CHAPTER 7

Hutch turned onto the familiar, old, rural road. Even though it had been twenty-odd years since he had traveled this road, he was still greeted by the sight of familiar landmarks remembered from childhood. As he drove, he let his mind take him back to the happy memories associated with this area.

Every summer from time he was five years old until he was almost fourteen, Hutch and his younger sister had spent summers with their maternal grandfather on his farm. It was there that Hutch had learned to ride a horse and to love camping. The quiet solitude of this part of the country had been a balm to his young soul. Those summers had helped shape him into the man he had become and had helped him endure the rest of the time spent under his parents' roof.

Hutch had been devastated by his grandfather's death. It felt as if his heart had been ripped out, and with no way to fill that gaping hole, he had fallen into a months-long depression. Meeting Starsky had filled the void that had been left in his life and given him back the same love that he had shared with his grandfather.

He turned off the road into the gravel drive that led up to the old farm house. Nothing had changed over the years. The house and barn still looked the same. As he stepped out of the car and walked toward the house, Hutch could almost feel his grandfather's welcoming embrace.

He remembered the loud fights he had had with his father over the farm. The land was worth a lot of money, and his father wanted to sell it, but the property had been left to his children, not to his wife. Hutch and Patricia had formed a united front, and they refused to give up the land.

Hutch and his sister both had trust funds that their parents had set up for them when they were babies. They both refused to touch the money except for a specified amount they each set aside every month to be used specifically for the upkeep of the farm. After their father stopped renting out the property, that included paying a year-round caretaker.

Hutch stepped up onto the broad, wrap-around porch and reached down to retrieve the key from under a loose board by the front door. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside. On the drive here, he had stopped to call Ben, the caretaker, a neighbor who lived five miles down the road, to let him know he was going to be staying at the farm for awhile.

Inside the house, Hutch found a fully stocked refrigerator and pantry. The utilities had been turned on, and Ben had also had the phone turned on. Every time a new tenant moved in, the phone company issued the residence a new phone number. A scrap of paper on the table beside the phone had that number written on it and a short message from Ben, welcoming him back to the farm. Hutch smiled, feeling more comfortable and at home than he had for weeks.

Briefly, he thought about calling Dobey or Huggy to let them know where he was, but quickly changed his mind. He needed this time away from the city, away from his memories and his life there. Soon he would have to make some life-altering decisions and face the inevitable. But now he was still wrapped in his own loss and grief and an unrelenting, unbearable pain that wore away at him a little more every day.

Hutch walked into the living room, pausing in front of the huge stone fireplace that dominated the room. He remembered evenings spent in front of that fireplace roasting marshmallows or popping corn. Sometimes, Hutch had sat there and just watched the flame for hours, often until the early hours of the morning when his grandfather came downstairs and reminded him to go to bed.

His grandfather had also instilled in him a life-long love of music, teaching him those first simple chords on a guitar. The music had been another point of contention between him and his father, who saw music and playing guitar as a frivolous waste of time. The music had been one of Hutch's earliest forms of rebellion against his father's stringent rules.

Hutch treasured those happy, loving childhood memories. And he still carried the old pocket watch that his grandfather had left him. It still worked and Starsky, who had a fascination for watches himself, had often teased him about using the old-fashioned pocket watch instead of a wrist watch.

Those were happy times, and he had always hated returning to Duluth when summer ended, and it was time to return to school and their normal life. More than once he had begged his grandfather to let him stay there with him. As a boy, he had never understood why the old man always told him that he had to go home. As an adult, he understood that his father would never have allowed him to stay with his grandfather, and that his grandfather treasured their visits as much as they did and didn't want to do anything to endanger them.

As he wandered through the rooms, he noticed the changes to the interior. The flowered wallpaper that had decorated the three upstairs bedrooms had been replaced. Two of the rooms were painted in soft pastels, one blue and one pink, while the third room was painted a neutral shade of beige.

Downstairs, a second, smaller bathroom had been added, the living room had been paneled, and the kitchen had been enlarged. The kitchen appliances were new, and there was a television in the living room, a luxury his grandfather had never owned. Hutch knew that his father had paid for the additions just to attract the renters that had lived in the house over the years. Personally, Hutch preferred the house as it had been when he was a child.

He found himself back in the kitchen. Realizing that he was actually hungry, he opened the refrigerator and took out the ingredients for a nutritious salad and a ham sandwich. He finished off his meal with a glass of cold ice tea. He ate his meal sitting on the back porch watching the sunset.

"I wish I could have brought you here, Starsk," he said quietly, raising his eyes towards the sky as he spoke. "You would have loved it here, even if you were a city boy. I always meant to show you this place, but we just ran out of time before I could." His voice cracked, and a single tear ran down his cheek. He swallowed hard past the lump that still rose in his throat when he thought about Starsky.

Finished with his meal, he went back into the house and settled on the comfortable sofa in the living room. He turned on the television to the local station, which was showing the news. He was startled when a piece came on about the shooting in Bay City and the latest developments in the case. Evidence had shown that a man named James Gunther, one of the most powerful men in the country, had ordered the hit on Starsky and Hutch.

James Gunther, a man who had turned down a chance at the presidency because it would be a step down in power. A man whose name had been coming up consistently in a drug trafficking case that Starsky and Hutch had been investigating. He certainly had the money and the clout to arrange an assassination.

Hutch shut off the television and leaned his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes. He should be back in the city working on the case. He should be the one going after Gunther. But, he knew that he was in no condition to handle a case of this magnitude. Not now. Not when he still could barely get out of bed in the mornings. Better to let it be handled by someone else who could make sure that justice was served for Starsky.

"Oh, Starsk," Hutch whispered in a broken voice. "Why couldn't they have killed me, too? All I want is to be with you…I don't want to be here like this…I miss you so much…"

He broke down in tears and buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. He curled up on the sofa, tucking his long legs up on the cushions, and eventually cried himself to sleep,

Hutch opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by a heavy mist. He had no idea where he was, but he didn't feel afraid or in danger. Through the mist, he saw a dark shadow approaching, a shadow that slowly took shape. Starsky.

"Starsky!" Hutch cried out joyously. "You're here!" He looked around and chuckled. "Wherever here is."

"I'm only here because you're hurting so bad, buddy. I can't stand to see you like this. I'm dead, and I ain't coming back. You got to get yourself together. Stop trying to drag yourself into the grave with me."

"Noooo…I want to be with you. I should be with you! I let you down. You're dead because of me! I didn't watch your back the way I promised."

"It's not your fault, there's nothing you could have done. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was my time to go…there's nothing anybody could do about that…not even you."

"I need you…I don't know how to live without you…"

"You'll find a way. You have to. It's not your time to go yet. And I don't want you doing anything stupid just because I'm not there, Blondie."

"I can't promise that…"

"You have to…and I have to go back…" Starsky's figure slowly turned and began to fade back into the mist.

"Starsky! Nooooo…come back! Please come back…"

Hutch woke to the sound of his own screams. He scrambled off the couch and stood there shaking, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to catch his breath. The dream had been so real. He could till smell Starsky's unique scent and feel the warmth of his presence.

Maybe he was finally losing his mind.