Busted, dusted, rusted
Lieutenant Ken Hutchinson sighed and picked up his car keys. His over enthusiastic young partner was almost champing at the bit to get out there and deal with the call-in. Funny thing is that back in the old days Hutch loved it when he had a partner who almost bounced whenever they had something to deal with. But that was in the old days. Back when neither his back not his heart ached.
In the last couple of years there had been more false alarms than he wanted to remember.
The car was in the bay reserved for the forensic investigators to do their job. In the bright lights Hutch made out the familiar shape. He held his breath. A glimpse of red paint brought his heart to his mouth. He decided he didn't want to get any closer; not yet, not now, just in case there was still some hope. "What do we have?"
They busted this guy for possession and he said he found the hash in a car dumped in a gulley." Click; whirr. "The car was found near a cove just north of Malibu." Click; whirr.
Hutch held back. "What else?"
"They got a set of prints. I don't know how much help that will be though. Looks like this car was there for a while before anyone found it. Look."
Hutch swallowed his fear and stepped up to look at the car. It was covered with a thin layer of sand and salt and the rust was beginning to eat into the distinctive white stripe."
He ran up to the lab. "Do you have a match?"
Hutch walked out of the building; once again the relief was mixed with despair. His partner crushed out his cigarette with his heel and opened the passenger door.
"Another false alarm, Lieutenant?"
"Yes; but he's out there somewhere. I know he is; and one day…one day I'll find him."
His partner said nothing. The case was still open. Back in July 1979, Detective Dave Starsky had recovered from his injuries and disappeared two months after being discharged from the hospital.
And Hutch was still looking for him.
