Table of Contents
Hutch is kidnapped and is faced with a life-or-death decision. Starsky races against the clock to find him.
Notes: Wofford and Kazelkovsky are two (very) minor characters in canon.
Wofford is mentioned in the episode “Survival.” Dobey takes the phone call in the squad room from Bobby the ham radio kid, and says “One of you answer the phone! Never mind. I’ll do it myself. Are you drawing pictures, Wofford?”
Wofford and his partner Kazelkovsky are mentioned in “Bloodbath.” Hutch finds the cult members’ van on the dirt road. Dobey says, “Kazelkovsky, get up off your…You gonna wait till nighttime to get the prints? Wofford, Wofford. Hey, you get down there too.”
Neither Wofford nor Kazelkovsky are mentioned by name in The Psychic or ACFS. However, there are cops in the canon scenes referenced in this story, so why not…it could have been them.
Officer James Wofford peered through the windshield of his police cruiser, surveying his downtown beat. The humid air made his graying hair stick to his face, while the odor of trash and pollution mingled with the smell of hot dogs and warm pretzels filled his nose.
He wasn’t interested in rousting the old man he spotted on the corner rummaging through garbage cans, or in a usual day of chasing hookers or drug dealers through sleazy motels. Today would be different. Today would be the day he made the biggest score of his life, and the best part was that his superior officer, Captain Dobey, wouldn’t have a clue about it.
Wofford despised Dobey. The captain didn’t pay him the respect he deserved for risking his life every day on the police force, for keeping the streets free of scum, or for hassling criminals enough to scare them straight. Dobey did nothing but bark orders at him while he showered his two favorite detectives, Starsky and Hutchinson, with praise and all the best cases.
Wofford believed he deserved so much more. His partner, on the other hand, was a fresh-faced, young cop who liked to give the impression he was out to save the world, and Wofford usually played along with him. Victor Kazelkovsky was younger than he was, and given his height, he was usually the brawn of their duo. He acted like the perfect cop, but Wofford knew his partner enjoyed a little side fun of his own.
“What’s on your mind, Kazelkovsky? Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts about the plan,” Wofford asked his partner who was staring out the window.
“About that,” Kavelkovsky said. “Ripping off a bag of money is risky, even if it’s from a dead cop.”
“A dead cop named Hutchinson. You can’t stand him or Starsky any more than I can and you know it. They think they’re hot stuff, especially Hutchinson. I’ve seen how they are together, a little too close if you ask me. After today, we’ll be laughing from a tropical beach somewhere if you play your cards right.”
“I don’t know. Maybe we should reconsider,” Kazelkovsky said.
Wofford shifted in his seat. He was not going to let his partner’s indecision ruin a ticket to freedom that practically fell in his lap.
“Listen up, partner. You don’t want word to get out about that hooker I let you take up to my little hideaway that night, do you? Unless I’m mistaken, you seemed to have a pretty good time. You wouldn’t want me to accidentally let that slip onto the streets, would you?”
“No,” Kavelkovsky shook his head. “But I also don’t want to go to jail either.”
Wofford pulled him in by the collar. “You just do your job and act surprised by it all. Or you can kiss your career goodbye when I get that hooker to sing. Now, how are you going to act when we see Hutchinson?”
“Surprised,” Kazelkovsky choked out. “Like a keen cop who is just doing his job.”
Wofford patted his cheek. “Good job. I overheard Dobey talking to the surveillance team in his office. Good thing he treats me like I’m invisible in the squad room. There will be two hundred thousand in that duffle bag. They don’t want any cops around spooking the kidnappers, and even Starsky will be well at a distance on his dirt bike.”
Wofford pulled forward and stopped the car at the end of the alleyway. “I know where Hutchinson took the first phone call, and he can only get so far on foot. He’ll be somewhere in the area any minute, keep your eyes peeled.”
Then he saw what he was waiting to see. A blond man was running down the alley, carrying a duffle bag.
“There he is,” Wofford said, “Time to stir things up and give those kidnappers a reason to shoot.”
They watched as the man tackled three men on his own with nothing but his bare hands and a garbage can lid.
Kazelkovsky’s voice almost had a tone of admiration for the strength the blond cop showed. “You have to give him credit. Hutchinson sure can fight.”
“He’s a phony who thinks he’s better than everyone else, and his partner Starsky does too,” Wofford said with scorn. “It’s showtime, Kazelkovsky, I’m turning on the radio. Make it sound believable.”
“This is Wofford and Kazelkovsky,” Wofford said into the microphone. “There is a disturbance in front of the Lone Star Bar. We are in the area and are responding.”
Wofford nodded to his partner to speak up.
“That guy must be crazy,” said Kazelkovsky. “Let’s get him around front.”
“Let’s do this,” Wofford said, putting down the mic with a smirk as he drove around the front of the building. “Remember, you’ve got crowd control while I grab the bag and put it in the car. By the time anyone knows it’s missing, we can blame it on a bystander.”
Wofford parked the cop car in front of the tavern where Hutchinson rushed in. His blond hair was matted to his forehead, his plaid shirt was drenched with perspiration, and the duffle bag was held tightly in his hand.
A minute later, Hutch ran out and flashed his badge at them. “Get out of here!” I said, get out of here!” He shouted, waving his badge and gesturing them away.
Wofford and Kazelkovsky turned and ran back to their car. Wofford jumped behind the wheel and quickly drove around the corner, knowing Hutchinson would think they had left. He spotted a blue car with a white roof, and a large man hanging out of the passenger side.
Wofford knew what was coming.
“I’d get down if I were you,” Wofford whispered, chuckling as he watched Hutchinson pace in front of the building.
Wofford frowned in surprise as a green dirt bike drove onto the sidewalk.
“Starsky!” Wofford said. “He is going to ruin everything!”
Wofford heard Starsky shout a warning cry to his partner but it was too late. The thunderous sound of a gunshot drowned out his cries.
“Bang!”
Hutchinson was hit. He fell backward, straight through a plate glass door.
Wofford watched as Starsky sped off on his dirt bike. He knew he would have only a few moments to carry out his plan as he ran behind his partner toward the crowd that was forming around the dead cop.
“Police, out of the way. Clear the way please,” shouted Wofford.
As he advanced toward the broken window, he signaled to Kazelkovsky to hold back the crowd. “Out of the way, this is a police matter.”
Wofford came to an abrupt halt.
Hutchinson was sitting up, holding his chest, coughing, and clutching the duffle bag like it was his firstborn child. Blood ran down his forehead, his sleeve was torn and his arm was bleeding, but he was very much alive.
“Hey you two – the shooters are getting away,” Hutchinson said. “The blue car went south.”
Wofford forced a smile. “You sure you are okay? I thought you took a bullet for a second there.”
“Bulletproof vest,” Hutch answered. “Now get out of here, will you? I can handle the crowd.”
Wofford grimaced and straightened his shoulders. Hutchinson acted like they didn’t work in the same precinct or even know his name. In his mind, he threw a punch to Hutchinson’s face to shut that high-and-mighty mouth of his. He looked at the bag one last time and knew any chance of getting that money had disappeared with Hutchinson’s resurrection from the dead.
“Come on,” Kazelkovsky called from behind. “I heard the dispatcher on the radio. They’re calling all units in the area. A blue car has exploded and is on fire two blocks from here.”
Wofford followed Kazelkovsky back to the car as the dirt bike pulled up. Starsky threw the bike and rifle to the curb, pushing through the crowd to get to his partner.
“We better get over to the scene, this plan is a bust. I thought you did your homework on this,” Kazelkovsky griped.
“Damn it, I didn’t hear anything about a bulletproof vest,” Wofford said, pulling out into traffic. “Mark my words, next time will be different. Hutchinson robbed us of two hundred thousand dollars. I won’t forget it and don’t care how long it takes. That hero is going to pay.”
THREE YEARS LATER
The muffled sound of the eleven o’clock news rumbled in the background of Hutch’s apartment. They had been in bed for hours, having transferred from the sofa soon after losing interest in a rerun of Bonanza, the only show they could usually agree on.
The evening started with Hutch at one end of the couch, his long legs stretched on top of Starsky’s, whose head was resting at the other end. Hutch acted like he was watching the show, flicking his eyes from the television to Starsky and back again while Starsky pretended to be engulfed in the plot.
Starsky tried not to smile, expecting Hutch to cast another peek at him. This time, the blue eyes didn’t waver, locking down the gaze like a magnetic force that would not yield.
“You know, all you have to do is say the word,” said Starsky to the overwhelming magnet that was his partner.
Hutch chuckled and widened his eyes, “Oh, yeah? What word is that?”
“Bedroom?” Starsky smirked.
Hutch extended his hand and lifted Starsky from the couch. Starsky didn’t resist, moving closer as Hutch pulled his shirt tails out of his jeans and reached up underneath his shirt, caressing Starsky’s chest and down the back of his jeans.
“If you don’t stop that, we’ll never make it to the bedroom,” Starsky teased. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Yeah,” Hutch said as he pulled his hands away from the muscular backside. “Bedroom it is.”
Starsky was under the spell of Hutch’s eyes. Starsky thought they were like an ocean, blue and deep and overflowing with love. He wanted to bathe in them, to submerge himself in the alluring sea of temptation, to burn with anticipation as each drop of water filled him up until gradually a tidal wave formed and engulfed him, tearing through him, claiming his waiting lips, and feeding his hungry body. When the force cooled, it would subside to a breathless whisper, like a gentle wind that lifted him above the clouds where he would be rewarded with the haven of Hutch’s strong embrace.
Starsky climbed into bed and drew Hutch to his side as they undressed, knowing he could take all night if he wanted. He blocked out the noise of the television, the sounds of cars on the street, and all the thoughts that could wait for later when he had to face reality once more. At that moment, he couldn’t peel himself away from Hutch’s arms if he tried.
Starsky straddled Hutch’s quivering body, stroking his hard erection, and drank him down to the last drop, certain he could never get enough. Hutch pulled him up, and Starsky knew his needs were on full display, the sweat that trickled down his body and beaded his brow, the twitching of his muscles beneath the tangled sheets, and the shivers that ran through his body with each stroke of Hutch’s fingers.
“I would gladly kiss you all night, even if it was my last day on earth,” Hutch mumbled.
“I don’t need sleep,” he said, kissing Starsky’s forehead.
“Or food,” he said, kissing his neck.
“Or water,” he said, trailing his tongue down Starsky’s chest.
“Or even oxygen. All I need is you to fuel my life.”
Hutch moved down Starsky’s body and wrapped his lips around his firm shaft. Starsky couldn’t catch his breath, breathing heavily as he slowly descended from the bliss.
Starsky adored every aspect of their lovemaking from the flirty games to the tender foreplay that always culminated in an intense climax that would leave him in pieces. Then came the afterglow, the quiet and warmth that soothed his body and restored his mind.
Starsky rolled onto his back, caught in a myriad of emotions. His body was spent but his mind was still alive, aroused by the silhouette of his lover’s profile which was illuminated in the darkness by the glow of the television in the other room.
He was hopelessly in love with his partner and knew Hutch was and would always be the best thing in his life. At the same time, Starsky was fighting a familiar nagging feeling that he had been trying to ignore for far too long. He hated to ruin the moment, but couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“What did your mother have to say?” Starsky looked at Hutch with a half smile. “You were talking to her on the phone when I got here, weren’t you?”
Hutch ran his fingers along Starsky’s chest, tracing the fading scars that Gunther left only a year ago. Starsky once felt the scars were a source of dread and uncertainty, but now, thanks to Hutch’s undying support, they were a symbol of renewal and strength.
“I don’t know about you, but talking about my mother right now is not exactly what I had in mind,” Hutch answered. “I’d rather drift off to sleep with thoughts about a curly-haired brunet who I can’t get out of my head.”
Starsky pulled Hutch’s hand off his chest and propped himself on one elbow.
“Hutch, come on. Answer my question.”
Hutch sighed. “You’re not going to drop this are you?”
Starsky shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
“Okay, okay…we talked about the usual. How is work? The weather is getting cold in Duluth. The price of gasoline is crazy. You know, same old stuff.”
Starsky lifted an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.
“You didn’t talk about anything else?”
Hutch inhaled and let out a breath.
“She asked if there was any special girl in my life, and as usual, I told her no. Is that what you’re getting at?”
“Did she ask about a special girl or a special person?” Starsky asked.
“Starsk, come on. We said we weren’t going to tell our families about us, so I haven’t. You know that – like you haven’t told your mother.”
Starsky tugged at the sheets, his voice low and pleading.
“Don’t you think it’s time? We’ve been together for over a year. We spent so much time together when I was recovering, that we could get away with it being a front. But now I’m back to work, and I don’t feel like hiding it anymore. At least not from our families.”
“It was more than a front. We fell in love,” Hutch said.
“I know. I was the one who kissed you first,” Starsky said, smiling.
“It was the most beautiful moment of my life, but telling our families is a big step, isn’t it? Why push things?”
“Push things?” Starsky became agitated and sat up. “Now you’re talking like a man who can’t commit. Believe me, I can spot it a mile away.”
“You can’t be serious. I am committed to you, don’t you know that by now? I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation,” Hutch shouted back.
“It’s a conversation that’s long overdue and you know it,” Starsky raised his voice even more. “Are we going to wait until we’re both fifty, sixty years old? And then pretend like we weren’t together all those years…lying to everyone? Making your mother and my mother hopeful for grandchildren that will never come? Is that fair?”
“Is it fair to break your mother’s heart? Or my mother’s? Or to risk our lives, our careers…?” Hutch asked.
Starsky moved to the other side of the bed and sat up, his back turned to Hutch. He rubbed his thighs anxiously.
“I didn’t realize that admitting you love me was all that bad.”
Starsky knew the words were hurtful but was unable to hold them back. He heard Hutch shuffle over behind him.
“Come on, you know what I mean.” Hutch placed his hand on Starsky’s back. “This isn’t how I wanted tonight to go.”
“Look, I’m sorry I brought it up, okay?” Starsky said.
“I’m sorry too,” Hutch said, kissing Starsky’s rounded shoulder. “ Are you saying you’re not willing to wait…to wait for me to be ready?”
Starsky pressed his cheek into Hutch’s palm and half turned his head.
“I didn’t say that. I don’t like this, is all. I know we can’t announce it to the world, and believe me I know how careful we have to be. But not telling our families, feels like you’re ashamed of me or something.”
Hutch slid up to Starsky’s side and cupped his chin with his fingers, turning his head to look him in the eyes.
“Ashamed of you? Are you kidding? That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m so proud to have you in my life… at my side” Hutch said.
Starsky’s face softened for a brief moment and considered going back to bed, but he resisted. They needed to resolve this once and for all.
“I need more than just words, more than this bubble we’ve created for ourselves. Look, I think I should head home.”
Starsky dressed and headed out of the bedroom. Hutch sprang off the bed, pulled on his orange robe, and followed.
“Home? Why? You’re not staying?” Hutch pleaded.
Starsky pulled his jacket off the sofa and headed to the door, trying to sound normal. “I’ll see you at the station tomorrow. This way, you don’t have to skip your morning jog. I know how grumpy that makes you.”
“Starsk, please don’t go,” Hutch said, clutching his elbow. “Nothing gets resolved when we’re apart.”
Starsky dropped his head and disentangled his elbow from Hutch’s grasp.
“I think we both have some things to think over. I need to get my head straight about why this is so important to me, and you…you need to get your head straight about why it’s not.”
Starsky left and closed the door, chilled to the bone as he walked into the night air. He imagined Hutch standing there in a daze, wrapping his arms around his thin robe to keep warm.
“I’m sorry Hutch,” Starsky whispered to himself as he drove away. “Maybe we can’t tell the whole world, but sooner or later we have to trust some of the people we love. If we don’t, I’m afraid you’re going to wake up one day and feel like a prisoner. I don’t want that for either of us.”
The next morning, Starsky awoke and reached across the bed. He opened his eyes and blinked away the drowsiness, remembering he was alone in his apartment. He groaned and ran his palm down his face, hoping that leaving Hutch’s place the night before was the right move. All he wanted was to spark a conversation about what they both wanted.
It was becoming too easy to act like the rest of the world didn’t exist, as if they didn’t have other people in their lives. Starsky did not want to live his life by lying to his family. He knew that they had to hide their relationship at work, but he occasionally yearned for the freedom to be himself, and the first place to start was with family. If they didn’t understand, so be it, but he had to try.
Starsky jumped out of bed, quickly dressed, and grabbed his keys. Maybe he would pick up some fresh bagels as a peace offering and ask Hutch if they could make a date to talk.
~*~*~*~
The bakery was busier than Starsky expected and the traffic on the way back didn’t help. He skipped up the stairs and headed to the squad room, a bag of fresh bagels in hand and an apologetic smile on his face.
Starsky flung open the doors with a flare, and when he spotted Hutch’s empty chair, his expression sank. He and Hutch usually arrived at eight in the morning and it was already almost half past. Starsky glanced at Dobey’s office and peered inside to look for his partner.
“Starsky!” Dobey bellowed. “You’re late. And where is that partner of yours?”
Starsky held up the bag and smiled. “I picked these up on the way in. They’re fresh, would you like one, captain?”
Dobey gestured to Starsky to enter and reached out for the bag and looked inside. “Poppy seed…my favorite,” Dobey said as he pulled out a bagel, and handed the bag back to Starsky.
“Thanks, Starsky. But aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What’s that, captain?” Starsky said sweetly.
“To fill me in on where your partner is! The parents of a missing fifteen-year-old boy called into the precinct ten minutes ago. I’m having a briefing at nine. I need you and your partner on this pronto!”
Starsky looked around hesitantly. “I’ll go find him. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere, he’s never late.”
~*~*~*~
Starsky flopped into his chair and rested his head in a fist. It was nine o’clock and still no sign of Hutch. He called Hutch’s apartment until the phone rang off the hook, looked in every interrogation room, asked every cop on the floor, and checked the cafeteria and the parking lot twice. He tapped his fingers on the desk and stared at the red and pink piggy bank at the end of the desk.
“Any ideas, little piggy? Did Hutch come in before I got here and leave in a huff because I was late? Or do you think he stopped to buy me flowers?”
“What did you say?” Starsky heard a voice behind him. There was a lone person still in the squad room.
“You talking to me Wofford?” Starsky asked. “Why aren’t you in the briefing room about the missing boy? Is your partner there?”
“No, Kazelkovsky’s sick today, so Dobey told me to stay here and wait for you to get back. He said to keep you here until he returns.”
Starsky didn’t understand a guy like Wofford. He didn’t socialize with other cops much, and neither did his partner, Kazelkovsky. Wofford seemed to be behind a desk a lot, more than he was out on the streets. It didn’t matter how many bullets Starsky took after Gunther, he was never going to be happy sitting behind a desk for the rest of his life.
What bothered Starsky the most were the rumors about Wofford and his tactics on the streets. Starsky didn’t know if they were true, but if they were, he didn’t care much for a cop who had no compassion for the people he was supposed to serve.
Starsky raised an eyebrow. “When did Dobey say that?
“Dobey’s been trying to track you down for fifteen minutes. He said he needed to talk to you urgently and would be right back.” Wofford wiped the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief and smiled at Starsky.
“You just came in from your morning jog, Wofford?” Starsky asked as he swung his legs off the desk. “You’re sweating all over the place.”
“No, it’s hot in here is all,” replied Wofford curtly.
Starsky brushed off the remark. “Okay. I’ll head over to the briefing room.”
He didn’t get very far when the squad doors burst open and Dobey barged through.
“Where do you think you’re going, Starsky? Wofford, I told you to keep him here. Can’t you do one simple thing or are you drawing pictures again?”
Starsky froze in place and caught the tension in Dobey’s voice. “What is it, captain?”
“My office, now.”
Starsky ignored Wofford’s eyes that seemed to track him as he followed Dobey into the office and closed the door.
“Sit down,” Dobey swiped his brow with his handkerchief. “It’s been a morning already.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Hutch? I know you want to debrief us on the missing kid case. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute. I was just going to go over to his apartment, maybe his phone’s off the hook and that’s why he doesn’t answer. Probably still sleeping,” he chuckled.
“Starsky, Hutch isn’t at his apartment,” Dobey said calmly.
Starsky’s face tightened. “What do you mean?”
“I got a call about fifteen minutes ago. I’ve been trying to find you, but you’ve been wandering all over the station.”
“Right, I was looking for…”
Dobey cut him off. “Someone claims to have kidnapped Hutch.”
Starsky stood up and felt dizzy as the blood rushed to his head. “What?”
Dobey leaned back, his eyes showing deep concern.
“The missing boy I’ve been telling you about isn’t missing. It’s been confirmed that he’s been kidnapped. The parents got a call yesterday afternoon and they were told to bring two hundred thousand dollars at four o’clock this morning to the park on the edge of town.”
Starsky was on his feet. “What does this have to do with Hutch?”
“Starsky, settle down and let me finish. The parents got spooked and didn’t involve the police. They pulled together the cash they needed, but when they got to the park, the only thing there was a note instructing them to leave the money, go home, and wait for further instructions about their son.”
“What further instructions?” Starsky asked, his teeth clenched.
“That’s the call I got fifteen minutes ago. It was the kidnapper.”
“Go on,” Starsky said with as much patience as he could muster.
“He said he also had Detective Hutchinson, and more information about both of them would be forthcoming.”
Starsky shook his head and his stomach turned. “Both of whom, exactly?”
“Hutch and the boy. His name is Jeremy Buchanan. He’s from a wealthy family in Bay City. His father is a rich real estate developer.”
Starsky sprang to his feet. “I don’t understand any of this. You said the parents paid the money. What other demands could the kidnapper have? And what does Jeremy Buchanan have to do with Hutch?”
“We don’t know yet. Like I said, the caller said that he had both of them and that further information would be forthcoming.”
“Forthcoming? What the hell does that mean?” Starsky paced the room and kicked the door.
“It means forthcoming,” Dobey replied, raising his voice. “Take it easy. He will call back, and we’ll be ready with a tape recorder and we’ll trace the call if we can. I need you to keep your head here. When was the last time you saw your partner?”
Starsky looked at the ceiling and swallowed. “Last night. I, uh, we had some Chinese food and watched some television. I was tired and fell asleep and didn’t leave until after eleven o’clock.”
It was the truth, just not all of it. Starsky closed his eyes and filled in the rest of the evening in his mind. The passion, the lovemaking, the undivided attention from Hutch.
The way he got up and left Hutch alone, shivering in his orange robe, all to make a point.
“Did you see anything or anyone out of the ordinary when you left?” Dobey asked.
“What?”
Starsky shook his head to come back to the present. He tried to remember if any strange cars or people were hanging around the street when he left. He couldn’t think of anything out of the ordinary.
“I didn’t see anything or anyone when I left. I need to get over to his apartment right now and check it out.”
“Starsky, sit down. As soon as I got the call, I ordered Simmons and Babcock to go and secure Hutch’s apartment and run it for prints.”
Starsky felt his heart race. “I should be there. I might see something they miss, he’s my partner.” Starsky started to rise.
“I said sit down. I need you to think. What connection does Hutch have to a fifteen-year-old boy from a rich family named Jeremy Buchanan?”
“How should I know? I never heard of the kid. When is he calling back?”
“I don’t know, he didn’t say.” Dobey looked at his watch. “It’s nine-fifteen. It was exactly half an hour ago now when he called, could be any minute.”
At that moment, the phone rang and Dobey nodded at Starsky to be ready.
“Dobey here.”
Dobey pushed a button to start taping the call and put it on speaker. “Who is this? Do you understand that kidnapping is a capital crime, and that includes the abduction of a police officer?”
The voice was muffled, like he was speaking through a handkerchief. “Tell the boy’s parents again thank you for the two hundred thousand dollars.“
“So when will you release the boy? And what about Hutchinson?” Dobey asked.
“The boy’s life from this point forward will depend on Hutchinson. That hero has a decision to make, and he has to make it alone.”
“What does that mean…what do you want with Hutch?” Starsky blurted out.
“I’m not a crazy man who talks in dreams and riddles, so let me make this clear. You will not find him, no one will. It doesn’t matter how well a person thinks they know the city. He cannot rely on anything to save him…no medicine or serums, no bulletproof vests, no last-minute save-the-day cases. This time, the ransom has already been paid. The boy’s life is completely in Hutchinson’s hands. He has until noon today to make his choice.”
The phone went dead.
“It wasn’t long enough of a call to trace,” Dobey said.
Starsky felt his throat close.
“What the hell did he mean? There were no demands for Hutch. Why does he have him?”
“I don’t know Starsky, but that’s your job to find out.” Dobey looked at his watch. “We have less than three hours before noon.”
“I thought I heard sirens in the background. He must have been calling from somewhere in the city,” Starsky said, trying to control his shaking voice. “Everything he said, what did it all mean?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to send the recording down to the lab and try to get a profile on the voice. Get over to Hutch’s apartment and meet up with Simmons and Babcock. I’ve got to call the boy’s parents and give them the news.”
Starsky swallowed hard and rushed out the door, past Wofford who was still alone in the squadroom. He headed to the stairwell, gripping the handrail as he bolted down the steps. As he jumped down to the next landing, he almost fell over Kazelkovsky who was running up, panting and out of breath.
“Watch it, Kazeolkovky,” Starsky snapped, then stopped and turned around. “Sorry, didn’t mean to run you over. It’s an emergency.”
Kazelokovsky smiled back. “Sure Starsky, no problem. I understand. You and your partner are always in a rush to save the world.”
Starsky ignored the snide remark and continued down the stairs.
Finding Hutch was all that mattered.
He had less than three hours to do it.
The cool air brought Hutch back to consciousness as he gently opened his eyes. He was on a cot in a dark room that smelled like a musty sponge.
Hutch felt a chill and looked down at his body. His clothes and shoes had been stripped, and only his underwear remained. He propped himself up on his right elbow and attempted to wipe the haze from his foggy eyes with his other hand.
A wave of panic washed over him when he realized he couldn’t reach his hand to his face. He shifted his eyes to his hand and discovered that his left wrist was bound with a foot-long chain bolted to the wall, although his right hand was free. Hutch managed himself into a sitting position and rested against the wall behind him.
“Ouch, that hurts,” a voice whimpered from across the room.
Hutch whipped his head around to see a teenage boy lying on a cot to his right, about ten feet away. He had wavy, light blond hair and was dressed in jeans, a tee shirt, and sneakers. The boy’s right hand was chained to the wall, while his left hand was free, mirroring Hutch.
“Who are you?” Hutch asked.
“I’m the person attached to you,” the boy said, pointing down to his feet.
Hutch swept his eyes down the length of the cot until he stopped at the foot of the bed. The boy’s left foot was shackled to a thick chain that ran taut between the beds. Attached to the other end of the chain was Hutch’s right ankle.
“Who are you?” Hutch repeated. “Why am I here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” the youngster moaned. “And please stop pulling the chain on your foot. Every time you move, it tugs my ankle.”
Hutch blinked. “Sorry. I…my name is Ken Hutchinson. Who are you?”
“Jeremy. Jeremy Buchanan. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
Hutch tried to turn his body to face the boy without pulling too hard on the chain that bound their ankles together.
“How long have I been here?” Hutch asked. “And call me Hutch.”
“I don’t know for sure. I woke up about an hour ago and you were there. I’m not sure how long I’ve been here.”
Hutch’s head still hurt from whatever drugs were used to put him out and he tried to process all that was happening. “What’s the last thing you remember, kid?”
“The last thing I remember was walking home from school yesterday. A blue car pulled up beside me and he said he was a cop. He even flashed his badge. He told me my parents were in an accident and to get in the car, so I did. The next thing I knew, he was putting a bad-smelling cloth on my face and I passed out. I woke up here in the middle of the night and was screaming for someone but no one came.”
“So, did you see who brought me in here?”
“No. A few hours later someone came back in and put another cloth on my face and I passed out again. Before you got here, my right arm was chained to the wall. When I woke up I had the added pleasure of having my left foot chained to your right foot.”
The kid paused and looked at Hutch. “ I don’t know if they were real cops, but if they were, they weren’t the good kind.”
“Wofford,” said Hutch.
“Who?”
“Officer James Wofford is who we have to thank for this. And most likely his partner Kazelkovsky.”
“You know them?”
“Yeah. I..I’m a cop too.”
Jeremy looked Hutch up and down. “The good kind?”
“I like to think so.”
“Well, if they think my parents are going to pay a big ransom for me, they’re mistaken. My dad and I had a big fight the other day and I doubt he’ll pay a cent. But that isn’t even the biggest of my worries.” Jeremy pointed to the ceiling. “Look up.”
Hutch raised his eyes and felt a shiver of terror run through his body. A bomb was fastened to the ceiling above his bed.
“What the hell,” said Hutch.
“There’s one of those over my bed, too, and they’re both ticking.” said Jeremy. “When I woke up both devices were counting down from four hours, now they say three.”
“What kind of twisted game is this…” Hutch stated.
His face tightened as he took in his surroundings.
A cord with a weighted ballast hung down from the ceiling in front of Hutch’s right hand. Hutch’s eyes followed the cord and he could see that it ran across the ceiling between the two explosive devices. The cord was threaded between two pulleys; one that was screwed into the ceiling above his bed, and another pulley that was screwed above Jeremy’s bed. The cord traveled down from the second pulley and wrapped around a switch on the device above the kid’s bed, extending to a third pulley below the switch, completing the loop.
Hanging from the switch was a ring with a large key dangling from it.
“Those are bombs, aren’t they?” Jeremy asked. “One for you and one for me.”
Hutch swallowed. “It looks that way, kid. But I’ll be damned if I know why.”
“So, why don’t you read the note and maybe you’ll find out?” Jeremy said, pointing to Hutch’s lap.
Hutch looked at his lap and for the first time noticed the envelope with the name “Hutchinson” scrawled across it.
“Why didn’t I think of that?”
Hutch sliced the envelope open and pulled out a handwritten note. He shook the paper and began to read it silently when he heard the kid clear his throat.
“Listen, I think we’re in this together. Literally. So, maybe you can read it out loud?”
“Fair enough,” Hutch said and started over from the top.
Hello hero. Now is your moment to shine.
You’ll notice a cord hanging from the ceiling within your reach. Do you want to save the kid’s life? Just pull the cord. You can see it is threaded through the pulleys between both explosive devices. If you pull it, the power switch on the kid’s bomb will be pulled down, deactivating it. And because I’m such a nice guy, pulling down the switch will also release that key that is dangling above the kid’s head so it falls right onto his lap. All the kid will have to do is unlock his chains and he walks away.
Jeremy interrupted. “That’s all you have to do? Well, pull the cord then. I’ll get the key and unlock myself and then I can unlock your chains and we both get out of here.”
Hutch glanced over at the excited boy. “There’s more kid.”
But there’s a catch, hero.
When you pull the cord, the bomb above your head will be triggered and your side of the room will be blown to bits. Don’t worry, there aren’t enough explosives to take out the kid’s side of the room – the worst he’ll suffer is a little falling dust and he will be just fine.
So you see if you pull the string, your bomb explodes but at the same time the kid’s bomb shuts down and a key to the chains falls right into his lap. You die, but the kid lives.
If you can’t find the courage to pull the cord, that’s understandable. Maybe you’re not the hero everyone thinks you are. In that case, both bombs will explode when the timers run out and you both die.
Either way, you die, Hutchinson.
And oh, tell the kid that his parents came through. They paid enough ransom money so that I could disappear forever, and believe me, I will. They did their part to save their kid’s life. The rest is up to you.
And if you’re counting on your partner, don’t. By the time he finds your dead body, I’ll be halfway across the world. That’s assuming he finds you at all.
Now’s your chance to be a true hero, Hutchinson.
One last time.
Starsky bounded up the stairs of Hutch’s apartment, reaching it in record time. He bolted through the doorway and stopped short. His senses were overwhelmed and he couldn’t move, bombarded by the essence of Hutch.
Hutch’s shirt was still on the floor of the living room, having been skillfully unfastened by Starsky’s deft fingers the night before. Starsky inhaled Hutch’s scent, which saturated the air through every wall, cushion, and corner of the room, overpowering him with its familiar aroma.
Hutch’s face appeared in Starsky’s mind, his blue eyes sparkling, his hair damp from making love, and his expression full of love. Starsky could feel Hutch’s fingers, it was like being touched by silk, he always thought. His skin began to tingle with the cherished feeling that lingered, and that he was desperate to feel again.
“Hutch,” Starsky whispered. “Where are you? Are you mad at me for leaving last night?”
Starsky wished he could step into the bedroom and run his hand over the sheets that only the night before he had flung from his body amid their passion. Or inhale the scent of the robe that Hutch pulled around himself before frantically trying to stop Starsky from leaving.
Starsky shook his head and tried to push away the thought that only last night he walked away from Hutch because he wanted to make a damn point.
He somehow found the strength to walk over to speak to Simmons.
“What have you got?” Starsky managed to find his voice.
“Not sure. Hutch’s gun is hanging in his closet. The bed was a mess when we got here. Sheets were strewn on the floor along with his bathrobe so we assume he was here at some time this morning. We’re dusting the place for prints. We have cops interviewing all the neighbors in both directions.”
Starsky looked around the bedroom. “I uh, kinda took a nap in that bed last night. I came over and we had some food, then Hutch fell asleep on the couch and I was tired so I lay down to take a quick nap. We both woke up and I went home around eleven.”
Simmons took some notes and looked up at Starsky. “Anything else you can remember? Did you see anything out of the ordinary when you left?”
“No, nothing…so we don’t know what happened? Was there any sign of a struggle?”
“Aside from the mess in the bedroom, no. Why don’t you take a look around there yourself.”
Starsky walked to the bedroom nook. The bedroom was a mess, but it looked like it did when he left. Starsky peered inside the closet and noticed Hutch’s running shoes and blue tracksuit were missing.
“He must have gone jogging this morning and didn’t come back. How far down the street are the officers interviewing the neighbors?”
“Everyone in the building, next door and across the street. Why?” Simmons asked.
Babcock walked over and interrupted. “Starsky, Dobey just called. Says he wants you back at the station pronto. The kid’s parents are going to be there and he thought you would want to speak to them.”
Starsky took his notepad from his top pocket and scribbled some notes. “You bet I do. Here is Hutch’s usual jogging route. Have someone check out every neighbor, every storefront, and every shop along the way to see if they saw anything. He leaves around 6:15 am and it takes him about twenty minutes to get around the whole block.”
Starsky dashed out of the apartment and hurried down the stairs. He was relieved to get out of the apartment where too many memories charged through his mind and he couldn’t think straight.
He needed to focus. Hutch was out there somewhere and that meant Starsky had to get it together.
He glanced at his watch.
Two hours before noon.
There was no time to lose.
~*~*~*~
Starsky pulled open the door of the Torino and folded himself into the driver’s seat in one move. He stepped on the gas and closed the door as he pulled away, throwing the siren light on top of the car.
The empty car seemed to mock him, to taunt him with too many memories. An empty styrofoam cup rolled on the floor of the passenger seat, and Starsky winced.
“Why can’t you pick up your garbage, partner? Save me having to tell you to do it all the time, or for me to do it…save me being reminded of all the stupid arguments.”
Starsky’s thoughts were floating, images of Hutch coming in and out, snippets of his voice, and the phantom contact of his fingertips. The beautiful image would vanish with the next breath, replaced by a vision of Hutch in pain and agony. He could almost hear Hutch calling for him.
“Stop it,” he admonished himself. “It’s not doing Hutch any good letting my mind go there. He needs me to stay focused. Pull yourself together, Starsky.”
Starsky pulled up in front of the station, ran into the building, up the stairs to the squad room, and hurried into Dobey’s office.
~*~*~*~
A man and woman sat across from Dobey’s desk. The woman was wiping her eyes and the man had his hand on her shoulder.
“Detective Starsky, this is Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan, Jeremy’s parents.”
Starsky remained standing. “Sorry to meet you under these circumstances. Have you had any recent contact with the kidnapper?”
Mrs. Buchanan raised her head. “No, Detective we haven’t. We came here to find out what you have found out. We paid the money…we did what we were supposed to do. Why haven’t they let my boy go?’’
Starsky swallowed. He knew his role was to be comforting, but time was running out and he needed to move it along.
“Can you tell us what happened the day Jeremy went missing?” Starsky asked.
“I already gave our statement to the police. It happened yesterday afternoon. Jeremy was walking home from school but he never made it home. A neighbor said they saw Jeremy get into a blue car. Later that afternoon, we got a phone call demanding two hundred thousand dollars to be delivered to the old Bay City park at the edge of town. He said no police or they would kill Jeremy. We were told to drop it off at the swing set at four o’clock this morning. We followed the instructions, but there was no one there except for this note.”
Dobey retrieved the note and read it out loud.
Thank you for doing your part to save Jeremy’s life. The remaining instructions on where to find your boy will be forthcoming.
“There’s that word, forthcoming again,” Starsky sputtered. “So, your boy goes missing and you don’t come to the police for over eighteen hours?”
Mister Buchanan stood up and faced Starsky. “What would you have us do? That man was going to kill our boy. We had no choice. He could have asked for a million dollars and I would have paid it…I only care about getting Jeremy back.” The boy’s father sat down and started to sob.
Dobey cleared his throat. “We don’t know who has done this, but your son has been kidnapped along with a police officer. The whole force is out there looking for them.”
“Promise me you’ll find my boy!” the woman cried.
Starsky was glad that Dobey was taking the lead. He couldn’t find the words the parents needed, he was too focused on finding Hutch.
“We are doing everything we can.” Dobey stood up. “Look, thank you for coming in. I’ll have the note sent down for analysis. I think you should go home now and wait by the phone, in case the kidnapper calls. I’ll send some officers to stay with you.”
The Buchanans rose and as they opened the door to leave, Huggy walked into Dobey’s office.
“What are you doing here?” Dobey looked at Huggy.
“Starsky called and told me my man Hutch is in trouble. Thought I’d drop by to see if I could help.”
Starsky nodded. “Thanks. I would have come by the Pits, but there’s no time. You hear anything on the street?”
“Not a word. No one’s even talking about a kidnapped kid or a missing cop. Like they’re too scared of something or someone.”
Starsky punched the wall. “Somebody has to know something!”
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in!!” Dobey shouted. “Everyone else does!”
Minnie opened the door and stepped in. “Detective Simmons is on the phone looking for Starsky. He says it’s important.”
Starsky picked up the phone, and took some notes, then slammed down the phone.
“I knew it,” Starsky said. “Simmons says they interviewed the neighbors, and an eight-year-old kid named Julio saw something. He said Julio waits for Hutch every morning. When Hutch goes jogging, he always stops, gives Julio a dollar, and tells him to buy himself lunch at school. He said when Hutch misses a day, he gives him two dollars to make up for it.”
Starsky’s breath hitched. He wasn’t surprised to learn that Hutch went out of his way to help a kid like that. His heart soared with pride.
“Julio said he saw Hutch this morning, but Hutch didn’t see him. He said a blue car pulled up and flagged him over. He said Hutch must have known the driver because he got in the car in a real hurry. There was a man in the back seat too, but he didn’t see either of their faces.”
Starsky paused. “He said…before Hutch got in the car, he said something like, “Oh my God, is Starsky okay?”
Starsky resumed pacing around the office. He wanted to throw up knowing that Hutch was duped by someone who claimed he was hurt.
“Sit down Starsky. Let’s review. What have we got?” Dobey asked.
Starsky tried to center his thoughts. “We have a boy who was kidnapped walking home from school, and who was seen by a neighbor getting into a blue car. We have Hutch who went for a morning jog and was seen by an eight-year-old kid getting into a blue car. It must have been the same person, and in both cases, it seems like it was someone they knew or trusted.”
“But what’s the connection?” asked Huggy.
Starsky turned around. “ I’ve been thinking about the phone call from the kidnapper this morning. Do you have the recording captain?”
“Of course,“ Dobey said. He pressed play on the tape recorder.
The room hushed and the three men and Minnie leaned in to listen.
“The boy’s life from this point forward will depend on Hutchinson. That hero has a decision to make, and he has to make it alone.”
Starsky stopped the tape. “Why does he call Hutch a hero? Did Hutch work on a case and someone’s holding a grudge? And what decision?”
Starsky restarted the recording.
“I’m not a crazy man who talks in dreams and riddles, so let me make this clear. You will not find him, no one will. It doesn’t matter how well a person thinks they know the city. He cannot rely on anything to save him…no medicine or serums, no bulletproof vests, no last-minute save-the-day cases. This time, the ransom has already been paid. The boy’s life is completely in Hutchinson’s hands. He has until noon today to make his choice.”
Starsky stopped the tape. “It’s like he’s trying to tell us something.”
“What does he mean by no last-minute- save-the-day cases?” Huggy asked, looking at Starsky. ”Aren’t those the only kind of cases you two ever have?”
Starsky’s eyes widened. “My God, why didn’t I see it before?”
“Care to fill me in?” Dobey asked.
“The kind of cases we have had before,” Starsky said. “This guy knows about them.”
He played the tape, his heart racing. “I’m not a crazy man who talks in dreams and riddles, so let me make this clear.
Starsky stopped the tape.
“Wasn’t that what happened with that cult dude, Simon Marcus?” Huggy asked.
Starsky nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.” He hit play on the tape recorder.
“You will not find him, no one will, It doesn’t matter how well a person thinks they know the city.”
“What does that mean?” Huggy asked.
Starsky spun around. “When Hutch was trapped under his car, an old army vet who found him, Sonny McPherson, knew the city better than anyone.”
Starsky felt his stomach clench. How could someone out there know so much?
Starsky restarted the tape.
“He cannot rely on anything to save him…no medicine or serums, no bulletproof vests.”
Medicine or serums,” Dobey interjected. “That sounds like when Professor Jennings had Bellamy shoot you up with a poisonous compound, Starsky.”
“But what about no bulletproof vest?” Huggy asked, “How does that fit in?”
“That’s it!” Starsky’s eyes shot up, “The only time Hutch got shot wearing a bulletproof vest was during that Haymes kidnapping case. You remember, your friend Collandra helped us out. That was a kidnapping case of an eighteen-year-old girl. This time, it’s a fifteen-year-old boy.”
“But how do these cases connect?” Dobey asked. “We’re right back to square one!”
Starsky turned to Minnie.
“I need you to pull the files on Simon Marcus, Vic Humphries, Professor Jennings, and the Haymes kidnapping case. Find out whether any of them have recently been released from prison or if they’ve had any unusual visitors. We’re looking for a link between these cases…and Minnie…please make it quick. Hutch’s life is at stake.”
“You think there’s a connection between all those cases? It’s a long shot,” Dobey remarked. “Could simply be someone who reads the newspaper and has a grudge against Hutch.”
“Maybe, but I’ve got a feeling that the caller knows something. Like he wanted to prove he was smarter than us.”
Starsky looked at his watch.
One hour and a half to go.
Hutch stared up at the bomb, less than two hours and counting. He tried to ignore the unrelenting ticking as each second passed, reminding him of irrecoverable, wasted time. Precious moments that he couldn’t get back, but maybe, if he was truly brave enough, he would get a second chance and find the courage to climb out of hiding and live the life he knew he wanted.
The dark and windowless room made time an illusion, undecipherable and yet impossible to ignore. All Hutch knew was that he was captured during his morning jog. He was two blocks from his apartment, when Wofford pulled up in his blue car.
“Hey Hutchinson, Dobey sent me to get you. Something about your partner being hurt. You need to come with me right away.”
Hutch didn’t hesitate to jump into Wofford’s car, his mind racing and his brain fatigued from too little sleep without Starsky. Hutch was so distracted that he didn’t notice the person in the back seat until it was too late and the noxious-smelling cloth covered his face, and the world went black.
The next thing Hutch knew, he was waking up with a hell of a headache and a bad back from a foam mattress on a wooden bed.
Starsky would be looking for him by now.
Hutch closed his eyes.
Tick…tick.
Fear rushed to the surface, mixing with regret and nausea until his body trembled from the pain. Why had he let Starsky leave like that last night? Why didn’t he want to tell their families about their relationship?
It wasn’t that Hutch didn’t want to shout his love from the rooftops, but fear got in the way. Fear of the wrong people finding out. Fear of his fellow officers turning their backs in a life-and-death situation.
Fear of Starsky’s family not reacting well and cutting him off entirely. Fear of his own family doing the same. Fear of them both losing the only job they ever wanted.
Fear of Starsky realizing that all these things meant he was just not worth it.
“Hey, Hutch,” the kid said from across the room. “You didn’t go back to sleep did you?”
Hutch opened his eyes. “No, I was thinking. Tell me about yourself, kid. You said you didn’t think your parents were going to pay the ransom. If we can believe this note, then you’re wrong about that. Why did you think they wouldn’t?”
“Because we had a big fight a couple of weeks ago. My father has hardly talked to me since.”
“What was the fight about?”
“I..uh, I don’t know if I should tell you.”
“Okay, you don’t have to, but sometimes it helps to tell strangers things. And it’s not like either of us are going anywhere at the moment.”
Jeremy glanced at Hutch with apprehension in his eyes as he ran his hand through his blond hair. “Okay, you’re right. I…um… I told him I think I…I think I’m gay.”
“You came out to your parents?” Hutch felt a tinge of admiration for the young man.
“Yes, but to be honest, I don’t know if I’m gay. I like girls but I also like boys. I don’t know. Does that make me weird?”
Hutch swallowed, trying to find the words that he knew in his heart were true. “No, it makes you brave to be so honest with yourself. And also very wrong about your parents.”
“You think they paid the money?”
“I think Wofford would have no reason to make that up, so yes.”
“So that means maybe there’s a chance they aren’t mad at me? Maybe I have to give them time to get used to things.”
“I think your parents are very worried about you and whatever reaction they had was out of love, not hatred. Believe it or not, I haven’t been very good lately at realizing that with people in my life either. I fought with someone too, someone very close to me.”
“Who did you fight with?”
Hutch sighed and looked for the strength to talk about it. It was surreal to confide in a teenage boy, but so was being chained in a room to this stranger.
“My partner, David Starsky. He’s my best friend…more than that if I’m honest. The fight was stupid and I wish I could take it all back.”
“What did you fight about?”
“Normally, we just fight about his eating habits and his stupid candy apple red car with the white stripe down the middle. But this time, it was a lot more serious. We fought about our futures.”
“That’s heavy. Do you trust him?”
Hutch blinked and turned his head. “You always ask such personal questions, kid?”
“I don’t know. I figure I confided in you and it made me feel better. Maybe I can do the same for you.”
Hutch pulled his lips together and smiled. “Fair enough,” he said. “Yes, I trust him with my life. We can read each other’s minds, most of the time. When we’re on the job, I just have to look at him and he can tell what I’m thinking, what I’m going to do. So many times.”
“Like when? What kinds of things do you do?”
Hutch smiled. “I know where he is at all times, and more than that, I know what he’s going to do. One time, he had to bring a bag of money to a drop, but he brought his dirty laundry instead. I knew it by looking at him. So I gave him a look that I was going to do something. I stomped on the foot of the guy with the gun and Starsky took him out before anyone could get shot. We did things like that all the time.”
“So, why didn’t you trust him during your fight? Don’t you trust what he had to say about your futures?”
Hutch glanced at Jeremy. “I do, but my fear got in the way. It clouded my judgment.”
“Are things clearer now? Does talking to me help, even if I’m only fifteen?”
Hutch chuckled. “You know, it did help. You’re pretty smart for fifteen. I’m going to get you out of here kid, and you’ll find out for yourself how much your parents love you, and how lucky they are to have a kid like you, no matter what you decide to do with your life.”
“I know what you’re thinking, Hutch. You’re thinking there is no way you are going to let me die, even if it means you have to pull that cord. But let me remind you how hard that would be on me, to have someone die before my eyes, and on my account. So, let’s not let that happen, okay?”
Hutch managed a smile. “Okay. Listen kid, there is no way I’m going to let you die. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight like hell to get us both out safely. I have plans of my own after we get out of here.”
“What kind of plans?” Jeremy asked.
Hutch looked at the ceiling and resolved. “Plans to stop being such a scared, overthinking idiot.”
“Good plan,” the boy said.
Starsky paced in Dobey’s office waiting for Minnie to bring in the files.
“What’s taking so long,” Starsky said. His head was pounding, and he wished Hutch was there to help make the connection.
“It’s only been a few minutes,” Dobey said, “Let’s not panic.”
Starsky heard the words but couldn’t focus on them. Hutch’s face floated in front of him and only the sound of Minnie entering the office with an armful of files made him blink away the vision.
“What do we have, Minnie?” Dobey asked.
“Simon Marcus is still in protective custody in maximum security. He hasn’t had an outside phone call or visitor in over a year. Professor Jennings died in prison two years ago.”
Starsky leaned on the desk and hung his head. “What else?”
“Vic Humphries is serving a life sentence for the attempted murder of a cop. The warden says he’s not due out on parole for at least twenty years. And his lawyer Balford is in the same boat.”
“What about the Haymes kidnapping case a few years ago? I know Moo-Moo and Pola were killed, but maybe there’s a connection there,” Starsky said desperately.
Minnie opened the file. “Nothing to speak of. Both kidnappers were killed, and the Haymes girl was found as you know. There were no other arrests to speak of…it’s all here in the file.”
“But he mentioned a bulletproof vest. Hutch has worn one several times, but that’s the only time the vest stopped a bullet,” Starsky said. “Why mention a bulletproof vest at all?”
“I don’t know,” Minnie continued. “All it says here is that when Hutch was shot, two uniformed officers were on the scene…Kazelkovsky and Wofford. They started to secure the scene, but left when they knew Hutch was okay and they were called away to deal with the burning car.”
Starsky punched the wall. He flung his arms at his side and reprimanded himself, knowing losing his temper would not do a bit of good. He opened the Simon Marcus file and sat down.
“We’re missing something,” he said. “I can feel it.”
If only Hutch were here, he’d know what he was feeling without having to say it out loud.
Starsky read through the files again.
Simon Marcus had been convicted of murder, rape….and was sentenced to life in prison.
He flipped the page.
The case was led by Detective Kenneth Hutchinson under the supervision of Captain Harold Dobey. Hutch had signed off on the investigations, the arrest reports, and the forensics. Everything was handled and documented by Hutch, down to every detail.
Starsky smiled to himself at Hutch’s meticulous reporting. He was always exact, but in cases where Starsky’s life was threatened, Hutch was like a dog with a bone.
Starsky flipped the page.
Office Victor Kazelkovsky was in charge of getting the prints from the van. He was helped by his partner, Officer James Wofford.
Starsky’s eyes shot up.
“Wofford and Kazelkovsky worked on both of these cases, maybe they remember something. Captain, when was Wofford partnered with Kazelkovsky?”
Dobey scratched his face. “A few months before the Haymes case.”
Huggy rubbed his chin and chimed in. “Wofford…I’ve heard of that cat. If it’s the same Wofford, he has a reputation on the streets for playing not-so-nice with his snitches. He tends to rough them up more than sweeten the pot. And I’ve heard he accepts favors from hookers to look the other way if you know what I mean.”
“Be careful what you say about one of my men,” Dobey said. “I always said Wofford was busy drawing pictures more than solving cases, but you’ve got no proof of anything like that.”
Huggy scratched his chin. “It’s just what I hear. Some cops have a way of operating under the radar if you know what I mean.”
“I didn’t know it was that bad, but I’ve heard a few rumors about Wofford too, captain,” Starsky remarked.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Dobey bellowed.
“Maybe not,” Starsky said looking between Huggy and Dobey. “Could be a coincidence they were on duty for both cases. What about the others? Are either of them mentioned in the Jenning’s case?”
Starsky opened the Jennings file. Professor Jennings and Vic Bellamy were both found guilty of attempted murder of a policeman. Once again, Hutch’s notes were meticulous. It was easy to scan through the familiar details and follow the progression of the case.
Starsky flipped the pages.
“I don’t see any connection here,” Starsky’s heart started to sink. “Wofford isn’t mentioned and neither is his partner, Kavelkovsky.”
“That’s because Wofford was new, and wasn’t partnered with Kavelkovsky back then. He was transferred here after he was rejected from joining the bomb squad because he didn’t pass the very rigorous psych requirements. He was working the desk at the time, doing paperwork.”
Dobey paused. “Wait a minute. I remember it was Wofford’s first day when I told you Wedell had died of a heart attack. You and Hutch looked like you were going to pass out from the news. Wofford was in the squad room. He was the one who greeted that lady who came in to look at pictures when you were…”
“Dying from an injected poison and unable to focus on anything but getting through the next hour?”
Starsky shut his eyes at the memory. He remembered the pain he felt, the sweat pouring down his face from the fever. The hopelessness he felt at all three possible suspects turned up nothing. How he reached out and grasped Hutch’s hand, holding it like he would never get another chance. The warmth of his hand was enough to fill Starsky up with a last bit of hope. He didn’t even think about who else was in the squad room.
Starsky opened his eyes. “Okay, so we know Wofford and Kazelkovsky were on the scene when Hutch took a bullet from Moo-Moo and Pola. We know they were on the scene when Marcus’s cult members’ van was discovered out on the dirt road. We also know that Wofford was in the squad room when I was sick from a poison concocted by Jennings.”
Starsky pushed the Humphries file over to Minnie.
“Minnie, would you look through that file and tell me if Officer James Wofford or Victor Kazelkovsky were involved in processing the arrest of Vic Humphries, or his lawyer Balford, or if either had any connection with the witness Colonel Sonny McPherson?”
Starsky walked to the window and hung his head. If this was a dead end, he didn’t know where else to turn.
“Minnie doesn’t have to look through the file. Wofford insisted on driving Colonel McPherson to the veteran’s office himself after you went off to talk to that kid about the radio message,” Dobey said. “But all of this is circumstantial.”
Starsky whipped around and looked at Dobey. “Doesn’t Wofford drive a blue Ford? Captain, what do you know about Wofford and Kazelkovky?”
“Their arrest records are decent. Kazelkovsky seems eager, but Wofford doesn’t show much initiative. They’re mostly background cops, but they get the job done,” Dobey said.
Huggy looked at Dobey. “Maybe their way of getting the job done is not so decent.”
Dobey interjected. “Okay, Huggy, you’ve made your point, but I need more proof that my men were involved in kidnapping!”
“Where is Wofford now?” Starsky asked. He opened Dobey’s door and looked around the squad room. “He was here this morning. And he was in the squad room after we got the call from the kidnapper. I ran down the stairway and….”
“What?” Dobey and Huggy asked in unison.
“My God…Kazelkovsky was running up the stairs. He was out of breath and looked like he had come in from running a sprint. I thought it was strange because Wofford said Kazelkovsky had reported in sick today.”
“Why would Kazelkovsky be here if he was involved in a kidnapping? Or Wofford for that matter? Wouldn’t they stay miles away?“ Dobey said.
“To throw us off their scent? To watch it go down? Who knows,” Starsky exclaimed. “There’s a public phone booth downstairs. Remember I said it sounded like sirens in the background? That’s because Kazelkovsky was calling from our station!”
“Where’s Wofford?” Dobey demanded.
“He left a couple of hours ago,” Minnie said. “He told me he wasn’t feeling well. He told me he cleared it with you, captain.”
Starsky spun around. “Wait a minute. Captain, did you say Wofford tried to get into the bomb squad?” Starsky felt sick. “Oh my God.”
Starsky threw on his jacket. “Call me on the radio with Wofford or Kazelkovsky’s home address,” he said to Minnie.
“I can tell you Kazelkovsky’s right now. He lives two blocks from here. He once asked me to feed his cat,” Minnie scratched the address on a piece of paper.
Starsky snatched the paper from Minnie’s hand. “Thanks, you’re beautiful.” He headed to the door.
“Wait,” Dobey called out. “These are my men and I’m not letting you do this alone. I’m coming with you.”
It was one hour before noon.
~*~*~*~
Starsky rapped on Kazelkovsky’s door with his gun. He was on the left of the doorway and Dobey was on the right.
Starsky glanced at Dobey and saw the look of tension in his eyes. Two cops under his command were suspected of kidnapping a boy and another cop. It was atrocious and sick, and Starsky knew Dobey was torn up about it.
Starsky tried to ignore the rolling of his stomach. Here he was, about to bust into the apartment of a fellow cop, without Hutch at his side. Dobey was a good captain, but he was not Hutch, not by a long shot.
“Open up, Kazelkovsky. Police,” Starsky commanded. He held up three fingers and counted down.
“You’ve got three seconds or we’re coming in.”
Dobey nodded, and Starsky kicked the door open. He crouched down low, gun pointed while Dobey came in behind.
Kazelkovsky dropped the suitcase he was holding and held up his hands. “Don’t shoot.”
Starsky took two strides to the crooked cop and pulled his hands behind his back.
“Damn right you give up,” Starsky said. “Captain, I’ll let you do the honors of cuffing him.”
Dobey closed the cuffs around Kazelkovsky’s wrist and fastened him to the heavy wall unit next to the sofa. “Where’s Hutchinson and the boy!”
“I didn’t want anything to do with kidnapping. I only made the phone calls and helped carry Hutchinson into the basement. He paid me twenty-five thousand, that’s more than I make in a year. I figured I could disappear and start over. You have to believe me, I had nothing to do with the explosives.”
Starsky’s face stiffened, and his rage flared. He snatched Kazelkovsky’s collar.
“Explosives? They’re set to go off at noon, aren’t they? You’ve got three seconds to tell me where Hutch is or so help me you will never see the outside of a prison cell again in your life!”
“Wofford has an old farmhouse on the outskirts of the city. He used to take hookers there sometimes, it was really out of the way. But Wofford is gone. He caught a flight out of the country by now. You won’t find him and there’s no time to call in the bomb squad.”
“Where is this place,” Starsky demanded.
Kazelkovsky rhymed off directions and Starsky ran out, Dobey right behind him.
“I’m riding shotgun Starsky. I’ll call for backup to pick up Kazelkovsky and to meet us out there.”
Starsky barely heard the words as he barreled down the street.
Thirty minutes to go before his entire world ended.
“Reach a little farther, there is that as far as you can go?” Hutch said to Jeremy. “I know you won’t be able to reach all the way, but I need to see how much of a gap there is between your arm and that key chain.”
Jeremy reached as far as he could, limited by the short-chain on his right wrist. He stretched his free arm to the ceiling where the key dangled casually from the bomb.
“I’m not that far away,” Jeremy said, his voice straining from the exertion. He laid back down on his cot and moaned. “But it may as well be a million miles.”
“It looked like about just under three feet to the key,” Hutch said. He glanced at the timer.
“An hour. Plenty of time for my plan,” Hutch stated calmly.
Jeremy shot up onto his elbow. “What’s the plan? What can I do?”
“You will have a very important job. I’ve been studying those bombs. Mine doesn’t have a switch, but yours does. Do you see the switch I’m talking about?”
Hutch pointed to the bomb over Jeremy’s bed.
“Yes, I see it. You mean the switch with the key chain hanging from it? It looks sort of like a light switch,” Jeremy said.
“Exactly. It’s the power button. According to the note, if I pull the cord, it will turn off the switch, release the key, and essentially cut power to your bomb. If you can reach the switch and pull it down, but without me pulling the cord, you’ll get the key without detonating my bomb.”
“Hey, I saw that in a movie once. James Bond was about to pull the wires on a bomb, and with ten seconds to go, someone came up behind him and simply turned off the power source.”
Hutch grinned. “You like old movies, huh kid? You’d get along great with my partner. So, all we have to do is get to the switch without pulling the cord. Simple. The best plan I’ve ever had.”
“But I just proved I can’t reach the switch. The ceiling is too high, and with my hand chained to the wall I’ll never reach it,” Jeremy whined.
“That’s part of my plan. Underneath my foam mattress is a wooden bed frame with vertical slats that hold it together.”
Hutch pulled the foam mattress out from underneath him and threw it on the floor. He propped his body up and straddled the wooden frame, lifting his butt so he could reach the top end of one of the slats.
Hutch braced his hand with a pillow and struck at the slat with his free hand. The slat didn’t budge.
“The pillow is too soft, I’m not getting enough force.”
Hutch tossed the pillow aside. He slammed the heel of his bare hand onto the wooden slat and heard a crack. He slammed it again, and again until the top end of the board broke free.
“Hutch, stop! Your hand is getting busted up. It’s bleeding all over the place,” Jeremy shouted.
Hutch looked at the blood trickling down his arm. He looked at the clock. Thirty minutes. He ignored the pain and pummeled the other end of the board.
“Don’t worry, it’s only a few splinters,” Hutch said, hitting the board again.
“Should I try to bust up my bed too?” Jeremy asked.
“No, we need your hand in one piece. Hang on, I’ve almost got it.”
Hutch smashed his hand onto the jagged board and screamed. A sharp sliver of wood pierced right through the palm of his hand.
“You okay?” Jeremy asked, his voice panicked.
“I will be,” Hutch said, trying to focus despite the stars of pain that blurred his vision.
He reached his injured hand across his body so that his left hand could pull out the shard of wood. He looked down and gave the slat of wood a kick with his bare foot until the loosened slat fell off the bed frame.
Hutch held it up in front of him, ignoring the blood that was dripping from his hand. “It’s about four feet, this will do just fine. Looks like a hockey stick without the curve. Have you ever played ice hockey, kid?”
“No. Baseball is my game.”
“Close enough.” Hutch reached across the room and handed the wooden slat to Jeremey.
“Sorry about the blood,” Hutch said through clenched teeth. ”Now, reach up as far as you can with the stick and try to move the switch.”
Hutch watched as Jeremy gripped the wooden stake. “I’m not left-handed, this is hard for me to control,” said the boy.
“It’s okay, we’ve got time,” Hutch said, knowing the timer was at twenty-five minutes. “Hold the stick about two feet up for better control and reach as far as you can.”
Jeremy started to swing the stick at the bomb.
“Careful kid, don’t knock the body of the bomb. There’s no telling if it will go off if you do that. Just aim for the switch.”
Hutch wished he was closer to the switch to do it himself, but he knew Jeremy was their only chance.
Jeremy gave a half smile. ‘Sorry, I’m nervous.” He reached up again.
“Ok, you’re almost there…” Hutch said softly. If Jeremy didn’t stay calm, there was no way this plan was going to work.
The top of the stick made contact with the switch.
“I got it, but the switch didn’t budge,” Jeremy said, resting his arm on the mattress.
“A little harder next time, you’ll get it,” Hutch said.
He looked at the time.
Twenty minutes.
“Okay,” Jeremy said through a swallow. He took control of the stick and Hutch could see the boy’s face clench with focus.
Hutch held his breath as the stick made contact with the switch.
“I got it!” Jeremy declared excitedly. “I moved the switch to the off position!”
The key ring was released onto Jeremy’s lap and the timer stopped.
Eighteen minutes.
“I’ll be damned, Wofford was telling the truth,” Hutch smiled widely. “You did it kid! I knew you could.”
Jeremy wasted no time and grabbed the key, quickly unlocking his right hand. Hutch heard the ‘click’ of the lock as his shackle opened.
Jeremy massaged his wrist and smiled. “That’s one down.”
He reached down to his ankle and easily unlocked the chain around his foot. Jeremy sprang off the bed with the key in his hand.
Hutch forgot about the agony and blood on his right hand, as relief overtook him. Jeremy dashed over to Hutch’s cot and inserted the key into his right ankle lock.
“I…I can’t get it open,” Jeremy said, trying again. “It’s not working on your lock for some reason.”
Hutch felt his heart sink. “That’s okay, come over here and try the lock on my wrist.”
Jeremy scrambled over and tried to insert the key. “It doesn’t fit this one either!”
Hutch inwardly panicked. He took the key and tried to unlock the wrist himself.
“Damn it, the key doesn’t fit my locks,” Hutch said. “That bastard.”
He looked at the timer.
Fifteen minutes.
“Get out of here kid. There’s no one here. Wofford and his partner are out of the country by now. See if there’s a telephone upstairs and call for help and then get the hell out.”
“Okay. I’ll be back. Maybe I can find something to cut that chain.”
“Unless it’s a chainsaw and you know how to use it, don’t bother. Find a phone and get to safety. Who knows how many explosives this bomb actually has.”
Jeremy nodded and ran out of the room. Hutch could hear him upstairs, shuffling through drawers, hopelessly looking for a tool that would help.
“Get out of here, kid,” Hutch said as he shook the lengthy chain, an albatross that clung to his ankle. He was relieved at least that it was no longer attached to the boy.
He glanced at the timer above his dismantled and broken bed.
Ten minutes.
“If ever we need a last-minute miracle, it’s now, partner. I hope you know how much I love you.”
Hutch yanked at the chain on his wrist one last time and hung his head in despair.
Starsky drove like a maniac to the outskirts of town, focused on two things…staying on the road and getting to Hutch.
“We need to get there fast but in one piece, and keep our cool,” Dobey said.
Starsky knew Dobey was right, but his heart, not his head, had already taken control of all his decisions. He screeched around a corner onto a dirt road, and the Torino dove-tailed, kicking up dust.
Starsky glanced down at his watch.
“Ten minutes to noon. Sorry, captain, there’s no time for a casual drive.”
He knew if he didn’t find Hutch it would be over for both of them.
“There, over there,” Dobey pointed down a long gravel driveway. “Kazelkovsky said it was a farmhouse at the end of this road. That must be it.”
Starsky accelerated and veered toward the house as the Torino’s tires crunched on the gravel. He put the car in park, hopped out, and drew his gun as he ran toward the front porch with Dobey following behind.
Starsky skipped up the porch and halted. Someone tumbled out of the front door and fell onto the front porch.
Starsky’s mouth hung open as he took in the sight of the teenage boy. His hair was matted to his face, his shirt was soaked with sweat, and his right hand and left leg were bleeding and raw.
“Are you Dave Starsky?” The kid found his balance and asked as he caught his breath. “That’s your candy apple red car, right? I saw you driving up the laneway.”
Starsky’s heart leaped with hope. “Yeah, are you Jeremy Buchanan? You okay kid?”
“I’m okay, but Hutch isn’t. He’s chained to the wall in the basement and I couldn’t get it off. I’m sorry… I tried, I’m so sorry… there’s only a few minutes before…”
Jeremy’s sentence was cut off.
A man sprang out from behind the porch. He put a hand over Jeremy’s mouth and held a gun to his temple.
“Shut up kid. It’s too late for Hutchinson and we all know it,” the man said, his arm around the boy’s neck.
“Wofford!” Dobey yelled. “Let the boy go! It’s over you son of a bitch!”
Starsky lifted his gun and pointed it at Wofford. “No way. Not today, Wofford. You are not getting out of here with that boy and Hutch is not going to die.”
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Jeremy asked. “I thought you would be on a tropical beach by now.”
“I had to see what Hutchinson the hero would choose. I had to know. Besides, you didn’t think I was going to let you walk out of here after seeing my face, did you? It’s not exactly what I had planned, but Hutchinson is going to die. He’s got less than three minutes and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
Starsky held firm with his gun pointed at Wofford. “Drop it, now.”
“You try it Starsky, and the boy dies. And so does your partner.”
Starsky glanced at the boy and saw a flicker in his eyes. It was like Hutch had told him how they operate.
Jeremy raised his foot and stomped down hard onto Wofford’s foot. Wofford screamed in pain, and Jeremy rolled away.
Starsky fired.
In an instant, it was over. The bullet hit Wofford in the temple and he fell to the porch in a heap.
“You okay, kid?” Starsky asked as he approached Wofford’s body and made sure he was dead.
“I’m okay,” Jeremy said from the ground. “Starsky, look at this!”
Jeremy crawled to Wofford’s body and pulled a key ring from the dead cop’s belt.
“These keys might have the key to Hutch’s chains…but there are at least a dozen keys here. I don’t know which one it is.”
“Stay here with Dobey kid,” Starsky ordered. “Backup is on the way.”
Starsky grabbed the key chain and took off into the farmhouse. He ran to the stairs, his body colliding with the wall as he stormed down two at a time.
As he entered the basement he came to a halt, horrified by what he saw.
Hutch heard footsteps above him and began to panic. He hoped it wasn’t Jeremy returning. The timer had less than two minutes to go.
He was on the floor, barefoot and naked except for his underwear, surrounded by blood-soaked pieces of broken wood. His forearm and ankle were red and chaffed, covered in blood and bruises. The thick chain was still attached to his right ankle, and no amount of tugging could free his left wrist from the chain in the wall.
He heard commotion as the footsteps came nearer and a person appeared in the doorway.
“Starsky,” Hutch breathed out.
Starsky rushed forward and knelt at Hutch’s side, their gazes locked. Hutch felt like the world stopped spinning as a rush of love overtook him.
“You’re here,” Hutch wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating. “I was terrified I would never see you again.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Starsky said. He held up the keys and rattled them. “Look what I’ve got here buddy, your ticket to freedom. Courtesy of one Officer Wofford.”
Hutch swallowed and glanced up at the timer.
“Ninety seconds, Starsk. It’s going to blow. Which key is it?” Hutch struggled to wrangle his emotions. “There’s like a dozen there.”
“Well, that’s the fun part, I’ve got to try them until one works. I need you to help me keep track, make sure I don’t repeat any and waste time.”
Hutch saw the look of regret his partner was trying to hide. No matter what happened, he wasn’t going to let Starsky think any of this was his fault.
“I’m sorry,” Hutch said. “You get me out of here and I’ll never let you leave again.”
“That’s good because I’m not planning on ever leaving again,” Starsky said as he inserted the first key.
“No good,” Starsky announced.
“That’s ok, eleven to go,” Hutch remarked.
Starsky tried the second key.
It didn’t fit.
Tick…tick.
Sixty seconds.
“Knowing Wofford, none of those keys will fit,” Hutch said. “I’m going to kill that guy.”
“Too late, already did,” Starsky said as he rolled the previous keys to the other side of the keychain and inserted the fifth key.
“You always have all the fun,” Hutch said.
Starsky tried keys six, seven, and eight…none of them worked.
“Starsk, there are only thirty seconds left. That bomb is gonna blow. Get out of here, will you?” Hutch said.
Starsky gave Hutch a look like he ought to know better.
“I’m on key number nine, wouldn’t want to leave you in suspense as to how it turns out,” Starsky replied.
The ninth key was a dud.
“Besides, are you tired of looking at my pretty face?” Starsky asked as he inserted key number ten.
Fifteen seconds.
Hutch’s voice lowered. “No, never.”
“Don’t get all soapy on me now, Hutchinson,” Starsky averted his eyes, his attention fully on the problem at hand.
Hutch watched his partner’s worried face tighten. Later, he would show Starsky how much he loved him, and if he got the chance he would never let it slip through his fingers again.
Eleventh key.
“Damn it!” Starsky yelled. ”Hold on, not done yet.”
Twelfth key.
“There’s one more. A baker’s dozen. My lucky number,” Starsky said, inserting the thirteenth key.
Bingo!
Starsky’s eyes met Hutch’s as the lock clicked open.
Five seconds.
Starsky yanked Hutch’s hand out of the shackle and Hutch felt Starsky’s arms around his body, pulling him away from the wall. As they tumbled, the long chain tied to Hutch’s ankle wrapped itself around both of their bodies, squeezing them tighter together as they rolled to the opposite wall.
Hutch closed his eyes, the shattering sound of the explosion above his head and the heat from the blast soaking the air. Remnants of mattress, wood, and steel plummeted like shrapnel until nothing but dust rained down from the toppled ceiling.
The room went quiet, and Hutch heard nothing more. He felt the solace of Starsky’s arms around him, their bodies bound by the weighted chain that entangled them.
He opened his eyes and placed his hands on Starsky’s cheek. The dark curls were white and dust-covered, as was his face, and even his eyelashes.
Hutch traced Starsky’s lips and leaned forward, covering Starsky’s mouth. It was a short kiss, but one of the sweetest he had ever tasted.
“You okay?” Hutch asked.
“Better than you,” Starsky answered as he swept his worried eyes down Hutch’s body. “Where’s all that blood coming from?”
“I had to use my hand as a hammer,” Hutch said, holding it up. “It’s numb. I don’t feel anything.”
“That’s what I was afraid you’d say,” Starsky said as he sat up and ran his hands over Hutch’s body, examining him for injuries.
“I’ll be okay,” Hutch whispered. “And I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry more,” Starsky said as he fell back down next to Hutch. “And I have every intention of showing you how much, but first let’s get out of these chains.”
They both kicked their legs, slackening the chain that was twisted around their bodies until it loosely lay at their feet.
“Do you still have the keys?” Hutch asked.
“Right here,” Starsky held them up, jangling them in the air. He inserted the key into the chain around Hutch’s ankle.
“There, you’re free,” Starsky said with a sigh of relief.
Hutch could hear footsteps on the stairs and sirens roaring up the laneway. He gave Starsky a quick peck before Dobey and his backup barreled in.
“Correction,” Hutch whispered. “We both are.”
Starsky looked up when he heard the door open.
“How’s the patient doing?” Dobey asked.
“I’m doing fine, captain,” Hutch said as she sat up in his hospital bed. “The surgeon said there was no permanent damage in my hand, and he removed a few dozen splinters, but he said it would heal and be completely back to normal in time.”
Starsky added, “The scrapes and bruising on his wrist and ankle will heal too, as long as he keeps the bandages clean and free of infection.”
Hutch smiled at Starsky. “That’s what I have you for.”
Dobey cleared his throat to gain their attention.
“Listen, both of you. The judge denied bail for Kazelkovsky. Believe me, nothing makes me more angry than crooked cops, but to know they were right under my nose…”
“It’s not your fault, captain,” Hutch said. “We didn’t suspect them all this time either. It’s not always possible to get inside a person’s head. You couldn’t have known.”
“Besides, now that they’re off the streets, maybe some snitches will be a little more cooperative. You know, trust the police more,” Starsky said.
Dobey scratched his chin and nodded.
“I hope so. The force is going to do a review of the psych evaluation process for new cops at least. If we lose the community’s trust in us, I don’t know where the justice system will end up.”
“How’s Jeremy doing?” Hutch asked.
“He’s doing well. A few cuts and bruises, but the doctors say he will fully heal. His parents were overjoyed to get him back. The kid gave me a message to give you to you, Hutch.”
Dobey pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Hutch.
“Get some rest. Both of you,” Dobey said as he headed out the door.
“Thanks, captain,” Hutch replied. “Thanks for everything.”
“What does the note say?” Starsky asked after Dobey left.
Hutch pulled the note out of the envelope and cleared his throat.
Dear Hutch,
I wanted to let you know I’m doing good. My parents and I had a long talk, and I know they were just scared about my news. They love me, and I know they will support me no matter what. I am still figuring things out, but now I know I have people I can trust to talk to about it. I have you to thank for giving me the courage to talk to them.
I also wanted to say I hope you and your partner made up. Detective Starsky seemed pretty worried about you, so I hope so. Whatever your fight was about, I have a feeling he wasn’t ever really mad at all. Maybe he was just afraid, like my parents, and like me.
I hope we can see each other again sometime. Maybe you, me, and Starsky can watch that James Bond movie together.
Thanks for everything.
You really are a hero.
Jeremy.
“The kid is pretty smart,” Starsky said.
“He got one thing wrong though,” Hutch said.
“Oh yeah? Not the part about you being a hero. That’s a given fact,” Starsky said.
Starsky smiled as he watched Hutch’s cheeks turn pink. He meant every word. He thought Hutch was the bravest person he knew.
“I wasn’t talking about that,” Hutch said. “I was talking about the fact that it was me who was afraid, not you. I didn’t want to risk bursting our bubble. I was scared that if you told your family, they might force you to choose, and that…”
“Hutch, if my mother forced me to choose between her and you, I would have a hard time with that, but I know without hesitation who I would choose. Don’t you know that?”
Hutch nodded and let Starsky continue.
“I was afraid of the bubble too,” Starsky said. “I thought it would suffocate us. I wish we could tell the whole world, but at least we need the people closest to us so we have a chance to be ourselves”
“I get it now.”
“Does that mean you’re ready to tell our families about us?”
“I’m ready, and if you want to include close friends like Huggy and Dobey, I’m good with that too.”
“I’m down with telling Huggy. I’d like to tell Dobey someday if we can be sure it won’t put him in an awkward position with the force. But I like the way you think, Hutchinson.”
Starsky looked at the door to ensure no one was coming in. He placed a hand on Hutch’s head, then trailed a finger over his mouth.
Starsky leaned in for a soft kiss, lingering before withdrawing his lips.
“You’re stuck with me from here on out. I may even have to go jogging with you to keep an eye on you. I could even bring cash for little Julio down the street, so you don’t end up in the poor house.”
Hutch’s face turned the familiar shade of pink again, and Starsky’s insides melted even more.
“You heard about that, huh? I’d love it if you join me for my jog, but I’m not holding my breath on getting you out of bed in the morning.”
Starsky feigned a pout. “Doesn’t mean I won’t try.”
He ran his fingers down Hutch’s arm and gently rubbed his bandaged hand. “The point is, you were right. Nothing gets resolved when we’re apart. I’ll never leave you like that again.”
“Get me out of here so I can show you what I’m thinking,” Hutch said with a smile.
Starsky’s shoulders shook as he tried to suppress his laughter. He quieted and stared into Hutch’s eyes. “You did it again. You read my mind.”
“Careful of your hand,” Starsky said. “It’s only been a couple of days since your surgery. I don’t want you to have a relapse.”
“I can’t help it,” Hutch moaned. “Your body demands both of my hands and if I had a third hand I would use that too. Is the bandage too rough though?”
Hutch squeezed Starsky’s butt cheeks with both hands, hoping the answer was no.
“No,” Starsky replied. “Whether your hand has a bandage around it or not, I still love your touch. I don’t want you to injure yourself…oh man, yes more of that.”
Hutch chuckled. “I feel no pain, don’t worry.” He let his left hand roam up Starsky’s back. “But I don’t think the bandage will work when I get to my favorite frontal part of your body.”
“You want me to give you pointers on being left-handed?”
“Sure…” Hutch kissed Starsky on his shoulder.
“Pointers,” he said, trailing his lips down Starsky’s neck.
“Left hand…” He sucked each of Starsky’s nipples and ran his tongue down to his belly button.
”Frontal body…” Hutch’s tongue landed and remained on Starsky’s tip. He lapped up the juices that were prematurely flowing and wrapped his left hand firmly around the base of the shaft.
“How does this feel?” Hutch asked as his right hand remained inactive at his side. “Is my left hand doing okay?”
Hutch ran his fingers down to Starsky’s scrotum and stroked lightly, then encircled the shaft and pumped up and down, taking his time with every stroke.
“It feels fantastic,” Starsky said, smiling. “It’s not as strong as your right hand usually is, but it’s…I don’t know…trying harder, which makes up for it.”
Hutch stopped and released his fingers. “So, I get an A for effort, is that it?” he said with a grin.
“Oh, an A plus, I’d say,” Starsky said, “but practice makes perfect, so keep going and you’ll be a pro with your left hand in no time.”
Hutch gave in and placed his left hand back around his prize. If Starsky wanted him to work at it, he didn’t mind one bit.
“Don’t stop, oh yes…” Hutch watched as Starsky threw his head back on the pillow, enjoying the glorious ejaculation that poured onto his fingers as he listened to Starsky moan with pleasure.
“You are my everything,” Hutch whispered as he kissed Starsky’s belly, letting him catch his breath.
Starsky pulled Hutch up and kissed him and Hutch felt Starsky’s expert left hand wrap around his stiff erection. He was so close, that it didn’t take long until he felt himself go rigid as he climaxed and fell, floating down into the safety of Starsky’s embrace.
He held Starsky close, kissed the top of his head, and stroked his back with his bandaged hand, trying to be careful with his touch.
“Your mother and father took the news pretty well, wouldn’t you say?” Starsky asked.
“You mean my mother crying and my father trying to convince me that I needed to see a psychiatrist?”
“Well, they didn’t disown you at the end. They even talked about seeing you at Christmas.”
“Seeing us at Christmas, not just me. I made that clear to them. But yes, it ended better than it started. I guess Jeremy was right. At first, my parents were simply afraid because they didn’t understand. It will take time, and it will get better.”
“I still have to call my mother. No time like the present,” Starsky said as he reached over Hutch’s body and pulled the phone off the nightstand.
“Tell you what, no matter how this goes, how about afterward I practice some more with my left hand?”
“Like a reward?” Starsky laughed.
“Sure..and after I’ll get you some ice cream.”
“You really want me to make this call, don’t you? Okay, here goes.”
Starsky dialed his mother’s number. “Hey Ma. It’s Davey. Yes, everything’s okay. Hutch is fine, he’s back home. I know the kidnapping case was national news. I agree, Hutch is a hero.”
Starsky chuckled as Hutch felt his cheeks turn predictably pink.
“Listen, Ma. I have something to tell you. It’s about Hutch and me.”
Hutch gave Starsky a thumbs up, encouraging him to keep going.
“You see, Hutch and me, well, we’re in love. Like together, together. Lovers. I love him, Ma. I just wanted you to know.”
Hutch watched Starsky’s face as he listened to his mother’s reply. His eyes were bright as he looked at Hutch and shrugged.
“Don’t cry, Ma. You’re not losing a son. You’re gaining another son. Hutch loves you and thinks of you as his second mother.”
Hutch put his hand out and rubbed his thumb gently on Starsky’s shoulder. He felt his heart burn with pride as he listened to Starsky speak.
“I know this is a lot, Ma. It will take time to get used to, and that’s okay. Hutch and I aren’t going anywhere, and whenever you’re ready to talk more about it, we’ll be here.”
Starsky put his hand over the phone and whispered, “She’s coming around. She just asked if you want her to send some chicken soup to help you recover.”
Hutch smiled from ear to ear and nodded. “I’d love that.”
“Okay, Ma. I’ll call you next week at the same time. Or you can call me and we can talk, whenever you want. Okay. I love you too.”
Starsky hung up and put the phone back on the nightstand.
“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Hutch said. “She’ll come around.”
“I know she will. She already loves you, Hutch. It’s going to be alright.”
“When would you like to tell Huggy?”
“How about tomorrow? Let’s go to the Pits and have a beer with him.”
“Something tells me he won’t be too shocked. Not much gets past Huggy.”
Starsky pulled the covers up over their spent bodies and snuggled into Hutch’s arms.
“You sure your hand is okay?” Starsky questioned. “The thought of you being chained like an animal, tortured mentally to make a choice that no one should ever have to make…it makes me want to throw up.”
He stroked his thumb along Hutch’s forearm, his voice sorrowful.
“I’m okay, my wounds will heal. It’s over now,” Hutch said, consoling his protective partner. “And you know what?”
“What?” Starsky asked. He touched his lips to Hutch’s bruised wrist.
“The chains are gone. A dormant weapon, immobilized and rendered useless. Because of you.”
Starsky nestled his head under Hutch’s shoulder, his voice muffled against Hutch’s chest. “Not just because of me…because you were able to save the boy without killing yourself in the process. For that, I am forever grateful. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Hutch kissed Starsky’s forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Count on it,” Starsky replied.
Hutch pulled Starsky close and felt himself drawn toward sleep.
The key to everything he needed was right there in his arms.
No chains would ever hold him back again.
The End
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