Starsky returned home well after dark, to find Hutch sprawled on the sofa, enchilada's baking nicely in the oven, and Ali no where in sight. The blonde glanced over at him as he draped his jacket on the coat rack, and promptly began to peel off the shoulder harness carrying his Beretta. Starsky's nose began to work overtime.

 

        "Is that?" he asked, looking over at a wryly smiling Hutch.

 

        "Yep, put them in about half an hour ago, should be nice and hot by now."

 

        Starsky grinned his boyish best.

 

        "There's a perk to having a wife around the house!" he joked, heading for the kitchen.

 

        "Need to go find one of your own." Hutch commented dryly, turning back to the newspaper he was trying to read.

 

        "Certainly wouldn't want yours!" Starsky cracked back, looking for the potholders. Hutch smirked.

 

        "Speaking of..."

 

        "Ali? Out like a light."

 

        "She's asleep?" Starsky exclaimed, bent in front of the oven, door hanging open, allowing steam to escape from inside. The aroma of good Mexican cooking and the hissing of bubbling cheese filled the great room. He looked at Hutch in surprise.

 

        "`Bout an hour now. We're trying to stave off another migraine, so she'll be down all night, at least." Hutch smirked at his partner. "Which means no pacing the floor's!"

 

        "Good food, a good night's sleep..." Starsky commented, hauling the baking dish out of the oven and setting it on the stove. He inhaled deeply, and loudly. "Life is good!" Hutch only snorted in derision.

 

        "So what happened with her today?" Starsky asked. Dropping the potholders on the counter, he jerked open the cupboard, hunting up a plate.

 

        "Wasn't good." Hutch commented, setting the newspaper on the coffee table. He swung his long legs to the floor, rested his forearms across his knees and steepled his fingers between them. Starsky looked over at him, raising a curious eyebrow and a plate. Hutch nodded and the brunette snagged out another one.

 

        "How so?" he asked. Hutch sighed.

 

        "She blacked out, shortly after I talked to you."

 

        "Blacked out as in..." Starsky looked at Hutch, apprehensively. "Uhh, who'd she kill?"

 

        Hutch shook his head at his irrepressible friend, smiling slightly.

 

        "She just made a fool out of herself is all, but afterwards, the Bow Lake Lodge owner followed her home."

 

        "Followed her home?! Ali was followed?" Starsky set the plates on the counter and fished in the silverware drawer for forks and a spatula. Hutch rose, stretching.

 

        "Didn't even notice him and he was plenty mad, before and after he arrived." Hutch said. Ambling to the refrigerator, he opened it and extracted a large bowl, full of tossed salad. He related the entire series of events to Starsky as they set the table, sat down and dug into the food.

 

        "I told you about that hip throw." Starsky commented after Hutch finished filling him in on all the details.

 

        "What's interesting is what Ted O'Brian knows about the body," the blonde replied.

 

        "But he could only have been a baby, if what the Coroner says is true. Who could've told him? What would he know about it?"

 

        "That's what I want to know, buddy." Hutch said, polishing off more salad. "Which is why I want to have a look-see into Mr. O'Brian's past. However..." Hutch nodded a head towards the bedrooms.

 

        "You don't want her to know?" Starsky asked, raising an eyebrow. Hutch shook his head.

 

        "I don't want her involved. I told her I'll tell her what's going on, but she can't be involved in it anymore. Not after today." Hutch paused, looking thoughtfully at the dining room tabletop. Starsky sighed.

 

        "Damned shame, though." he said softly. "For all her scrambled eggs for brains, Ali was good at getting information."

 

        "She still can be, if we can find a way to control her reactions and the blacking out."

 

        "Still, Hutch, she'll never be a..." Starsky stopped when he saw the look of hurt far back in the eyes of his partner. Hutch smiled softly.

 

        "We know. And today just reaffirmed it. I'm worried though, Starsk. This woman has really gotten to her. She's determined to find out what she can. Some how I feel like I'm just waiting for the bomb to explode."

 

        "Consider who you married!" Starsky grinned at him. Hutch shook his head, his smile broadening.

 

        "Don't forget, pal." he said dryly. "It was you who talked me into asking her out!"

 

        "Oh, here we go!" Starsky shot back jovially.

 

        "You keep bringing it up!" Hutch pointed out.

 

        "Only to rattle your cage!" Starsky said, stuffing his mouth. They ate a few moments in silence before he asked. "So what makes you think he knows something?'

 

        "The way he referred to the body, as if he knew who she was, and his reactions when Ali threatened to haunt him from the dead." Hutch replied. Starsky snorted.

 

        "She would too!" he cracked. "Any news out of Walla Whatever?"

 

        "Coroner mentioned something this morning about some professor over on the West side coming in this week to see the body. Said his name was Dr. Cleve Harlan, apparently he got as excited as our Coroner over this thing and has made arrangements to meet with him this week. She is creating quite a stir in the university communities. Other than that, none of the test results have come back and they won't be able to x-ray anything until Friday anyway, so we're no closer to who she is, how she died, and who put her in the lake."

 

        "Hey, for all we know she could've died of natural causes and requested burial at sea, only they couldn't get to one." Starsky joked. Hutch rolled his eyes.

 

        "Somehow I don't think that's the case here."

 

        "It's a thought." The brunette carried on. "I mean we're 500 miles from the ocean, and there's only a couple of lakes, the river, and all these irrigation ditches out here!"

 

        "Come summer, we'll have our hands full, because of those irrigation canals." Hutch softly warned. Starsky raised an eyebrow and quickly dropped the subject.

 

        "How you want to proceed on O'Brian?"

 

        "Start digging into his background, see what we come up with."

 

        "Want to go up and talk with him?"

 

        "Not at the moment, he knows me..." Hutch paused, looking speculatively at his partner. "You however..." Starsky grinned.

 

        "You've got that look in your eyes, pal. I don't know if I should run in the opposite direction or kiss you!" Hutch shot a disgusted look at him.

 

        "O'Brian doesn't know you, you just might find out something Ali and I can't." He stroked one end of his moustache, thinking. "It just might work, Starsk. You can be traveling through, asking about local legends, you know, reporter at large?"

 

        "You're volunteering me!" Starsky joked.

 

        "Or how about a curious tourist?"

 

        "I ain't ever goin' fishin' in that lake ever again!"

 

 

        The two bantered over the subject for sometime before switching to discussions on the remodeling project to the barn. As the week wore on, a murder/suicide case was dumped on their laps, which took up their time, and drew their attention away from the Ivory Woman.

 

        The week slipped by quickly for them. It was a different story for Ali.

 

        She had never dealt well with her shooting and it's results, even spending several years running from everyone, trying to put herself back together. Her deep cynical streak was a direct result of trying to avoid accepting her disability. Yet she couldn't avoid it. Like it or not, severed nerve endings and missing pieces of her brain caused the problems she now faced. She despised having to admit she could no longer do the work she had spent years learning and loving. She also hated having to rely on someone else, but had begun to acknowledge that she had to have someone who could help her with her faulty discernment. If it had to be anyone, she was grateful it was Hutch. Still, Ali was swallowed up in despair.

 

        She stayed close to home, sticking to the grounds of their property, either gardening or riding her horse, Blue, and brooding. She spent hours sitting on the porch, staring at the view from their deck, wrestling inwardly with her inability's and the mystery behind the woman from Bow Lake. In one aspect, Hutch was relieved, but in others he worried, and hurt with her.

Though she acted normal when both guys were around, neither of them was fooled. Ali was slipping deeper into depression, and neither seemed to know what to do about it.

 

        Towards week's end, Hutch received a call from Walla Walla. That call was enough to spur him into finding out whatever he could on Ted O'Brian, and Starsky agreed to go up to the lodge. Hutch began making arrangements to go to the city, while Ali, unbeknownst to him, received a visitor.

 

        A large order of bearded iris had arrived at the ranch, and Ali was sitting in the grass where a freshly dug bed awaited its new plants. It was a calm, sunny, early spring day. So engrossed was she in trying to figure out which iris should go where, she didn't hear the car as it pulled into the driveway. With surprise, she looked up to see a newer model Honda Accord pulling into the carport. She frowned, not bothering to get up. She watched from her spot as a tall, white haired, very distinguished looking man, climbed out of the car and looked around.

 

        "Good Morning!" The stranger's low deep voice greeted. Ali stared at him, registering details, smart suit, gold rimmed glasses, white moustache, class ring, 6' tall, athletic, ageless. She tilted her head slightly as he made his way around the split rail fence where a climbing rose was struggling to break out of it's winter blahs.

 

        "I'm looking for Detective Hutchinson?"

 

        "Spea..."Ali started, then stopped. She smiled thinly, noticing the man's vigor. "I mean, I'm Mrs. Hutchinson, Detective Hutchinson is at work, in town. Can I help you?"

 

        "Ali Hutchinson?" The man asked. Ali blinked in shock.

 

        "Yes..." she said slowly, looking suspiciously at the man. "Who are you?"

 

        "Dr. Cleve Harlan," he smiled, holding out a hand to her. Ali stared at him, still untrusting, slowly wiping a dirty hand on her jeans. She knew she looked totally unkempt, her ivory white hair, pulled back in a comb, was going everywhere. She waved her bangs away and climbed to her feet. Guessing at his weight, she cautiously offered a hand, turning slightly. Harlan watched every move she made, and smiled slightly as he warmly shook her hand.

 

        "Did you do all this?" he asked nodding a head at the huge gardens surrounding the main house.

 

        "Yes..." Ali said, watching him. Harlan looked around appreciatively.

 

        "It's a labor of love, isn't it?" he commented turning his bright hazel eyes back to her. Ali's minute study amused him.

 

        "Look, who are you? What do you want?" she asked.

 

        "I apologize Mrs. Hutchinson. I understand you were the one to find Hallie?" He smiled at her. Ali frowned, confused.

 

        "Hallie?" she asked, feeling a funny tickle trail up her spine. Harlan nodded, smiling as he watched her realize what he was talking about.

 

        "Hallie Illingsworth, my sister. She disappeared 40 years ago." Harlan reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a very old photograph. He handed it to Ali. Taking it, she looked at him steadily for a moment, then looked down at the photo.  

 

        Everything seemed to dim suddenly, light, sight, sound. Ali stared. A pretty, very young woman, dressed in simple clothes, stood next to a tall man dressed in uniform. She held a tiny baby, and smiled. She looked vaguely familiar. Ali looked up at the man, who held out another photo. She took it, her eyes nearly pin points. The second photo was the woman alone.

Ali nearly quit breathing. The face was the same as the one she'd seen in the lake.

 

        "My sister vanished from her home on Bow Lake 41 years ago, Mrs. Hutchinson. I knew she was dead, but I never expected her to come back." Ali stared up at the man in open mouth shock.

 

        "Your sister!?" she gasped, staring down at the eerie photo in her hand. "Her name is Hallie?" Harlan smiled wryly at her.

 

        "Hallie Illingsworth. That is Captain Illingsworth in the picture, her husband. The boy is Robert."  

 

        "Boy?" Ali switched pictures around, studying the family photograph.

 

        "Her husband died in the Philippines, during the War. Hallie was left at home on the Lake, with the baby. Our parents were getting ready to bring her home to Willow Lake when she and Robert vanished. We never found her, and our Mother and Father never knew what became of her or the baby." Harlan said.

 

        "You're local?!" Ali asked, genuinely shocked. Harlan nodded.

 

        "Several generations worth, until Hallie vanished. We moved away afterwards and did not expect to hear about her ever again. Until now that is," he smiled at Ali. "I understand you located the body?" Ali looked up at him, from studying the square handsome features of Captain Illingsworth.

 

        "Um, yes I did."

 

        "Might I ask where?"

 

        Ali looked sharply at the man, who gazed back at her quizzically. She frowned.

 

        "It was along the backside of the lake...Look? Have you been to the Coroner's office? Have you identified her yet?" Harlan chuckled.

 

         "Not only have identified her, Mrs. Hutchinson, I also identified the two pictures in her locket. The locket was a present I gave her on her 19th birthday. The pictures were the Captain and Robert."

 

        "I'm Hallie's only surviving relation. However, I fear that if Hallie was put into the lake..." he trailed off, watching with satisfaction as his meaning sunk into Ali's thoughts.  "So was Robert."

 

         She looked up at him, appalled.

 

        "Who would..." she started. Harlan raised a hand, laughing.

 

        "The Coroner warned me you'd ask a lot of questions! Please, Mrs. Hutchinson, just answer this one question of mine, and I'll answer as many of yours as I can. Where in the lake did you find her?"

 

        Ali paused, staring at this total stranger. She frowned, as she thought back on the day she had found the body.

 

        "There was a ruined old house, back in a swamp, the swamp pretty much has claimed the place. Past that on the trail were some willows and a couple of pine trees that had fallen into the water." Ali involuntarily shuddered, recalling the events. "She was just past the trees. About ten or so feet under the surface." She focused on the tall man's face. He nodded.

 

        "That was her old home, a real pioneer affair. The Captain had great plans for that house, but he didn't know a thing about geography or run off, or beaver for that matter. They had built a dam on one of the feeders to the lake and it turned the entire area into swamp. I know, I've been in there many times, searching..." He trailed off, then turned his attention back to Ali.

 

        "I understand, it was your husband's foresight that kept Hallie's body from being utterly destroyed?"

 

        "Yeah." Ali replied, staring down at the photos again. "He's very intelligent, very smart. He's..."

 

        Dr. Harlan watched a strange expression cross Ali's face as she stared down at the picture in her hand. She suddenly wasn't seeing the pictures anymore. She was silent for several minutes, staring blankly down at her hands. Shaking herself, she looked up at the man, a look of realization mingled with sadness and despair written in her laser blue eyes.

 

        "He's very sensible."

 

        "Forgive me for asking this Mrs. Hutchinson, but do you think I can talk you into going up to Bow Lake?"

 

        "What?!" Ali exclaimed, looking at the man in surprise. Harlan laughed gently.

 

        "It's been about fifteen years since I was last up there. I'd like to see where you found her. I guess in my own sentimental way, I'd like to pay my last respects to my sister. I even bought a wreath you see…" he looked at Ali a little embarrassed. Ali started to jump at the opportunity, but caught herself short.

 

        "Look, Mr. Harlan…" She said trying to bury the sudden surge of adrenaline coursing through her at the idea of being able to get back up to the lake.

 

        "Please!" Harlan laughed, watching Ali fight against something twisting inside of her. "Call me, Cleve! I'd consider it a great honor if you'd accompany me, you could even take your own vehicle if you like and lead the way up." Ali suddenly smiled slightly, looking away, tucking a wayward strand of off white hair behind her ear.

 

        "Look Mr. Harlan." She said. "I can't do that, I've been asked not to go back up there."

 

        "Not to go back up there? What ever for?"

 

        "Uh it's uh..." She stammered looking awkward. "It's for a very important reason. Besides, I can't get into a boat, too scared of the water. I couldn't take you to where she was at anyway."

 

        "Oh, but you could show me the general spot, couldn't you? I'll even pay for the gas! How's does that sound. I'd also like to talk to the Lodge owner, I understand he's back in the area and he once knew my sister. I thought maybe I'd introduce you to him.. He would like to know the person who found her, I'm sure of it."

 

        "Look I can't." Ali said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but I just can't go up there."

 

        "Ah I see, I think." Harlan smiled wryly. "I take it it's going to cost a little more than gas?" He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Upon looking back up he was staring at a pair of ice blue eyes threatening to engulf him.

 

        "Excuse me?" Ali said, a touch cold. "I made no reference to money, Mister Harlan! I'm not trying to gouge you. I made a promise to someone very dear to me, someone I love, someone I happen to be married to, not to go back up there. You can just stuff that back into your pocket, pal!" She said nodding at his wallet. Harlan blinked, then slowly smiled, returning it

to its spot.

 

        "Please, Mrs. Hutchinson, I didn't mean to offend you. I do apologize! I forgot, I am speaking to an ex-detective?"

 

        "Never ex, only retired." Ali snapped back. Harlan nodded.

 

        "Forgive me, retired. Disability wasn't it?" He saw her bristle.

 

        "Yes!" Ali quipped. "And how'd you know?"

 

        "I spoke with the Walla Walla Coroner, he mentioned something about it. Are you sure I can't talk you into going up there and showing me the spot. You wouldn't have to stay, you could even stay in the truck if you like."

 

        "I said no, Mr. Harlan." Ali said firmly, suddenly distrusting this man more and more. She folded her arms, matching his gaze, unblinking. Harlan, studied her a moment.

 

        "Well that is a great disappointment." He sighed. "I so wanted Hallie's discoverer to accompany me." He looked at her again, still finding Ali's gaze not moving an inch. He began to open the folder he carried.

 

        "Perhaps then you'll accept these as a token of my gratitude for ending a 40 year mystery." He withdrew copies of the photo's he had shown her. "You've laid to rest a great deal of sorrow and pain. It is the least I can do for you." He held them out to her. Ali stared a moment longer, then reluctantly took the offered pictures.

 

        "Such a pity." He murmured looking around the gardens. "Hallie loved flowers. I am taking her roses, they were her favorite." He looked back at Ali and found her immovable. He sighed again.

 

        "Forgive me again Mrs. Hutchinson. I'll leave you to your chores. I'm sorry if this has caused you any pain. I must go now. I need to see if anyone up there has any idea where she might have been at." He smiled a bit coldly at her, and bowed his way gracefully out.  

 

         Ali watched him until his car had long vanished. Why had he wanted to know the exact spot when she had already described it to him? She looked down at the photos in her hands and suddenly wondered why she was shaking so badly.

 

Starsky returned home that afternoon intending to borrow the Suburban, knowing it was more discreet than his beloved Torino, especially amongst the crowd at Bow Lake. The house was unusually quiet as he came through the door. He paused, a frown creasing his forehead, senses on the alert.

 

        "Ali?" he called out, slowly shutting the door behind him. His ears strained to pick up any noises. He made his way into the kitchen, looking down the hall, wondering if she was out in the barn. A glance out the sliding glass doors brought relief. Ali sat out on the deck, feet propped up on the seat before her, staring out over the ranch property. She looked a thousand

miles away. Starsky slid the door back, poking his head out.

 

        "Hey?" he asked. The blonde shook herself, looking sharply his way.

 

        "What?" She blinked, then smiled sheepishly. "Oh. Hi Dave." Starsky smirked.

 

        "Penny for your thoughts? You were gone a long ways there!" he cracked, trying to lighten her mood. Ali smirked, nodding her head and looking at him with tired eyes.

 

        "I was." she said, looking back over the ranch vista. "Way out there." Starsky ventured out onto the deck, instincts telling him his shoulder was needed. Now that things between them had been resolved, Starsky and Ali had quickly reestablished the old friendship they had from the past.

 

        "What's up?" he asked noticing two sheet of paper sitting on the deck table with in her reach. He slid the door closed and wandered over.

 

        "I've just been thinking, Dave."

 

        "Well that's a departure!" the brunette joked. Ali looked at him, smiled wryly and shook her head.

 

        "Really thinking." she said, gazing at him to get her meaning across. Starsky tipped his head slightly.

 

        "About?" he prompted.

 

        "Me." she said, heaving a sigh, she tapped her temple. "This, Kenny."

 

        "Important stuff, huh?"

 

        "Yeah." Ali said, lifting her feet off the chair, she nodded at it. Starsky took it, spun it around, straddled it, and rested his arms across the backrest.

 

        "Tell us about it?" he asked setting his chin on his arms, studying her. Ali shrugged, drawing in air.

 

        "I had a visitor today." she said, letting her shoulders drop. She began to tell Starsky about the visit with Cleve Harlan. When she had finished, Starsky was sitting up straight in the chair, looking at the copied pictures of Hallie Illingsworth. He looked at her, his face somber, knowing that Ali wasn't quite finished.

 

        "What else happened Ali?" he asked, giving the photocopies one last look then setting them back down on the table. Ali looked away from him.

 

        "Harlan wanted me to go up there with him, Dave. He said something about taking flowers out to the site on the lake." she paused, her thoughts drifting. "Then going to the lodge and looking for Ted O'Brian." She didn't see Starsky holding his breath suddenly.

 

        "I couldn't do it," she said in a small voice. "I wanted to Dave, I want to still, but I couldn't do it." Starsky breathed again.

 

        "Why?" he asked gently, watching her light blue eyes drifting in and out of thoughts and memories.

 

        "Because of him." She looked up at Starsky. Her meaning clear as a bell. Hutch.

 

        "What about him?" Starsky asked, sensing an important step being taken.

 

        "Something Harlan said to me, got me to thinking about everything Ken has done for me. All the sacrifices he's made..." she trailed off looking at Starsky knowing he was one of those sacrifices, until recently. Ali sighed, looking away again. "Harlan has been searching 40 years for his missing sister, knowing she was dead, and unable to do anything for her. Hutch searched

nearly eight years for me and I'm still alive, and he wants to do so much for me. I have overlooked so many things, Dave. I can't believe sometimes how incredibly blind I have been. He's been trying so hard to get me to see just that." Her lips crooked slightly.

 

        "I think it's begun to sink down in there. I told Harlan I couldn't go up there, I didn't tell him why, but I did tell him no."

 

        "And how did he respond?"

 

        Ali smirked at him.

 

        "He's a professor of Psychology at the University of Washington. He tried every trick in the book, to convince me to go with him. There's something not quite right with that Professor. I don't trust him. In the end, Kenny just kept coming back to me, what he's done, what he's gone though, what he's been trying to do with me..." She gazed at Starsky, searching his eyes.

 

        "I couldn't do it." She dropped her gaze, looking at her hands.

 

        "Hey." Starsky said quietly. He reached out with his hand and took her fingers gently in his, eking out warmth through them.

        "You did the right thing."

    

        "It'd kill him if I screwed up again, Dave, I know it would. He's everything I've got. He knows more about me then I do!" She smiled sadly clutching at the strong fingers holding hers, studying the scars across the back.

 

        "Literally." Starsky joked gently. Ali softly snorted.

 

        "Hell, Dave, so do you!"

 

        "You're right though, Ali." he agreed. "He loves you very much, and it would hurt him terribly if you were to black out with out him..." Starsky paused a moment, and smiled tenderly. "Without us, around to see you past it." Ali looked at him, a little surprised at his words. He could see tears swim in them.

 

        "Thanks Dave." she whispered. "That means a lot!" her voice cracked. "I want so bad to get at the bottom of what happened to Hallie Illingsworth, but not at the loss of Kenny. Our marriage is barely over a year old, I'd hate to see it destroyed because I keep going off the deep end."

 

        "I don't think you need to worry about that." Starsky grinned. "Once Hutch makes a commitment, that's it, 'til death do you part! I know, we've pulled each other out of more scrapes than I care to count. Even this one." he said, meaning the long years of estrangement as partners because of her. "But we're back working together again, although having the junior over the senior is a little weird, and trying to get used to this Podunk town!" He beamed his million-watt smile at her. She grinned  through her quiet tears. She had been told that it was Starsky who had brought Hutch along in the early days of their career. "But it's worth being here, just being able to work with him again, seeing him happy, and being his friend." He squeezed her fingers. "You did the right thing, Blondie. Just let him work his mother hen routine on you, and trust him. You've made it this far, with him around you'll make it even farther." Ali gazed at him, then nodded her acquiescence.

 

        "Where is he anyway?" she asked, as he dropped her fingers and rose from the chair.

 

        "Coroner called from Walla Walla. He said he'd be back later this evening. Something has broken in the case and they're giving it back to us. In the meantime, I need to borrow the keys to the Suburban. Seems I get to go and find out what's up with Ted O'Brian." Starsky grinned, and privately wondering why Cleve Harlan wanted Ali to go with him so badly.

 

        Starsky pondered on that and several other things as he drove to Bow Lake. Around 2pm he pulled the Suburban into the lot at the lodge, noticing the various pick-ups with and without boat trailers, a few motor homes, a couple of beaters and a newer model Honda Accord. He smirked slightly. Ali had given him such a thorough amount of detail on Cleve Harlan and his

car that he knew it was his right away. The Suburban blended in beautifully. He sauntered casually over, double-checking the plates then ambled over to the entrance, glancing quickly at the layout of the front to the side exit for the kitchen. Being higher up in the mountains, the area was thick with trees, and he noticed a footpath leading back off into the trees and disappearing.

 

        Mentally shelving the information away, he wandered inside the smoky darkened lounge, ignoring the typical fisherman/hunter's decor and letting his eyes adjust to the light. He waited a few moments at the bar, until a slender man, in white shirt and jeans, damp apron tied around his waist, sporting a moustache, and blue eyes, made his way down the line from talking with some customers.

 

        "Can I help you?" he asked. Starsky shrugged.

 

        "Dunno, I just happened to be in the area, and was wondering if this was the lake they found that woman in?" He smiled, feigning innocence. The bartender stiffened ever so slightly, smiled and instantly recovered himself.

 

        "Fraid so. It's been the talk of the town for weeks now. First body ever to be recovered from the lake, at least as far as they have recorded its history. Word has it that she may have been in there over forty years."

 

        "Really?" Starsky asked, raising a curious eyebrow. "How can that happen?! 40 years? There's no way!"

 

        "Ah!" The bartender shrugged. "Coroner said something about her body turning to soap and the cold waters preserving her, kinda like a liquid mummy, ya know? Newspapers called her The Ivory Woman ever since. Kinda sick in a way, dontcha think? Where you from?"

 

        Starsky shook his head with disbelief and grinned.

 

        "LA, been out travelling around, seeing the sights, enjoying a vacation. I'd order a beer, but I'm drivin', ya know? Gotta Coke?"

 

        "Yeah! Don't want the troopers catching you around here! Out of staters get nailed three times higher than locals!" The tender reached around for a glass, turned back to a tap, and filled it full of Coke.

 

        "Has business picked up since they found her?" Starsky asked curiously, allowing himself to look carefully around the room, taking time now to notice the decor and the people scattered about.

 

        "Yeah, mostly tourists. Curiosity seekers. Papers did a nice spread on the fishing so business has been up for that. Once Memorial weekend hits, in a couple of months, this place will be packed."

 

        The chitchat continued as Starsky took in the mounted, record setting fish, sportsmen and fisherman's pictures, Elk and deer heads, antique tackle and bric a brac. Finally, he ordered a second Coke and wandered away from the bar, heading to the far end were a giant fireplace had a small fire crackling away. He found a seat where he could see over the entire  floor, then sat back and gazed around at the different pictures. All the while he felt the bartenders eyes in his back. He looked around and spotted the man who had to be Cleve Harlan, looking nattily out of place in his booth by a window, calmly reading a newspaper. Another glance at the tender revealed the man watching them both. Starsky smirked ever so softly.

 

       Harlan was subtly watching the tender right back. It wasn't too hard for him to figure out that a three way game was going on. Amused, he turned his attention back to the pictures.

 

        Something niggled at the back of his brain, as he casually swept a glance over a very old picture, located on the wall next to his table. A tiny template noted the date as June 4^th 1943, the weight and pounds of a fish a proud fisherman held in his hands.. Standing behind the fisherman, with his hands on both his shoulders, was a broadly smiling, tall, square faced man,

clean cut, standing next to another man, smiling just as proud. Starsky couldn't help but notice how militarily stiff the tall man was. He also recognized him as the man in Ali's photo copies. Charles Illingsworth. Starsky smiled to himself looking away as he snaked out a sneakered foot, drew a chair to him and set his feet up on it. His shoulders relaxed as he drew a sip off the Coke and looked around the room.

       

        Pat, the bartender had slipped quietly into the kitchen, and approached the dishwasher.

 

        "Greg, do me a favor. Watch the front real quick, I'm gonna catch a smoke." The dishwasher nodded, grabbing a towel, and wiped off his hands. Pat grinned thanks, pulled a pack of smokes off from the top of cabinet and headed out the side door. Lighting up, he glanced up and down the cars seeking any with a California plate. Instead, he spotted a very familiar

Suburban. Freezing a moment, he drew in air, exhaled the smoke and looked around carefully. The blonde was no where in site. Alarmed, Pat, flicked ashes and began making his way around the side of the building, carefully looking around. Seeing nothing, he made a quick decision and headed up the forest pathway.

 

        The bartenders sudden break didn't go unnoticed by Starsky. He  eventually made his way to the front door, leaving as casually as he had entered, then quickly searched about for the bartender, seeing him disappear up the path in the trees. Hitching his eyebrows in anticipation, and smiling, Starsky loosened the zipper on his leather jacket, flexed his shoulders and slipped silently off after him.

 

        Ted O'Brian was standing on the deck of a house so well hidden in the trees that it couldn't be seen from the road or the lodge. His fingers nervously clenched and unclenched the railing, and he was lost in thought when he heard Pat cough on the path leading to the house.

 

        He looked sharply at the bartender as he made his way through a slight clearing then gained the step up to the porch.

 

        "What are you doing here?!" he snapped brusquely.

 

        "Take it easy, Ted, Greg's watching the place, I needed a break, and besides, the Hutchinson's Suburban is back in the lot."

 

         Keeping to the trees and moving discreetly, Starsky kept an ear open to the events unfolding on the porch, not quite able to see both men clearly. The forest was still and quiet, enabling him to hear their conversation easily.

 

        "What?!" O'Brian snapped again. "Is she..." he started, but the bartender hushed him gently.

 

        "I haven't seen her yet, which doesn't mean she isn't around. We had a tourist come in, said he was from LA, and he sounds right outta the place, but I haven't spotted a car with California plates. Then again he could be driving a rental."

 

        "What about Harlan?" O'Brian growled.

 

        "Hasn't moved for two hours, been reading his newspaper, drinking his water and sitting there."

 

        "I don't want him anywhere near this house!" Ted grumbled.

 

        "I know, Ted, I know!" Pat paused a moment looking at the big square man. "How's your dad doing anyway?"

 

        "How do you expect him to be doing?!" Ted nearly shouted, allowing Starsky to move with in viewing distance of the two men. "That damn cancer is eating him alive! The morphine has him hallucinating, and he's in so much pain..." Ted stopped, turning from his tirade and looking out into the trees. Starsky flattened himself to a trunk.

 

        On the porch, Pat gently laid a hand on the big man's shoulder.

 

        "Hang in there Boss, Old Man O'Brian hasn't got much longer to go..."

 

        "It wouldn't be so bad if he'd stop babbling about her!" Ted grated out through clenched teeth.

 

        Moving very slowly, Starsky peered around the tree, surprised by the extraordinary conversation taking place, doing so gave him a second shock. Though not seeing him, Ted O'Brian was looking out at his view of the lake, almost directly at Starsky himself.. Starsky did a double take, staring at the big man, frozen in anguish, rage, and pain. Big, tall, and square.

Starsky's memories hauled up the photo that Ali had and the one hanging in the lodge. His resemblance to the long dead Charles Illingsworth was unmistakable.

 

        If that were the case, then who was the man O'Brian was claiming to be his father dying in the house? And why was he babbling about a woman?  

 

        "So what do you want to do about the Suburban?" Pat was asking, snapping Starsky back to attention.

 

        "Find out who's driving it, then I'll handle the rest. You better get back down there!" The big man grumbled, shrugging the bartender's hand off his shoulder. Pat nodded, turned, and left as O'Brian moved away, going into the house. Starsky watched the bartender, carefully gauging his time. He had only a few minutes. Cat-like he slipped around the tree and headed for

the house. It was a one-story affair, and Starsky was hoping against hope he'd find what he needed. He slinked along the house, carefully searching through windows, until he hit paydirt. A window in back revealed the room of the other individual in the house. He suddenly wished he hadn't been so lucky.

 

The skeleton in the bed could hardly be called dead or alive. Emaciated, frail, and dying, the elder O'Brian clearly did not have much longer to live. Thin wisps of white hair hung damply around the grey, sunken cheeks of a face about to meet death. Slender bony arms clutched the covers to his neck, so thin, Starsky's thumb and index fingers would have easily encircled them. The flesh hung on the bones and revealed what must have been a big, once healthy man, now reduced to about 90 pounds if Starsky were to take a guess. He appeared to be asleep, although beads of sweat dotted his forehead and looked abnormally large on the cadaverous face. Starsky blinked in horror, then slowly pulled his gaze away from the window. Swallowing thickly, he pushed himself away, unaware of the haste in his steps to get away from the house.

       

        As he stumbled his way back down the path, trying to drive the sight of the elder O'Brian from his head, he caught sight of movement farther down the path. He stopped, before reflexes moved him to slip noiselessly into the trees, barely hiding himself in time before the other reached his place on the trail. Cleve Harlan, slowly ambled up the track, manilla folder

peeking out from under the rolled up newspaper tucked under his arm. Starsky's eyebrow shot up in surprise. What did he want?

 

        He glanced down the trail, pausing to decide, knowing that the bartender would be suspicious if he didn't show back up. However, Dr. Harlan was getting him more and more curious. Scowling slightly, Starsky rolled his shoulders, feeling the knots of tension rise, then headed back towards the little house suddenly feeling like Alice chasing the White Rabbit.

 

        This time, knowing he had to stay hidden from the bartender as well, he silently went all the way around to the other side of the house, spotting the garage, the F-150, and the gravel drive leading down away from the house. He sidled into position.

 

        Harlan mounted the steps of the house as if he owned the place, placidly walking to the front door, waiting patiently after he knocked. Ted O'Brian was anything, but pleased to see him.

 

         "What is it now!" The big man roared expecting the bartender at his door. Silenced crashed around them as the two men faced each other. O'Brian blew…

 

        "Get out of here!" he roared, forcing the tall professor to back up as he barged out of the house. "Get the hell off my property!"

 

         "Nice to see you too, Theodore." Harlan replied mildly smiling at the angry O'Brian.

 

        "Get the hell out of here, Harlan! You've never been welcome here and you never will be! Get off my property!"

 

        "Now is that anyway of showing hospitality, Theodore? I've only come to see your father." The other replied in a voice smacking with sarcasm.

 

        "Never! So help me, if you don't get the hell out of here I'll see to it you leave here in a stretcher!"

 

        "Always throwing threats around, Theodore? Come now. You have to have come up with something more original by now?"

 

        Starsky, barely making out Harlan's face, watched as the professor slowly smirked.

 

        "You're never going to see him! As long as I live you're never going to see him alive! Now get the hell off my property before I run you off of it!" O'Brian bellowed, forcing Harlan to back up even further. The other was made to take a step off the porch..       

 

        "Oh I will see him again before he dies, Theodore." Harlan replied, "With what the Coroner has learned about our lady in the lake, I will see him again before he gets what he really deserves."

 

        The tone of thinly veiled threat that was in the professors voice definitely didn't go unnoticed to Starsky's ears. O'Brian hollered at the man.

 

        "Get the hell out of here!"  He vanished indoors for a second, and just as quickly reappeared, leveling a pump action shot

gun at the professor, who abruptly began to backpedal, almost laughing at the enraged lodge owner.

 

        "And what's this going to prove Theodore? That your father has totally succeeded in making you as stupid as himself?" Something in the way Harlan said "your father" caught and held Starsky's attention.

 

        "Get out of here, Harlan!" O'Brian yelled raising the gun. Starsky couldn't sit still any longer. He appeared around the corner of the building, on the porch, as if by magic. His pistol, in a classic two-handed grip, aimed squarely at Ted O'Brian

as he leaned menacingly into his stance, every inch of him exuding authority.

 

         "DROP THE WEAPON!" he shouted. Both men looked at him in shock. O'Brian, all ready maddened, began to swing the shotgun around. The glitter in Starsky's blue eyes went up a notch.

 

         "I SAID DROP IT!"

 

          O'Brian froze.

 

         "I think you had better identify yourself to him, Mr. Starsky." Cleve Harlan said carefully, barely hiding a triumphant smile. Starsky's eyebrow raised in his own surprise.

 

          "Who the hell are you?" O'Brian roared, staring hard at the business end of Starsky's pistol.

 

          "Detective Starsky," he snapped, unwavering in his stance. "Put the weapon down!"

 

          "Late of the Los Angeles Police Department, if my information is correct, am I not?" Harlan said conversationally.

 

          "You heard the man…" Starsky said, his attention kept on O'Brian, "Set the gun on the porch!"

 

          "What the hell are you doing here!?" O'Brian snapped.

 

          "Apparently breaking up a happy reunion, I said, PUT THE GUN ON THE PORCH!" Starsky hollered. Very slowly, Ted O'Brian lowered the gun to the decking. Starsky smiled sweetly.

 

          "Good boy! Now kick it here." O'Brian glared at him, then viciously kicked the gun his way. Starsky nodded, breaking his stance, the Beretta disappearing back inside his jacket. He hauled the shot gun up to him as he reached for his wallet. He flashed his shield at them both.

 

           "Tucannon Sheriff's Department. Mind tellin' me what's goin' on here?" He flipped his wallet shut, slipping it inside his jacket pocket.

 

            "None of you're damn business!" O'Brian growled.

 

            "And for once I'm going to have to agree with him." Harlan replied.

 

             Starsky smiled, working the action on the shotgun with hands that seemed to know just exactly what to do.

 

            "None of my damn business? I find a homeowner threatening some one with a shot gun and it's none of my business?" The blue eyes were growing colder by the minute.

 

           "You can run him off for trespassing!" O'Brian snapped, waving an arm towards Harlan.

 

           "I could do that…" Starsky concurred, resting the butt of the shot gun nonchalantly against his leg, finger resting lightly against the trigger. "But then I'm wonderin' what he wants to talk to your father about."

 

           "I thought you'd see it that way." Harlan replied pleasantly.

 

           "Don't bet on it, Sherlock!" Starsky quickly replied, his eyes never leaving Ted O'Brian. "You spent several hours trying to convince my partner's wife into doing somethin' out here, and I aim to find out what that is… after I ask Theodore here, why he wants you off the property so bad."

 

            "He's trying to kill my dad! Shock him to death! The man's dying already! He deserves to have his remaining hours in peace! I want him outta here! Get him away!"

 

             "You're father isn't dying a peaceful death now!" Harlan replied dryly.

 

             "You aren't helping the matter any!" O'Brian exploded! "Goin' around, telling your lies! You'll never see him again so long as I'm alive!"

 

              "Tryin' to shock him to death?" Starsky asked his gaze moving to Harlan, "What for?"

 

              "I'm not trying to shock him to death as you so quaintly put it. I just want some answers to some questions before he dies.

 

              "Oh really? What questions?" Starsky asked.

 

              "That is my business!" Harlan responded coolly.

 

              "Wouldn't happen to be about a certain girl who surfaced in the lake now would it?" Starsky asked back. "Cause if it is, it's my business too."

 

              "Not until your partner returns from Walla Walla with the official reports." Harlan responded.

 

               "Really?" Starsky's lips curled in a feral smile. "You tryin' to tell me how to do my business?"

 

               "Only pointing out officer, that you have to have a case to be involved in yet." Harlan responded.

 

               "Then I guess I should just run you off the property. Now that would be a case."

 

               "And I'll let him do it!" O'Brian snapped, then glared at Starsky.

 

               "What case?! What's she got to do with it?"

 

               "What d'you know about her?" Starsky asked.

 

               "I ain't telling you nothing!" Ted hollered angrily. "He's trespassing on my property and I want you to get him out of here!" He jabbed an angry finger towards Harlan.  

 

               "All I asked was what you know about her?" Starsky responded, gauging reactions. "We found a body in the lake? A lake your lodge is on. Only stands to reason you might know something about it."

 

               "And he knows plenty." Harlan replied.

 

               "Shut the hell up!" O'Brian blew.

 

               "We have a case there too…" Starsky added. "Can't just have bodies popping up in lakes and not ask questions."

 

               "Anything I have to say you've already got!" O'Brian hollered. "Now get him off my property!"

     

              Abruptly Starsky felt an ice cold finger run down the back of his neck. He moved, turning his back quickly towards the wall of the house, swinging the shotgun to waist level, pointed away from the other two men.

 

            "If you feel lucky hotshot, go ahead and take a swing! If not, toss that bat on the porch!"

 

            A few electric seconds ticked past then a bat was lightly tossed on to the decking, followed by a disgusted Pat.

 

            "How'd you know?" he snapped holding his hands out for Starsky to see as the detective waved the muzzle of the gun, indicating he should join the others.

 

            "A Bartender without a bat is like a bird without wings!" He studied his group like the former army Sargent he was.

 

            "Okay the way I see this is this…I got a property owner wanting a man off his property, I got an uninvited guest wanting to ask questions of a dying man and now I got a bartender threatening bodily harm to an officer of the law. Somethin' ain't right fella's. Tell me what it is?"

 

            There was a very long pause, finally broken by Ted O'Brian.

 

           "You can go to hell! I'm calling my lawyer! You!" He shot a venomous look at his bartender. "Get back down there to that bar!"

 

          "Oh don't go yet Theodore!" Harlan protested. "I haven't finished what I came up here for!"

 

          "You can go to hell too!" He hollered, slamming the door shut hard, as he stormed back into the house. Pat looked like a fly caught in a web. He looked at the unwavering Starsky and shrugged.

 

        "Gotta keep my job." he said lamely and wandered off the porch. Starsky only smirked at him and turned his attention to Harlan.

 

        "I guess that leaves just you and me, Schweeheart." he drawled.

 

        "So it seems. However, I have nothing to say to you officer."

 

        "Oh I'd think about that again mister." Starsky replied sauntering forwards, hefting the shotgun.

 

        "You tried convincing Ali Hutchinson to come up here. And seeing's is how you happen to know about me, you obviously know about her, and her disability. My guess, Sherlock, is this. You want inside there, to ask Old Man O'Brian what he knows about Hallie Illingsworth. You know Ali's had a problem with it and she's a former cop." Starsky emphasized former. He indicated the other should start walking. At first Harlan hesitated until he saw the icicles coming from Starsky's eyes. He smiled an oily smile and began to walk after the rapidly retreating figure of the bartender.

 

        "You figured you'd prime her just right to do some of your dirty work. But you didn't take two things into account."

 

        "That being?" Harlan asked.

 

        "Her husband…and his partner."

 

        Harlan only stared blankly a moment at Starsky as they walked down the trail leading back to the parking lot.

 

        "Mess with her pal, you mess with us. Do I make myself clear?"

 

        "Is that some sort of threat, officer?"

 

        "Oh no, no threat at all." Starsky replied. "It's a fact." He smiled a million-dollar smile at the Professor. "I'd suggest you stick around Willow Lake a few days until Hutch and I get a chance to talk to you and the O'Brian's. Okay?"

 

        "What ever you say, officer." Harlan replied dryly. He continued on past Starsky, who smiled sweetly and watched him leave. Two things were clear. There was a definite feeling of malignancy coming from the professor. There was also that age-old feeling of daggers in the back literally emanating from the house behind him. Starsky turned and looked back, seeing Ted

O'Brian in his window, glaring hard back at him.

 

        He spent nearly half an hour staring out at the lake, trying to get some of the pieces to fall into place before heaving a sigh and firing the ignition to the Suburban.

 

        It was long, thoughtful drive home.

 

 

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