*******
But I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
*******
The afternoon wore on. Dobey was able to get the warrants with
little problem. Even the judges knew what was going on
and wanted to do everything they could to help. The Captain divided
the warrants up and sent his men out to round
people up. Hutch stayed at his desk, pouring over those four
case files and making up lists of questions. Now all they
could do was to wait.
Dobey issued another press release about Starsky, not mentioning the
gravesite. Simply another request for information,
for anyone who might know anything to contact them. Perhaps it
was futile, but at least it was something.
***
The call came in about half an hour before the first warrant went out.
The phone on Hutch's desk rang and he answered
without taking his eyes off of the arrest reports in front of him.
"Hutchinson."
"Hello there, Hutch! I understand you know about my little diversion. Wasn't that fun?"
Dobey had just come out of his office to start handing out the warrants
when he noticed the look on Hutch's face. A look
of pure hatred. He picked up Starsky's phone and started to listen.
"What the hell did that prove anyway? And who's the man in the grave?" Hutch growled.
"It proved, Hutchinson, that I'm in control here. I wanted you
to know what hell is like. The hell that you've put me through
since you stole my, the one that I loved from me. I wanted you
to know what it was like not to have any hope left. That's
what I wanted to prove. As for who that man is, I don't really
know. Not that it matters. Some bum that was willing to put
on your partner's clothes for a few bucks. Who was willing to
go with me into that park for the promise of a fix. A nothing,
a nobody. Just like the first one. You see, Hutchinson,
there's any number of perfectly expendable people out there.
Men that look enough like your partner that every time one of them
shows up dead, you'll have to go and check to make
sure they're not Starsky. Until one day, you'll find the one
that really is him. But that won't be for a long time."
"God, how many are you planning to kill just to get revenge on me for
something I don't even understand?" Hutch
suddenly felt very weary and a little sick.
"Oh, any number, my dear Hutch, any number. But don't worry about
Starsky. He's all safe and snug being taken very
good care of. And, even if you should happen to find him before
I'm ready, I don't think he'll be much use to you. Not in
the condition he's in. Must run now, before someone figures out
where I am. I'll be in touch, Hutch. Ta."
Hutch and Dobey stared at each other in horror. "God, Captain.
What kind of maniac is this man?" <And what the hell
has he done to Starsky. Oh, God, buddy. Be alive, stay
alive. I'll find you. I promise. I promise>
*******
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose
Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night
*******
The search intensified. Now that they knew that they were dealing
with a serial killer, every police department in the city
and surrounding area was put on full alert. There was no telling
when or where his next victim would show up. They
knew for a certainty that he had killed at least twice, the man in
the alley and the one in the park.
And they still had to find Starsky.
Hutch was present as they brought in each person served with a warrant.
Dobey wouldn't let him do all the questioning;
the detective was too tired, too stressed for that. Instead,
Dobey put together a team of detectives and psychiatric
doctors to do the interviews. They were dealing with a madman
here and he wanted to make sure that if he were in one
of their interview rooms, they would find him.
The department tried to keep the details out of the media. No
one wanted a panic at this stage. The DA issued a
request to the press to increase their reporting of Starsky's disappearance.
That night, every newscast in the city carried
the press release. Starsky's picture appeared on the front page
of every paper. Along with the picture, there was a short
description of the Torino and a request for anyone who had seen anything
suspicious in Hutch's neighborhood to contact
Captain Dobey.
And Hutch finally had to make the phone call to his partner's mother
that he had put off as long as he could. He didn't
want her reading about her missing son over her breakfast coffee.
The call was short. Hutch tried to break the news to her as gently
as possible. He didn't tell her all the details, certainly
not about the killings and the threats. Simply that Starsky was
missing and that they were doing everything they could to
find him. That he, Hutch, wouldn't rest until they did find him.
Told Mrs. Starsky that they had every reason to believe
that her son was alive and well. Not to worry more than necessary.
That he would call her as soon as he knew anything.
What he didn't say came through as loudly as what he did. Starsky's
mother could hear the pain in her son's partner's
voice. She knew how close the two were, how much her David loved
the other man. He certainly spoke of him often
enough, of their friendship and their work. Mrs. Starsky knew
that this young man would not rest until he found her son.
She could take some comfort in that.
The detective was more shaken by that phone call that he thought possible.
He and Mrs. Starsky had spoken on the
phone many times over the years, usually about Starsky. At the
end of every one of those calls, she always said, "Thank
you for taking care of my boy, Ken." She hadn't said that this
time. Hutch felt as if he had let her down by losing her
son.
***
The increased press coverage started to bring in results. Although
most of the tips that came in were false leads, there
was one that proved very helpful.
A young woman called in and asked to speak to Captain Dobey. She
wouldn't give him her name, but what she said put a
whole new outlook on Starsky's disappearance.
"I didn't think too much of it at the time. I simply thought it
was the police checking on cars. You know, the way they do
cars that park illegally? There was this cop in uniform standing
behind this sporty looking car, with his foot on the
bumper. It looked to me like he was writing a ticket or something.
I couldn't see too clearly, I was standing outside the
building down the street waiting for my cab. I work the graveyard
shift and my car was in the shop. I felt kinda better
knowing there was a cop just down the block from me, you know."
She paused to take a breath. "Anyway, I was watching him and he
did the strangest thing. He picked something up off
the top of the trunk and then walked up a couple of spaces and crouched
down beside this other car. Then he took this
bottle out of his jacket pocket and started to splash something around
as he walked back to the first car and got in and
just drove away. Couldn't for the life of me figure out what
he was doing. By then, my cab showed up and I went off to
work. I forgot all about it until I saw the story in the paper.
Hope it helps. I've seen the missing man around the
neighborhood, him, and this tall blond guy. He always smiled
at me, real sweet like. I hope you find him." With that, she
hung up.
When Dobey called Hutch into his office and told him the young woman's
story, the younger man was surprised, but not
overly so. "You know, Captain, the only person Starsky would
let get close enough to hurt him would be another cop. It
makes sense in a weird way. And when you consider that most of
the phone calls have come from inside the station and
how much inside information this guy has, well..." Hutch paced
in front of Dobey's desk, head down, thinking hard. "And
if this guy was someone that Starsk knew, he wouldn't be on his guard.
I still don't know what he would have been doing
at my place that night, but...." A sudden thought struck Hutch.
"My God, Captain. I think we've been going about this all wrong.
What if that whole scene outside of my place was all a
set-up to make us *think* that Starsky was at my place. What
if his kidnapping happened somewhere else and all that
blood and the shoe were just stage setting. They never could
say for positive that the blood was Starsky's; just that it's
his type. If that guy works here, he'd have access to Starsky's
file and could find out what type he is. As a cop, it
wouldn't be all that hard to get hold of some blood." Hutch was
sure he was finally on the right track.
Dobey was nodding his head. "Yeah, and that's how he knew you'd
seen that first body and when the mail comes. He
even knew when I told you about the coroner's findings on the second
body. He's been one step ahead of us all the way,
because he *is* one of us. Damn it!" Dobey didn't know
who he was angrier with, the cop who had gone 'bad' or himself
for not figuring this out before.
The two officers stared at each other; both trying to figure out whom
amongst their fellow cops was the one. Which one
had slipped through the cracks, past all the tests, which one had them
all fooled. Which of the men that they trusted with
their lives.
"Captain, do you think it's some one in this department? One of
the guys out there?" Hutch jerked his thumb towards the
squadroom. "I mean, we've worked with most of them for years.
Why would one of them suddenly turn on Starsky and
me? It doesn’t make sense. Does it?" Hutch felt as
if the earth was shifting under his feet.
"I don't know Hutch, but it would almost have to be. Or at least
someone who has reason to be in that squadroom often."
Dobey thought for a moment. "Tell you what, Hutch. You
and I are going to do a little investigative work of our own. I'm
going to look up the duty rosters for the days that we got the phone
calls. Then we're going to go down to personnel and
start pulling files. I think I can remember who was actually
in the squadroom the two times we got the calls in there, so we
can eliminate them for the time being."
They got to work. It didn't take them long to eliminate most of
the squad. They eliminated the ones that either one
remembered being in the room during the phone calls first. Then
they crossed off the ones that were where they were
supposed to be or with whom they were supposed to be with during the
times of the calls. The list was soon down to a
dozen names. They headed for the personnel department, being
careful not to attract attention to their errand by the
simple act of casually announcing they were going to the cafeteria
for a bite to eat.
Personnel was on the main floor in the same wing as the cafeteria.
It was a simple matter of going down to the basement
in the elevator, then going back up the stairs to the first floor.
Dobey requested the use of an office, privacy, and the
silence of the office staff. Once they had the required files,
it wasn't long before they had their connection. Hutch was
the one to find the information they were looking for.
The file belonged to one Anthony Gibbons; an uniformed officer attached
to the Homicide department. He was one of the
officers that had gone to the Park that day. If Hutch remembered
correctly, he was the one who *found* the painted rock.
He was on duty each of the days in question including the day they
had looked at the first body. He was twenty-four
years old having attending the academy when he was just old enough
to qualify. Gibbons was a recent addition to the
squad, assigned six months previous. He had an unremarkable record;
average scores at the Academy, satisfactory
performance reviews, no disciplinary notes. Simply a man who
did his job well, but without attracting too much attention to
himself.
The one thing that made this file different was Gibbons' birth certificate.
Gibbons was not his original last name. His
name legally changed when adopted at age of fourteen by his mother's
second husband. His birth father's name was
Stephen Cole.
Hutch stared at the file in disbelief. He vividly remembered Stephen
Cole. Detective First Grade Stephen Cole. Killed in
the line of duty during an ambush at a drug bust. One of three
officers killed. The same drug bust that Hutch had
survived.
Anthony Gibbons, formally known as Anthony Cole was the adult version
of the teen-age boy who had blamed a young
rookie for his father's death. Who had blamed one Kenneth Hutchinson.
Dobey and Hutch quickly packed everything back up and handed it to the
clerk. Hurrying back upstairs, they stepped off
the elevator in time to see Gibbons exit the squadroom. Something
in the way the two senior officers looked at him
alerted the young man that he had been uncovered. Pulling his
weapon, he pointed it at the pair.
What followed happened so quickly and in such slow motion, that Hutch
never fully recalled all the details. Hutch pushed
his Captain towards the elevator and jumped in the opposite direction.
Hoping to bring down Gibbons without killing him,
Hutch pulled his Magnum and fired a shot at the other man's legs.
Just as he fired his gun, another officer entered the
corridor from the office across from the squadroom. All that
man saw was the gun pointing at his Captain and at another
senior officer. Drew his gun and shot Gibbons point blank.
It was all over just that quickly. Gibbons lay dead on the floor
and their last hope of finding out the truth about Starsky
died with him.
The hall echoed to the receding sounds of gunfire and an anguished shouted "No!" Then all was quiet.
*******
Remember the good times that we had?
I let them slip away from us when things got bad
How clearly I first saw you smilin' in the sun
Wanna feel your warmth upon me, I wanna be the one
*******
Two thirty a.m., Sunday morning, the quietest time of the night on
the ward. Of course, this particular ward was usually
quiet. It held the silent ones. The catatonic, the heavily
medicated, the ones without hope.
The nurses on duty were trying to keep themselves busy. Rounds
weren't for another couple of hours; the last
medications dispensed hours before. There were only two nurses
on this shift. One, young, pretty, still idealistic about
the nursing profession, wanting to help the unfortunate. The
other was older, wiser, and slightly world-weary after years
working in psychiatric hospitals. She knew that for some patients,
there was no help except to keep them so drugged
they couldn't hurt themselves or anyone else. Like so many on
this ward.
Amy, the idealistic one, was reading the newspaper, tsking to herself
over the headlines. Leslie, the realist, was going
over dosage charts, trying to ignore her co-worker's mutterings.
An especially loud exclamation from Amy made Leslie
look up from her project.
"Amy, what are you reading that is getting your pantyhose in a knot?"
"Oh, Les, it's this sad story about that missing cop. You know.
The one over on West Side that disappeared a few weeks
ago. From what this article says, the police have tied his disappearance
to a couple of murders that another police
officer did. It looks like it was some kind of revenge thing
against the missing cop's partner. The bad cop," The paper
rustled as she tried to find the reference. "named Gibbons, was
killed in the police station when he pulled his gun on the
partner, uh, Hutchinson. It says here that 'with the death of
Gibbons, it would appear that any hope of finding the truth
concerning Sgt. Starsky's disappearance is gone. Other than some
journal entries, ranting about Sgt. Hutchinson,
Gibbons left no record of his activities.' God, Leslie, isn't
that sad?"
In spite of herself, Leslie was interested in the story. Her husband
was also a policeman, working out of the Culver City
detachment. When the case first hit the papers, her husband told
her that he knew the partners. Told her how in tune
they were with each other. How devoted they seemed to be towards
one another. She could only imagine what the
remaining partner must be going through right now.
***
Life had turned into one long grayness for Hutch. It was now almost
three weeks since Starsky disappeared and they
were no closer to finding him than the first day. The search
of Gibbons' apartment and police locker revealed no hints of
what he had done with the missing man. They uncovered journals,
kept over several years, full of hate and plots of
revenge for Hutch. Somehow, Gibbons twisted the events of Stephen
Coles' death so that Hutch was the one
responsible. The forensic psychiatrist, who went over the journal
entries, could find no real reason for this, only that with
Hutch's rise in the department, Gibbons' desire for revenge escalated.
The psychiatrist was able to pinpoint when everything came to a head
for the young man. During the search for the Kirby
sisters, the newspapers ran daily articles about the investigation.
Many included Hutch's, and for a time, Starsky's
names. After the capture of the molester and the death of the
two sisters, the press had a field day over the supposed
incompetence of the detectives, Hutch in particular. In fact,
Gibbons was one of the officers assigned to the case when
the search crossed into the neighboring Division. When the raid
on the molester's hideout happened, Gibbons was one
of the first wave into the house, along with Hutch. The psychiatrist
felt that the horror of the crime scene had pushed the
young man over the edge. Because Hutch, someone he already despised,
was connected to that trauma, it reactivated
the desire to wreck vengeance on the man he held responsible for his
father's death. His transfer to Metro and to Hutch's
squad took much planning and creative maneuvering on his part, but
he finally succeeded.
The journals were full of references to both Hutch and Starsky.
Gibbons hated the fact that Hutch was happy. That he
had someone in his life that he loved. His hatred for Hutch grew
to include Starsky, to wish him as much harm as he did
Hutch. It grew to the point that along with the desire to inflict
as much emotional pain on Hutch, he desired Starsky's
death. Gibbons wrote constantly about killing Starsky.
About how he would do it, where he would do it, and how to
dispose of the body. In long and gruesome detail.
The journals stopped two days before Starsky's disappearance.
The last entry read: "Sunday night is when the
murderer finally begins to make compensation for killing my father.
He will feel what it is like to lose the only person who
ever loved him. He will know what vengeance is. The other
one deserves to pay too. He loves a monster, therefore he,
too, is a monster. And all monsters must suffer. Or die."
***
Hutch felt as if he were in the throes of a nightmare. One that
his partner was not going to be there to hold and comfort
him through. Following Gibbons' death on Friday, Hutch worked
the next thirty-six hours straight.
Dobey had called in as many favors as he could to have all the forensic
work done as quickly as possible. By late
Saturday afternoon, they had the psychiatrist's report and the results
of the search of Gibbons' effects completed. Hutch
read all the reports, the journals, trying to piece together something
that would lead him to Starsky. But there was
nothing.
Huggy, having heard about the shooting on the radio, came to the station
to be with Hutch. By midnight, Saturday the two
of them had moved operations into Dobey's office again. Huggy
napped on the couch while Hutch read and re-read the
journals. Finally, even Hutch's desire to find his partner fell
to his body's need for sleep. The blond slipped into an
uneasy doze.
***
The sun was shining thinly through the early morning fog. The
tide was going out, and the shorebirds were running back
and forth feeding on the bounty left behind by the receding waves.
Hutch looked out to sea, feeling the pull of the ocean
and the tide. A slight sound behind him made him turn to look
into the searching dark blue eyes of his partner.
"Hey Hutch."
"Hey Starsk."
"I missed you. Went by your place, but you'd already gone.
Figured you'd be here." Starsky turned from his perusal of
his friend to face the breeze off the ocean. He inhaled deeply
and let that breath out with a sigh. "Even after all these
years of living beside the ocean, I still can't get over how it smells.
Salt and fish mixed with something, I don't know,
magical. Don't much care to be out on it, but I sure love to
be beside it."
The dark haired man put his arm around his friend and leaned into him.
Hutch slipped his arm around the other's
shoulders and the two simply stood together and watched the tide go
out. After a while Starsky turned slightly and patted
his other hand on his partner's cheek. Hutch started. The
peacefulness of the waves and the warmth of his friend's
presence had almost mesmerized him.
"What?"
The hand slipped away and Starsky smiled. "Nothing, just wanted
to look at you. Where have you been, anyway,
Hutch? I've missed you. I waited a long time for you to
show up, but you didn't come. Why?" The smile turned sad.
"I
thought you said you'd always come find me if I ever got lost."
Ashamed, Hutch turned away from those searching eyes and melancholy
smile. "I'm sorry, buddy. I looked all over for
you. I truly did, but I couldn't find you. Tell me where
you hid." He turned back, but the other was gone. "Starsk?
Starsky, where are you?"
"Hutch, I'm right here, you just have to look harder. Come and
find me pal. I need for you to find me." The sound of his
friend's voice drifted away with the tide.
"Starsky! Don't! I don't know where to look. Tell me where to look. Starsky! Starsky!"
***
"Starsky!"
The sound of Hutch's shout woke both of the men. Huggy almost
fell off the couch, momentarily disoriented by the
sudden wakening. He rolled to his feet and reached to grab hold
of Hutch. The blond man was sitting hunched over,
shaking and gasping for air. When he felt Huggy's arm around
his shoulder, he started, looking up in hope. Realizing
that it was not his partner, he gave a shuddering sob and allowed Huggy
to pull him into an embrace. One, but not the
right one, trying to comfort the other. But there could be no
comfort.
***
The shift wore on. Leslie was working once again on her charts,
Amy running the supply checklist. The two nurses
couldn't stop thinking about the two detectives, one missing, the other
searching. Both knew that they could never begin
to know what the remaining partner must be feeling, but they could
imagine. Leslie, a mother, knew that if one of her
children were to disappear she would search forever for them.
Would fight, grieve, and continue to hope. She knew that,
while the relationship between the two men was different than that
of mother and child, the bonds of their partnership was
just as strong. Leslie also knew how close her husband and his
current partner were, but they had only been partners for
a couple of years, not almost a decade.
Amy, not yet in a committed relationship, had only her imagination and
empathic nature to draw on. She knew how she
would feel if someone she loved vanished and was thought dead.
It almost broke her heart.
Looking over one of the new patients' charts, Leslie was making notes.
"Amy, when we do medication rounds this
morning, we're not to give any sedatives to the patient in room 305."
Amy glanced up from her checklist. "Oh, why?"
"Dr. Bernardi wants to evaluate him. He's been under heavy sedation
since admission Thursday night and he's due for
evaluation Monday. We'll have to put the restraints on him tonight.
There's no telling how fast he'll come out of it or how
violent he'll be."
"Right, now I remember. Jodi was telling me about him. It
took three of our guys plus the ambulance crew to hold him
down long enough to get him tranquilized. She told me that the
cop with him really ticked her off. He just stood back,
smiling while they fought with the poor guy. What's the patient's
name again?"
Leslie looked at the chart again. "Michael Swartz. The only
ID he had on him was a welfare card." She read from the
chart, "Patient exhibited extreme violent and paranoid behavior upon
admission. Police officer stated that he discovered
him wandering an alley, screaming, and throwing things. When
the ambulance crew approached him, he attacked them.
Attendants stated the patient was yelling that the officer was trying
to kill him."
Amy shook her head. "Sounds like they had a wild time of it.
Jodi was saying that the guy was filthy and looked like he
hadn't eaten anything decent in a while. They cleaned him up
the best they could once they got him sedated. Had to
throw away his clothes and everything. I hope the doctor can
help him." Amy shook her head sadly at the man's plight.
Leslie smiled at her kind-hearted friend. She hoped that Amy would
hang onto that and not become hardened towards
the inmates of the hospital as so many of their co-workers had.
"I hope so too. Let's get set up and we'll check on him
first before we hit the other rooms." The two nurses busied themselves,
arranging the needed medicines and other
necessities on their cart. Amy pulled a set of restraints from
supply and placed them beside the other things. Leslie
checked everything over and they proceeded down the dim and quiet hall
towards their first patient.
***
Huggy finally convinced Hutch to come home with him. It was a
quiet drive. When they got to Huggy's, Hutch slumped
down in a chair by the front window. His host, knowing that his
friend would sleep where he was when ready went off to
bed. The detective sat, staring out the window, trying not to
lose control again. He needed to stay focused, to push his
own feelings of loss and grief deep so he could stay strong.
Hutch knew, knew in his very soul, that Starsky was alive.
He wasn't going to give up looking for him and believing that he lived.
He couldn't.
He had learned something about himself during the last three weeks.
Something he had always known but resisted. He
loved his partner, his best friend. And that love was tearing
him apart. He would give anything to be able to tell Starsky
what he truly felt for him, but it was beginning to look as if he'd
never get the chance. Hutch knew his partner loved him,
or <God no> had loved him in return. More than once they had
teased each other about buying a house together.
After Terry died, he knew Starsky had given up on the dream of a family.
The partners began to spend even more time
together than before. For awhile it had seemed to Hutch that
his friend was afraid to let him out of his sight. That if he
weren't around something terrible would happen to Hutch. It had
only been the last couple of months that Starsky had
stopped dropping by late at night and sleeping on Hutch's couch.
How Hutch wished he hadn't discouraged his friend
from coming over unannounced. Maybe none of this would have happened.
Or at least they would have been together
when Gibbons decided to take his revenge.
Hutch drew in a shaky breath. It was no use dwelling on what ifs.
Gibbons had happened, Starsky was gone, and it was
up to him to find out where he was. Somewhere, out there in the dark,
his friend waited for him to come and find him. And
he would find him, even if it took forever.
*******
She straightened up from the chart she was updating and looked at the
clock. Four a.m. <Damn, this night is going
slow.> Another three hours before she could go home and crawl into
bed and snuggle up to her sleeping husband. She
always liked when the two of them worked night shifts at the same time,
even if it did mean the kids had to stay with her
mom.
Leslie felt the need to walk a bit, just to keep the cobwebs at bay.
"Amy, I'm going to go down and check on 305. Jodi
said before she left that he was a bit restless."
Amy looked up from the novel she was reading. Leslie was amused
to see it was an another romance novel. <How can
she read that stuff?> "He was sleeping fine when we did the midnight
rounds."
"I know, but it will have been twenty-four hours since the last sedative,
he could start waking up thoroughly anytime now.
Just thought I'd take a bit of a walk and check up on him."
"You want me to come with you?" Leslie could tell Amy really didn't want to leave her book.
"No, that's okay. I'll leave the door open. If there's any
trouble, I'll yell for help." She patted the younger woman on the
arm as she passed her. Amy's nose was back in her book before
Leslie had cleared the nurses' station.
The ward was peaceful in the pre-dawn. In another couple of hours
or so, the halls would start to fill with movement as
the other staff came in. Food services, laundry, technicians,
and all the others that kept the place running smoothly
would come on shift. Those patients that could would awaken and
need help to get into their day. Leslie walked down
the silent hall, checking the windows of the rooms as she past.
She rather liked the silence. Sometimes it was the only
peace she would have for the rest of the day.
Coming to room 305, she pushed the door open and walked in quietly in
her nurse's shoes. The patient was moving
about a bit, mumbling to himself. Leslie was pleased to see that
someone from the earlier shift, probably the
ever-efficient Jodi, had shaved off the ratty beard that had covered
the man's face. <Boy, whoever cut your hair sure
made a mess of it didn't they Michael?> Suddenly, dark blue,
slightly glazed eyes were staring up at her.
Trying not to startle the patient, she smiled gently, and spoke in calm, quiet tones. "Hello, Michael. How are you feeling?"
The man in the bed looked perplexed, as if her question puzzled him.
He slowly looked away from her, glanced around
the room, then back to her. Trying to move his hand, he started
to struggle against the restraints. Leslie quickly put a
soothing hand on his chest and made shushing sounds until he quieted.
Michael was panting, fear evident in those blue eyes. His mouth
worked as if he was trying to say something but no
words came out. Frustration practically radiated off of him as
he struggled to get out a sound. The nurse kept making
soothing sounds. Finally, he managed to croak out a word.
"Wh.."
"Why?" A barely perceptual nod. "Why what, Michael?"
He jerked his bound hand. "Oh, why are you tied down?"
Another, stronger nod. She cast about for an answer that wouldn't
upset him further. "It's okay, Michael. You were a bit
out of control when you came in the other night. We just didn't
want you hurting yourself." The patient rolled his head
back and forth, as if to say that he wouldn't be violent. "I'm
not allowed to take the restraints off, Michael. Only the doctor
can okay that. Why don't you try to sleep? Before you know
it, it'll be morning and the doctor will be here. Maybe he'll
let us take them off then." Again the rolling of the head.
"Not.." A pause to gather strength. Leslie wondered how long it had been since he last talked coherently. 'Not Michael."
"You're not Michael?" <Oh boy, now he's probably going to tell
me he's George Washington or something.> The man
nodded his head, a slight smile pulled at his mouth, obviously pleased
that she understood. "Then who are you? What's
your name?"
Again, that puzzled look, then a real smile. "David, I'm David."
"Okay, David. Do you know the rest of your name?"
The smile disappeared. A little whimper of sound made up the word, "No."
***
Hutch dragged himself through Sunday. Tired, weary to his heart,
he moved from one place to another without really
thinking about it. Huggy took him back to Venice Place early
Sunday morning to change clothes. It was Huggy's first time
in the apartment since Hutch's destruction of his plants. Not
exactly shocked by what Hutch had done, Huggy felt more
saddened by the pathetic corpses littering the floor. Here was
graphic proof of Hutch's torment.
Of all the people whose lives the two partners had touched over the
years, Huggy was the one who knew them best. He
turned to them when he needed help; they turned to him. He was
the holder of their secrets, the moderator in their
fights. Huggy was
Invited to share their joys, needed to share their sorrows. He
knew what they meant to each other, had often wondered
why they didn't know it themselves. As their friend, he had lived
in dread of the day when one or the other, or even both,
would be taken out of his life. For his own sake, but mostly
for the one left behind. He often teased them when one
would show up alone, 'Hey, you look lop-sided. Where's your better
half?' Usually the other was not far behind. But
maybe this time there would be no rejoining of those two halves.
How he hated that thought.
Huggy watched as Hutch simply stepped over or around the shattered pots
on the floor. He made a mental note to get
someone over here to clean the place up. Huggy had already been
taking care of Starsky's, he, and one of his staff. He
wandered around the room, finally settling down on the piano bench.
Idly ran his hand over the closed keyboard cover,
wondering if he'd ever hear his friend play or sing again. There
was a song sheet on the stand, one by Cat Stevens
entitled 'How Can I Tell You'. He read the first few lines of
the lyrics, eyes tearing a bit. Somehow, those words seemed
eerily prophetic. He replaced the sheet and turned his back on
it and the silent piano.
Once Hutch had changed, the two of them left the dark and silent apartment.
Headed back to the station for another day
of searching. Huggy had exhausted all his sources, Hutch had
ran out of his. All they could do now was work the
phones, talk to the hospitals, the morgues again. Anywhere that
an unidentified person might end up.
***
It was late in the day when they got their first big break. Huggy
received a call from the bar telling him that someone was
looking for him with information on Starsky. Although Hutch didn't
seem too enthused by this, having received so many
false leads, the two piled back in Huggy's car and drove to the address
the barmaid gave him. They pulled up in front of
a seedy hotel bordering the line where Metro ended and the next district
started.
Hutch stepped out of the car, moving as if every joint in his body hurt.
The events of the last weeks, and most especially
the last few days, had stolen more than his friend. The animation,
the light that glowed behind his blue eyes was slowly
fading. Like a candle snuffing out. The two men walked
into the rundown lobby and approached the counter. A thin little
man sat behind the counter reading a newspaper. He jumped when
Huggy spoke.
"You looking for me, Joey?" Huggy leaned, loose-limbed on the counter. Hutch stood beside him, straight and impassive.
"Oh, hi ya Huggy. Yeah, I was reading the paper here, " he rattled
the sheets, "and read this article about the cop that
got killed." The newspapers that morning had included a picture
of Gibbons along with more details of the bizarre case.
"I'm sure that this is the guy that rented one of the rooms last month."
Joey looked from one face to the other. "He ain't
been back for a few days, and when I saw the picture it got me to thinking.
It's not the same name, he used Tony Cole,
but it sure looks like this guy." Tapping the picture.
"I knew you'd been asking around about that other missing cop,
Huggy, so I thought I'd give you a call."
"Why?" Hutch spoke up for the first time. The tone of his
voice made Joey appear even more nervous, as he swallowed
and looked up at the tall man looming over him.
"Well, ah, you see, a couple of days after he rented the room, he brought
in another guy. I don't ask questions, I just rent
the rooms, but this new guy looked like he was real drunk or stoned
or something. And he looked kinda messed up like
he'd been in a fight. I never saw the guy again after that night.
But I'm pretty sure he was in that room for a while. Cole
made it very clear that no one was to go into there, no matter what.
He looked crazy around the eyes, and I've seen lots
of crazy, so I listened." He smiled conspiratorially at them,
but found little response in those two pairs of cold eyes. Joey
swallowed and continued. "I didn't think much about it, you know
how these druggies are, always bringing one of their
whacked out friends home to sober up. But after I saw the picture
of that missing cop, it struck me how much he looked
like Coles' friend."
Hutch and Huggy looked in hope at each other. Hutch asked another question. "When's the last time you saw Cole?
"Thursday night. He comes streaking in here like he was on fire,
barreled up the stairs and into his room. I hear all this
banging around then I hear him going down the back stairs like he's
dragging something. Now I couldn't leave the front
'cause I had other things to take care of, so I don't know what he
was doing. I heard him go up again and then he left.
Last I saw of him, he was driving this blue foreign car out of the
alley, headed that way." Joey pointed towards the east.
"Show us his room." Hutch commanded. He was so sure
that they were getting close. He could feel it in his gut.
Blind
hope mixed with the fear that had been there since the day his partner
disappeared.
Joey grabbed a key from the board behind him and led them up the stairs
to a room on the first floor towards the back of
the hotel. He deftly unlocked and opened the door. Hutch
pushed past him and entered the room. His searching eyes
took in the rumpled bed, the overflowing wastebasket, and the scattered
food containers. He started to walk around the
room, searching for what he didn't know except some sign that Starsky
had been here. Finally, he found his proof. Lying
on the closet floor, along with a bloody towel, was the mate to the
running shoe left beside his car all those days ago.
Hutch turned back to Huggy. "Go downstairs and call Dobey.
Tell him what we've found. We're going to need a crimes
scene team. God, Hug, he must have been keeping Starsky here
the whole time." Hutch's face twisted in anguish.
Huggy gazed in compassion at him. "Yeah, next question is where
the hell did he take him from here." <And was he still
alive then or now.> Probably the scariest question of them all.
*******
It took some time, but she managed to calm her patient enough to fall
back asleep. She stayed with him for a few minutes
after to make sure he would stay that way, then quietly worked her
way back to the station. Deep in thought, she at first
didn't hear Amy's question.
"Pardon?" Realizing she was being spoken to.
Amy sighed, recognizing the signs. Leslie often went off somewhere
like that when she was worried about a patient or
puzzled by something. "I asked, how's the patient?"
"Oh. He woke up for a bit, but he's asleep again. He seemed
to be fairly calm in spite of waking up in a strange place
and tied down. Do we still have yesterday's newspaper laying
around?"
Surprised at this turn in the conversation, Amy hopped down from her
stool and looked beneath the counter. Some
rustling and an exclamation of "What the heck is that doing here?"
later, she stood up with the paper in hand. She
passed it over to Leslie. Amy watched in amused fascination as
Leslie quickly sorted the pages until she had the front
page exposed. Laying it out on the countertop, Leslie examined
the lead story and the accompanying photo. Finally,
Amy couldn't stand the suspense anymore.
"What's up? What are you looking for?"
Leslie didn’t answer for a moment, still staring at the picture.
When she did, it was a request rather than an answer.
"Look at that picture carefully then come down the hall with me for
a minute." Amy, puzzled, did as asked, examining the
photo carefully. Leslie was halfway to room 305 before Amy caught
up to her. She tried to quiz her co-worker with no
results. Arriving at the room, Leslie held a finger against her
lips for quiet, then whispered. "Don't say anything. Go in
there and take a good look at him, then come back out. Don't
wake him."
Now totally perplexed, Amy quietly went into the room and approached
the sleeping patient. Stood looking down at that
quiet face for a moment before her own changed. She caught herself
before she uttered the exclamation that rose in her
throat. Quickly leaving the room, she grabbed hold of Leslie's
hand and squeezed.
"My God, Les. It's him, isn't it?"
Leslie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I think so.
I'm going to call my husband. He's met them, he'd know.
Come on." She hung onto Amy and the two of them hurried back
to the nurse's station to make the call to Leslie's
policeman husband.
***
Another all-nighter. After the discovery of Gibbons' rented room,
Hutch, Huggy, and Dobey spent the next few hours
observing the crime scene team at work. What they uncovered was
interesting. And frightening. The blood on the towel
that Hutch found was not the only evidence of injury to someone.
The team found blood in the bathroom as well as on
the bedsheets. They sent samples to the lab, but one of the techs
said that it didn't look real fresh. Most of the empty
food containers showed signs of being around for awhile, days if not
weeks. Littered about the room they found
newspapers carrying stories of the escalating search for Starsky, starting
with the first news release.
The most disturbing evidence found was the bathroom wastebasket full
of hair. Dark brown, curly hair. When one of the
team brought the basket to the waiting men, Hutch thought for just
a moment that he was going to be ill. He reached into
the basket and touched the soft strands. Drawing in a shuddering
breath, he turned bleak eyes to his captain.
"What the hell did he do to him, Captain?" Hutch had to swallow
several times to regain control. Dobey gestured for the
tech to take the basket away and bag it, then looked at Hutch with
sympathy.
"We don't know what it means, Hutch. Just hang in there, son, just hang in."
One of the techs called Dobey. Left alone, Hutch and Huggy moved
to stand closer together. They had found an out of
the way wall to lean against. It was a good thing that Huggy
was standing so close because the next discovery almost
brought Hutch to his knees. The tech who called Dobey had found
a drawer full of medical supplies. Syringes, used and
unused, plastic tubing, bandages, and other assorted items lay in that
drawer. For a brief moment, Hutch had visions of
his ordeal at the hands of Forrest and his men. <God, not
that, not Starsky> But then the tech picked up a small bottle
and read the label.
"It's a powerful tranquilizer, Captain, and there's several empty ones
in here. Enough to keep a man under for weeks."
He sorted through the bottles and picked up another one. "Hmm,
this is strange. This one's a stimulant, highly effective.
Give a person a large enough dose of this and you'd have a raving lunatic
on your hands." He looked at the pale face
across the room and spoke more quietly to Dobey. "Or, combined
with that tranquilizer, it could bring on a stroke. I'm
sorry sir."
As quiet as the tech tried to be, Hutch had heard every word.
<Stroke. Damn you Gibbons.> Hutch knew his partner
was alive. He knew it. But, in what condition? Had
Gibbons' ministrations left Starsky with a stroke? Brain damage?
The very thought was almost worse than the idea of his being dead.
***
Leslie's husband, Ray, was just going off duty when she called him.
By the time he made it down to the hospital, it was
almost six and he was more than a bit upset. It had been a long
and frustrating nightshift and all he wanted to do was go
home to bed. But Leslie had sounded very upset on the phone when
she asked him to come, so he put aside his feelings
and made the trip. The security people downstairs knew him and
let him up without any questions. Arriving at his wife's
floor, he was struck again by how eerie this area was, how quiet.
One always thought of a mental hospital as being
noisy. Bedlam. But this floor never was. It was downright
unnerving.
Leslie and Amy met him at the elevator, security having called to say
he was on his way. Leslie put her arms around him
and hugged. "I'm so glad you came, honey."
Ray squeezed back. "I'm here, now what's up? You weren't very clear on the phone."
"I don't want to influence you. Just come with me and, if I'm
right, you'll understand." So saying she led her perplexed
husband to room 305, Amy following. The patient was awake again
and gazed with fear-filled eyes at the trio in the open
doorway.
"Are you the doctor?" He hesitantly asked.
"No, I'm her husband." Ray pointed at Leslie. He stepped
a little closer and looked the man in the bed over carefully. A
shock of recognition crossed his face and he turned in amazement to
his wife. "This is.." He stopped when Leslie raised
her hand and gestured for him to come back into the hallway.
"I'll be back, David. Don't worry, everything's going to be fine." She smiled reassuringly at him and closed the door.
Ray was beside himself. "That's David Starsky in there!
I'm sure of it. What the hell is he doing here?" He hissed
the
questions as quietly as he could in his agitated state.
"It's a long story. I'll explain later. But right now I
think we'd better start making some phone calls." Leslie hustled
the
other two back to the nurses' station and started issuing orders.
The first person she wanted called was Dr. Bernardi.
From there, she couldn't wait to deliver the good news to David's people.
It wasn't often that she got the chance to give a
patient's loved ones any kind of good news. It almost made her
feel like crying. But not yet. David was her patient and
his interests came first.