The White Knight Returns
A “Bloodbath” Aftermath story
When Detective Ken Hutchinson walked into the small interview room at the California State prison, it was like déjŕ vu. Simon Marcus sat in the same spot he had almost a week before, with the same smug expression on his face. But as much as Hutch felt like he’d gone back in time, there was one big difference that reassured him he hadn’t: Starsky was alive and well and sitting in the warden’s office, far away from Marcus’ clutches. In fact, Starsky was unequivocally opposed to what Hutch was doing, but there was something the blond detective wanted to say to Simon Marcus, and there was no stopping him.
So Hutch stood just inside the door and stared at Marcus until he looked up. For a brief moment, something flickered in the felon’s eyes, something that might have been fear. Then the look was gone and the same smug expression was back.
Marcus spoke first, in his carefully modulated tone. “So, the white knight returns. You found him, I see. I dreamed you would.”
Hutch laughed sarcastically. “Cut the crap, Marcus. You didn’t dream anything. That might work with those mindless kids you recruited, but it isn’t going to fly with me. And believe me, I am nobody’s white knight. I’m just the cop that brought you down.”
“Does your heart bleed for those kids, Hutchinson? Don’t. They were lost. I gave them a home, a reason for being. Your world threw them away and they turned to me. I dreamed they would come, and they did. I dreamed Starsky would be mine, and he is. He drank the water I gave him and now he belongs to me.”
“You gave him poison, just like you poisoned the minds of those kids. But I got him back and you’re right where you belong, Marcus. All the chanting in the world won’t get you out of this one. You’re going down for murder, and now you’re going down for the kidnapping and attempted murder of a police officer. You’d better start dreaming of a world without bars, scum. That’s the only way you’ll ever see it.”
“Your laws don’t apply to me, Hutchinson. I am Simon. Others dream their dreams while they sleep. I dream mine while I’m awake. And they always come true.”
Hutch sneered at him. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that one before. You need to come up with a new line, Marcus. That one’s getting old.”
He crossed the room in two steps and slammed his fists down on the table.
“You’re nothing but a Charlie Manson wannabe, Marcus. You corrupt the minds of impressionable kids; you tempt people that have no family by your phony declarations of love. You brainwash souls that are lost and make them believe you’re the messiah. You’re a punk, Marcus, and a coward. Starsky has more courage, more commitment in the tip of his little finger than you have in your whole body. You want them to believe you’re the Antichrist, that it’s okay to rape and kill. You’re nothing but a pathetic little psychopath and you’re going to rot in prison for the rest of your life.”
Hutch moved suddenly, yanking Marcus up by the collar of his shirt and slamming him against the wall with his feet dangling in the air.
“Do you know why you’ll never win, Marcus? Do you know why he’ll never fall under your slimy little spell?”
Simon Marcus looked down and gazed into the furious blue eyes boring into his. It was like staring into the depths of Hell. He could only shake his head.
Hutch grinned wolfishly, his lips pulled away from his teeth in a snarl. “Because he’s mine. You can’t have him.”
Pat L.
August 9, 2005
USA