Flashes of Light

Part 1

 

The sound of the phone ringing jerked Detective David Starsky awake. Rubbing his face, he glanced at the clock before yanking the receiver off the hook. It's 11:40. Who in the Hell is calling me at this time of night? It can't be good news.

"Starsky."

He barely recognized the gruff voice on the other end. "It's Dobey. You need to get down to 1367 Dover Avenue, right now. We've got bad trouble."

Starsky sat up. "Did you call Hutch?"

There was a moment of silence. "He's already here."

Starsky stared at the phone for a minute before replacing the receiver on the hook. Sighing, he threw the covers aside and got out of bed. Putting the clothes on that he had tossed on the chair earlier; he slipped his feet into the blue Adidas, grabbed his jacket and keys, and rushed out the door.

Dover Avenue was in a quiet part of town, filled with apartment buildings, Mom and Pop stores, and one of Bay City's many elementary schools. On the east end of their beat, it was rare for Starsky and Hutch to visit the small neighborhood. Starsky parked the Torino behind Dobey's green Ford and flashed his badge at the uniformed officer guarding the main entrance of the building. He'd only walked a few steps inside the door when two paramedics rushed by him, pushing a stretcher between them.

Starsky gasped when he recognized the still form. "My God, that's Dryden!"

Dobey was walking a few paces behind the medics. He stopped in front of Starsky and nodded wearily. "Yeah. I've never had a reason to visit him at home, so I didn't recognize the address."

Starsky shook his head in amazement. "How bad is he?"

Dobey's face was grey as he faced his detective. "It's bad, Starsky. He was shot once in the chest, at close range, with a .357 Magnum."

Starsky's head jerked back as the implications hit home. He shook his head once. "No." He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Squaring his shoulders, he looked at his captain. "Where is he?"

Dobey pointed a finger. "Up there, third floor, apartment number 305."

Starsky bypassed the elevator, taking the stairs two at a time then stopped still when he saw the uniformed officer guarding the door to Dryden's apartment. His heart lurched when he saw the look on the officer's face as he opened the door. Starsky felt like he was walking through quicksand as he went into the room. A large stain on the carpet told a grim story, but what drew his eyes was the solitary figure sitting in the chair. Someone had thrown a blanket over the trembling shoulders, but Starsky instantly recognized the sweat-soaked blond hair sticking to the pale forehead.

He kneeled down beside his partner. "Hutch."

Starsky held his breath as Hutch slowly raised his head and looked at him. As the brunet's mind registered the dilated pupils, he flashed back to another time. Ben Forest had kidnapped Hutch, and in attempt to elicit the whereabouts of Jeannie Waldon, had strung him out on heroin. Together, Huggy Bear and Starsky had helped Hutch through the agonizing withdrawal, hiding him from prying eyes in the small apartment over The Pits. After a few moments, Hutch closed his eyes and lowered his head again. His silence spoke louder than any words could.

Starsky cursed softly as he pulled Hutch's arm away from his body. Pushing up the sleeve of his shirt, Starsky moaned involuntarily when he saw the needle tracks inside the blond's elbow.

"Damn it, Hutch. Why?"

Starsky ran his fingers through his curly hair then stood up. He turned to Dobey.

"What happened?"

"What we have so far is sketchy. For the most part, this is a blue collar neighborhood. The people in this building work all hours, so I guess Dryden fit right in. The tenant, a Mr. Ralph Peters, in apartment 308 works as a night watchman, but this is his night off. He said he was watching TV when he heard voices coming from Dryden's apartment. He said he couldn't make out the words over the TV, but he could tell whoever was speaking was agitated. Then when he heard what sounded like a gunshot, he ran over to Dryden's. The door was standing ajar so he went inside. Starsky, he said Hutch was standing over Dryden with his gun in his hand. The uniformed officers that responded first didn't recognize Dryden, but they did recognize Hutch. So they called me."

Starsky glanced back at Hutch then faced Dobey again. "Hutch didn't shoot Dryden, Captain. He wouldn't."

Dobey's eyes flared momentarily. "Did you get a good look at him, Starsky? What does he remind you of?"

"He wouldn't use again, either! You know what kind of Hell he went through after Forest. Do you honestly think he'd put a needle in his arm now?"

"I don't know, but what I do know is we'd better get some answers, quick. When Simonetti finds out about this, he's going to be all over Hutch like white on rice."

Starsky sighed wearily. "I know. As much as I hate to say it, I can understand how he'll feel. Look; I don't want Simonetti near Hutch yet. I want to see what he has to say first. I'll take him to my place and see if I can sober him up a little."

Dobey shook his head vehemently. "Starsky, are you out of your mind? We have to take him to the station. At the least, he's a material witness. At worst, he's our prime suspect."

"Captain, you can't take him downtown looking like that! You know what it will do to his career."

"Do you know what it will do to your career if he gets away?"

"He won't run. You have my word on it. Captain, please?"

Dobey looked over at the form shaking in the chair. "Oh, all right, but you'd better not let him out of your sight for even a second!"

"I won't, I promise. I'll meet you at the hospital in a couple of hours. That should give me enough time to get Hutch back on his feet. Thanks, Cap."

Turning back to Hutch, he pulled the blond up and supported him with an arm around his waist.

"Come on, partner, we've got some talkin' to do."

Hutch was a dead weight as Starsky struggled to get him down the stairs and into the Torino. He put the blond in the passenger side then slammed the door and ran to the driver's side. His mind was going like a runaway freight train as he drove to his apartment. He remembered Bernie's surprise when Starsky pushed up Hutch's sleeve in that alley years ago.

"He's a junkie!"

"You didn't see any of this, Bernie. You hear me? I'll take care of it."

"What about Dobey?"

"I'll clear it with Dobey."

Well, he wouldn't have to clear anything with Dobey this time. He was in the middle of this mess, right along with Starsky. He glanced over at Hutch, his concern warring with his frustration. The blond was slumped against the door, his head resting on the window. Hutch hadn't said a word since Starsky had walked into Dryden's apartment, and his silence worried Starsky more than he could say.

"Hutch, we need to talk about this."

His friend simply slumped farther down in the seat and bowed his head lower. Starsky sighed. "OK, we'll let it go for now, but we are going to talk."

He pulled into the driveway of his apartment and went around to the passenger side of the car. Hutch was a little steadier on his feet as they climbed the stairs, a small improvement for which Starsky was immensely grateful. He closed the door behind him then pushed the blond gently toward the bathroom.

"Go on and jump in the shower. I'll find you some clean clothes then make us a pot of coffee."

He waited until he heard the water in the shower running then went into the bedroom and pawed through his dresser. It wasn't unusual for one of the partners to spend time at the other's apartment, so in just a few minutes, he found a pair of jeans and short-sleeved shirt that Hutch had left. Starsky knocked once on the bathroom door then laid the clothes on the toilet seat.

He stood in the doorway for a moment. "Hey, you okay in there?"

"Yeah."

It wasn't a soliloquy, but at least he knew Hutch still had a voice. He went back to the kitchen and started the coffee brewing then sat and waited for his friend to come out.

When Hutch came out of the bathroom, he looked more like himself again. His movements were slow as he put his wallet and loose change back in the pockets of his jeans, but Starsky saw that his hand was steady as he put on his wrist watch. He pulled out the other chair and sat down, putting on his socks and shoes. Wordlessly, Starsky poured a mug of steaming coffee and sat it in front of the blond.

Hutch took the cup and raised it to his lips, blowing on the brew to cool it off. He sipped it then sat the cup back down.

"Thanks."

Starsky regarded his partner for a few moments. "Hutch." He forced the words out of his mouth. "Did you shoot Dryden?"

The blue eyes that met his were filled with such pain that Starsky winced. Hutch spoke in a whisper. "I don't know."

"How can you say you don't know? One of Dryden's neighbors said you were standing over him with a gun in your hand!"

Hutch bolted up from the chair and paced around the small kitchen. "I said I don't know, Starsky! I don't remember anything! One minute, I was in my apartment, and then the next minute, I was halfway across town. I never knew where Dryden lived. God knows, we don't run in the same circles. I have absolutely no idea how I got there."

Starsky stared at his partner's back. "Sit down, Hutch. Now."

The blond turned slowly around and came back to the table. He wouldn't meet Starsky's gaze as he sat down.

The brunet leaned forward slightly. "What are you on, Hutch?"

The blond's eyes snapped up. "I’m not using, Starsky!"

Before Hutch could move, Starsky grabbed his arm. "Oh, yeah? Then what's that?"

Hutch shook his head again, slowly. "I don't know. I'm not crazy, Starsky. I swear! And I haven't been using, either."

"OK, then let's go back to the beginning. You said you were at your apartment. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was watching the news when someone knocked on my door. When I answered it, all I saw was this flash of bright light. The next thing I know, I'm standing over Dryden with my gun in my hand. Oh, God, Starsky, what if I really did shoot him?"

"I don't know, buddy, but I gotta tell you, it doesn't look good. Since I didn't see your Magnum, I'm assuming they took it as evidence. What about the needle tracks on your arm? I can't imagine you being stupid enough to put that stuff in your veins voluntarily."

Hutch ran long fingers through his damp hair then pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked up at Starsky and laughed self-consciously. "I feel like I've walked into one of those Alfred Hitchcock movies you like to watch. I noticed the first mark a few days ago and it scared the Hell out of me. But I didn't feel any different, you know? When I woke up the next morning, there was another one. There was another one there this morning. I don't know what's going on! I didn't start feeling anything until I…woke up at Dryden's. Then it was like being back in Monk's house four years ago. Only, this time, I don't remember anyone shooting me up."

Starsky rubbed his face then ran both hands through his hair. "Do you know how that sounds, Hutch? You don't remember how you got to Dryden's, but you were standing over him with your gun in your hand. You don't know how the needle marks got on your arm, but tonight you were doing a damned good imitation of someone strung out on H."

"Yeah, well, if I'm arrested, I can always cop an insanity plea."

Starsky stood up, slammed both fists down on the table, and stared into Hutch's eyes. "This isn't a game, Hutch! There's a man fighting for his life at the hospital, and he happens to be Simonetti's partner. In case you don't remember, he doesn't really like us!"

Hutch tried to look defiant. "Yeah, I figured that out when he tried to pin Vanessa's murder on me. I wasn't guilty then and I'm not guilty now. Damn it, of all the people in the world, I thought you'd be the one person that would believe me!"

Starsky slumped back on the chair. "I'm trying to believe you, Hutch, but you're not making it easy. One of Dryden's neighbors, a Mr. Peters, heard people shouting before he heard the shot. He's the one that saw you in Dryden's apartment. When Simonetti hears his statement, he'll throw you in a cell so fast it will make your head spin. Now, let's try this again. What were you doing at Dryden's apartment?"

Hutch goggled at his friend. "Starsky, I don't know how I got there, let alone why. I haven't seen Dryden in months. I try to avoid him and Simonetti as much as possible. Oh, this isn't getting us anywhere!" He jumped up again and stood in the middle of Starsky's kitchen; his arms spread wide and looked up at the ceiling. "This is a nightmare! OK, whoever you are, the joke's over! I'd like to wake up now!"

Starsky shook his head. "It's not a dream, Hutch. We have to figure this out, or you're going to be spending your golden years in the slammer. I don't think you'll like the company you'll keep."

Hutch ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "I know. I wish I had some answers, Starsky. I don't. How bad was Dryden hurt?"

"Dobey said he was shot once in the chest at close range. He didn't look like he was doing too well to me."

"Damn. And this witness, Mr. Peters? Did he say what we were supposed to be arguing about?"

"No, he just gave Dobey a quick run-down on what happened. Some of the uni's took him down to the station to make a formal statement."

"Who's handling the case?"

Starsky gave a quick shake of his head. "I don't think Dobey's got that far yet. You can bet it won't be yours truly, though. Simonetti would have a fit if I got anywhere near his star witness."

Hutch put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. "I really walked into his trap with this one, didn't I? He thought he had me when Vanessa was killed. I don't think he ever forgave me for proving Wheeler did it."

"We proved you were innocent that time, buddy, and we'll prove it this time, too." Starsky stood up and squeezed Hutch's shoulder. "Come on; I promised Dobey we'd meet him at the hospital."

Fear shone in the blond's eyes. "I can't go to jail, Starsky. I won't last a day."

"You're not going to jail, Hutch, but you have to give your statement. If you don't show up, we're all gonna be in hot water."

Hutch gave a ghost of a smile. "You and Dobey are always putting your jobs on the line for me.  Thanks buddy. If I go down, I promise I won't take you with me."

Starsky grinned. "Hey, I think I still have those plane tickets to Bolivia stashed away somewhere." He disappeared into his bedroom and came back carrying two jackets. He kept one and threw the other to Hutch. "Are you ready?"

Hutch stood up and put on the jacket. "No, but I don't really have a choice, do I?"

When they got to the hospital, Starsky pulled the Torino close to the black and white patrol cars then looked over at his partner.

"I want you to stick close to me, and don't let Simonetti rattle you. I'm NOT one of Simonetti's fans, but that's his partner in there. He's not gonna be in the best of moods, and I know how I'd feel if that was you instead of Dryden."

"Yeah, I know. Damn it, none of this makes sense! I don't have anything against Dryden. He was just doing his job when Van was killed. If I was going to carry a grudge, it would be against Simonetti. He was the one that was so gung ho about putting me behind bars."

"He was calm and collected then compared to what he'll be now. So don't give him any excuses to lock you up."

Starsky waited until Hutch indicated he was ready then walked into the ER. Flashing his badge at the clerk, he asked about Dryden and was told he had been taken to surgery. With Hutch in tow, he took the elevator to the seventh floor then looked around for Dobey. The captain was sitting on a small settee in the waiting room. He got up as Starsky and Hutch joined him.

Starsky spoke quietly, keeping one eye on his partner. "How's Dryden?"

The captain shrugged. "We haven't heard anything since he went into the operating room. At least he's still alive." He turned to the blond. "How are you doing, Hutchinson?"

"To be honest, Captain, I'm not sure. I feel like I'm walking in fog. I don't remember anything, Captain! I don't know how I got to Dryden's, and I don't remember shooting him. I don't have a reason to shoot him, for Christ's sake! And before you ask, I am not using again, either."

Dobey's nod was noncommittal. "Well, you certainly seem in better shape than you were. You know you have to come down to the station and make a statement. Now, you can call a lawyer if you want to."

"I don't think a lawyer is going to help me, Captain, unless he happens to have a time machine in his briefcase. When do you want me to go?"

"Starsky can take you down right now. I'm going to stay here until Dryden comes out of surgery."

A new voice spoke from behind them. "That won't be necessary, Captain. I'll take Sergeant Hutchinson downtown."

The three men swung around and Starsky glared at Simonetti. "I'll take him down. He's my partner."

Simonetti laughed sarcastically. "I don't think so, Starsky. I remember the last time Dobey sent you to bring Hutchinson in. You pulled one of your typical stunts and left Dryden handcuffed to Hutchinson's table. I'm not taking any chances this time."

Starsky's voice was dangerously soft. "You sent me to Hutch's with a warrant for his arrest. He's not under arrest this time."

Simonetti smiled gleefully. "Oh, but he is. I just got off the phone with Judge Sanders. Hutchinson, you're under arrest for the attempted murder of a police officer." He pulled out his handcuffs and moved toward Hutch. "Turn around."

As Simonetti reached out for Hutch, several things happened at once. Starsky shouted angrily and stepped between the IA officer and his partner. Dobey tried to grab Starsky, roaring at the brunet to stay calm. Suddenly, the object of all the chaos shoved the other men away from him and started running.

Starsky yelled at the blond. "Hutch, damn it, no! Don't do it!"

Dobey added his voice. "Hutchinson, come back here! You're not doing yourself any good!"

Simonetti cursed fluently and stepped in front of the other two men. He raised his weapon and shouted at the fleeing man. "Hutchinson, stop! You're under arrest! Stop or I'll shoot!"

Starsky shouted a denial and pushed Simonetti's arm down. "No!"

Unfortunately, it was too late. The gun went off and Hutch staggered several steps before righting himself and increasing his speed. Furious, Starsky rounded on the IA detective.

"You stupid son of a bitch! What the Hell are you doing?"

Simonetti got right back in his face. "Stay out of my way, Starsky! I did what I had to do. He's a suspect, and he was trying to evade arrest."

"He's unarmed, you idiot! You shot at him in a corridor full of people. You're lucky you didn't kill somebody!"

Dobey pulled Starsky away from the other detective. He pointed a finger at Simonetti. "He's right. You had no business discharging your weapon in a public building. I could bring you up on charges for this."

Simonetti sneered at Dobey. "Go ahead, Captain. I don't think you'll get anywhere." He turned back to Starsky. "I'm putting an APB out on Hutchinson. If you get in my way, I'll have you arrested for aiding and abetting, obstruction of justice, giving refuge to an escaped felon, and any other charges I can think up. You'll find yourself in a cell right next to him before you can say 'not guilty'. It's time you found out that you're not above the law, Starsky."

Starsky put a finger in Simonetti's face. "And it's time you found out that you're not judge, jury, and executioner. You shot my partner, Simonetti. I ain't gonna forget that."

Simonetti smiled wolfishly. "Well, I guess that makes us even. I'll be seeing you around, Starsky."

Starsky watched the IA detective go then turned to Dobey. "I'm going after Hutch. He's out there, alone, and he's hurt. I'm going to get to the bottom of this, bank on it. I'll let you know when I find anything."

Dobey sighed wearily. "Be careful, Starsky. Simonetti's on the edge, and if Dryden dies, I don't think I'll be able to control him."

Starsky walked away with his head down then turned back. "Then maybe we'd better pray that he doesn't die. I'm not going to sacrifice one partner for another, Captain."

 

Hutch heard the shouts behind him but kept running down the long corridor. He pushed through the first door he saw and slammed it, leaning against it. Looking around, he realized it was a supply closet filled with linen. Panting with exertion, he slipped out of the jacket Starsky had loaned him and raised the sleeve of his shirt. The bullet had only grazed him, but it was bleeding profusely. He spotted a stack of small hand towels on the shelf and snatched one, wrapping it around the wound and tying it as tightly as possible. Gently, he put the jacket back on then as an afterthought, grabbed a few more towels and stuffed them inside both pockets. He turned and eased the door to the closet open. He saw Simonetti stalking off then Starsky followed a few moments later. The look on Starsky's face sent a stab of guilt through his chest, but he didn't say anything as his partner passed the closet. He closed the door again and waited, counting to one hundred. Taking a deep breath, he opened it once more and checked to see if anyone was near. The corridor was empty, so he slipped out of the closet and walked quickly down the hall until he saw a door marked 'stairs'. Trotting down the stairs, he reached the first floor and peeked out. Amazingly, there was only one officer guarding the stairwell, and he had his back to Hutch. Stealthily, Hutch approached the officer and grabbed him by the throat, cutting off his circulation. Gently, he lowered the unconscious man to the floor then took his gun out of his holster. After making the officer as comfortable as possible, Hutch ran out the nearest exit without looking back.

He wandered around the city, looking for a safe place to hide. As he glanced at the horizon and saw the first shafts of sunlight, he knew it would have to be soon. There was undoubtedly an APB out on him by now and Simonetti would have every cop in the city looking for him. He was a wanted man now, and that thought made him feel more alone than he had ever felt before, even when he lay in an isolation room in County General, a victim of the plague.

Hutch stayed in the alleys, away from the main streets and maneuvered his way through the homeless people that tried to find shelter in the doorways of darkened buildings. It was almost dawn before he reached a building that he recognized. It was the Palm Crest hotel, where a geek by the name of Monty Voorhees had been murdered by Bo Rile, a renegade bounty hunter that had crossed their paths several years ago. Not long after Monty had joined other geeks in that great sideshow in the sky, the hotel had closed down completely. Hutch found the service entrance near the end of the building and pushed the door open. Not trusting the stairs, he walked along the hall on the ground floor, searching for a suitable hideout. Carefully, he tried all the doors until he found one that was unlocked. He noticed with a small laugh that one of the numbers on the door was hanging upside down. Instead of 17, the number looked like 1L. This must be it. My life is certainly upside down right now, and I'm the lowest I've ever been. He eased the door open, and finding that it was unoccupied, he closed it securely behind him and surveyed the interior. Apparently, the owners of the hotel hadn't cared about the contents because the room Hutch entered was still furnished with a bed, a ratty chair, and a rickety table with a rusty metal lamp sitting on it. The covers on the bed were tattered but looked surprisingly clean. Hutch pushed the chair against the door then climbed on the bed, sighing with relief. The slight musty smell didn't faze him as he stretched out with his head on the pillow and tried to organize the thoughts careening through his mind.

He turned on his side as he tried to assimilate the day's events. He'd thought things were weird enough after finding the needle marks on his arm, but that was only the beginning, it seemed. He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to figure out when everything started falling apart.

I don't know how those marks got on my arm, but damn it, I didn't do it to myself! I was in the shower and happened to look down and saw the first one. I don't remember anyone breaking in to my apartment. Why would they? And what could they give me that wouldn't cause any symptoms? God knows, I remember what I felt like after Monk put that junk in my veins. How could I just wake up and feel normal if that's what somebody gave me? Vic Bellamy broke into Starsky's apartment and poisoned him, but wouldn't I be feeling something by now if somebody poisoned me? I hate this! I feel like I've followed Alice down the rabbit hole.

He sighed as Dryden's face surfaced in his mind. How did I end up at his apartment, and why in God's name would I shoot him? He thought back to the night before, when he was watching the local news in the safety of his own apartment. He'd been puzzled by the knock at the door, but not worried. Half expecting it to be Starsky, he opened the door all the way, and was surprised when he didn’t see his partner. He'd looked in the direction of the stairs when the flash hit him full in the face. It reminded him of the large flash boxes that he'd read about, when cameras were first invented. He could even hear the sound of air being displaced as the flash went off. The intense light blinded him and he could remember staggering back a few steps. The next thing he knew, he was in Dryden's apartment, looking down at him on the floor. He'd nearly fainted when he realized he was holding the Magnum in his hand. For the first time, he could feel the pain of withdrawal in his stomach, and the need for a fix coursing through his veins. Why can't I remember how I got there? I didn't shoot him and I'm not a junkie! Why doesn't anyone believe me?

He turned on his back and stared at the ceiling. "OK, I'm serious this time. I really want to wake up now."

He closed his eyes, intending to rest only for a few minutes, but the exhaustion and pain caught up with him and he fell asleep. When he woke up, the sun was streaming through the grimy windows. He checked his watch and saw that it was nearly two in the afternoon. Hutch stretched his aching muscles, favoring his injured arm. He dry-washed his face with one hand then climbed out of bed. He gave himself a virtual pat on the back when he realized his choice of hideouts had provided him with a bonus. The Palm Crest was never a luxury hotel, but it was one of the few flop houses that actually had a bathroom in each room. Many of the seedier establishments only provided a public restroom on each floor. Hutch walked into the tiny bathroom and said a small prayer as he turned on the faucet. At first, the liquid that ran out of the tap was dark brown with rust, but cleared in a few minutes. He took off his jacket and shirt, careful of the makeshift bandage on his arm. He washed his hands as best he could without soap then cupped them together and splashed the cool water on his face. Looking around for something to dry his face with, he snapped his fingers and took one of the towels out of his jacket pocket. Then he untied the bandage around his arm and slowly removed it. The wound had stopped bleeding, but the towel was stuck to his skin with dried blood. He sucked in his breath as he slowly removed the bandage.

"Ouch, that hurts. Ouch ouch ouch ouch!" Wetting a clean end of the towel, he washed around the groove left by Simonetti's bullet then patted it dry. He breathed a sigh of relief that the skin around the shallow gash was clean, with no sign of redness. Unfolding another clean towel, he bandaged his arm again. As he got dressed, his stomach growled, reminding him that it had been a long time since he'd eaten.

"Oh, well, I can't do much about that now." He checked his watch again. "It's two fifteen. I can't risk going out before dark. Then I'll have to track Starsky down and see how much trouble I'm really in, as if I don't know already." He laughed at the image in the mirror. "You're losing it, Hutchinson. You're standing in an abandoned hotel, on the lam, and you're talking to yourself."

He started back to the bed, deciding to get a bit more sleep, but tensed when there was a knock at the door. Grabbing his gun from the table, he tiptoed to the door. No one knew he was there. It was probably another transient, looking for a safe place to pass the day, but Hutch knew he had to be cautious. He put his ear to the door and whispered, "Who's there?"

No one answered at first then he heard a light tapping and a cough. He moved to the other side of the doorway and repeated his question. "I said who is it?"

He blew air out of his cheeks as he thought about what he should do. Gripping his gun tightly, he reached around and turned the knob slowly. The door swung inward slightly, but he still couldn't see anyone standing there. Puzzled, he opened the door completely and stepped out. The sudden bright light blinded him and he raised his hand instinctively as he staggered back.

The next thing he knew, he was back in the bed, the tattered bedspread pulled up to his chin. His body shivered with cold but sweat rolled down his face, stinging his eyes.

"Starsky?" 

He was alone in a room he didn't recognize. This wasn't his apartment. What was he doing here? He sat up slowly, clutching the spread tighter. Cold. The darkness seemed to reach out to him like malevolent tendrils and he shrank back against the bed. Spotting the shadowy outline of a lamp, he reached out and pushed the tiny switch. A dim light illuminated the room, pushing the darkness back. There's no bogeyman, just you. He ran his tongue over parched lips. Thirsty. Looking around the room, he spied the door to the small bathroom. Water! Gathering the cover around him like a giant shawl, he crawled out of bed, weaving slightly as he lurched across the room. Letting the bedspread fall to the floor, he turned on the faucet, catching the water in his hands and slurping it greedily.  Finally, his raw throat felt better and he turned the faucet off. A flash of metal caught his attention and he turned to the small shower in one corner of the bathroom. With shaky hands, he turned on both faucets then jumped back as the empty pipes clanged. A smelly brown liquid gushed from the showerhead, nearly making him gag. As he reached for the faucets to turn them off, the water finally cleared. He watched suspiciously for a moment, as if expecting the brown fluid to burst from the pipes again and attack him. When the water stayed clear, he slowly put his head under the showerhead and let the cool water clear some of the cobwebs from his mind. Reaching for the towel on the sink, he dried his face and blotted some of the wetness from his hair. As he raised his arm, he saw the white towel wrapped around it. Bewildered, he looked at the bandage on his arm.

Gradually, he remembered the nightmare that had begun with strange marks on his arm and ended with him running away from Simonetti. With a new clarity, he looked around the room again. That's right; this was the Palm Crest hotel. He whimpered slightly as he touched the bandage. I shot Dryden. Didn't I? NO! I didn't! He giggled as the words from a song wandered around his mind. I shot the Sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy. I didn't shoot anybody! He ran long fingers through his matted hair.

Hungry. But as soon as the words echoed in his mind, a horrible pain in his stomach made him double over. No, food wasn't what he wanted. He hadn't felt the aching need for years, but it was back like an unwelcome visitor. Shivering again, he picked the bedspread up and wrapped it around him, sinking down on the bed. The demons that had lain dormant for four years were awake now, chomping through his intestines and assaulting his body with waves of nausea and pain. They were hungry, and there was only one way to appease the need: feed them. Hutch dropped the cover, grabbed his gun, and lunged out the door.

 

Just when Starsky thought it couldn't get any worse, he was told that Hutch had assaulted a police officer and stolen his gun. Simonetti had chortled to himself and added more charges to the growing list against Hutch, but to Starsky, it was another source of worry. After driving aimlessly around the city, peering at shadows in the dark, Starsky finally settled on a plan. He drove the Torino to Huggy's apartment and knocked on the door. The black man answered after a few minutes, wearing a robe and slippers.

"Starsky? What the Hell are you doing here? Do you realize that I just got in bed?" Huggy leaned closer to the brunet. "What's the matter? You look like it's the end of the world."

Starsky followed his friend inside the apartment. "Well, let's see. Dryden's been shot, everybody thinks Hutch did it, Simonetti shot him while he was running away, and nobody knows if Dryden's going to live or not. I think that qualifies as the end of the world, don't you?"

"Whoa, wait a minute. Slow down! Why would Hutch shoot Dryden? And what do you mean, Simonetti shot Hutch? How bad is he hurt?"

Starsky collapsed on Huggy's couch. "I don't know. It's crazy, Huggy! Hutch swears he doesn't know how he got to Dryden's apartment, and he doesn't remember shooting him. But we have a witness that saw Hutch standing over Dryden with his gun in his hand. Of course, Simonetti couldn't wait to lock him up, so he called Judge Sanders from the hospital while Dryden was still in surgery. I guess Hutch panicked when Simonetti tried to put the 'cuffs on him, and he ran. I'm hoping he just grazed him, but I won't know until I find Hutch. And that's not all, Huggy. Hutch was acting really strange when I got to Dryden's tonight. He was shaking and sweating at the same time. It was just like when Forest got him strung out on H."

"Starsky, Hutch can not be using! He wouldn't do that!"

"Huggy, I saw the marks on his arm! The thing is, he doesn't remember shooting up, either. Truth is he doesn't remember much at all. He's in big trouble this time, and I don't know how to help him."

"Well, the first thing we have to do is find him. You look wiped. Why don’t you stretch out on the couch for a bit while I make some phone calls? If you're hungry, there's some left over pizza in the fridge."

Starsky smiled at the "we". "Thanks, Huggy. I don't know what we'd do without you."

"What are you worrying about? You two have been in worse scrapes before and come out smelling like a rose." At the look on Starsky's face, Huggy shrugged sheepishly. "OK, so this one's at the top of the Starsky and Hutch Calamity Chart. Seriously, bro', we'll find him. Then you two can put your heads together and get at the bottom of this. Sit tight and let Huggy work his magic."

Starsky helped himself to a piece of cold pizza and washed it down with a beer. A strong melancholy tugged at him. When was the last time Hutch ate? Was he OK? How badly was he hurt? As Starsky lay down on the couch and stretched out, he wondered where his best friend was.

He didn't stir until Huggy shook him on the shoulder. Groggily, he sat up, rubbing his face.

"Did you find out anything?"

Huggy shook his head. "It's like our blond brother disappeared in a puff of smoke. I've got feelers out all over town, so if he shows up, my contacts will let me know toot sweet. And I called Dobey. Dryden's out of surgery. The doctor's think he has a pretty good chance of pulling through, but nobody's saying when he'll wake up. Dobey said Simonetti's really on the war path. He's ready to haul you both in for obstruction of justice."

"Yeah, well, that's not a big surprise. I'm glad Dryden's going to be okay, though. Huggy, I need a car. If Simonetti doesn't have a tail on me now, you can bet he will as soon as it crosses his mind. The Torino's too noticeable. And I need a safe place to stay if, or when, I find Hutch. Both our apartments are going to be off limits until this whole thing is over."

"I'm way ahead of you, m'man. I know just the dude that can get you any set of wheels that you want. So just hang loose and let Huggy do his thing. Where will you be if I need to get hold of you?"

Starsky smiled dangerously. "I'm going to the station and check on a few things. I'll give you a call before you leave."

"Starsky, are you out of your mind? Dobey just told you that Simonetti was out for your blood, and now you're walking right into his domain."

As he opened the door, Starsky turned back. "No matter what Simonetti thinks, I'm still a cop. As long as I have my badge, I'm going to do my job. If he wants to come after me, let him. I won't be as easy to shoot as Hutch was."

 

Starsky checked his watch for the umpteenth time and swore softly. It would be dark again soon, and his stomach clenched at the thought of his friend being out there, alone for another night. He hoped fervently that Huggy would come through with the car, and someone in the city would spot Hutch before it was too late. Shaking himself out of his reverie, Starsky turned back to the two way mirror and tried to focus on the three men in the interrogation room on the other side. Simmons and Babcock were going over Ralph Peters' statement with him for the third time. Both detectives were good friends of Hutch's, and Starsky could see by the expression on their faces how hard the ordeal was on them. Neither man wanted to believe that Hutch had turned into a bad cop.

"Now, Mr. Peters, are you sure you didn't hear what the people were saying in Detective Dryden's apartment?"

"No, I told you already, I had the TV on. I could just hear them shouting. Then I heard the shot, so I jumped up and grabbed my gun and ran over there. When I got to Bill's apartment, the door was open so I went in. Bill was on the floor, bleeding like crazy, and this guy was standing over him with a gun the size of a cannon in his hand. I knew it was a .357 as soon as I saw it. I was in the army for fifteen years, and I know about guns. Anyway, this blond guy didn't look in much better shape than Bill. He was shaking all over and I thought he was going to pass right out when I ran in the door. I called the ambulance first then you guys and waited by the door. I didn't have to worry about the blond guy running, though. He just dropped the gun and sort of collapsed in a chair. The two cops that answered the call spotted him in that chair and ran straight for the phone. The next thing I knew, there were cops all over the place. I wish I could help more, but that's all I know."

Babcock looked down at the notes he was taking. "Did you see, or hear, anyone else going in Detective Dryden's apartment before you heard the shouting?"

"Detective, the people in that building work all day and all night. I hear people passing by 24/7."

"Then, did you see anyone running away from the apartment after you heard the shot?"

Ralph scratched his head. "I'm not sure. I might have seen someone, but I couldn't tell you if they came out of Bill's apartment, or even if it was a man or a woman. My mind was on Bill."

"OK. Have you noticed anyone strange hanging around the apartment building lately?"

Ralph laughed. "Detective, every tenant in that building is strange. But if you mean strangers, not that I've noticed."

Simmons smiled briefly. "I know what you mean. Had you ever seen Detective Hutchinson at Bill's apartment before tonight?" When Ralph looked at him blankly, Simmons added, "The blond guy that was holding the cannon."

"Oh, him! No, I can't say that I've ever seen that man before, either. And you say he's a cop? Well, how about that?"

Simmons sighed then glanced at his partner. Babcock gave a slight shake of his head then stood up. He turned to Ralph.

"I think that's all for now, Mr. Peters. If we need to talk with you again, we'll be in touch. And, please, if you think of anything else, give us a call. It doesn't matter what time it is. Someone will be able to reach us."

"I surely will. I hope Bill's going to be OK. You know, a lot of cops look down their noses at us night watchmen. They think they're better than we are, because they have the official badge. Bill was never like that with me. He's a good egg."

"Yes, he is. We hope he's going to be OK, too. Good night, Mr. Peters."

Starsky waited until Ralph Peters left before coming out of the room. Simmons and Babcock joined him. Simmons spread his hands out.

"You heard him, Starsky. He doesn't know any more than what he's told us. We'll do a complete canvass of the building, but don't hold your breath. Whoever set Hutch up did a damned good job. I doubt we'll find anyone that knows more than Peters does."

Starsky nodded. "And the most he gave us was a phantom witness that might have run down the hall after Dryden was shot. We don't even know if this ghost was a man or woman. It's not much to go on. I'm afraid the only one that has all the answers is Dryden, and no one knows when he's going to wake up."

Babcock slapped him on the back. "Hey, at least he's going to be all right. That's a point in Hutch's favor. He's not facing murder one anymore. Have you heard anything from him yet?"

"No, and I don't have any idea how badly he's hurt. Damn Simonetti for shooting him! I know Hutch was wrong when he ran, but he was confused and scared out of his mind. He's as much in the dark as we are."

"Don't worry, Starsky. He'll get in touch with you sooner or later. You'll figure this out. As soon as he hears Dryden's going to recover, he'll come back. You'll see."

"I hope you're right, but meanwhile, I have to keep dodging Simonetti. He's mad enough to throw me in a cell and I can't do Hutch any good if I'm locked up." Starsky ran a hand over his face. "If you see Dobey, tell him I'm out looking for Hutch again. He probably won't be able to reach me, but if anything comes up, tell him to contact Huggy Bear."

Simmons nodded. "Will do, Starsky. You be careful out there."

Starsky headed down the stairs, watching intently for any sign of Simonetti, but the desk sergeant stopped him before he got out the door.

"Sergeant Starsky, I have a message for you."

Starsky's heart skipped a beat. "Thanks, Smitty." He eagerly accepted the small piece of paper then felt a twinge of disappointment when it wasn't from Hutch.

Huggarino the Magnificent requests your presence at his humble abode, ASAP.

He chuckled softly. Huggy had come through, again. Hutch was still out there, but now they both had Huggy on their side. "Huggy, I owe you a fancy dinner with all the trimmings when this is over. I just hope there isn't an empty chair at the table."

Ten minutes later, he was parking in front of The Pits. If Simonetti did have a tail on him, let them think he was simply going in for a beer. The wait would do them good. Huggy was waiting for him at the bar. He quickly filled a mug with cold beer and sat it in front of Starsky.

"Dig, your new set of wheels will be here in just a few. And I've found a safe place for you to stay when you find our blond brother. It's not far from here, but no one will ever think to look for you there."

"Huggy, you're a life saver! I can't do much until Dryden wakes up and clears Hutch, but at least I can keep him out of Simonetti's clutches until then."

"Well, don't thank me too soon, 'bro. I still haven't heard a peep about the Nordic prince. I've got feelers all over town, but nothing's poppin'."

"That's not surprising, Hug. Hutch has always been good at playing hide-and-seek. Let's just hope that I find him before Simonetti does."

"You got that right." Huggy checked his watch. "Well, I think your chariot is about to make its appearance. Come on."

Starsky followed Huggy through the bar and out the back door. Seconds later, a black Ford Granada pulled close to the door. Starsky smiled at the wiry black man that got out of the driver's seat. He looked the car over carefully then grinned at the driver.

"Not bad, not bad at all. I didn't think you had anything this…modest on your lot, Merle."

Merle glared at him. "It's not mine! I wouldn't have something this ordinary in my place. I have a reputation to protect, after all."

Starsky frowned. "It's not hot, is it?"

"Are you nuts? I am Merle the Earl, the Customizing Pearl. I do NOT do HOT! My sister's husband traded this for a supreme short, with metallic purple paint and an orange flame down the side. I was trying to sell it, but no one would buy this jive hunk of junk."

Starsky bowed slightly. "Forgive me, Merle. I didn't mean to offend you."

Merle sniffed. "Don't mention it. Huggy told me that your partner is missing, so you're excused. Man, you can't hold onto that turkey for a minute! Anyway, because I like your style, and your face, I included a little bonus. Take a look, Mon' Capitan."

Starsky moved closer to the car and looked inside. Under the dash was a police radio, an exact replica of the one in his Torino.

Huggy stood beside Starsky. "I figured you might want to keep tabs on everybody, even if you can't break radio silence." Then he held up a finger and said, "Wait a minute. I have a going away present for you."

He ran back into the bar and returned with a large duffel bag and a large cooler, and handed them to Starsky. The brunet laid them on the trunk of the Granada and unzipped the duffel bag. Inside was a First Aid Kit, and changes of clothes for him and Hutch. He grinned with satisfaction and opened the cooler. Several sandwiches were packed in ice, along with bottled water and sodas.

Starsky laughed out loud and clapped both men on their shoulder. "Who said black isn't beautiful? Thanks, both of you. I owe you more than I can ever repay." He put the bag and the cooler in the back seat then jumped in the car and turned the ignition. Before he took off, he rolled the window down and looked at Huggy.

"I'm going to be moving around a lot, so you won't be able to get me if you hear anything about Hutch. I'll call in every hour, no, make that every half hour. For God's sake, if he calls, tell him to stay put!"

"Will do, Starsky. You just be careful! You're not going to do Hutch any good if Simonetti finds you and sticks you in the slammer."

"I'll be careful, Hug. Don't worry."

As the two black men watched Starsky drive away, Huggy turned to Merle. "Don't worry, he says. With those two on the loose, worry is my middle name."

Merle nodded morosely. "I dig what you're saying, 'bro. I dig what you're saying."

 

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