coffee at a time like this? You’ve upset me so much my head is thundering and you want me to make you breakfast? I don’t believe you. You’re cold and heartless and…..’ Van stopped, seeing the change in Hutch’s face. His usual even temper had finally snapped and the anger showed in his crystal blue eyes. The woman took one step backwards as though terrified of those eyes and her hand fumbled for the handle of the door. Hutch got out from the bed as though he were on stings. He was so far past angry that he had no words to describe his feelings. If he could have, he would have taken a hold of Van there and then and squeezed her neck until her eyes popped. Hutch’s temper, which was usually kept under tight control, was not something to be taken lightly. It was all consuming and he felt is wash up from his feet like a huge tidal wave of emotion.

‘Get out of the room.’

Vanessa started to protest, but something in the man’s voice stopped her dead.

‘Get out now or suffer the consequences’ he said, his voice low and so intent that the words burned though the air between them, pulsing against Vanessa’s skin like the beat of a war drum.’

‘You wouldn’t…’ Van never got to finish the word as, with a roar of rage, Hutch picked up the alarm clock — the nearest object — and hurled it at the door. Vanessa ducked just in time and with a scream, let herself out into the living room. Breathing deeply and shocked to the core, she slammed her hand against the door to Starsky’s bedroom and yelled through the wood.

‘This is all your fault. I know you’re awake. It’s all your fault. I’m leaving.’

The doors to the two bedrooms opened simultaneously and the two men stood a few feet apart, staring at the near hysterical woman. She brushed past Hutch, careful not to get within touching range and went to the closet. She pulled out a jacket, still with the price label attached, hurried into her jeans, a blouse and her cowboy boots and stood breathing deeply by the bed.

‘Don’t try to stop me Ken. I’m going. You’ve forced me out and I hope you’re happy. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer when you get back. This is cruelty. I’m leaving.’

With a toss of her long auburn hair, Vanessa stalked back out of the bedroom and over to the front door of the cabin. She opened it and stood silhouetted in the opening, her hand on the handle. ‘Don’t try to stop me. I mean it this time. I’m leaving and going back to town.’

Hutch shrugged. ‘I’m not stopping you. Go back to town. Go find your mother and cry on her shoulder. I’m going fishing.’

‘Fi….?’ Van looked stunned. She had expected something completely different. In her imagination she had seen Hutch come crawling to her, crying and pleading with her not to go. In her mind’s eye, she had coldly pushed him away and he had whimpered and beseeched her not to leave him and she had told him he would have to mend his ways and find a new partner. Nothing had readied her for this complete turn about in Hutch’s demeanour. Stunned for once into silence, Van did the only thing she could think of. She turned smartly on her heel, slammed the door closed behind her and went to the car. Getting there, however, she cursed herself. She had left in such a rush that the car keys were still locked inside the house and it would spoil her dramatic exit too much to have to go back inside for them. Instead, the woman started to walk back up the trail. Her boots, shiny and new as they were, were too tight around the toe and rubbed viciously at her heel. In truth they were a size too small but when she had tried them on in the shop, she’d never envisaged having to actually walk in them. Besides the proper sized shoe made her feet look too big. Damn! Double damn!

Inside the cabin there was silence. Starsky stood quietly, waiting for Hutch to calm down some before he walked over to the kitchen and started to make coffee.

‘What’re you doin’?’ Hutch asked in a monotone.

‘Making us a drink while you go after her.’

‘I said I was goin’ fishing.’

‘Well yeah, but I thought that would be after’ Starsky said, turning to face his partner.

‘After what?’

‘After you’ve been and brought her back. She’ll get lost out there.’

‘I said I was goin’ fishing and that’s what I’m gonna do’ Hutch said, appearing at the door of his room again fully dressed in jeans and a sweater.’

Starsky sighed. ‘Look, she’s had her say. She’s probably stood out there right now feelin’ like seven shades of an idiot and wondering how she can get back in. Go bring her back huh? The weather’s changed and it looks like its blowin’ for rain.’

‘Since when were you a weather man?’

‘Since your wife took it into her head to walk off of this damned mountain. Please Hutch, go after her and bring her back. I can go back to town and you can have the rest of the weekend to make this work.’

‘It’d take a year of weekends to come anywhere near to making it work. I can’t do this any more Starsk. I can’t live on a knife edge, wondering from one second to the next whether she’s gonna be an angel or a devil. She showed you her true colours this weekend. Could you live with that?’

‘No, but you must have had something good goin’ on. Things can’t always have been like that.’

Hutch shook his head sadly. ‘No we had some good times.’

‘Then go and bring her back. Go and give yourself another chance.’

In answer, the flaxen haired man picked up the fishing rod from the corner of the living room. He handed another to Starsky and stood by the door. ‘She made her choice and so have I. I told you I was goin’ fishing. Are you coming, or do I have to drown the worms by myself?’

 

Chapter 8

The breeze had picked up since the very early morning and now small waves slapped playfully against the sides of the small row boat making it dance and buck against the water. The lake, once a languid cerulean blue mirror had taken on a new identity. The depths were grey now, reflecting the clouds that billowed overhead blotting out the newly risen sun and above the tree tops, towards the summit of the mountain, more grey clouds threatened to fill the valley with rain.

Hutch sat quietly, his fishing rod dangling aimlessly over the side of the boat as he stared morosely at the water. Fish and fishing seemed to be the last thing on the blond’s mind. At the opposite end of the small craft, Starsky sat with his knees drawn and the collar of his jacket pulled close against the chilly wind.

‘It’s been an hour Hutch.’

‘Fish don’t have watches.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘I know.’

‘She didn’t have a warm jacket with her.’

The blond snickered without looking up. ‘Then she’s gonna get real cold.’ It was the first time Hutch had acknowledged Van’s existence since he’d pushed the boat out from the tiny wooden jetty.

‘Hutch for god’s sake lets row back to the shore and go find her huh?’ Starsky started to shuffle back towards the centre of the boat and the oars.

‘Will you stay still, you’re gonna capsize the boat.’ Hutch muttered tonelessly.

‘I can’t stay still. There’s a wind blowin’ where a wind shouldn’t blow, my legs have cramped and I’m freezing my balls off while you stare at the water and all the little fishes thumb their noses at you as they swim past your hook. Just row us back and if you won’t look for Van, then I will.’

That at least got some reaction from the flaxen hired man. Hutch reeled in his line and placed the rod carefully on the bottom of the boat. He turned and finally looked Starsky in the eye. ‘I don’t understand you. You were the target of all her jibes last night. I can’t believe you took all that sarcasm and never said a word. She hates you and yet you want to go look for her?’

The brunet shrugged and grinned. ‘Call me a masochist.’

‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t make a joke out of it Starsk. That’s your defence against everything isn’t it? If something hurts, you make a joke about it, you put that innocent little boy look on your face and you hide behind it because when you have that to hide behind nothing can’t hurt you.’

‘Oh it hurts’ Starsky said quietly, suddenly feeling it awkward to look his friend in the eyes.

‘Then why? Why do the strong silent routine?’

The smaller man shrugged. ‘Coz I’m thick skinned?’

Starsky made a grab for the sides and hung on as Hutch turned with such violence that the boat was in danger of overturning. ‘STOP IT’ he yelled. ‘Stop being so fuckin’ understanding. Stop hiding. Be yourself and tell me what you really feel.’

Starsky held his breath. ‘You want me to tell you that your wife hurt me? Ok fine. She hurt. Her words hurt like a hot bullet but what’s words huh? So she has a tongue like a knife. So she has a temper. Fine. But I’m not gonna start trying to beat her at her own game, so I stayed quiet. I thought you’d have been happy about that. One crazy brunet is enough in a cabin ain’t it?’

Hutch shook his head. ‘I thought I knew you, but I don’t’. I don’t understand. On the street you’re the first to blow a gasket when things go wrong. What’s different here?’

‘You.’ The word came out quietly and was almost lost on the wind.

‘What?’ Hutch asked softly. The word had stunned him, as had the look of complete earnest on Starsky’s face. Indigo blue eyes the colour of a storm tossed ocean drilled into the blond’s soul and pierced at his being. He waited a thousand years for the answer, feeling as though the world were dropping away from him as his partner spoke.

‘I figured this was your weekend and you asked me here coz you were uncertain about Vanessa. You needed backup and I’ve always been your backup. Well I figured that backup is just that. It don’t interfere, it just does what it says on the can. I was here to back you up. I thought you’d be happy that I didn’t throw a wobbler at Mrs Hutchinson. I didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already were. I thought you’d be happy.’

Hutch looked back at his partner levelly. It was difficult to read the emotion in the crystal blue eyes but for one awful moment it looked as though the blond was going to cry. The moment passed and Hutch grinned wryly. ‘Wow. You used up your entire years supply of thoughts in one go. I never realised so much could go on in that curly head. I’m impressed.’

‘Hey! Just coz I have more emotional depth than a beer mat. Now will you please row this bloody boat back to the shore? I’m getting’ sea sick, my legs have gone to sleep and we still have a wife to find.’

‘Soon to be ex-wife’ Hutch said with conviction as he scrabbled back to the centre seat.

‘Whatever. You can discuss your marital plans on dry land. Just row huh? And I do not have an innocent little boy look. I aim for Bogart.’

‘Well your aim is off Gordo. It looked more like Peter Lorre.’

O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+

Starsky harboured a secret hope that by the time the row boat was tied up at the small wooden jetty they would find Vanessa back at the cabin. He didn’t care if the woman was angry, mean or downright rude so long as he didn’t need to go out onto the mountain to look for her.

The brunet hated the wilds of California. He hated the wilds, period. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the beauty of the place — his photographer’s eye adored the play of light and shadow, the way the sunbeams lanced down through the stately pines and the way the morning dew glittered on the grass. It wasn’t even that he was brought up in the urban jungle of Brooklyn. There were parks there and he had not led a deprived childhood, roaming the coastline of Martha’s Vineyard with Nicky when he was young and the Starsky’s took their annual vacation. No, it was more the fact that Starsky had a secret dread of heights and wherever there were mountains and valleys, there were likely to be precipices, cliffs, rock walls and waterfalls, in fact a multitude of places where nature could fling an unsuspecting brunet into the void and in the blink of an eye. Whilst Hutch embraced anything vaguely “backwoodsmanish” Starsky preferred his feet to be planted firmly on terra firma. It stemmed from an incident when he was a young teenager. His Dad had recently died and, longing for acceptance and a place to “belong”, the young brunet had started to run with one of the gangs. The initiation into the hallowed group had been either to have sex with one of the girls whilst the others watched, or to climb Brooklyn Bridge. Ever the gentleman, Starsky had taken the latter option, and cutting a long story short, had fallen from the ironwork and was arrested and as a result was sent away to Aunt Rosie and Uncle Al’s to start a new life in California. It had been a turning point in the young boy’s life and whether it was a genuine vertigo, or whether subconsciously he associated heights with the consequences he’d suffered didn’t really matter to Starsky. He needed only one look over the wall of a tall building, or a multi storey parking lot, or a glance down a mountain and his head spun, his hands grew cold and clammy and beads of perspiration started to bead on his brow and down his back.

Almost fatalistically, the brunet followed his partner back to the cabin in the clearing. Whilst he didn’t like Vanessa and was sure that she hated him, he had no wish to see her lost, or worse injured on the mountain and yet the prospect of going to look for her left him feeling slightly sick to his stomach. Starsky watched Hutch push open the door to the cabin and look around. The place was as they’d left it and as there was no flying crockery coming his way, Hutch safely came to the conclusion that Van had not returned. The brunet looked at his watch.

‘She’s been gone almost 2 hours. We should go out and look for her.’

Reluctantly Hutch agreed. ‘Even when she isn’t here Van can spoil almost anything. Did you see which way she went?’

‘Well if I was her I’d follow the track back to the road. That’s the most logical.’ Starsky said scratching the side of his nose.

‘Uh huh. Since when did you put Van and logical in the same sentence?’

The brunet shrugged. ‘Point taken. The track isn’t real clear anyway, but she’s sure to aim downhill.’

Hutch stood on the porch and looked out at the darkening sky. The wind, once playful was now gusting more forcefully and with it came the promise of rain. ‘Shit! Looks like there’s a storm coming in. Why didn’t she just take the damned car? Why’d she have to be so fucking dramatic about everything?’

‘She’s a woman. Are they ever anything else?’

‘I never met a logical one. I don’t think they exist.’

‘I don’t know. There was this one girl I knew. Small, dark hair, gorgeous green eyes and…. Anyhow, she would have been so good. In the end she went for a friend of mine from the Army.’

Hutch shrugged and turned. ‘Stay here. I’ll go start looking for Van. If I’m not back in a couple of hours take the car, go back down to the Ranger’s hut and call for help huh?’

‘Nope. Not ok. I’m coming with you.’

‘Starsk, it’s pointless us both getting tired and wet and mad at her. Besides, she’s my problem.’

‘She’s our problem.’

The blond stopped in his tracks. ‘Ours?’

‘You’re my partner Hutch. And my best friend. We’ve only worked together for a few months but I feel like I’ve known you all of my life. Your problems are mine too. I wanna help.’

For a moment Hutch seemed lost for words. He felt the same way and didn’t seem to be able to remember a time when the curly haired man had not been by his side. He relied on Starsky day after day to keep him safe out on the streets. They’d earned a reputation already for being great cops and maybe one of the best partnerships Bay City had seen since one Harold Dobey and Elmo Tussaint had been on the same patch. The silence stretched between the two men for an eternity. Crystal blue eyes searched indigo pools and finally Hutch smiled. ‘You’re gettin’ soapy on me.’

‘I don’t do soapy, I just want to help my buddy.’

The blond shrugged. ‘I’m glad. Thanks.’

‘Ok Cochise. You lead, I’ll follow.’

‘We should split up. We’ll cover more ground that way. If we haven’t found anything by…..’ Hutch patted himself down looking for a watch he didn’t have. ‘….by the time it’s late afternoon, come back to the cabin and we’ll go get more help. She’s probably got a ride from a passing logger and is back in the city as we speak, sipping coffee and telling her Mom what a terrible ordeal she’s been made to suffer.’

Starsky nodded, although he didn’t share Hutch’s conviction. The thought of searching the mountain on his own was even worse than searching it by Hutch’s side but he did not voice his fears. ‘Yeah. Ok well, I’ll go that-a-way and meet you back here at um…..4.00 o’clock?’

‘Four? That’s when um…..’ Hutch looked vaguely at the sky.

‘When Mickey Mouse’s hand is on Minnie Mouse’s knee. Why don’t ya get a watch Blintz?’

‘Never really had the need for one. See you back here at 4ish if not before. Be careful.’

Hutch walked off towards the dirt track leading from the cabin and Starsky watched him go with a heavy heart. See ya. Go look for the mad lady Davey. Go and plunge about on a mountain with trees and bugs and bugs and…..oh yeah rain and more bugs. Jeez.

Muttering to himself under his breath Starsky started to walk along the dirt track too. The sun was up, but was hidden behind a blanket of cloud that sapped the warmth so far up the mountain. There was a wind now too. It plucked at Starsky’s jacket and he pulled it closed, zipping the front against the cold. The brunet shivered, not from lack of warmth but from the thoughts of the environment he found himself in. The last time he’d been alone in so much vegetation, he’d been in a different country, on a different continent and had carried a full Army pack. His tour of duty in Vietnam had not gone well and he’d been taken POW along with a handful of other men. The others had not survived the treatment doled out to them by the Viet Cong. Starsky had spent months in the hospital recovering and the memories of that time still haunted his dreams. A chill ran down the brunet’s spine and he snickered to himself. Pull yourself together Davey boy!

With renewed vigour, Starsky looked down at the ground, trying hard to decipher any tracks that might have been made by Vanessa, Hutch or anyone else on the mountain. As he peered at the mud covered track he saw Hutch’s footprint, clear in the dirt. The tread of the blond’s Dolomite walking boots was instantly recognisable and there, yes, off to one side a smaller heel indentation which could only have been made by Van’s cowboy boots.

A little further on, the track all but disappeared. The wind had played with the trees overhead and was sending leaves and even small branches down across the wheel ruts making it almost unrecognisable from the day before. Hutch was lost from view as Starsky looked up from the ground, feeling alone, chilled and somehow claustrophobic. He hated the mountains. He hated rain. He hated wind and right now he wasn’t even sure if he liked California.

Shit!

The brunet looked around. The wind was blowing leaves across the track and the trees were swaying now, leaving Starsky feeling a little seasick at the motion. The wall of green seemed to close in around him and all he could hear was the wind in the boughs above him and the creak of the tree trunks around him. It didn’t matter that the cabin was no more than half a mile away, it could have been on a different planet right now. If Van felt the same way and she’d been walking for two hours, she was going to be well and truly lost. Something made Starsky think that Girl Scouting had not been an activity Van would have engaged in.

Peering through the gloom into the trees, something caught the brunet’s eye. In a rare glimmer of sunshine, something glittered on the forest floor a little way off the track and Starsky walked towards it and bent to retrieve the silver toe cover from Vanessa’s boot. It was new and shiny and meant the woman had obviously veered off the path and taken the more direct route downwards.

Starsky lifted his head and yelled. ‘HUUUUTCH……..HUUUUTCH.’

The wind took his yells and threw them back at him. With the noise of the trees and the wind, the blond would never hear him, that was evident. Cursing Starsky stood and looked around. Should he go try to find Hutch, hoping he’d pick up Van’s trail again when he got back? Or should he follow his own lead? There was a vague trail between the trees. It looked like the sort of path an animal would make, the grass flattened and the dirt showing in places. With a heavy hear, and a final look at the direction he thought Hutch had gone, Starsky prayed that the animal in question was (a) not a bear and (b) not around, Starsky pulled the collar of his jacket up around his ears, heaved a deep sigh, uttered one, four letter curse word and prepared to follow the woman through the forest.

 

Chapter 9

‘VAN……VANESSA……VANESSA!’ Hutch’s voice was beginning to get hoarse from the shouting and his throat burned with the effort of making himself heard over the wind and the creaking of the trees around him. He’d been walking now for about 30 minutes and the sweat trickled down his spine despite the cool temperature and the biting wind. He’d seen not a sign of the woman, or indeed of any sort of life since he’d set off and his heart was beginning to pound as he thought about Van and also Starsky out there on another part of the mountain. His anger channelled itself into the blond pushing himself harder and faster than he would normally have gone and twice now his boots had slipped in the softened mud on the small path he was following. Once, he’d landed safely but not very neatly on his butt in the wet leaves on the forest floor. He’d sat for a moment, the breath knocked out of his body before he forced himself to his feet, brushed ineffectively at the black, muddy stains on his jeans and then walked on.

The second time he fell, Hutch tripped on a hidden root of a tree. He felt himself propelled forwards even before he had chance to put his hands out to stop himself. At the last second, his right arm shot out and his body weight landed on that one outstretched limb sending a bolt of pure pain up to his shoulder. That time, Hutch sat once again in the dirt and cursed his wife long and hard. His feelings of love towards the woman would never truly go, he knew that. Once you have really felt love, nothing can erase those feelings for ever, but Hutch was beginning to detest the sound of the woman’s name going around and around in his head and as he nursed his rapidly swelling wrist to his chest he spat out a single curse.

‘Fuck!’ he snarled at the trees. ‘Stupid, stupid bitch. Drama queen. Aww hell, I hope Starsk is having better luck than I am.’

The wrist was looking a pretty shade of blue now and experimentally Hutch wiggled his fingers. It hurt, but not the kind of hurt that told him a bone was broken. Just a sprain. Nothing to worry about unduly. Taking a clean hanky from his pocket, the blond made a triangle out of it, rolled it into a tube and wrapped it around his lower arm. It wouldn’t win any marks on a first aid course, but at least some of the ache disappeared. Pushing himself up again, Hutch braced himself against a tree trunk and balanced on the slippery ground. All around him, an ocean of green, swaying pines blocked his view. He was going downhill, of that much he was sure, but how far could Vanessa have got in her fashion boots and skin tight jeans? His wife was no frontierswoman — a walk in the park was often too much green for her to deal with.

Crystal eyes peered into the gloom of the thickly wooded slopes hoping for some sign that he was going in the right direction. By Hutch’s estimation, he’d covered maybe a mile and a half or two miles — far more than Vanessa would have managed and with a sigh the blond turned carefully and started to make his way back up the hill towards the cabin.

On another part of the mountain, Starsky too was having difficulties. He’d never possessed a pair of hiking boots and with no intention of giving Hutch excuses to come to the mountains regularly, he’d not bought any for this weekend. While blue suede Adidas were great for pounding down the streets of Bay City, they provided little traction on the slick forest floor and more than once the brunet had felt the ground slip from under him. A light drizzle had started to fall. It was no more than low cloud at the moment but it promised heavier rain later. The mist clung tenaciously to the trees despite the wind. It clung to the pine needles and to the low lying bushes. It clung also to Starsky’s curls, bending the hair down to his forehead and dripping drops into his eyes. The brunet’s jacket soon became soaked, his jeans becoming cold and sticking to his kegs annoyingly. A drip found its way inside his collar and down his neck.

‘Bloody women. Bloody Vanessa. Bloody trees. Bloody!’ Starsky stopped for a moment and looked around him, balancing against the bole of a huge pine. It swayed slightly in the wind and above him a rain of pine needles fell to earth. The slope was becoming more precarious now and yet, despite how difficult the walking was becoming, Starsky had some deep seated conviction that he was going in the right direction. He fumbled for the shiny silver toe cap in his pocket and felt its cold edges with his finger and thumb, imagining what he was going to say to Vanessa should he ever catch up with her. What she really wanted, he felt, was a smart slap on the face to remind her of reality, but in his heart of hearts, the curly haired man knew he would never bring himself to hit a woman, however annoying she was.

Listening to the wind beginning to howl through the tops of the trees, the brunet looked up at the leaden sky. Cloud seemed to be pouring over the summit of the mountain and down into the valley like some wicked witch’s latest potion. With it, it brought more rain, heavier now, the drops starting to penetrate the foliage and fall like miniature bombs on the forest floor. Disconsolately Starsky pushed himself off from the pine and set off downhill again.

In the distance, another sound could be hear above the whistling and moaning of the wind and Starsky cocked his head. It sounded very much like trickling water and with the certain conviction that water only ever flows downhill, the brunet wondered if maybe Vanessa had had the same thought and had decided to follow the streams’ course down the mountain.

Spurred on by that thought and the idea that if he found her he could drag her back to the cabin, get warm and raid the bottle of bourbon he’d brought, Starsky started to walk a little faster, slipping and sliding between the tree trunks and skinning his hands on the rough bark as he fought to keep himself steady and upright. The sound of the water was getting louder now and once or twice he thought he saw a flicker of bright white through the gloom.

‘Vanessa!’ Starsky shouted. ‘Hey, VANESSA!’ the words were torn from his mouth and cast aside on the wind and Starsky found himself going faster down the slope, unable to stop himself from sliding on the slick ground. His arms windmilled and a yip of fear slipped from his open mouth as he continued his headlong path down the mountain and at the last minute, the brunet’s outstretched had caught hold of one of the lower branches of a tree. He grabbed and held on just as his sneakered feet went from under him and he landed on his back with an “oomph”, his feet dangling out into space over a rocky bluff falling maybe 20 feet to a stream bed.

Starsky felt his right hand begin to slip on the rain socked branch he was holding. The tree’s limb was long and slender and bent with the cop’s weight and desperately, Starsky backpedalled his feet and turned his body, reaching with his left hand for a more secure hold. His fingertips brushed against a protruding rock, its surface slimy and greasy and covered in moss. He took a firmer hold and the rock remained still, firmly anchored into the ground and with an extra care born of the need to get himself back onto terra firma, Starsky snaked his body back onto the top of the bluff, shuffled backwards a way and rolled onto his back, panting heavily and staring up at the grey, cloud covered sky.

For long minutes, the cop lay still, his heart pumping fast and hard and almost bursting from his chest. He hated heights. He hated the forest. He hated the mountains and right now he knew he hated Vanessa.

Eventually, the curly haired man levered himself into a sitting position, wiped a dirt smeared hand over his forehead to blot the sweat forming there and looked around, taking stock. He had slipped and slid down a steep part of a rocky animal track and had finally lost his footing next to a rocky bluff, sticking out between the trees. The small clearing gave a better view of the mountain and the sky, but also afforded less protection from the rain which had started to come down heavier and with bigger, fatter drops. Above the mountain top the first roll of thunder could be heard and a fork of lightening lit up the sullen, grey sky.

Take a break Davey. Come to the mountains with your girl Starsk. Why not have some down time with your sweetie? Next time don’t listen to the blond one and stay at home with a TV and a dog stand around the corner and beer and Huggy’s.

Carefully, Starsky got to his feet and wiped his grazed hands down the fronts of his best jeans. They were soaked and clung to his legs like a second skin, albeit a wet and heavy one. The brunet took stock. If Vanessa had come this way, and had been as taken by surprise as he had…..

Cautiously, Starsky edged towards the top of the bluff, holding on to the closest tree branches for safety. With a deep steadying breath, he steeled himself and looked over the edge where moments before his feet had dangled. The pit of his stomach did a little flip and for a moment the earth seemed to take a distinct tilt to the left as vertigo overtook him and threatened to catapult him over the edge. Starsky swallowed hard and peered down to a ledge maybe ten feet from the top of the bluff. It was narrow and muddy and maybe six feet long and there, in the middle of the ledge, like some shop front fashion mannequin stood Vanessa, her imperious brown eyes meeting his like lasers.

‘It took you long enough’ she snapped.

‘Well pardon me for coming after you m’lady’ Starsky snapped back, his patience worn thin by vertigo and worry.

‘Well don’t just stand there, get me up.’

‘Are you hurt?’ the brunet asked.

‘Do I look like I’m hurt? If I wanted twenty questions I’d apply to go on a game show. Just get me up huh?’

Starsky knelt carefully to avoid the world spinning out of control around him. He glanced down at Vanessa again and met only a steely gaze and a tapping foot — minus one toe cap.

‘Are you deaf, or just as stupid as you look? I asked you to get me up.’ Vanessa took a closer look at the man above her. Starsky had no repartee at that particular moment. In fact, if anything he looked just a little green around the gills and the hand holding the tree branch showed white knuckles and a slight shake. The woman threw her hands up in anger. ‘Peach! Just wonderful. Not only are you stupid and Jewish, I’ve got myself the only cop in Bay City who’s afraid of heights. C’mon Starsky. Throw me a rope down, or something like that. Just get me up huh?’

Starsky pulled himself together with an effort and made a play of patting his body down with his spare hand. ‘Damn, I left my extension ladder back at the cabin. How careless of me. Hold on Van. I’m gonna come down there.’

‘You’re what? Whoa. No. I mean, what’s the use of two of us down here. We need to be up there, moron.’

Starsky took off his belt and fastened it as securely as he could around the small branch he was holding. It afforded him another couple of feet of extension but still nowhere near enough to reach down to Vanessa and with a sigh and more muttered curses, he realised what he’d have to do. The brunet looked back over the bluff.

‘I can’t reach you to pull you up, but if I’m down there, I can give you enough of a boost to get you back up here, then I’ll climb back up.’

Vanessa tutted. ‘First he thinks he’s a comedian, then he thinks he’s Houdini. Fine, come get me. I always wanted to be rescued by someone tall, dark and handsome, I guess two out of three isn’t bad.’

‘Hey! I aint that short!’ Starsky snapped as he started to edge towards the edge. He flipped over onto his belly and felt the first flush of fear as his legs dangled out over the edge into thin air. His hands scrabbled feverishly for holds and slowly and gingerly he lowered himself over the edge and onto the slippery rocky face. His feet sought footholds in the slimy vegetation and his hands clung to roots and vines growing down the face of the bluff. The distance might only have been ten feet, and only four, by the time Starsky was full length on the slope, but it felt as though he were conquering Everest and when Starsky’s feet did hit the ledge beneath him, he had to lean into the rock face and take a second to gather himself before he could turn carefully and look Vanessa in the face.

‘Hurray, you’re down. About time too. I’m freezing here.’

With a grunt, Starsky shouldered out of his jacket and handed it to the woman. She draped it around her shoulders without comment. ‘Now stand still while I climb on your shoulders and get myself out of here’ the woman said, ignoring her rescuers ashen face and slightly shaky hands.

‘Your wish is my command’ the brunet muttered as he leaned his shoulder into the side of the rock for stability, bent his knees and made a cup of his linked hands. Without waiting and with apparently no fear of heights herself, Vanessa planted a booted foot on Starsky’s hands, used his hair to pull herself up and then proceeded to climb up onto his shoulders and finally his head before pulling herself up and over the edge to safety. She turned and looked down at the stranded brunet, who in turn was looking down over the edge of the ledge at the stream running down the rocky course maybe 25 feet below him. He turned with a dry mouth and looked up at the slick rock face again, his eyes trying to pick out the best hand holds and places for his feet.

The rain continued to pelt the brunet with ever colder drops and the wind, now picking up, pulled at his body and tried to rip him from the ledge. The sooner he was back at the cabin, the better and without trying to think, Starsky placed his hands on the rock and started to climb. Twice his Adidas slipped on the glass-like rocks and twice he slipped back to the ledge and had to try again. Above him, Vanessa prowled up and down, sighing and looking pointedly at her watch. Eventually she looked over the edge.

‘We haven’t got all day. It may have escaped your notice, but I’m soaked. Hurry up.’

‘I’m doin’ the best I can lady. Try reaching down, maybe I can grab your hand.’

‘Maybe I should just get back to the cabin and get Ken.’

‘Fine. Whatever.’ Starsky took a small step backwards to look up at the woman above him. The muddy edge of the ledge seemed to slip under his feet and the whole edge crumbled away from him so that Starsky was left teetering on the edge of the chasm. He let out a cry, his arms flailing wildly as he frantically tried to regain his balance. The ground went from beneath his feet and as though in slow motion, Vanessa watched Starsky’s body fall backwards into the small valley, accompanied by a hail of rock.

Starsky felt the sickening feeling of being in space. For an eternity it seemed that he was in freefall, his body weightless and insubstantial until half way down, he hit a tree growing out from the rock. The trunk hit him in the back, to one side of his spine and wrenched a strangled scream from the brunet as he felt and heard a rib snap. Despite the pain, he made a mad grab for the branch that had caused his injury and cruelly felt it slip through the tip of his fingers, slowing his fall only marginally.

Vanessa watched in sick fascination as the brunet plummeted down, bounced off the tree and fell again to land with his body splayed in the stream bed, nestled between a host of rocks. After the sounds of the fall, there was silence in the forest, interrupted only by the sounds of the rain falling harder and the occasional clap of thunder.

‘Dave?’ she shouted. ‘Hey, Starsky!’

There was no reply from the brunet and from the way he lay, limp and pale, Vanessa feared he may be dead. What would she tell Ken? Would he blame her? Would he ignore her needs and come looking for Starsky?

With a final look over the edge, Vanessa started to make her way back up the slippery slope the way she had come earlier that day. Maybe the less Ken knew, the less it would hurt him. Before she got back to the top of the hill, Vanessa shucked off the brunet’s jacket, screwed it into a ball and stuffed it behind a rock. Wiping her hands and squaring her shoulders, she smeared mud on her face and in her wet hair, took a twig and scratched it a few times down her cheek and then limped back to the cabin, flinging the door open dramatically and collapsing in a mock faint on the rag rug by the door.

 

Chapter 10

Hutch looked up, shocked at the sudden appearance of his wife. He’d only just got back to the cabin himself and was drying out in front of the fire they’d left lit and he turned as the door snapped open and Vanessa stood outlined in the doorway, backlit by a fork of lightening.

Dropping his sodden jacket, Hutch rushed forward as Van dropped dramatically to the floor, clutching at her head. All thoughts of how stupid and two faced she was flew out of the window as he bent over the woman and caught her in his arms. Vanessa let herself be manhandled, her body limp and her eyes closed as Hutch rolled her onto her back and gently brushed her tousled hair from her rain soaked face.

‘Van…. Where does it hurt love? What happened? Where have you been?’

Vanessa fluttered her eyes open in the tradition of all the best soaps she’d seen on TV and groaned pathetically, her hand going up to the self inflicted scratches on her cheek.

‘It was awful Ken. I got lost and the rain started and I fell down.’

‘You have a little cut on your face honey. C’mon let me get you closer to the fire, you’re freezing.’

Gently Hutch stood and lifted Van effortlessly in his arms, carrying her over to the sofa by the fire. He laid her down and she let him. No reason why she couldn’t milk the minute for all it was worth. She had planned her entrance to perfection — take Hutch’s mind off of Starsky, keep his attention on her and her imaginary injuries and before long he’d be eating out of her hand. How was she to know that Starsky was injured? She hadn’t seen him at all. She’d simply found her way back to the cabin, scared and hurt. No-one would ever suspect that she had seen the other man and no-one would ever link his death to her. At least now he was out of their lives for good.

‘Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Chocolate? Brandy? You need warming up, you’re almost blue with cold’ Hutch’s concerned eyes searched Van’s face and weakly she turned her head on the cushion.

‘Maybe a small brandy? They say it’s good for shock. I think I’m in shock Ken. It was terrible. I never meant to walk out on you. I love you, you know that don’t you?’

‘I know honey. Ssh. Don’t talk, just lie back and I’ll fix you a drink.’ Van smiled to herself as she heard her husband clattering about in the kitchen. There was the sound of a cupboard door opening, a glass smashing on the floor. She closed her eyes against the noise. My God Ken was always so damned clumsy. She hated when he broke things, or stammered, or walked into things, or stood on her toe when they danced. Why couldn’t he just be perfect? Or maybe just stand by her side, mute, and just look pretty? She wiped the grimace off of her face as Hutch hurried back to her side with an inch of brandy in the bottom of a bubble. He held it out for her and she sat with a dramatic groan and took the glass, swirling the amber liquid around.

‘It isn’t warmed’ she said tonelessly.

‘It’s more important for you to get something inside you. Just drink it huh? Sip it slowly. Do you hurt anywhere else?’

Vanessa shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I fell a few times and I think I hit my head against a tree. The rain and the wind were so bad and then when the storm started and the thunder…. I was so scared Ken. Hold me. Hold me tightly.’

Hutch took the glass and sat it on the hearth of the fire. He took Vanessa in his arms and held her to him, feeling the woman mould herself into his chest, her arms wrapped around him as though she would never let him go. They stayed together for minutes until finally Van pulled away.

‘Am I going to be ok Ken?’ she asked, laying back on the cushion again. ‘I feel so awful. Everything hurts.’

‘I think so honey. You’re just cold and tired.

Languidly Van stretched her long legs and untucked her blouse from her jeans, baring her midriff. ‘Maybe you should check me out. I could have some internal injuries?’

Hutch smiled. ‘I don’t think so. Drink your drink while I go and see if I can find Starsky. He went out to look for you.’

The very sound of the other man’s name jarred Vanessa’s nerves and an ugly look flitted across her face.

‘He’ll be fine’ she said coldly, trying to ignore the image flashing into her memory of the broken body on the rocks below the bluff.

‘Yeah, I know. But he hates the woods and its getting awfully dark out there. The rain is lashing down.’

‘I said he’ll be fine. He’s a Neanderthal, he’s used to the woods. Ken it’s me that needs you. Me, your wife.’

Reluctantly Hutch turned away from the window of the cabin. Vanessa was right. Cold and unfeeling, but right. Starsky was a full grown man. He managed to survive 24 years before Hutch came along. He’d had a life before the blond. So why did Hutch feel as though he should look out for the brunet all the time? It was as though he felt somehow responsible for Starsky, almost like a big brother would look after a smaller boy. And yet that wasn’t it either. There was something indefinable, something Hutch couldn’t explain readily. In his heart of hearts the flaxen haired cop knew that if Starsky had been a woman, he would have married him in a heartbeat. He didn’t lust after the smaller man — didn’t want to be his lover. There was nothing sexual in his feelings for Starsky. In fact his relationship ran deeper than that. They were soul bonded. Hutch felt as though he had met his brother the first time he’d clapped eyes on Starsky and from then on, their partnership; relationship; brotherhood — call it what you will, had grown deeper and more enduring. Maybe it was the fact that they faced danger on the streets each day and relied on each other to keep one another alive. Maybe it was that Starsky was the yang to Hutch’s yin. Whatever it was, he would never truly be able to understand the depth of his feelings for the brunet and would surely never be able to put those feelings into words. Where Vanessa was concerned, he wasn’t even going to try.

Ignoring the description Vanessa had just used on his best friend, Hutch turned away from the window. ‘You’re right. He’s a grown man. He’ll be fine. It’s just that this storm looks like it’s settled in for the duration and he wasn’t exactly dressed for the mountain. Still, he has his jacket and a warm sweater. You’re right. He’ll probably come stomping in complaining about bugs and rain. Do you need another brandy honey?’

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Starsky pin-wheeled through the air, his hands grabbing at branches, rocks, moss — anything that might be able to break his fall. The feeling of freefall sickened him. It was his worst nightmare come true and half of his mind told him that this could not be happening. It was a bad dream and just before impact he would wake up in his nice, safe, warm bed. It’s not the fall that kills you boy, it’s hitting the ground. His Academy instructor’s voice sounded in his ears as the brunet fell through the air, eyes closed against the inevitable impact. It came sooner than Starsky expected as a small, protruding tree halted his momentum for a moment, the rough trunk catching his side and back and sending a blaze of white pain through his chest and back. He remembered screaming, an animal sound forced from his lips and echoing around the rocky bluff. For a second the curly haired man thought that he may have stopped and in his head he felt himself reaching for the safety of the tree’s narrow trunk. In reality, his momentum halted for only a split second before his body rolled against the obstacle and then toppled forwards again. This time there was no stopping his fall for another fifteen feet and when the ground finally did rush up to meet him, it did so with a sickening, blinding thud that radiated through his body and knocked all the breath from his lungs. Rocks rained down around Starsky and with his last ounce of strength he put his arms up to shield his head from further assault.

Starsky remained conscious long enough after the fall to realise he was hurt — make that badly hurt. His side was a blaze of pain, his head aching and his legs feeling as though they would explode. He lay on his side, arms flung up in defence against the debris and with his legs and feet in the water of the stream bed he’d fallen into. The water further soaked his feet and jeans and the bite of the cold allowed him to hang onto consciousness just long enough for him to roll over onto his back as far as he could.

The movement ripped another agonised hiss from him and the sight of the sullen grey and water logged sky made his guts squirm. Fat rain drops pounded his face and the brunet squinted up into the distance, along the rocky bluff he’d just fallen from. Eyes refusing to focus properly, Starsky panicked and managed to rub one blood smeared hand over his face. Better. Not much, but at least he could make out the figure on the cliff top looking down at him.

Weakly the brunet tried to sit up. C’mon Davey. You’re awake. You just knocked yourself around a bit. Stop feelin’ sorry for yourself and get yourself back together. Starsky tried to put his legs under him to give him some leverage in order to scoot back up the streams bank. He pulled at his left leg and a red hot lance of pain shot up from his toes to his hip. The suddenness and intensity took away h breath and he fell back against the rocks, gasping.

Looking upwards, towards the figure on the top of the bluff, he tried to shout to Vanessa. No voice came out. Instead a weak whisper floated ineffectually away on the wind.

Shit. He was hurt worse than he thought.

Wrapping his arm around his damaged ribs, Starsky tried again, lying on his back to look upwards.

‘Van…..hurt……help me. No….nooooo. Don’t go!’

The voice came out as a pained croak and not even Starsky believed that Vanessa could have heard his plea. But surely the woman could see that he was hurt. Surely she would go get help.

As his eyes slid closed, Starsky had the impression of the woman turning and walking away. Had she shouted down to him? Had he imagined that she had said she’d go and get help? Yeah, that would be ok. Vanessa would go get Hutch and the blond would know what to do. Hutch was the type of guy who you could send out into the wilderness with a Q-tip and a pair of tweezers and he’d build you a mall. All Starsky needed to do was sit tight, keep himself calm and rescue would be here soon.

The thought lulled him. The fall had taken its toll on the brunet’s body. Everything hurt and he seemed to have his left foot caught beneath a rock, his ankle sandwiched between two rocks and the silt on the bottom of the stream bed. Pain radiated out from his chest and consumed him. A shiver sent more pain running down his spine and with a the thought that rescue may not be too far away, Starsky allowed darkness to take him to a less painful place and with a sigh, he passed out, half in and half out of the fast running stream.

 

Chapter 11

The boat must only have been very small. Yes, that was the answer — he was still in Hutch’s row boat and the rain was getting to him — soaking him to the skin. In his dream, Starsky tried to sit up to tell his partner that the fish weren’t for biting and that maybe now would be a good time to get back to dry land. Fantasies of a huge fillet mignon with French fries, mustard and a crisp green salad floated through the brunet’s head and in his dream, he licked his lips in anticipation of the meal.

‘Utch….c’mon pal.’ The words broke his dream and seemed to shake Starsky from his reverie. Who had said that? It certainly didn’t sound like his own voice. The sound was lower than it should be, hoarse almost and had a shake to it. Even Starsky wasn’t so scared of a small rowing boat. Maybe if he could just shuffle his butt out of the puddle he seemed to be sitting in….

The cop put his hand out to brace himself against the boat, but instead of rough, varnished wood, his fingers brushed cold, slimy wet rocks and then disappeared beneath the surface of water seemingly cold enough to have turned to ice. That shook him awake faster than any cup of the Metro’s black coffee could have and with a jerk, Starsky opened his eyes and tried to focus. Above him, a blackened, multi-layered roof of cloud glowered down at his, spitting huge raindrops into his face and splashing noisily into the water of the fast flowing stream. The water raced around Starsky’s calves and flowed against his back, soaking his clothes and sapping the warmth from his body. For a moment, the curly haired man wondered how he’d fallen out of the boat and landed in the water. He tried to sit up and then the lancing pain in his chest and the white, sharp pain in his head reminded him of his failed rescue attempt and his subsequent fall down the cliff.

With a moan, Starsky tried to roll onto his side. The pain in his back and chest returned with a vengeance, taking his breath away and starting a wracking cough that finally ended when he tasted the sharp, coppery tang of blood in his mouth and spat almost pure blood into the rock in front of him.

Bad Davey. Very bad. You got yourself a snapped rib an’ it’s pokin’ sumthin it shouldn’t be pokin’. Terrific.

Carefully, breath held against further assaults on his senses, the brunet braced his arms against the rocks and managed to get himself into a semi-sitting position. He waited a moment, taking stock of what hurt and what didn’t. The latter was easy to count. Almost every bone in his body seemed to hurt in some way. Starsky wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. It came away blood stained but he ignored it. Nothing he could do about a cracked rib right now. He needed to get out of the water and back into the shelter some place if he wasn’t going to freeze his butt off on the mountain. Pushing his right foot against a pile of rocks in front of him, Starsky got his arms behind him, yelled at the pain in his chest and tried to pull his left foot free of the water.

There was no pain in his foot or left leg, but there again, there was no sensation either. He pulled again, harder this time, but the rocks seemed to have jammed down over his foot and there was no way that he could work it free.

The brunet stopped, panting heavily and thought for a moment. He was sitting in about 15 inches of water right now. When he thought back to earlier, he was sure there had been nothing but a trickle in the bottom of the stream bed. The water had risen a good foot in…… Starsky looked at his watch. It read 4.15. Great! The water was rising rapidly and by the look of the rain and the sounds of the storm around him, it would continue to rise until it filled the stream bed. A single finger of fear poked into Starsky’s chest. Just how deep would the water get? How much water did this little ol’ stream take? He peered at the far bank looking for signs and the single finger of fear blossomed into a full grown fist. The signs of water flow on the far bank stretched up to about 3′ 6″. With the best will in the world and sitting as high as he could, the water would eventually flow over his head by at least 6″. More than enough to leave him with a watery, cold and lonely death.

Panicked by his thoughts, Starsky set to work on his trapped left foot again. Something seemed to have happened to it now as the next time he tried to pull it, another red arc of pain shot up from his ankle, into his leg and up to the small of his back. Starsky screamed at the added pain, his head thrown back and his lips pulled away from his teeth. The deep breaths made the pains in his chest worse and for a moment, the world tipped sickeningly to the side.

Don’t pass out Davey. Not a good idea. Too much water around. Just breathe….calm down and breathe huh? Better. Much better. Now. Calm. Take it one step at a time. Your leg is trapped and that fuckin’ rock is way too big to move on your own. Vanessa saw you fall. You know she did. All ya gotta do is sit tight and wait. She’ll go back an’ get Hutch an’ he’ll deal with it. Just sit tight…..in the water…..freezin’ your balls off and getting’ colder and colder an’…..shudup. think warm thoughts.

You’re gonna drown.

Shudup, I said warm thoughts.

Ok, ok. Mojave. Death Valley. It don’t get warmer than that. Dry stream beds and…is the water getting’ deeper? It is. It touched your belt before an’ now it’s comin’ further up.

Shit! Don’t wanna drown. Hate water….hate the mountains.

‘HEEEEELP. HUUUUUTCH, HEEEELP’ Starsky’s voice could hardly be heard above the noise of the storm as the sky blazed into light again from a huge fork of lightening and the thunder rolled around the mountain tops. The curly haired cop kicked against the rocks with his right foot, trying to dislodge the one trapping his foot beneath it. He kicked through the water, sending splashes up into his face and the more he kicked the more panicked he became as the rain and the splashes soaked his shirt and made him all the more cold.

‘C’mon ya bugger. C’mon…..c’mon.’ Starsky almost wept with frustration as he pulled again and again at his trapped limb. He braced himself and made one more huge, titanic heave. Something gave and for a split second he thought he was going to be able to pull himself free of his watery prison but instead, the boulder he’d aimed at simply settled more firmly against its neighbours and more painfully across Starsky’s left foot. The cop screamed again and this time, the pain overwhelmed him. His body collapsed back against the bank and his eyes slid closed.

‘Don’t pass out…..don’t go t’sleep……don’t’ the brunet’s exhausted voice whispered to him as the forest shimmied and shook around him before blurring to a dark grey and fading away completely. With his last remaining conscious thought, Starsky’s hand went out to the rock at the side of him.

It was wet, but warm, furry and sounded loud in his ears. What was that all about? Whatever it was would have to wait. Starsky had used up his reserves of strength and now his body needed time to recoup. Blackness swept up from his feet, his head fell sideways to rest on the warm soft thing, and he slept.

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Hutch stood by the window of the small cabin listening to the crackle of the wood on the fire and looking out at the rain falling persistently from the leaden sky. The wind, playful earlier that morning was now strong, rocking the trees around the clearing and sending waves rippling against the tiny beach shore of the lake. The weather had closed in fast and the morning that had once held some promise of fair weather had given itself over to an afternoon of storm. Lightening continued to light up the sky and peels of thunder echoed around the mountain tops, reverberating down the valley. The blond shivered and looked back at the warmly lit room.

‘He should have been back hours ago. He’s going to be soaked to the skin.’

Vanessa propped herself up on one elbow. ‘He’ll be fine. He’ll have found some shelter and he’ll be waiting out the rain. You’ll see. Once the rain stops he’ll come bouncing back through that door like a stupid puppy dog.’

‘You really hate Starsky don’t you?’ Hutch asked, trying to keep the anger from his voice.

‘Hate? No, I don’t hate him. But I despise him. He’s everything I detest about men. He turns everything into a joke, he has as much romance about him as my little finger and he has none of the finer feelings.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean? You hardly know him. You’ve never even given him a chance.’

Van lay back on the cushion. ‘I choose my friends carefully’ she said coolly.

‘And they don’t include Starsky. Do you know how difficult this makes it for me? You’re both part of my life Van. You both mean the world to me and yet you detest him. I don’t understand.’

‘Fine, so you don’t understand. So be it. I’m sorry I don’t make your life easy Ken, but I have a life too. You can’t force me to like someone just because you spend more time with him than you do with me.’

Hutch snorted. ‘I’ve heard it all! We work together! Of course we spend time in the same car. You’re jealous. You’re jealous of Starsky! That’s it, isn’t it?’

‘I am not.’

‘Oh yeah, you are. You’re jealous of the man because we actually have a relationship that’s based on mutual trust and friendship and its something you know you can’t get.’ The blond’s voice rose slightly and a flush of pink showed on his cheeks as the anger spread. Van sighed.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t let’s argue Ken. Please? I nearly died out there. You nearly lost me and now you’re arguing. Please just hold me.’ Vanessa put on her best “I’m hurt” expression and held her arms out to her husband. Reluctantly Hutch took a final look out of the window and then walked over to the sofa. He sat down and Van encircled him with her arms, pulling him in close so that she could kiss him full on the lips.

‘See? This is better, isn’t it? I finally have you all to myself for once, no telephone, no Dobey……no….. We should make the most of it, it doesn’t happen too often. Do we still have champagne? We could still make love naked in front of the fire.’

Hutch pulled away. ‘You can think of making love while Starsky is out there somewhere? What happens if he comes back and we’re…..you know…..on the rug?’

‘Well I’m not going to ask him to join us if that’s what you mean’ Van giggled seductively.

‘I know that. But he could come through that door at any minute.’

‘No he won’t.’ The words were out of Van’s mouth before she’d had time to think about them and she quickly tried to turn them into a joke. ‘I mean, could you imagine him standing there all dripping wet while we were um…..caught inflagrante?’

Hutch stared at her, his years of being a cop allowing him to see past her words. ‘What did you just say?’

‘I said could you imagine him….’

‘No, before that. You said “no he won’t”.

‘Did I?’

‘You know you did. Have you seen Starsky? Did you see him out there?’ Hutch grabbed his wife’s arms to look into her face.

Van pulled away and turned her back on her. ‘Of course not. I got lost, I told you that.’

‘Yeah, you did, but you also said he wouldn’t come back like you were sure of it.’

Van looked over her shoulder. ‘Ken, please. I was so scared. Don’t shout at me.’

‘I need you to tell me. Did you see him?’

‘I told you, he’s a big boy. He can take care of himself’ Vanessa’s voice rose loudly and she stood, pulling the blanket around her. ‘I’m going to my room. I need to lie down. As she started across the living room, Hutch caught her and swung her around, holding her tightly.

‘Enough games Van. I’ve had enough of your games.’

‘But….’

‘Uh uh. No more. We came up here to get back to some honesty and instead…..’

The woman’s face turned ugly. ‘You don’t want honesty, you want him. I’m never enough for you any more. Well fine. Go find your damned partner, for all the good it’ll do you.’

Hutch stopped. ‘You do know where he is, don’t you?’

‘No.’

‘Vanessa…’

‘Not exactly I don’t. He’s probably ok now. He’s probably making his way back….’

‘What do you mean “probably ok”? What happened out there.’

Vanessa sank to the ground, her hands covering her face. ‘Don’t be mad at me Ken. I was scared, really I was. I fell down a cliff and landed on a ledge and Dave came by and helped me up and then he…..he…..it wasn’t my fault. The ledge kinda crumbled and…..he fell. Ken…..Ken, don’t leave me. I’m scared. KEN!’

Hutch pushed himself away from Vanessa and bolted for the door, waiting only long enough to collect his gun. He glanced at the clock. It was going up for six and would be dark within half an hour. He stopped at his car and took a flashlight out of the trunk. He didn’t stop as he heard Vanessa’s whining voice at the door of the cabin.

‘Don’t leave me on my own Ken…..I can’t deal with being alone…..’

 

Chapter 12

The rain continued to lash the mountainside with a watery canopy. Above the mountain tops, lightening tore through the leaden sky ripping chasms of light across the darkness. The sun had long given up hope of ever shining that day and had decided that it would be better to take the day off and now in the gloom of the forest a green half light blended the trees into the grass, the tree tops lost in the lowering cloud.

Something nasty made David Starsky float back up into semi consciousness. He felt as though he were drowning and he coughed long and painfully as his eyelids fluttered open and he took a look around him.

The brunet had been dreaming. He’d dreamed that he was back with Cathy. They were on a beautiful desert island and the beach, white and shining, spread out before them. Sun shone down from a cerulean blue sky and small waves crept up upon the white sandy beach. Starsky and Cathy lay entwined in each others arms, her body warm against his and her hair so wonderfully soft against his cheek. Then the dream had morphed, the beach becoming cloudy and the ocean more noisy as breakers crashed against the shore. It didn’t seem strange to the cop that he was still in the arms of his girl. As is the way with dreams, logic was suspended and instead of getting up and dashing away for cover, he snuggled against Cathy’s warm body and nestled more firmly against her hair. It wasn’t until the waves in his dream had crashed over him and the water had invaded his mouth and nose that Starsky finally shook himself awake. Only then, did the reality of his situation hit home.

The first realisation was the pain. Starsky’s whole body hurt as though he had fallen off a mountain. Hang on there Davey boy. You did fall of the bloody mountain! The brunet lay where he’d passed out, half on his pain free side and half on his back, supported in an almost-sitting position by a large and very uncomfortable rock against his back. But whereas the water in the stream had come up to the first button of his shirt when he had last passed out, now, the water had risen dramatically and was lapping against his throat.

With the water came the intense cold. Although California was noted for its balmy climate, the mountains in this region were often capped with snow even in summer and right now the vicious storm had mixed with the melt water from those ice caps and had sent it coursing down the stream bed towards the river and then the ocean. Starsky’s body shook uncontrollably; his teeth chattering together so hard that he feared they would crack. The brunet pulled his hands from the depths of the water and looked at their pruned, white flesh. He couldn’t feel them for the cold and they had become stiff and swollen making it almost impossible to close them into fists

The water had set up a vice like grip around Starsky’s chest too, although there it did not take the pain away from his fractured rib. Instead the shivering and shaking exacerbated the pain, making it lance through his body continually. Starsky groaned. It was a pitiful sound and it shook him from his frozen hell. Out of frustration, he tugged hard at his left leg again, hoping that the force of the rising water might have dislodged the rock keeping him trapped. The rock had held fast. Although he couldn’t move his foot one way or the other, at least the cold had deadened the pain in his leg. He could have pulled his foot off and he probably would not have known.

The brunet let out a yell. ‘Anybody……helpppp!’ The words were ripped from his mouth by the gusting wind and lost in another clap of thunder. No-one would hear him if he screamed for help from now until doomsday. The only thing that moved was the furry bulk at his back and that startled the brunet.

He’d felt something furry before he passed out. He’d dreamed he was snuggled into a warm body although in his dream it was Cathy. Now, with curiosity more then fear, Starsky tried to turn to see what was accompanying him. Better to be eaten by a bear than drown. He struggled to move in the chest deep ice cold water and craned his neck around until he could see it. A mass of golden wet fur was leaned against his neck atop the rock he was leaning against. The bulky mass was warm and breathing and as he reached up one stiff cold hand tentatively, a brown, wet nose snuffled against him and a lazy tongue licked a line of warmth from his thumb to his wrist.

‘Hey pooch. Where the hell did you come from?’ Starsky muttered through chattering teeth. ‘I don’t suppose you got a crow bar hung around your neck? No? Maybe a flare gun? A shot of bourbon?’ Starsky’s chin dipped as he spoke and he took in a mouthful of water. Spluttering, he raised his head and spat. Shit the water was rising too fast.

The golden retriever regarded the man with gentle brown eyes. It yawned, sat up and shook itself sending droplets of water to join those raindrops hitting the river like tiny missiles. It licked Starsky’s face and then sat down, looking down at the trapped cop.

‘Ya got a name pooch?’ the brunet realised he was holding a conversation with a dog and yet it gave him a measure of comfort. He was not alone in this desolate wilderness. Now he had another living breathing being with him……another being with him while he drowned.

Shudup Starsky. You’re not gonna drown. Hutch’ll come and get ya. Just hang in there huh?’

The cop studied the dog, looking deep into the brown, soulful eyes. ‘You should’ve had blue eyes ya know. Blue eyes and your blond fur. You remind me of someone. Gonna call ya Hutch. He’s a friend of mine. He’s gonna come and rescue me. He’s gonna….’ Starsky snickered at himself. ‘Aww hell what am I talkin’ about? I’m gonna drown unless sumthin happens. Dave Starsky, hot shot detective and I’m gonna…..’ Starsky snickered again and the snicker turned into hysterical laughter. He got another mouthful of water for his trouble and this time he swallowed some of it down. He choked and the coughing fit robbed him of his breath as he fought to stay conscious against the pain in his chest.

The dog watched him calmly, its tail waving gently as it waited patiently.

Finally the coughing stopped and Starsky rested back against the rock, his hand reaching instinctively for the warm furry body above him, searching for some comfort from the only other living thing around. He caught hold of a handful of fur and the dog bent and licked his wrist. Together the animal and the man stayed still for a while until Starsky recovered from his coughing fit and he felt able to let go of the comforting bulk.

Struggling to keep his chin above the water, Starsky peered at the dog. ‘Hey Hutch. D’ya think you could go get some help for me? I mean it ain’t no point you hangin’ around here. I hurt Hutchy. I hurt so goddamn much……and promise you won’t tell no-one? I’m scared as hell. I’m gonna drown and it aint gonna be pretty.’

The dog snuffled at the brunet’s curly hair and then yawned loudly. Starsky shook his head slowly, the cold robbing him of an quick movements.

‘What’re ya talkin’ about Davey? You’ve been watchin’ Skippy too much. He can’t talk back at ya. What’s the dog gonna do? He can’t…..he….’ An idea formed in the curly haired cop’s mind. No, the dog couldn’t talk, but maybe he could carry something.

With hands dead from the cold, Starsky fumbled with the hem of his shirt, pulling it free of his jeans. He pulled it up and tore a section with his teeth, ripping the rest of it in white, almost useless hands and when he had a strip of the denim material, he paused, breathless.

‘C’mere Hutchy. C’mon boy….good boy. Lemme take a hold of your collar.’ Starsky managed to raise his arms high enough to thread the material through the dog’s leather collar while Hutch stayed still, wondering what the nice human was doing. Starsky finished his manoeuvre, gritting his teeth against the pain but instead of going, the retriever lay down again, unwilling to leave the struggling man.

‘That’s all. You gotta go find some help pooch. Ya hear me? Go find someone…..anyone. Go on….go.’

The dog stayed resolutely by Starsky’s side and the brunet let out a sob of frustration. Dumb dog! Why wouldn’t it go? Didn’t it understand plain English?

‘Go on! Shoo……go…..vamoose…..scram.’ In desperation the brunet picked up a small stone and threw it towards the dog to scare it, with no intention of hitting the animal, letting out a strangled cry as he did so.

‘I told you to go dammit. GOOOO.’ The brunet almost sobbed.

The stone hit the floor in front of the dog and it shied away. It paused for a moment, looking questioningly at the man and then with another shake, it turned and trotted off back along the bank of the stream and became lost to sight.

Starsky felt the loss more keenly than if he had said goodbye to his Mother. The dog had been another living being. It was warm and it had comforted him and now he’d forced it away. Now he was truly alone with the lightening, the thunder, the cold and the rising water.

Now what?

+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+

Darkness fell early on the mountain that day. Hutch had set off from the cabin at a little after 4 in the afternoon, flashlight in hand. The wind had picked up until it was moaning through the trees, sending a cascade of leaves and small twigs floating down to the forest floor and the rain continued to lash against the upper canopy of the trees, so that whenever the blond came to one of the clearings, he would seem to look through a mist.

Hutch was soaked to the skin, his hair plastered against his skull and his eyes often blinded by the water running into them. It felt to the blond as if he were trying to walk through his shower at home, although someone had obviously turned off the heat. The rain sapped at his energy, the raindrops hitting against the top of his head like small icy bombs.

The flashlight sent a lance of pure white light ahead of the flaxen haired cop and every few minutes his usually velvety voice would compete with the crashing thunder as he stopped and yelled his partner’s name into the surrounding trees. Tracking had never been one of his best pass-times and yet he had learned a thing or two from his Granddaddy Wilbur. The old man’s voice sounded in Hutch’s head like a long forgotten memory. Always take your time boy. The woods’ll tell you what they want you to know. You just have to be calm and patient and learn to read ’em.

Hutch fought against the growing tide of panic threatening to overwhelm him. Be calm, the old man had told him. Be calm and the woods will give up their secrets. How the hell could he be calm in the middle of a thunderstorm with is best friend missing? How on God’s green earth could he blot out everything else — the light and the noise — so that he could see the minute details of the track?

The blond stopped on the edge of another clearing. He’d followed Vanessa’s clear boot tracks back the way the woman had come. That part had been easy. The brand new cowboy boots she’d worn had a distinctive print and for all her ways, Van was not the lightest on her feet. The solid heels of the boots had made lasting divots in the softened ground and for the first half mile or so down the hill the tracks had been easy to follow.

Now however, the rain had washed away a lot of the dirt and the fallen leaves had covered most of the tracks. Any ideas of watching for bent or broken stems of grass were impractical in the extreme and Hutch paused by the bole of a large tree, rain streaming down in face in icy rivulets as he let his eyes rove over the clearing.

‘STARRRRRSSSSSKYYYYYYY!’ he yelled once more into the gloom. ‘STAAARRRRRSSSSSKYYYYY!’ The wind took his words and flung them back at him as another peel of thunder drowned out his voice. Lightening lit up the sky almost continually now that the storm was at its height and far from aiding the blond cop, it played tricks with his eyes, throwing shadows where none had been and making Hutch’s imagination run amok.

The blond closed his eyes. This was pointless. There was no way one man could search the whole mountainside on his own. He needed help and he needed it fast. Or maybe Starsky had sheltered from the storm and was making his way back to the cabin right now. Maybe if Hutch turned back he would find Starsky and Van sitting at opposite sides of the roaring fire in the cabin drinking cocoa. Yeah, right!

If only he had a walkie-talkie. If only he could know for sure Starsky hadn’t somehow gone back. And yet even as he had the thoughts, Hutch had the conviction that his partner was still out there in the forest and that he needed Hutch’s help.

Another bolt of lightening lit up the early evening sky and through the trees a ghostly pale shape flitted, its body hidden by vegetation. Hutch caught only a fleeting glimpse of it before once again the forest was plunged into darkness.

Cougars roamed the mountains. They were pale and ghostly…..and dangerous.

Squaring his shoulders and making enough noise to scare off the critter, Hutch pushed himself on through the clearing and further down the mountainside. Somewhere out there, a curly haired man needed his help and somehow Hutch needed to find him.

 

Chapter 13

David Starsky hovered in a state between wake and sleep. Although his eyes refused to stay open for more then a few seconds at a time, somewhere deep inside him, the brunet knew that hypothermia was setting in and if he didn’t remain conscious then he may never wake up at all.

Hmm. That was a stark choice. Death by drowning or death by cold. Given the opportunity, he’d have preferred no death at all. He was young — 26. The whole of his life lay ahead and now it was going to be cut short by some fuckin’ rock and a woman who would make Beelzebub look like Gabriel. The thought of Vanessa kindled a glimmer of warmth in the curly cop’s body. Nothing like a huge dose of….what? Hate? Such a strong emotion and yet with every passing moment and no Hutch on the horizon Starsky was convinced that Vanessa had never relayed the message that he, Starsky, was in trouble and hate grew like a cancer. His Mom would have chastised him for saying he hated someone. Right now he would have traded a slap from his Mom for this freezing, lonely death.

Ominously, his shivering had stopped and even the icy grasp of the water around his chest seemed lessened somehow. Starsky allowed himself to relax marginally. What was the point? If he was going to die, why not allow it to come all the sooner? Why struggle? Why make it difficult for himself? And yet his indomitable spirit refused to let go of life. Starsky had never taken the easy route. He would hang in there to the very end, although he knew it would not be pretty.

‘We’ve got ourselves a popper boy.’ The voice of Kellerman, his first partner when he was in uniform sounded in Starsky’s head. The brunet looked quizzically at the old timer.

‘Popper?’

‘Yeah, popper. That’s one they don’t teach at the Academy. We’re gonna take a trip down to the docks and haul a body out of the water. It’s been in there a couple of days. Ever seen a body that’s been floatin’ around for a while boy?’

Starsky wished Kellerman would find a different nickname for him. He didn’t mind “Curly”, could tolerate “Davey” but “boy” just made him feel like he was back in grade school. Everything else about Kellerman he liked. The man was tall, standing a good 5 inches above the brunet’s 5’11” and had a shock of grey hair that lay thick and luxuriant and just a little untidily above a face that was good humoured.

‘No Pat, I’ve never seen a…popper.’

The older man snorted. ‘Had any breakfast?’

‘Pizza and a soda.’

‘How long do you think you’re gonna hold onto that?’

‘I saw some pretty bad shit in ‘Nam.’

‘Seen a blue, bloated body with white eyes?’

‘Nope.’

‘I’ll give ya 5 minutes before you’re throwing up.’

The duo drive quickly down to the docks an as they got closer, Starsky started to feel the first pangs of anxiety. The feeling grew as he got out of the car and walked with Kellerman down to the edge of the pier. There was a small crowd huddled around a lump under a tarpaulin and as the cops appeared, the gathering parted, allowing them access. With no time to prepare, Starsky watched in sick fascination as Kellerman flicked back the tarp and a host of flies started to buzz around what had once been a man.

The body was bloated beyond all recognition, the gasses in the man’s stomach having expanded so that he looked like he was eight months pregnant. That much Starsky could deal with, but it was the body’s face that truly made an impression. Starsky looked at the blue and black swollen face. The dead and sightless eyes stared from between swollen lids, the once gaunt face looking like a moon. The tongue had absorbed water from the docks and now protruded sickeningly from between bee stung lips so thick and black that for a moment they looked more gorilla than human.

And the smell!

Without waiting, the young brunet staggered away and leaned heavily against the corner of a crane as he tossed his cookies onto the pierside. Thankful that at least he hadn’t committed the ultimate sin and thrown up over the corpse, Starsky waited out the nausea and finally looked up to see sympathetic eyes regarding him calmly.

‘Yup. A popper’ll do that to ya every time boy. What you need now is another slice of pizza. C’mon there’s nuthin more we can do here.’

Starsky shook himself mentally. Was that what Hutch would eventually find? Would he be another popper for the rangers to deal with? The brunet shivered at the thought. His chin dipped slightly and he breathed in icy water. He was gonna drown….gonna drown. Spluttering, Starsky reprimanded himself.

‘C’mon ya dumb bastard. You ain’t dead yet. Do sumthin.’

Again, the trapped man tugged uselessly at his ensnared leg. All feeling had long since gone from that limb. In fact Starsky was having trouble feeling any sensation in his body or arms or legs. Only his face felt the bite of the intense cold of the water and the added chill of the wind. He had no feeling. He was a bodyless spirit trapped in an icy, wet coffin. He was going to die.

NO!

Whatever David Starsky’s tough life to date had given him, the will to live was the greatest thing. Dammit, he’d survived his Dad’s death. He’d gotten through being sent away from his family home to live with his Aunt Rosy and Uncle Al. he’d dealt with his time in the Army and he’d survived three bloody and brutal months in the POW camp. Surely a stupid mountain stream and a weekend away wasn’t gonna kill him!

Starsky snickered out loud at the thought. Is that what they’d put on his tombstone? “He died of a weekend away”. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen. He would NOT die out here. He’d live if only to so that he could plague Vanessa when he next saw her.

The decision to live having been made and warmed by ideas of revenge against Hutch’s wife, Starsky stared at the lightening torn sky above and thought. His leg was trapped. That was the only thing keeping him in this watery hellhole.

‘If thy eye offendeth thee, pluck it out.’ Rabbi Goldstein wouldn’t be impressed that a good little Jewish boy was quoting the New Testament, but there it was. Something about Hutch had rubbed off on him. Was it that simple?

Starsky wondered for a moment. Could he really do that? Could he? Death or…..

With renewed vigour, the brunet managed to make his arms and hand work just enough that he could work his left hand into the back pocket of his jeans. The denim had swollen in the water and the material felt rough and abrasive against the water-logged flesh of his hand but Starsky managed to work the pen knife he habitually carried free from his pocket and brought it up to the surface. He looked at the blade, sharpened and glinting in the light of the lightening. Could he do this? Could he really? The only thing stopping him from climbing up the stream bank to safety was the rock pinning his foot. He already knew he couldn’t feel his leg any more and it was probably broken anyway so why not? Could he truly hack off his foot to save his life?

The though both sickened the curly haired cop and brought him renewed hope and without stopping to analyse his actions any further, Starsky took a deep breath and ducked under the surface of the fast flowing water, snaking himself down his leg so that he could get within striking distance of his foot.

The limb disappeared beneath a large rock so that nothing below mid calf could be seen. There was no blood although his jeans leg had been torn and white skin showed. With the blood thundering in his ears and the nauseating sound of the water pounding against his ear drums, Starsky closed his eyes and made a slashing movement against his leg.

Amazingly there was little pain as the skin parted in a clean, red line. Very little blood flowed from the wound either, most of the deep red fluid having been diverted to the brunet’s core in a survival technique millions of years old.

The cold took away Starsky’s ability to hold his breath for long and after that first slash, he had to surface in order to recharge his lungs. He let out a deep breath which ended almost in a sob.

What a fucking choice huh Davey? Die from drowning or cut your own foot off and never be a cop again.

Suddenly the whole idea seemed preposterous. If he couldn’t be a cop, did he really want to live? Perhaps not, but equally powerful was the conviction that he didn’t want to die either. Survival instincts are at their most powerful when life is in the utmost danger. With another deep breath, Starsky once again ducked beneath the water, this time slashing madly at his leg, his heart pounding against his ribs like a jackhammer. His hand slashed wildly, the knife making deep, jagged cuts in the skin of his shin and yet it made no impression on the bone despite the brunet gritting his teeth and sawing frantically at it.

Eventually Starsky’s strength gave out and he broke the surface of the water again, gasping for air. It wasn’t working. He couldn’t even save himself that way!

Frustration took him and shook him. Such a futile emotion and yet at least he felt something. He yelled out into the dark, his voice in competition with the thunder claps overhead. The brunet had reached the end of his tether. He couldn’t even manage to do that one simple task and uncharacteristically a tear made its way in a burning trail down his cheek to mingle with the icy water of the stream. Starsky rested his head back against the hard rock behind him and closed his eyes.

Now what?

 

Chapter 14

Hutch stood stock still on the edge of the clearing peering through the rain sodden trees as the pale shape flitted through the shadows. It was large and could have been a cougar had it not been for the fact that it had none of the grace of that big cat. Instead, the animal, whatever it was, slunk gracefully and powerfully between the trees. It stopped suddenly and faced the blond cop and very slowly so as not to startle it, Hutch reached for his gun.

Rain ran in rivulets down the cop’s face, dripping from flaxen bangs that were plastered to Hutch’s head. The wind tried to rip his jacket from around him and the lightening had reached such frequency as to look as though the forest were caught in a strobe light.

It was a face off. Cop versus animal and for a moment Hutch wondered if he should just shoot now and ask questions later. Shooting an animal was not his style however. People he could manage to shoot when the need arose, but animals were in another league altogether and now the man stood very quietly, trying to blend in with the trees in the hope that the animal may yet go away.

Now that he had time to study the pale shape it seemed more dog-like than anything — maybe a wolf? A single wolf could be just as dangerous as a pack of them and Hutch held his breath as the form stopped, sniffed the air and then walked confidently out into the clearing.

The golden retriever walked over to the man, its nose whiffling and its tail wafting gently in the wind. Its fur was soaked and it wore a leather collar, denoting ownership and suddenly Hutch felt very silly for standing with his Colt drawn on a defenceless dog. He put the gun back into his holster and knelt on the wet ground as the dog came closer.

‘Hey buddy, what’re you doin’ out on a night like this huh? Where’s your master? Where did you come from?’

The dog yawned loudly and sat down by the nice blond man, looking up into Hutch’s face with complete trust. Hutch reached out and stroked the dog’s wet hide, wrapping his arm around the animal’s neck and that was when he felt it. Something was wrapped loosely around the dog’s collar, leaving a trail of water down its shoulder. Hutch examined it closely. It was a thin strip of material that looked like denim although it was torn and soaking wet. Something about it seemed familiar…..it was the same colour as….. as…… OMG! It was the same colour as Starsky’s shirt — the one he’d been wearing that day.

With cold fingers, Hutch took the piece of cloth and held it up to the lightening. It was Starsky’s, he’d bet his life on it!

‘Where’d ya get this buddy? Where’s the man that this belongs to? Have you see Starsky?’ Hutch rattled the questions off while the retriever slowly wafted its tail and regarded him solemnly. The cop snorted. ‘Great Hutchinson. Grill the nice doggy like he’s one of your suspects. Nice work detective.’

The dog listened to the man’s voice, yawned loudly again and stood up. It seemed to stare at Hutch before turning and walking away through the clearing. A few steps on, it paused and looked back as though waiting.

Hutch was busy with the strip of material and took no notice of the dog. It barked once, as though to get his attention and then took another few steps. Hutch looked up and the dog barked again, its tail now beating the air excitedly. It was almost written on the dog’s face — this human is stupid.

Trying hard not to laugh at himself but at the same time running out of standard options for finding his partner, Hutch took a step towards the animal. ‘What is it buddy?’

The dog barked again and without looking back, it trotted off downhill through the trees, pausing every now and again to make sure that Hutch was following. Blindly the blond followed, not because he had the faintest idea that the dog could help, but because he was out of standard options.

The dog picked up its pace, threading through the vegetation surely and confidently while at the back, Hutch panted and slipped and slid down the muddy mountainside. Eventually the dog stopped by a rock, barked once more and started to snuffle at the ground. It pawed at the rock and whined, looking up at Hutch with huge brown eyes. The cop caught up and knelt by the side of the dog, putting his arm across the broad, warm back.

‘What’cha got there buddy? Show me.’ Hutch saw the vegetation around the base of the rock had been disturbed and not just by the rain. Carefully, mindful that snakes enjoyed just such a place to shelter, he pushed the rock to one side. It moved easily from its resting place and there, beneath it, crumpled into a ball, was a blue jacket, muddied and wet. Yet even with the smears of dirt across it, the jacket was so obviously Starsky’s.

How the hell had it gotten under the rock? Unless…. Vanessa! The little bitch had hidden it surely. She’d seen Starsky and he’d given her his jacket and she’d hidden it, making her sob story of being lost and hurt out in the storm so much more believable.

Swallowing down his anger, Hutch clutched the jacket to him. There was a faint whiff of Sandalwood soap and in desperation, Hutch pushed the jacket under the dog’s nose.

‘Where’s Starsky buddy? Find the man huh? Can you take me to my partner?’

The dog wagged its tail and barked. He liked this man. This blond one was almost as nice as the other one down by the stream. This one was making those noises again and had a sad look in his eyes. The retriever stood, wagging his tail. It would do anything to make this nice man happy. Maybe…..

The dog set off once more down the slope and this time Hutch followed more confidently, one hand holding Starsky’s jacket while the other hand caught at the wet trunks of the trees as he tried to keep his footing on the slick forest floor. The dog had set quite a pace this time and the slimy dirt underfoot and the strobe lightening both colluded to make the bond cop feel off balance, as though he were moving through a supernatural world. Ahead, piercing the sounds of the rain and the wind, Hutch thought he heard rushing water and he slowed his he slowed his headlong dash just in time as he broke out of the cover of the trees and teetered on the edge of the rocky bluff above the swollen mountain stream. The dog stopped at the edge of the rocks and looked down, barking frantically now and Hutch regained his balance and looked over the edge of the rocks down to the water. It flowed fast and furious down the stream bed, its waters threatening to break the banks before long. Rocks dotted the edge of the stream as though there had been a recent land slip and there, right at the edge of the water and chin high on the freezing stream was the curly head of Hutch’s partner and best friend.

Hutch’s heart gave a lurch and he bent and hugged the dog to him, convinced he’d never have found Starsky without the animal’s help. The dog wagged its tail and licked a warm line down the cop’s face.

‘Starsk?’ Hutch called over the edge of the bluff. ‘Hey Starsky. STARSSSSKYYYY’

There was no answer from the brunet and with grave misgivings, Hutch followed the dog one last time as it led him back through the forest, down a steep but manageable slope and out onto the river bank. Now that he was on the flat, Hutch scrambled over the fallen rocks and debris and skittered to a halt by the side of the body in the water. Starsky’s curly hair was waterlogged and plastered against his head. His skin, usually an olive tan was now pale — grey almost and the lips that habitually cracked into a lop-sided grin held a bluish tinge. The brunet’s eyes were closed but Starsky held his body rigid, his chin held high to avoid the rising water.

Hutch used the rock at Starsky’s back to help himself into the icy water. It took his breath away but the blond ignored the discomfort as he reached out and smoothed the curls away from Starsky’s forehead.

‘Hey there partner’ he said above the noise of the water. There was no reaction from the trapped man. Sensibility had fled the brunet’s body. His last reserves of energy had been sapped by his attempts to free himself and now he was held upright purely by his mind’s survival instincts.

Hutch tried again, shaking Starsky gently by his shoulder.

‘Starsk, can you hear me buddy? Starsky?’ The blond recoiled in shock as his partner suddenly opened his eyes, rolled his head against the rock and muttered ‘Starsky…..David…..Corporal 231-51-3155.’

‘Starsky it’s me, Hutch. C’mon buddy open your eyes for me.’

‘231-51-3155.’ Indigo eyes fluttered open but there was no recognition in them. Instead of being relieved to see Hutch, Starsky seemed to be caught in a reality a million miles away from his current position.

Shocked as he was by his buddy’s reaction to him being there, Hutch quickly assessed the situation. The water was still fast flowing and across the stream, it had already burst its opposite bank. Starsky seemed unable to move and the blond ripped off his own jacket and ducked below the water to see what was stopping Starsky from moving. When he followed the brunet’s legs down and discovered the rock pinning the left foot, along with the parallel wounds across Starsky’s shin and lower leg, Hutch’s heart plummeted. How scared and alone and hopeless could the brunet have felt if he had tried to cut off his own foot?

Hutch surfaced and tried once again to comfort his buddy. ‘Starsk, everything is gonna be ok. I’ll make it ok, but you need to hang in there. Can you do that for me? Can you hang in there buddy?’

A low moan escaped the blue lips. ‘Traff…….hurts……’

Who the hell….? ‘Starsky it’s me. It’s Hutch.’

‘Didn’t tell ’em…… Dead, all dead’ the brunet continued to moan, locked in another world from the wet, watery hell by the stream.

Deciding to ignore the ramblings until he had his partner safe, Hutch cast around frantically. The rock pinning Starsky’s leg was large but not enormous. There was not way Hutch could move it on his own, otherwise Starsky would have been able to free himself. The blond needed some mechanical advantage and further up the stream, a small but sturdy looking branch had fallen across the water. Hutch fought against the current as he stumbled towards the branch. The stream bed was rocky and with the fast flowing current, it was tough going and yet desperation drove the blond on. He grabbed a hold of the branch and using it to stabilise himself, he stumbled back to Starsky. The brunet had still not opened his eyes properly and Hutch put his mouth close to Starsky’s ear.

‘Starsk, I’m gonna free your leg. I need you to pull yourself free when I tell you. Can you do that for me?’

There was little response and in desperation Hutch tapped at the smaller man’s cheek. The effect was instant. Starsky’s eyes flew open revealing a mixture of fear and panic. ‘Starsky…..Corporal 231-51-3155. Noooo, no more.’

Hutch could only wonder at what memories Starsky was reliving, but at least he had some sort of response and he worked on it.

‘Ok soldier, when I say pull, I want you to pull your leg clear. Got that? Got that soldier? Huh?’

Starsky nodded weakly…..’…es Sir.’

The flaxen haired cop shook his head, determined one day to ask about his partner’s previous life but right now he had his hands full. Dipping below the water again, Hutch pushed the end of the branch against the base of the rock holding Starsky captive. He leaned on the branch and the rock moved and working on his advantage, Hutch leaned harder, his head breaking the surface of the water as he yelled ‘Now Starsky. Pull now.’

The brunet’s eyes opened wide and his body moved as he fought to comply with the orders and yet just as he felt his foot break free of the dirt in the bottom of the stream, Hutch’s branch slipped and the rock slipped back into place. Starsky threw back his head and screamed as the pressure seemed to double on the limb.

Almost in tears of anger and desperation, Hutch dived under the water again and jammed the branch deep under the base of the rock. He surfaced to see Starsky still rigid and groaning in pain.

‘Oh God. I’m sorry Starsk. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I need you to trust me one more time. Can you do that? Starsk? Can you?’

A small nod answered him and this time Hutch leaned on the branch with all his weight. He felt the rock move and he yelled above the crashing thunder.

‘Now Starsk. Move your foot now.’

The brunet pushed his hands against the rock at his back and pulled his leg clear. The movement caused fire bursts of pain to arc down his leg and he screamed again but he was free and now the fast flowing water threatened to carry him away. Hutch let go the branch and grabbed for his partner’s arm. Starsky was unconscious and a dead weight. His body felt cold and unresponsive and for a moment the added weight unbalanced the blond. He staggered and then regained his footing and with a care born of desperation he managed to carry Starsky’s body over to the stream bank and with a superhuman effort lodge it higher up away from the water. Hutch scrambled out of the water, shivering uncontrollably and at the same time sweating with the effort. He took a hold of his partner under his arms and dragged him further up the hill away from the stream and lay the unconscious body down beneath a tree.

Hutch looked down at the blue tinged face, the purple lips and then at the mangled left leg. Starsky must have sawed at the leg for so long that he’d laid his shin open to the bone. Above the open wound, it was obvious that the brunet’s leg was broken and various other scrapes and cuts decorated his face and chest. Damn the mountain, damn the weather and damn Vanessa.

Tenderly Hutch cradled his partner’s body in his arms.

‘Starsk, I got ya buddy. I got ya’ he whispered.

In answer, Starsky’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up. ‘Traff……knew you’d come……didn’t tell ’em.’ He whispered before unconsciousness took him again.

 

Chapter 15

Who the hell was Traff? Was he a blast from Starsky’s past? The name meant nothing to Hutch and yet the man — or woman?- must have been important to the brunet. When they got out of this mess, Hutch resolved to find out more about the mystery person. In the mean time……

It felt harsh to have come so far to save Starsky only to have his partner not recognise him. Sentimentally, Hutch had come to regard Starsky as his best friend — his soul mate. The brunet had become the most important person in Hutch’s life and he’d hoped that the feeling was mutual. To have another person’s name moaned while the smaller man was semi-conscious was like a slap in the face to the blond and yet although they had spoken very briefly about previous lives, Hutch felt that something significant had happened to Starsky in the past. Was it the Army? Or was it before that? So many questions and so few answers. Whilst Starsky sometimes seemed like an open book, there were occasions; brief flashes behind the indigo eyes that spoke of other pains, when the brunet became an enigma.

Hutch huddled close to the body of his fallen buddy. The blond shook from the cold and yet Starsky, who must have been in the water for hours hardly moved at all. That was a bad sign in itself and Hutch’s smattering of medical knowledge told him that the blue lips and pale, clammy skin could only mean one thing — hypothermia had set in. Once again, Hutch tried to get some sense from his partner and gently he put his arm under the limp, wet body and held it close.

‘Starsky, I need you to open your eyes for me buddy. Can you do that? Can you open your eyes? Starsk?’

A low groan escaped the brunet’s lips and his eyelids fluttered. Hutch tried again.

‘Hey, soldier boy! Open your eyes for me huh? That’s an order.’

The words seemed to penetrate Starsky’s consciousness and very slowly crescents of blue peeked out from below dark lashes.

‘There you are. Starsk. Can you hear me buddy?’

There was a moments silence and then recognition dawned behind the eyes. ‘Utch?’ Starsky whispered.

‘One and the same. I need to get you back to the cabin buddy.’

The brunet looked completely disorientated and closed his eyes again as a bout of coughing took him and shook him. The coughing fit lasted almost a minute and at the end of it, the brunet was breathless and there was a deep red, almost black bloodstain on the rocks beside him. Gently Hutch wiped the bloodstained lips and fought back the panic. Not good Hutch, not good at all.

The cough had taxed the brunet enough and Starsky had lapsed back into unconsciousness leaving Hutch holding his limp body and fighting the rising tide of panic threatening to overwhelm him. The blond had never been one to panic — he was the rock — steadfast, placid and reliable. But now, with his best friend so badly injured and sick, the cool calm exterior was crumbling away fast and Hutch knew he needed to regain his composure and think with a clear head if he was to save the brunet.

What to do? Starsky needed warmth. Hutch needed to re-warm his friend’s body slowly but thoroughly to avoid further damage and yet Hutch himself was cold from his emersion in the stream and from the cold wind and driving rain. Staying out there in the middle of nowhere was almost certainly a death sentence and yet the thought of leaving Starsky unconscious in the middle of the forest was almost more than Hutch could bear.

Decisions! He had no walkie-talkie although he had a gun, but even if he fired a shot, who was around to hear him? For the first time in his life Hutch felt powerless and, he admitted to himself, afraid. Suddenly he heard a snuffle behind him and looked around with a start. The retriever stood behind the couple, its tail wafting gently and the rain coursing in rivulets down its dark golden fur. It regarded the blond with calm, trusting eyes,

The blond looked down at his sleeping partner. Starsky looked sick, weak. There was no way, especially with that mess of a leg, that Hutch could get him back to the cabin without doing a lot of damage, probably to the both of them. Would the dog stay with Starsky? Could it….would it keep the brunet warm? It was a chance that the blond was willing to take.

Decision made.

Starsky needed help and the only way to get it was to go back to the cabin and use the phone. Carefully, the blond stood and took a hold of Starsky under his arms. He pulled the brunet’s body as gently as he could towards the nearest trees to afford the smaller man some shelter from the worst of the weather but even that movement seemed like torture to the brunet. As Hutch started to pull, Starsky’s eyes flew open and he screamed into the night. His broken left leg trailed uselessly across the ground and Starsky continued to groan whilst Hutch tried his best to harden his heart to the agonised sounds. By the time he had the brunet’s body propped against the trunk of a tree and in the lee of some large rocks, Hutch was almost sobbing,

‘Shudup Starsk. Please just shut the fuck up huh?’ he muttered. ‘I’m sorry. Oh god I’m sorry to hurt you. I’m sorry. Just rest now. Rest here. I need to go get help. Do you hear me? I don’t want to leave you but I need to go and get some help for you. The nice doggy is gonna stay with you. Starsk? Starsky?’

The curly haired cop was insensate. The cold, the fear and finally the pain had all taken their toll and he had once again plunged into unconsciousness, his head hanging and his chin touching his chest.

‘You gonna stay with him dog?’ Hutch asked. The dog yawned loudly and Hutch took a hold of the warm, comforting bulk and pulled it over to his partner.

‘Sit down boy. Lie down there huh? Stay?’

The retriever lay down, its body close to Starsky’s and its head resting on Starsky’s chest. It seemed comfortable. Hutch took the brunet’s jacket — the one he’d found in the forest- and spread it over Starsky’s chest. He took off his own jacket and covered his partner with that too, tucking it around the cold, cold body. Hutch waited just long enough to check on his partner’s pulse and that he was still breathing and then, without a backwards look, he tucked his gun inside his pants waistband and took off through the forest and up the hill as fast as his long legs would take him.

The boughs of trees whipped at Hutch’s face, catching at his shirt sleeves and ripping them, scratching at his face and neck. The blond ploughed on regardless, the breath whistling through his teeth as he pushed himself beyond his limits. With legs feeling like lead and with his head pounding with the exertion, Hutch ran mechanically, his long legs covering the ground faster than he would have thought possible. The thoughts of Starsky, cold and injured spurred him on, driving him ever faster until he came to the track leading back to the cabin. The going now was easier and as the wooden house hove into view, Hutch allowed himself to breathe a little easier. With a final burst of speed, the blond staggered up the steps and burst through the door and into the warm, amber interior.

Vanessa jumped, stood up and rushed to her husband’s side.

‘Ken, I’m so sorry. Are you ok? I was so scared here on my own.’

Hutch pushed past the woman and grabbed the telephone. The operator’s voice sounded irritatingly calm as she came on the line.

‘This is Detective Ken Hutchinson of the Bay City PD. I’m in a cabin two miles north of Crystal Lake on Mount St Pedro. I have an officer down and I need medics and a helicopter to co-ordinates’ Hutch scrabbled at the map on the wall in front of him ‘…. 0532 north, 0299 east.’ The blond waited for the operator to read the numbers back to him and then he put down the phone, looking around him distractedly.

‘Is someone hurt?’ Van asked, her deep brown eyes wide.

‘You know damned well someone is hurt’ Hutch snapped, brushing past the woman and stalking into the bedroom. He stripped a blanket from the bed, bundled it up into a lump and then looked at it and dumped it on the floor. C’mon Hutch, get with the plan. They’ll have blankets. They’ll have everything they need to warm him up again.

‘Vanessa stood at the doorway. ‘I don’t know what you mean’ she said quietly. ‘You left me here and it was thundering and the storm was overhead and you know how scared I am of the dark and the thunder.’

Hutch was muttering under his breath. ‘I need a hot drink. I need to make a hot drink for him. Maybe brandy? Is brandy good for warming him? No, No alcohol, that’d kill him. C’mon Hutch, think. Cocoa. That’ll warm him. Yeah, but too much. He needs to be warmed slowly. Maybe a hot water bottle……’ the blond ignored his wife and started fumbling about in the kitchen distractedly. Vanessa followed him around and finally grabbed her husband’s arm.

‘Ken, are you listening to me? I told you I was scared. Aren’t you going to hug me? Aren’t you going to apologise for leaving me all alone?’

That got the cop’s attention. The whining finally penetrated the blond’s shock like a needle going through a blister. Hutch whirled and took a hold of Vanessa around her upper arms. He shook her like a child would shake a doll, his crystal blue eyes blazing with anger and glaring at her from inches away. If Vanessa had hoped to prick Hutch’s conscience, then she had gone about it the wrong way.

‘You selfish little bitch! You knew he was out there. You knew Starsky was hurt; that he might even die and yet you never even mentioned him. It’s all you, you, you.’

‘He was ok when I left him’ Vanessa muttered defensively.

‘Ok? Ok? How the fuck could he have been ok? He was trapped in the water — the icy cold water. He was hurt and he was trapped and you never even said you’d seen him. In fact you told me you hadn’t. How did his jacket come to be hidden under a rock huh? Why did he take it off? Coz he’s a fuckin’ gentleman and you…..?’ Hutch paused for breath and also to stop himself from punching the woman to the ground. Even in this situation, the blond would never hit a woman. But he took his hands away from Vanessa’s arms as though her very skin would contaminate him in some way. The couple stood inches apart and there was silence in the room.

A tear sparkled in the corner of Vanessa’s eye and her face crumpled. Ever the actress, Vanessa tried a different approach and a lone tear forced its way from her eye and down her cheek. ‘I’m sorry Ken. I never meant to hurt you.’

‘What about Starsky? You could hurt him?’

‘I….I…. never meant to…..’ the brunette’s voice trailed away and Hutch snorted with derision.

‘You can’t even bring yourself to say his name, can you? He’s lower than dirt to you isn’t he? I need to get back, the copter will be here soon.’ Hutch walked towards the door without a backwards glance. Vanessa called after him.

‘What about me? What do I do?’

The blond paused at the door. ‘Take the car, get yourself back to town and do whatever you want to do, so long as it includes packing and moving out. I’ll be at the hospital with Starsky. I don’t want you there when I get back.’

‘But Ken! Where will I go? What will I do? Ken? Ken….don’t leave me. KEN!’

Vanessa yelled at the closed door. Hutch had gone. Out of her life. He’d made his choice and had chosen Starsky over her. Fine. She’d survive. Question was, would Starsky?

 

Epilogue

Hutch’s head hung until his chin touched his chest. Even the hard plastic of the hospital chair could not stop the blond from sleep. He was truly exhausted and yet even though the nurses had tried to force him, he would not leave his partner’s side.

The helicopter had flown up the mountain and Hutch had waved at it from the road. The huge machine flew a little way away and found a safe place to land and within minutes, Hutch was leading the three medics down the mountainside to the rocky bluff and his buddy’s body.

The dog was still there, huddled against Starsky’s body. It stood up and stretched and wagged its tail lazily as the men surrounded the brunet on the ground. Hutch stood back as the medics worked over the brunet for what seemed like hours. Words like hypothermia, punctured lung and open fracture floated around, making Hutch even more nervous and just as the medics were loading Starsky onto a body board to carry him back to the copter, a ranger appeared through the trees.

‘Joe’ one of the medics greeted the forest ranger.

‘Evan, how’s things? I monitored the call on the station radio. Can I help?’

The medic snorted. ‘No, Bruno has it under all control.’

The ranger smiled and the retriever’s tail wagged harder it gave an excited yip and stood on its hind legs as the man scratchedy at its back. Hutch smiled wearily.

‘Yours?’ the blond had asked. ‘I think he saved Starsky’s life.’

‘That’s my Bruno. He knows this forest better than any ranger’ the man said quietly. ‘He’s a good boy.’

‘He deserves a bone or somethin’ when he gets home. I gotta go, but I’ll catch up with you when he’s been seen to’ Hutch nodded at Starsky as the medics lifted the board and started to carry the body back to safety. The ranger nodded, called for Bruno and the pair watched as the rescue party threaded their way back up the mountainside to the waiting helicopter.

Then had come the flight back to the nearest hospital where Starsky had been whisked straight into emergency surgery. His punctured lung had been dealt with, his chest taped back together with a drain sticking out through the white tape. Deeper cuts across the brunet’s body were stitched and dressed and finally his leg was set an placed into traction.

Five hours after arriving at Cedars Hospital, Starsky lay in a warm comfortable bed and Hutch sat on the hard chair by his side. One of the nurses had taken pity on the handsome but soaking wet blond cop and had taken away his sodden clothes and had given him a fresh pair of white scrubs to wear. She’d also fed him a cup of steaming hot coffee, although Hutch had been almost too exhausted to drink it.

Now the room was quiet, only the noise of the motor feeding warm air beneath Starsky’s sheets breaking the silence. Some colour had returned to the brunet’s skin and he lay quietly, eyes closed and breathing contentedly. Without thinking, Hutch reached across and took a hold of Starsky’s hand, rubbing small circles on it with his thumb. Slowly a crescent of blue showed beneath charcoal black lashes and Starsky’s face split into a shadow of a grin.

‘Heyyy’ he croaked.

Hutch smiled. ‘Hey yourself buddy. How’d’ya feel?’

Starsky closed his eyes and for a moment Htch thought he had fallen asleep again. ‘Sore……tired.’

‘Go back to sleep then buddy. I’ll be right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.’

‘No? Hmmm…..s’nice. I dreamed of a doggy…….nice doggy.’

‘Go back to dreaming of him buddy. Rest Starsk.’

‘Yeah…..sleepy. Utch?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You should go back to Van…..she’ll be worried.’

‘She’ll be fine. She’s got her mother. Don’t worry about her. Just concentrate on getting better huh?’

‘You mad at her?’

Hutch snickered. ‘Understatement buddy. Mrs Hutchinson is soon to be the ex Mrs Hutchinson. I’ve had enough of Van. We’re gonna get a divorce.’

Sleep was threatening to overtake Starsky and yet he managed to force his eyes open. ‘Divorce?’ he rasped, his voice husky.

‘Yup. She once told me there were three people in her marriage. I have to say I agree and I’ve made my choice. Besides you know what they always say. Two’s company…..’

====fin====