To his relief when he got there, he'd found that Ali wasn't home, then again, neither was Hutch. Still mulling the things over in his head, he milled around the house a few moments then headed out into the barn, fishing up his car light. He decided on taking out some of his frustration on the pile of junk they were trying to get rid of in the old apt.         It wasn't too much longer that Ali returned, apparently having gone for groceries. She disappeared for some twenty minutes, then came into the barn, leading Blue to the hitching post and getting him ready for his stall for the night.

 

             Stacked in several different sized piles, a recently delivered order of timothy filled the barn with its grassy, sunny-sweet aroma. Inviting jump off points had been created for any kid who would have stumbled on the old barn and seen the tempting bales.

 

             Ali dug around in the tack room looking for the brushes and curry combs. Dark had fallen, still a month away from daylight saving time, and the bare electric bulbs hardly seemed adequate for the job at hand. In the loft apartment, Starsky's only source was the hanging light he used mostly on working around and under the Torino. It hung now in the center of the

room, as he tackled the still daunting job of removing junk from the old apartment. He had barely heard Ali bringing the grey inside and muttering something about Hutch's horse being a stubborn pig. He smirked, Duke hated being brought inside for the night. He was grateful Ali hadn't began questioning him about his afternoon, yet.

 

            Hutch had earlier decided on unbarring the upper double loft doors, creating an access in the center of the apartment for them to toss stuff down into a 21/2 ton truck parked just under them. They were wide open now as Starsky selected and threw down what was being hauled away. He could hardly believe they were on their third truck load and weren't quite half

way into the center of the room.

 

             He tumbled the afternoon's incidents around in his head as he worked, mindful of the chill seeping in and wondering if Washington ever would warm up. It was, no doubt, humid and mid seventies by now in LA. However, the windbreaker he had switched to when he had gotten home provided enough warmth to keep him moving. He contemplated removing the Beretta, but a hunch left it on him. He had tossed a box-load of rusted together galvanized fittings into the truck and stood a moment gazing out over the incredible view he had of the tiny town and lake he had decided to move to. The house below and it's moonlit gardens added to the view as the great lawns swept down towards the lower pastures and on to the distant lake and town. The sky was diamond studded with stars, never failing to leave him in awe at how really bright they were. Night critters added a soft lullaby to the quiet scene laid out before him and Starsky smiled slightly. The new deck he had in mind for the apartment would definitely take full advantage o A lone beat up truck, color obscured by the dark, sat parked facing the main road on the access itself. Odd, Starsky thought, he hadn't noticed that before. Shrugging he turned away,wondering what to throw down next.

 

               "Hey Al?" he called out.

              

               "Yeah?" her voice floated back up.

              

               "Know anyone around here with a dark colored, beat up 78 or 79 Chevy pick up?" he called back, removing his light and resetting it in the doorway leading to the loft inside the barn.

 

               "Only about half the county." she replied. Starsky winced.

 

              "You know what I mean!" he shot back, glad to hear humor in her voice.

 

                "Does it have plates?" she called back.

 

                "Couldn't tell, it's on the access trail to that big ditch.

 

                "Could be a ditch rider checking the gates."

 

                "It's pitch dark Ali!" Starsky responded.

 

                "Kid's out hunting frogs?" she ventured.

 

                "Farm kids?"

 

                 "Yeah, or maybe they're out hunting rabbits, you see the old farm beaters out here all the time, they don't have to be tagged if it's used for farm work."

 

                "So what's huntin' rabbits got to do with farm work?" Starsky immediately cracked back. He heard Ali's chuckle.

 

                "Putting food on the table, Dave. At least that's their excuse. Why's it bothering you?"

 

                "I just don't like strange vehicles around." he groused staring morosely in at the pile of junk lying inside.

 

                 "Then what do you call that red thing in the driveway?"

 

                 "Hey! You leave my car out of it!"

 

                 "Well it is a strange looking vehicle!" she retorted.

 

                 "Strange to who!?" Starsk hollered back, wandering out into the loft, looking down at her.

 

                  "The nearest six counties!" she cracked, lifting up one of Blue's hooves. She was crouched down, examining the foot, not noticing the strange play in shadows behind Starsky.

 

                 "I'll have you know, Blondie! That car has saved your butt more times than I care to count, not to mention that husband of yours!"

 

                  "It's still an over-glorified circus wagon!"

 

                  "How can you call it that?!" Starsky protested, fists on hips, glaring down at her. He ignored the prickle in his back, rising up in defense of his beloved car. Ali, absorbed in her task, chuckled, still not looking his way.

 

                  "C'mon, Dave! It sticks out like a sore thumb! It did down in LA and it does here even worse!"      

 

                  The only sound Ali got back in return was creaking floor boards, a gasp, and an odd shuffle. Frowning, she looked up.

 

                 Like a weird science fiction movie, Starsky was being dragged backwards by a force not his own. He clutched madly at his throat, suddenly beginning to fight like a cornered pitbull. Hidden far enough back into the loft, Ali barely made out a hulking shadow behind him.

 

                "DAVE!" she shrieked, dropping everything, moving as if electrocuted. Blue swung away from her, startled. She hit the rickety old ladder they used to gain the loft floor at a dead run, scrambling frantically as Starsky let out a half gagged yell of rage. Items began to fly as Starsky fought to gain a hold on his assailant. He had just been dragged back into the old apt, kicking wildly, trying to grab hold of the head of his captor as he desperately worked his fingers around the knot in a thick chunk of rope being used to throttle him. His car light flew, dislodged by the ruckus, hitting the floor once with a shattering

crash before rolling off the loft into the hay.

 

              The entire upper floor plunged into blackness.

 

             Ali scrambled over the last rung, and dashed into the apartment. Barely able to see, she made out a large man with a ski mask over his face, easily holding Starsky up off the ground, who was angrily trying to yell and gag at the same time, struggling madly to get a handhold.

 

               "Hey!" Ali yelled, hearing Starsky suddenly trying to gasp for breath. The man turned her way, swinging his victim around with him, who legs were flailing wildly as he struggled to break his gasp. Ali danced back, avoiding them. An ugly desperate game of opportunity laid itself out as Ali sought for openings, while Starsky struggled to gulp air and fight. He was already noticeably slowing.

 

                 "You've really got to be some sort of idiot!" Ali snapped out trying to circle the man. The attacker didn't reply. Ali, her eyes adjusting to the gloom could see the whites of the man's knuckles on the rope he had garroted around Starsky's neck.

 

                "David!" she snapped. "I need an opening!" Starsky let out a gargled yell as Ali moved, the man swinging the struggling detective around like a sack of potatoes. Abruptly,  Starsky relaxed.

 

               His sudden dead weight, in the man's hands provided just enough of a space for Ali to move. Two fast steps, a lean to the right, she swung her leg around at the hip and solidly connected the flat of her foot against the man's kidney with every ounce of force she could put into it. He let out a startled grunt, still not letting go of his victim whom he tried to swing around again. Ali had danced back behind him and aimed a hard stomp at the back of one of his knees. A sudden burst of air exploded from the man as he stumbled, starting to fall to her right. Ali took a step back, turned and helped him down further by kicking the same kidney. He dropped his victim.

 

              Starsky began sobbing for air, his chest heaving as he collapsed to the floor. The attacker grabbed at his leg, stumbling wildly out of the loft door. Ali began to pursue, hearing the man tumble down the stacked timothy. She stopped and swung back to Starsky.

 

                  "DAVE!" she dropped besides him, his body contorting with the efforts to gasp for air. She was trying to reach forward, to see his neck when she heard on unnatural roar. Her head jerked around towards the loft.  

 

                   Eerie orange light suddenly lit the upper floor, followed by the sounds of roaring.

 

                 "Oh SH**!" she gasped grabbing hold of Starsky's jacket.

 

                 "GET UP!" she shrieked at him, "GET UP! THE BARN IS ON FIRE!!"

 

                  One word got through to him..."FIRE!"

 

                  Ali grabbed his arm as she looked in horror out of the apartment door. The brightness was growing far too fast and already smoke began to drift into the room.

 

                    "COME ON!" she yelled dragging his arm across her shoulder and hauling up. She stumbled to her feet as Starsky tried heaving himself up, his legs buckling under him. Ali aimed for the door, trying to use his momentum to propel them out.. His legs were like rubber. Somehow she managed to steer them to the door. What greeted her eyes, froze her in her tracks.

 

                     The entire wall to her right was ablaze, rapidly racing down the stacked timothy. Starsky sagged to his knees still heaving violently for air. Like a living thing, the fire grew by the second, billows of black smoke beginning to roll upwards, filling the upper story. Not even blinking, Ali jerked her gasping burden forward, stumbling awkwardly for the edge of the loft. Not quite realizing what exactly was happening, Starsky did realize her intent. She was aiming straight for the blaze..

 

                "Nooooooo!" he barely managed to gargle out as they went over the edge.

 

               Plunging straight through a wall of flames, they both separated as they hit the hay, sending up showers of sparks, and burning ashes. They tumbled uncontrolled down the stacks, Starsky actually hitting the floor first with chunks of burning timothy showering all around him. Ali landed on her back next to him, suddenly letting out a wild scream as she batted frantically at her leg, part of her jeans having caught on fire.

 

                Nearly blinded by fire, smoke, and his near strangulation, Starsky tried to move towards her. Ali slapped the rest of the flames out, turning his way. Another eerie roar rushed through their ears. Ali looked up to see the entire loft floor catching on fire. She struggled to her feet still slapping frantically at her leg.

 

              "COME ON!" she yelled at him, grabbing his arm, suddenly fighting the urge to cough. Starsky managed to get to his feet as she dragged his arm back across her shoulders. Together they dashed out of the barn's side door and out into the pasture.

 

                They both collapsed, she under his weight, he for desperately needed air, just yards outside the burning building. Ali rolled to her knees looking in horror at the fire.

 

                 "NO!" she shrieked, as Starsky, on his back, contorted, again trying to gasp for air.

 

               The sounds of an ignition catching dragged her gaze away from the barn. At the irrigation access road a pair of taillights lit up. Ali didn't even hesitate, she turned towards the frantically gasping Starsky.

 

                All he felt was her hand suddenly snaking across his chest and under his arm. Realizing what she was doing, he managed to croak out a warning to stop, and turned her way.

 

               Ali had lurched to her feet, falling forwards on one knee, his Beretta solidly in her hands. Starsky saw only the flash of fire coming from the muzzle so fast her shooting looked like one shot. She emptied 17 rounds, in literally seconds at the rapidly escaping truck, both hearing the sounds of bullets hitting metal.

 

               "Ali!" he managed to yell trying to stumble her way, she was still squeezing the trigger of the gun despite having emptied the clip. Starsky was about to reach her when an ungodly screaming rent the air around them. Ali swung back around, her eyes suddenly wild, the gun still held firmly in her grasp.

 

               "BLUE!" she screamed, the truck suddenly forgotten. Starsky heard his gun hitting the ground as she suddenly began to run.

 

                 "NO" he half shouted, half gasped, lunging after her. He fell, still unable to gain his legs and barely managing to catch her by the foot. Ali twisted like a cat, shaking her foot hard. Before he could fully realize it, Ali had kicked off her boot, running madly for the barn. He let out an agonized yell of helpless frustration as he watched her plunge back into a building that was suddenly engulfed in flames.

 

                 "ALI!" he began to scream, trying to run after her. Another unnatural scream split the air followed by roaring as the barn roof caught. An ominous creaking filled the air.

 

                "ALI!" he roared, finding the way back in impassable, the heat began to drive him back. He watched in shock as the wall before him suddenly bloomed in yellow orange flames.

 

                 Inside, Ali raised an arm, staggering and gasping as she ran to where the halter tied horse frantically wrenched on his lead rope as flames and smoke billowed around them. She grasped hold of the knot end, jerking hard, gasping in a lung full of hot air. She gagged, coughing, swinging an arm at the terrorized horse. The grey's eyes spun wildly and white, as he half reared then plunged for the opening at the far side of the barn. Ali staggered after him, hearing an unearthly creaking sound fill the air. She had barely gained access to the opposite side of the barn when movement caught her eye. In horror she turned

back, looking up, as a beam let loose from the ceiling, swinging down at a hideous rate of speed. 

 

               She barely had time to throw her arm up into the air to block it. The falling beam clipped her, literally picking her up and throwing her like a spent rag doll, flipping her awkwardly out the door and over the horse's watering trough. She crumpled on the other side of it.

 

                On the opposite side of the barn Starsky screamed in helpless rage as he was driven back by the flames, not knowing what had become of his partner's wife.

 

    Doug Riley found Starsky huddled under a blanket, perched in the passenger seat of one of the volunteer Fire Fighting trucks that had arrived on the scene. Several districts had responded, the blaze being seen for miles. Firemen, several deputies, and the hard working volunteers had turned the parking lot of the ranch into a massive command center as they

attacked the situation. Orders were shouted, pumps and hoses were laid out, strung many yards from the only source of water at the irrigation ditch. Water poured, and a Backhoe was being unloaded as they prepared to score out a firewall around the structure. The barn was completely ablaze.

 

        "Starsky?" Doug asked looking at the pale detective, covered in bits of ash and hay. His Beretta dangled loosely in one hand as he stared at the burning barn. "Dave? What on God's green earth happened?"

 

        Starsky only shook his head, saying nothing. Doug laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

 

        "Tell me where Ali's at, I'll ask her." he said gently. Very slowly Starsky turned his head towards the sheriff. Doug caught a good look at the rope cuts in his throat and the horror in his blue eyes. His mouth fell open in surprise.

 

        "I couldn't catch her." he said in a half-strangled whisper. Doug stared at him. "I couldn't catch her." he repeated.

 

        "Ali?" Doug shook himself, Starsky's eyes held him frozen.

 

        "How am I gonna tell him?" he whispered, reaching down between his knees. He lifted Ali's boot. "I couldn't catch her, I couldn't move fast enough."

 

        "Dave, what happened to your throat?!" Doug demanded unable to contemplate what Starsky was trying to say.

 

        "How am I gonna tell him, Doug? How?"

 

        "Ali's not in there!?" Doug shook his head in denial. The look of dread emanating from Starsky's eyes sent chills through him.

 

        "Dear god!" The sheriff whispered forcing himself to look at the burning structure.

 

        "How am I supposed to tell him, his wife was in there?"

 

        "Doug." A young paramedic spoke gently, suddenly appearing at the older man's elbow. The sheriff looked at him numbly.

 

        "Don't let him talk too much."

 

        "What…" Doug started. The other lifted a hand.

 

        "We found him standing in the field. Somebody has tried to strangled him tonight."

 

        "Strangle?!" Doug exclaimed.

        "Knotted rope garrote. He's got some nasty cuts and contussions, we want to x-ray his throat to see if the larynx has been damaged, but he refused to move. Apparently Sergeant Hutchinson's wife was in the barn. We've been trying to raise him on the radio, but he's not responding. I understand he left Walla Walla about an hour ago."

 

        Riley raised a shaking hand to his mouth, looking horrified, turning slightly from Starsky.

 

        "Anybody know how it started?" he mumbled. The paramedic shrugged.

 

        "Not yet, the building's a loss. We're just going to try and make sure it doesn't spread to the adjoining fields. The place was tinder dry. Anybody in there didn't stand a chance. Plus it was full of hay."

 

        Doug stared, hay fires were some of the toughest things to put out, and were notorious for burning for days.

 

        Already the site was a noisy cacophony of sound, it abruptly raised itself up a notch from the far opposite side of the lot. As Doug and the paramedic looked up, the young man's radio suddenly crackled.

 

        "Rick! Get over here, we found someone! Far side of the barn!" The young man frowned, ripping the radio off his hip.

 

        "Ten-four!" he responded, turning to go.

 

        "What?" Starsky gasped, his head jerking up.

 

        "They've found somebody." The medic replied, taking off at a run. Starsky stumbled out of the truck, finding himself being caught and pulled up right by Doug.

 

        "Whoa! Wait a second!" he cautioned as Starsky struggled with the blanket. "Get outta my way!" Starsky hoarsely croaked throwing the blanket aside. He took off after the paramedic, his steps unsteady at first then gaining momentum. Doug quickly followed.

 

              A small group of paramedics where huddled together moving the person when Starsky rounded the corner of the burning structure. One was running back towards the emergency vehicle. Hasty orders where being yelled as the group carefully set their burden back down in the grass a safer distance from the barn.

 

            "Ali!?" Starsky yelled as he approached the group. One of the medics rose quickly, hearing him coming.

 

            "Hold it, hold it!" he warned trying to catch Starsky's arms to slow him down.

 

            "Outta my way!" Starsky grated out, pushing the man aside. He forced his way in, dropping to a knee.

 

           "Don't touch her head!" An older man, obviously the medic in charge, snapped loudly at Starsky, but the brunette had frozen a moment in shock.

 

             Covered in soot, ashes, and blood, he couldn't help but see the cut where the beam had clipped Ali on the left side of her head. She was ghostly pale, completely unconscious.

 

            "No, no, no!!" he gasped, a burning anger beginning to smolder as he stared at her.

 

             "She's still alive, Sargent, but let us take a good look at her!" The younger medic said quickly, catching Starsky's wrist as he reached out to touch her.

 

            Starsky looked at him, a new horror in his eyes.

 

            "The cut's only superficial…" One of the others remarked as they began to pour their attention on her.

 

            "You don't understand!" Starsky grated out.

 

             "Don't understand what?!" The medic in charge snapped as Doug joined the group.

 

            "There's bullet fragments in her head!" Starsky responded in kind.

 

            "What?!" The younger medic exclaimed.

 

             "Hey, that's right!" A third medic replied. "Hutchinson said his wife's disabled."

 

             "How!?" The older man demanded.

    

            "Bullet wound, 8-9 years ago." Doug said, staring in equal shock at the oblivious Ali. There wasn't even a hairs-breath of a pause as the  medics all looked at one another.

 

            "Med-evac, stat!" The older man ordered, as one of the others ripped out his transmitter. The other gently took Starsky by the arm.

 

             "C'mon Sargent, let me get in there and help, you'll need to fly in with them." Starsky looked at Doug, allowing the man to pull him up off his knee.

 

              "I'll get John Pratt on the line, Dave. We'll get him to bring his chopper down to pick up Hutch. We have got to get him on the radio!"

 

               The next few hours felt like an eternity to Starsky.

 

               They refused to let him in the examining room at the hospital they had flown them to in Spokane, and he refused to let them treat him. He stood hanging in the doorway, as a crowd of doctors and nurses descended on Ali like a flock of birds after corn. He'd been in and out of so many of these rooms in the past that he had a fairly good understanding of what was

going on. Ali appeared to be fine. Her vitals were normal, the cut on her forehead only needed two stitches, and she had a nasty scrape up her arm where she had blocked the falling beam. She was however, profoundly unconscious. Once they had her satisfactorily stabilized he tagged along with the crew to radiology, to x-ray her skull, and definitely noticed the knots of fear twisting themselves up inside of his stomach.

 

                 How was Hutch going to react? And where was he?

 

                 As he paced the hall outside of radiology, he tried thinking over what had happened. How stupid could he have been not to notice someone up there in the loft with him? How did they get up there in the first place? He shook his head, wincing at the two crusted cuts encircling his neck. The guy trying to strangle him had some serious strength, and he was

beginning to feel the strain of the fight tell in his muscles. Then there was the truck.

 

               His blue eyes were several hundred miles away as he recalled Ali grabbing his pistol and firing. She had definitely hit that truck. A spark of anger lit them. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that some how Ted O'Brian or that Professor, Cleve Harlan, were behind this thing some how. His encounters with them this afternoon were ample enough evidence to justify pursuing that line of reasoning. Ted O'Brian was angry and volatile enough to do anything stupid, as for Harlan…

 

              A funny niggle worked its way up his spine. Weird how even after 8 years or so apart he could still tell when Hutch was around. He looked up in time to see him coming through the doors at the far end of the hallway.

 

              A thousand thoughts coursed through his head at the look on Ken Hutchinson'sface. That look of anger mingled with dread, horror, worry, and fear…(Oh no not again.)

 

              Already a good head taller than anyone around him, Hutch looked even more imposing in his boots, tan slacks, and a black knit sweater that had a slight militaristic cut to it. His blonde hair, in typical disarray, stood out in stark contrast, along with the exposed shoulder holster. It was the look on his face, the stormy blue eyes, that caused anyone near to make room for him as he spied Starsky and aimed directly for him. Starsky literally felt the wave of emotions broiling inside the man as he approached.

 

              "She's in there…" he said hoarsely, cutting off the first question. "They just finished getting the x-rays, they're gonna move her to her room as soon as they get the pictures developed."

 

              "Wha…what the hell happened!" Hutch snapped, not looking at his partner right away, as he turned looking for the room his wife had been moved to. Starsky caught the stutter, knowing full well, Hutch under stress, brought it out.

 

             "She got hit with a beam falling from the barn." Starsky replied. "What did they tell you?"

 

             "What?!" Hutch turned towards him. Starsky saw the look in his eyes, and gripped his arm.

 

              "What did they tell you?"

 

             "Th…"Hutch started, and scowled in frustration. "The barn caught fire and she got hit with something, what have they told you?!" He demanded. His dark blue eyes searching his partners.

 

              "So far so good. She just seems to be unconscious."

 

              "Seems to be?!" Hutch snapped.

 

              "We'll know more with the x-ray's!" Starsky grated back. "But they won't tell me zip!  As near as I can tell, Hutch, she's okay, she just won't wake up. C'mon maybe with you here they'll let us in there."

 

              He tugged gently on Hutch's arm and steered him towards an open door.  

 

             "Wouldn't let me near her because I'm not related!" he groused.

 

               Inside, a pair of interns had just shifted Ali back onto a gurney. The nurse spotted both men coming in. As she rose, bristling at this latest affront to her authority, Starsky just shot one look at her, pointed at Hutch, and snarled.

 

               "He's her husband!"

 

               Ali always did look small, now she looked even tinier. O2 tubes ran from her nose as one intern tucked the bottle in next to her arm, and the other readjusted the IV's. Even in the gloom of the x-ray room, the purple black mottling of bruises could be seen under the butterfly bandage on her forehead, standing out whitely next to the two black stitches, and her ivory coloured hair. Hutch's face had gone pale as he looked down at her, but Starsky could see what was lurking just behind his eyes. He shook himself, wishing fervently that it really was just deja-vu instead of turning the clock back 8 years to a scarily similar scene. Or for himself, even further back to a frighteningly similar situation too close to his own heart.

 

             Hutch gently laid one big hand on top of Ali's head, bending close, staring intently at her face…

 

              "Al?" he whispered, as if the sound of his voice alone would magically wake her up. He pulled back, sliding his other hand down her arm, looking at the wad of gauze wrapped around her forearm.

 

              "Medics bringing us here figured she saw the beam coming at her and tried to block it." Starsky said, his voice strained, physically, and mentally. "It may have saved her life."

 

                "Life?!" Hutch snapped savagely, staring at his wife's slender little hand as he took it up in his own. "What life if her memories aren't intact?!"

 

               "We don't know that yet!" Starsky grated back, defensively. "So far all they've figured is that she's got one helluva headache!"

 

              "I think you can rest assured that that's all it will amount to be." An unfamiliar voice replied. Both detective's looked up as a doctor entered the room, holding up an x-ray to the only light available. He looked at Hutch, still bent slightly over his wife.

 

              "You must Sergeant Hutchinson?"

 

               "Yeah."

 

               The doctor smiled and nodded at him to move over to wall mounted light unit.

 

               "Walla Walla faxed your wife's records to me, Sergeant." he commented inserting the x-rays onto the unit as both detectives moved in around him "Fella's go ahead and take her to her room, we'll be there in a minute." he said, dismissing the interns. The doctor smiled at Hutch.

 

                "Stuff makes some interesting reading."

 

                "Well I'm glad you found something to amuse you!" Hutch snapped tartly. The doctor nodded, not expecting that kind of response at his humor.

 

                "Calm down, Sergeant," he replied easily, switching tactics, upon seeing that Hutch was a hairs-breath from loosing his cool. "Take a look." He flipped the switch on.

 

                 "No fractures that we can see, and hardly any swelling." he said pulling out an absurdly long skinny screwdriver from his pocket. He pointed out the eerie contours of the skull x-rays. On them, three tiny objects were prominently visual.

 

               "Judging from what the reports in her file says and these x-rays, the bullet fragments left in her skull haven't budged. They're neatly encased for that matter, I think after 8 years was it? That they aren't going to move in the future either, no matter what hits her head. Near as I can figure guys, we're dealing with contusions and a concussion, and as your partner there said, one hell of a headache. We just have to wait to see what she'll be like when she wakes up. Rest assured Sergeant that I don't think this is going to affect her memories any. She may however experience some physical wobbliness, after all she did take a

glancing blow on the site of an old head wound, but we won't know for sure until she wakes up and we take her for a walk."

 

                  "When will that be?" Hutch demanded.

 

                   "An hour to twelve hours from now. It's up to her."

 

                  As the doctor began to brief Hutch on the condition of his wife, leading them from the x-ray room, Starsky abruptly hung back, letting the physician lead Hutch away. He slipped a hand to his throat, glancing at the nurse, feeling a clammy sweat break out.

 

                "Say listen…" he said hoarsely to her, watching as the other two rounded the corner. "I uh…" The room began to spin. The nurse was on her feet instantly, grabbing his arm and steering him towards a chair.

 

                     "That's it Detective!" she announced. "Been trying to get you examined for that neck for two hours! Now we're gonna do something about it!"

 

                     The room was tumbling so hard, Starsky didn't bother to try and fight her.

 

                     Naturally caught up in the condition of Ali, Hutch didn't even notice Starsky missing until the doctor had told him everything that he could about her. However he shed no light on what actually had happened. Alone in the room with her, he paced like a big caged blonde lion at the foot of her bed, his thoughts and memories clashing in mad turmoil. A vicious hand of fear clutched at his stomach, twisting hard as he fought against the thought of what Ali would be like on waking. He didn't think he could face seeing this woman he loved look at him and freak, upon not recognizing him, again. As he looked about for Starsky, he frowned in irritation and promptly went out searching for him.

 

                    At the nurses station he asked his whereabouts and was told to go down and check ER. That proceeded further to irritate the blonde as he struggled under the load of stress threatening to blow his demeanor. Figuring that Starsky had slipped into his old habit of propositioning the nearest pretty nurse, his mood was anything but good when he exited the

elevators and went checking around for his partner.

 

                   "I'm looking for Detective Starsky?" he asked at the station.

 

                   "Room 4, with Connie." A male intern droned, staring hard at typewriter, and not bothering to look up. Hutch shook his head, feeling his adrenaline rise. He spied the room in question and headed for it.

 

                    "Starsky, what the hell are you doing?" he snapped as he entered the room and stopped dead in his tracks.

 

                    The brunette, his back to Hutch, was just pulling his shirt off. Hutch sucked in air, he never could look at the four bullet scars in Starsky's back with out his blood running cold. Starsky turned around, his eyebrows rising in question and for the first time that night Hutch saw the ugly deep rope cuts, bruising, and crusted over blood on his partners throat. Not to mention the criss-crossing scars on Starsky's chest. Their eyes briefly met and held.

 

                 "What…" Hutch started, scowled, glancing away, looking up again. "Who the hell did that?!" he demanded, suddenly feeling angry and stupid at the same time.

 

                 "Farmers decided they didn't want a city boy around, tried to string me up…" Starsky cracked. Hutch just glared at him. Starsky shrugged.

 

                  "Dunno yet Hutch, whoever it was started out this whole wreck of a night." He said, his voice weakening. Hutch took two steps into the room, lifted his hand and gently tipped Starsky's head to one side, staring intently at the weal's on his neck. Starsky winced. The dark blue eyes of the blonde gathered a few more clouds. Starsky could see the gears spinning in Hutch's head as he quickly reasoned out just what had happened.

 

                "Who tried to strangle you?!" Hutch hissed.

 

                "I'd say Ted O'Brian. Or Professor Cleve Harlan, but I was a little indisposed at the time." Starsky smiled apologetically. Hutch stared at him. Starsky sensed his next move…Hutch let out a half angry yell, as Starsky grabbed for Hutch's arm. Too late, Hutch plant ed his fist into the sheet-rock.

 

              "Ahh!" he recoiled drawing his fist up to him. Starsky grabbed his shirt, pulling him away from the wall.

 

              "What the hell did ya go and do that for?" Starsky demanded, reaching for Hutch's hand.

 

              "Seemed like a damned good idea at the time!" Hutch snapped as Starsky tried to uncurl his fingers.

 

              "Congratulations, Rocky! I think you broke the knuckle!" Starsky snapped back as Hutch jerked his hand away with a hiss. "And it's your gun hand too!"

 

              "Why the hell would Ted or Harlan try to strangle you?" Hutch demanded, turning away as his clutched his hand to his chest. The force of the blow began to deaden it past his wrist.

 

               "Little tête-à-tête we had this afternoon. We didn't exactly leave on sociable terms…" Starsky replied. "Besides? Why would they make you mad enough to put your fist in the sheet-rock? What'd'you learn in Walla Whatever?"

 

               "Enough for me to want to bring them both in! This just adds to it!"

 

               "Well you can count on me bein' there when you go huntin' for them." Starsky growled. "What did you learn?"

 

                "Coroner got a positive cause of death on Hallie Illingsworth." Hutch said, grimacing as he tried to move his fingers and couldn't.

 

                "Oh yeah? Even after bein' in that lake forty years and turnin' to soap?" Starsky grated out. Hutch nodded, looking at his partner.

 

               "So what was the cause of death?"

 

                "Coroner found a certain bone in the neck was broken." Hutch said eyeing Starsky carefully.

 

                "Yeah, and?" Starsky eyed back.

 

               "Hallie Illingsworth was strangled to death by a large man, with a knotted rope. He also found the rope fibers to prove it."

 

                 A pin could have dropped in that room as the two detectives stared at one another. Starsky's hand slowly reached to his throat while the other reached behind him, searching for the examination room table. A wave of dizziness washed over him.

 

               Whispering harshly he said.

 

               "I think I need to sit down now…"

 

        Hutch reached up and stroked at his moustache, looking away, sighing.

 

        "What happened at the barn?"

 

        "Couldn't tell ya." Starsky said sitting down, closing his eyes, waiting for the vertigo to pass. "I was cleaning stuff out of the apartment and Ali was messin' around with her horse. I was askin' her why there was a truck parked up by that big ditch, when who ever did this got me from behind."

 

        Hutch's eyes flashed as he looked at his partner. Starsky was by far one of the best natural scrappers in the world when it came to hand to hand combat, who ever it was had to be big and powerful to get the better of him.

 

        "There was a truck by the canal?" he snapped. Starsky nodded.

 

        "Lemme finish will ya?" he whispered. Hutch closed his eyes, trying to move his fingers again, and couldn't. He nodded at Starsky.

 

        "He was stronger and bigger than me, if Ali hadn't have been in there, I'd've been a goner."

 

        "What did she do?" Hutch asked, trying to soften the harshness in his voice as he saw his partner sway slightly, fighting against the dizziness.

 

        "You know her…" Starsky smirked ever so slightly. "Whoever it was in that barn is definitely limping by now. Between the time that he attacked me and she got him to let go, the barn caught fire." He looked at Hutch, suddenly aware that he still had the soot and ashes all over him. "She saved my sorry butt…again."

 

        "She got you out of the barn?" Hutch demanded. Starsky nodded.

 

        "Problem is I couldn't catch her from going back in. She realized the horse was in there still. Apparently she got him out when a beam from the roof let go and it caught her."

 

        Hutch stared hard at Starsky, who looked like a sorry little boy at that moment.

 

        "Sh**." Hutch muttered. "Leave it to Ali to go back in after the horse."

 

        "There's one other thing too." Starsky added. Hutch looked at him sharply.

 

        "Not only do we look for a guy who's big and limping, we need to locate a 79 pick-up, with a long row of bullet holes running down the drivers side." Hutch frowned.

 

        "Ali isn't one to miss a chance, however small. You know that, despite what that scrambled head of hers does. She got a hold of my pistol."

 

        As Starsky barely croaked out the details of what had happened, a tall, dark haired, young man appeared in the doorway.

 

        "You detective Starsky?" he asked looking at Hutch, his voice carrying a trace of an accent. Hutch rolled his eyes and jerked his head at Starsky.

 

        "I'm Starsky." Starsky replied, smirking ever so slightly, "He's Hutch."

 

        "Con Winnert. Friends call me Connie. I'm your doctor this evening." he said entering the room, "Let's take a look at that throat there." He took one look Starsky and paused.

 

        "Hell, mate. You've seen a fire fight too many!" his accent became more pronounced.

 

        Starsky looked down at his chest, one hand lightly touching some of the scars. Hutch snorted.

 

        "You can say that again."

 

        "You're the one who came in with that head injury victim tonight, from the barn fire?"

 

        "How could you tell?" Hutch asked dryly.

 

        "Barn made the news. Biggest structure fire they've seen in the area in years." Connie replied finding a pair of latex gloves. Starsky caught the look in Hutch's eyes.

 

        "Did you ever make it home?" he asked. The Aussie turned and looked at Hutch, who was looking a bit pale.

 

        "That wasn't your place was it?"

 

        "Yeah, yeah it was my place…" he looked at Starsky. "Doug had me meet John Pratt, he flew me from there." He reached up and rubbed at his suddenly tired eyes. "They say anything else?"

 

        "Only that the building was a loss, and that it's going to take a few days to put out because of the hay inside."

 

        "They give any kind of a cause?" Starsky whispered. Con shrugged.

 

        "They think it was electrical."

 

        "That was several thousand dollars worth of timothy…" Hutch muttered, his shoulders suddenly sagging. Starsky could see the gears spinning in his partner's head again.

 

        "We got other things to worry about first, Hutch." he whispered gently. Hutch shot him a look, then sighed, nodding his head yes, and tried again to flex his fingers. He winced instead.

 

               "Mind waiting to talk shop 'til I get done? I understand you almost passed out upstairs?" Con asked.

 

               "What?!" Hutch snapped.

 

               "Delayed reactions." Con replied, studying the side of  Starsky's neck. "You've probably got some cervical damage in there, mate. The night is catching up with you, you're probably sweating and dizzy as hell too, am I right?"

 

        "So far…" Starsky said dryly.

 

        "Well, lie down before you fall over. Let me clean this mess up here. Must've been a big brute and a good sized rope he used."

 

               Hutch just shook his head. Starsky smirked, looking at the nurse.

 

              "You got any ziploc's?" he asked.

 

               "Eh?" Con looked at him perplexed as he fished out a metal bowl, some gauze and a bottle of iodine solution.

 

               "Plastic baggies?"

 

               "What for?"

 

               "Well you're about to start in on my neck, and I want you to get any rope fibers stuck in this stuff into a baggie so we can use it as evidence." Starsky caught the slight smirk appearing on Hutch's face, who nodded his head in approval. Starsky just smiled at Con, his eyes twinkling, who looked a little thunderstruck.

 

               "Mate."

 

               Later, a somewhat more presentable, and slightly doped up Starsky, and Hutch slipped silently into Ali's room. For the time being they were stuck there until transportation could be arranged to get them back to Willow Lake. Ali had been put into a semi private room as it's lone occupant. She had neither woke up or moved since being transferred to the hospital

bed. Being late in the evening, most of the rooms were darkened, and the only light on in hers was the fluorescent lighting above her head.

 

              Hutch made his way around, gently resting his left hand on her head, lightly stroking away the hair with his thumb.

 

              "Ali?" he asked, hoping for a response. There was none and he sighed, studying the bruising on the side of her head. He closed his eyes a moment.

 

              "Hutch." Starsky said from the opposite side of the bed. Hutch looked up at him.

 

              "Sit down, pal, before you fall down." Hutch smirked and nodded, looking around him for a visitor's chair.

 

              "Sure you don't want the doc to check that hand?"

 

              "Who's playin' mother hen?" Hutch asked testily, pulling the chair in close to Ali.

 

              "Me, for a change, again." Starsky smiled, finding the other chair. He dragged it around to Hutch's side of the bed and spun the seat to face him.

 

                "Put your feet up." Starsky said moving back around the bed, and jerking the curtains back to expose the other empty one. He stiffly sat down on it and looked at a suddenly weary Hutch.

 

                  "So tell me what happened in Walla Whatever?" he asked.

 

                  "As long as you tell me what happened today." Hutch responded, still not sitting. He began pulling the blanket's back from Ali, a little awkwardly. Starsky watched him.

 

                  Shrugging, he began telling him about his meeting with Ali at home that afternoon. As he spoke, Hutch gently rolled Ali onto her side, rearranging her arms, crooking her legs, and flipped the blankets back over her. He carefully lifted her head, adjusted the pillow, and lightly stroked the hair back away from her face. Starsky shook himself, several years previous he had watched his partner do this sort of thing day in and day out when Ali had first been shot.

 

                 "She'll be all right, Hutch." he said quietly.

 

                 "Huh?" Hutch looked up at him, from staring at his wife's relaxed features. Starsky smiled slightly.

 

                 "She'll be all right, you heard the doc."

 

                 "Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Hutch said scowling in irritation. He rearranged the O2 tubes from her nose, then gingerly straightened the fingers of her left hand out for the IV lines inserted in her hand.

 

                 "She won't react the way she did before, Hutch." Starsky said gently. Hutch stared a moment at him. Starsky smiled. "You've got it written all over your face." he added.

 

                 Hutch heaved a sigh, settling back into the chair, reaching up with his left to take Ali's hand in his.

 

                 "Hope your right," he replied wearily, studying her fingers.

 

                 "Course I am!" Starsky smirked. "If Ali can survive being shot in the head, what's a two by four gonna do? Or should I make that a twelve by six?"

 

                 Hutch looked over at his equally wore out partner, then smirked, shaking his head.

 

                "Starsk, what is it about this Ivory Woman, as everyone seems to be calling her, that after 40 years someone is still trying to cover up her murder? Why? From what I learned about Hallie Illingsworth in Walla Walla today, she was just a normal, young, war bride and new mother, who happened to get on the wrong end of a garrote? I don't get it?"

 

               Starsky shrugged, relieved to see Hutch's mind dive back down the track their case had been taking instead of worrying himself to frazzle.

 

               "I don't know." He replied, "I'm still trying to figure out what both Harlan and O'Brian have to do with it."

           

              "Harlan is her brother." Hutch said "That and the fact that he is a U of W professor seem to be the only thing legitimate about him. Seems he has a history of using any one and anything around him to get one more step ahead of the crowd. He has a huge amount of information at his fingertips working for the college. If I'd've known he was any where near

Ali…"

 

        "She didn't trust him. Told me so herself. He tried all mornin' to get her to go to the lake with him, and she refused." Starsky said. Hutch looked up at him, a frown tucking his eyebrows.

 

        "She did?" Starsky smiled slowly, nodding back at his partner.

 

        "She  told me that she couldn't bear the thought of hurting you again if she were to screw up with out you around." Hutch could only stare at him with a blank look on his face. Presently he blinked, and looking down at Ali.

 

        "Ah hell, Ali…" he whispered, reaching up to touch her face, "And look what happens when I'm not."

 

        "Hey…" Starsky interrupted his thoughts. Hutch looked back at him.

 

        "She did save my sorry carcass." He slowly smirked. "Again. She tried to kill me once 8 years ago and in the span of what, 4 months, saves my hide twice? Can't let the Blondie do that! My ego can't take it any more!" Hutch paused, then let out a snort, shaking his head, sitting back in the chair.

 

        "I'm only sorry Hutch, that I couldn't catch her in time from going back in there."

 

        "Ah C'mon Starsk!" Hutch protested. "You did what you could. And seeing the condition you're in. I'm surprised you're still on your feet now, I haven't been any help at all either."

 

        "Yeah well…You were getting the stuff we need to take this case by the horns. What else did you find out?"

 

        "That I don't like or trust Cleve Harlan. He likes to find out everything he can about the people he may be personally involved with. If only to use it against them. He was throwing information around the Coroners office about me and Doug Riley that only a few people have any right to know about."

 

        "Doug? Why Doug? He's just a soft hearted good ol' boy." Starsky asked.

 

        "He was trying to get the Coroner to release more information to him about how Hallie was killed. Coroner told him it was a police matter and that even the relatives had to wait."

 

        "And what did you manage to find out about Harlan?" Starsky asked knowing Hutch hadn't spent the entire day in the big city standing idle.

 

        "Enough to know that he has done a lot of damage to certain people around him and that his name is tied to some very ugly circumstances in his life. Yet nothing has ever stuck. Doug should be getting more information on him by morning." He looked at Starsky thoughtfully.

 

        "Think it could have been him in the barn?"

 

        "Could've." Starsky replied. "He's strong enough, even in his sixties. But Ted's got the anger. Harlan was tryin' to force his way into the house when I stumbled on them. Seems Ted's Dad is dyin' from cancer." A fleeting look of horror drifted across Starsky's eyes at the memory of the elder O'Brian lying in his bed. "Ted thinks Harlan was trying to get to his Dad

to shock him to death. 'Parently Ted hasn't told his old man that Hallie has surfaced in the lake."

 

        "Which would explain why he's so angry…" Hutch commented drily.

 

        "And he was mad enough to take it out on me when I left his place. I didn't head home right away either, both of 'em could've got to the barn before I got in."

 

        "But how does Ted know about Hallie Illingsworth?" Hutch asked, lifting one booted foot up onto the chair, and crossing the other one over it. "He's only in his forties."

 

        "Got a theory on that one…" Starsky said looking at Hutch with a twinkle in his eyes. "Did the Coroner show you any pictures of Captain Illingsworth?"

 

        "Hadn't got the proofs back yet from the photo's they took from the locket. Why?"

 

        "Harlan let Ali photocopy his own originals when he came by the house. I hadn't met O'Brian by then, Hutch. In the Lodge, there's pictures all over the wall. One of them was of Charles Illingsworth. If I was a bettin' man Hutch, I'd lay odds that Ted O'Brian was Charles Illingsworth son."

 

        "His son? Then who is the man dying in O'Brian's home?"

 

        "The man Ted thinks is his father, the man Harlan believes killed his sister and who is trying to find a way to get at him before he dies…" Starsky let his thoughts trail off, studying the intent eyes of his partner.

 

        "Why is it I want to have my own talks with this man?" Hutch asked.

 

        "Probably for the same reasons I do!"

 

 

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