Disclaimer: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of Starsky and Hutch.
Warning: "Shadows of the Past" contains some foul language that might be offensive to some readers. As it is never my intention to offend anyone, please consider yourself warned.
A/N: Aloha Everyone . . . May I take this time, to wish all of you a very Happy New Year! May 2011 bring you only peace, prosperity, love, and happiness. I am sorry this comes so late, but RL has been quite brutal to say the least. I have recently recovered from a bad bout of bronchitis and have finally finished the following chapter this evening. I offer it as a token of affection to you, dear readers. Thank you for all of your support and encouragement throughout the years . . .
Love and light to you all . . . Shawne
Previously on "Shadows of the Past"
"Count me in, partner" Starsky grinned.
"No way, Starsky," Hutch admonished, pointedly waving his hand in the direction of his friend's damaged ribs. "You're going home. Tell him, Captain!"
Starsky turned to look at the large, dark man behind the desk who shifted his gaze from the blond to the brunet, the tip of his double-chin resting on the upturned palm of his hand, elbow digging into the top of his desk pad. "You're going home, Starsky, that's an order." Dobey sighed in a monotone voice, already knowing his orders would be quickly disobeyed.
"Yes sir!" Starsky said promptly, eyes sparkling with mischief as he grinned and mock saluted his Captain. "Wouldn't think of being any other place!"
~ Chapter Six~
"What time you got?"
Starsky shifted his eyes to his watch, sapphire blue eyes squinting in the dark to read the numbers. The meager lights from the streets were making it difficult to see in the quiet hush of the abandoned warehouse district. Twisting his wrist to better look upon the face of his timepiece, while simultaneously loading the last bullet into his gun, the dark haired cop whispered, "Five minutes to eleven. You think he's in there?"
Hutch placed his loaded gun back into his holster and shrugged, "Hell if I know, buddy, but Dex said if we could be here by eleven, the information he had to give us would blow the lid off something only a few people know about."
"What do you think he knows?" Starsky asked, wincing as he shifted the weight in his legs while he crouched behind the trunk of the Torino with his partner beside him, his eyes locked on the entrance to the old warehouse where they were to rendezvous with Dexter, one of Hutch's more reliable snitches.
Hutch shrugged, his own eyes were fixed at the same point as his partner's and his voice was whisper soft as he replied, "I don't know, but like I said, Dex was scared. I could hear it in his voice. He said he wanted us to get him into the witness protection program if he had to spill his guts to anyone else besides us. Said the information he had would be the death of him."
Hutch frowned as a thought crossed his mind. "Hey, you called Joey?" the blond asked, abruptly changing the subject, shifting light blue eyes in the direction of his partner. "He knows you're not coming home right?"
Starsky snorted, "Yeah, I called him. He was pissed at me for going to work when he explicitly demanded that I stay home."
Hutch grinned, "Can't say I blame the guy. He and I seem to think a lot alike when it comes to you. What did you say to him?"
"I told him to get over it. I ain't the Betty Crocker type!" Hutch snickered as Starsky continued, "Campenella told me he was gonna kick my ass for sure when I got home." Starsky chuckled. "What a grouch! He's even worse than you, Hutch!"
Hutch laughed softly, "Yeah? Well, sorry about that, buddy, and don't expect me to save you. In fact, I just might help him by holding your stubborn ass down; although I don't think that friend of yours would need any help from me."
The handsome blond smiled at the soft snicker he heard from his longtime friend and then sighed audibly, glancing quickly around them before turning to his partner once more. "You feeling okay, Starsky?" Hutch asked, concern softening the look in his eyes. Maybe you should just stay here. I know your ribs must be killing you."
"You kiddin' me? And let you have all the fun? I don't think so, Hutchinson." Starsky said derisively, but the worry in his partner's light blue eyes made the dark haired detective turn away to hide the discomfort he was feeling in his bruised and battered body.
The handsome blond detective frowned once more as he gazed at his partner. Knowing Starsky wasn't up to par made the blond anxious. He didn't want his best friend hurt any more than he already was. Maybe it had been a mistake to let Starsky get his way again, but saying no to the determined brunet was never an easy thing for Hutch to do.
Hutch sighed, "Just give me five minutes then to get around the back before you storm in there, buddy. Wanna be there too keep your ass in one piece." Hutch smiled and then added, "Only so that Joey can break it later on." Grinning, the handsome blond reached out to affectionately squeeze the brunet's shoulder, rising cautiously to his feet before seeing the look of concern that entered the cobalt blue of Starsky's eyes.
"Hey," the curly haired cop called out quietly making Hutch glance down once more. "You be careful in there. Wouldn't want your ass shot full'a holes either. It wouldn't be a pretty sight!"
Hutch snorted, sky blue eyes softening with the fondness he felt for his longtime friend and partner, intuitively sensing Starsky's ill concealed worry. "You too, Starsk, you too." The blond detective squeezed his partner's shoulder once more, winked, and then turned away, looking over his shoulder only once as he ran towards the back of the warehouse holding up five fingers at the still crouching brunet.
"Yeah, yeah. Five minutes. I got'chya," Starsky mumbled to himself as he saw the retreating back of the blond turn the corner, and then glanced down at his watch once more. "Five minutes before all hell breaks loose."
The dark haired cop quickly shifted his eyes from the watch on his wrist to the door of the old structure, catching a stealthy movement out of the corner of his eye. Not even a minute had passed since Hutch had left him, but Starsky immediately made his way over to the front entrance of the warehouse, crouching as he ran behind some crates, using the old wooden boxes as cover as he tried to make out the dark shadow that entered the structure. From where he crouched it was difficult to see.
Hearing the quiet slide of the metal door closing behind the intruder, Starsky darted over to the entrance; dark blue eyes peering into the shadows of the night, making sure he was alone before silently pulling the door open once more. Sapphire eyes adjusted to the gloom of the warehouse and locked on the stealthy figure that crept behind the stacked crates; slowly but surely making his way towards the unsuspecting figure of another man who was obviously pacing back and forth in agitation in front of the dirty warehouse windows, every now and then stopping to cautiously peer out, his back towards them.
Starsky pressed his left hand against his ribs and crouched low, biting back the soft gasp that escaped his lips as red-hot pain flared up in his side. Quickly and silently, the dark haired cop followed the intruder, simultaneously keeping his eye on the shorter man who suddenly stopped pacing and turned his head towards the stack of crates as if to listen.
"Hutch?" Dex called out, fear and trepidation evident in his voice. "Th-that you?" the stoolie stuttered; turning around in a semi-circle, eyes wide with the terror he felt inside, sensing someone watching him in the gloomy interior of the empty warehouse. "Wh-who's there?"
"It ain't Hutch," a soft voice replied from behind the crates, giving Starsky pause at its familiar timbre. A tall man dressed all in black walked out from behind the stack of wooden crates. His facial features were hidden from Starsky's view, as only the intruder's broad back and black ski cap could be seen from the detective's vantage point. Pushing down the frustration he felt inside, Starsky silently crept closer, changing his position so that he could try to see the taller man's face.
"You should'a kept your mouth shut, Dex," the intruder whispered calmly as he approached the trembling informant.
"Oh my God, it's you . . ." Dex's voice quavered. "They called you to get me? I promise . . . I-I promise I n-never told anybody. I didn't tell a living soul . . ."
"And they want to keep it that way, Dex," the taller man cut in. "You were a fool to try and sell them out. You should'a known better . . . you know how they are . . . they have eyes and ears all over the . . ."
"Please," Dex begged, eyes bulging out as the other man neared. "I-I can leave right now before Hutch comes. I made a mistake to call 'im, but he ain't here yet, so . . ."
"Too late for second thoughts, Dex," the assassin said, a touch of regret in his quiet voice. "I wish you could've just kept to the program . . . you knew this would happen if you ever decided to squeal."
"No!" Dex cried out, desperation and fear spurning him into action. The balding, shorter man turned to run, taking only a few steps in the direction of the warehouse door before the intruder quickly caught up with him, deftly spinning the smaller man around, wrapping his thick forearm around the informant's throat.
Starsky gasped and silently stood, now recognizing the man dressed all in black as he stepped into the waning light from the streets that somehow permeated the filthy, smudged windows of the large room. Shock and distress paralyzed the usually quick reactions of the dark haired detective as the sickening snap of the informer's neck echoed throughout the still and silent warehouse.
From where he stood in the shadows, Starsky could see the almost sorrowful look on the assassin's handsome face as he slowly drew his arm away from around the dead man's neck.
"I'm sorry, Dex. Wish things could've turned out differently for you."
Starsky made out the quiet murmurings of the assassin, as the taller man gently and almost reverently lowered the stoolie down upon the dirty floor. Crouching beside the now dead informant, the killer sighed softly and whispered, "At least now you're free, you've escaped from this crappy life of . . .
Drawing the gun from his holster and cutting off the words from the assailant, Starsky shouted, "Freeze! Put your hands up in the air and step away from the body right now . . . Campanella!"
Joey could feel the hackles lift on the back of his neck at the angry, but familiar voice. Green eyes squinted slightly to make out Starsky's shadowy figure standing just behind the crates; and swallowing down the sudden fight or flight instinct that he initially felt, the taller man clenched his fists and calmly waited until the curly haired detective was close enough to shoot without missing if he so chose to do so.
At the close proximity from which he now stood, Joey was able to clearly discern the disbelief, horror and hurt that filled Davey's lavender blue eyes as the cop neared him, but the raw pain was soon lost as smoldering cobalt suddenly began the blaze. The usual respect and camaraderie Starsky had for him was clearly gone now, replaced with something akin to enmity and disdain. Seeing the anger and accusation flare and mask the hurt in Starsky's eyes made the assassin want to flee from the crushing reality of the moment he'd dreaded most of his life, the moment David Starsky found out who and what he really was. Yet, despite the sinking feeling of shame he felt in his gut and the overwhelming need to escape, Joey calmly rose and stood his ground as he eyed his younger friend.
"Where's Hutch?" Joey asked quietly, silently calculating if he could possibly make it to the sliding door, while dodging the bullet his well-aimed friend was sure to fire. "To tell you the truth, I'm a bit disappointed that Hutch would let you come in here alone. Didn't think he would do that knowing you weren't a hundred percent in the game with your bruised ribs and all."
With the casual way Joey was talking, it seemed like they were just discussing the weather, the dead man at his feet all but forgotten in the aftermath of being discovered. "Shut up, Campanella," Starsky barked; pushing back the fury he felt at the taller man's calm disposition. "Keep your hands up where I can seem 'em!"
The assassin grinned cockily and with a wink slowly raised his hands up. 'Whatever you say, kid. You know I only aim to please."
"Face the wall, Joey, and put a sock in it," the dark haired detective growled, cautiously stepping closer as the taller man slowly turned to face the nearest wall, his muscled body tense and tight, although his actions were compliant.
"Never pegged you for a liar, Davey-boy. You told me you were gonna be home late tonight because you had to help Hutch finish up all that paperwork." Joey closed his eyes as he pressed his hands up against the cold metal wall, listening intently to the quiet footsteps nearing behind him. It pained him inside to have Starsky catch him red-handed like this, knowing that his childhood friend now knew him for the killer that he was, but in a way, there was this sense of relief that the discovery brought on as well. For the most part in their longtime relationship, Joey had never had to lie to his curly haired friend, and having to lie to Starsky these past few days had taken a toll on the handsome assassin.
"I trusted you, Joey," Starsky said softly, "I let you into my home, believing that bullshit story about you being a bounty hunter . . . and all this time, I've been harboring a murderer right under my nose!"
"Listen, kid," Joey began, sensing the other man stopping a little ways behind him. "I never meant to hurt you, I just . . . I just wanted to see you, to hear your voice and talk to you again, to get to know the man that you've become . . ."
"I'm a fuckin' cop, Campanella," Starsky snapped, blue eyes blazing holes into the broad back of his childhood buddy, "And apparently you're a killer. Who hired you to do this job, Joey, huh?"
The taller man shrugged nonchalantly, turning his head slightly to the side in an attempt to see the dark haired cop. "'Fraid I can't tell you that, kid," Joey said softly. "If I tell you, I'd have to kill you, and I don't want to do that. Never wanted any harm to come to you because of me, Davey."
"Yeah? Well you should have thought of that before stepping back into my life." Starsky angrily replied. "Now put your hands behind your back, Campanella, and do it slowly, Hutch'll be here any minute and we're gonna take you in."
Joey sighed softly, stilling the rapid beating of his heart. If he had thought this out correctly, Hutch was probably being detained out back by the hired brute who'd drove him to this site for Dex's execution. That could be the only reason for the blond's missing presence. In the short time since he'd met the soft-spoken detective, Joey knew Hutch would never willingly leave Starsky's back unwatched, especially if his partner was hurt; and judging by the quiet gasps and pants behind him, Joey knew Starsky was in some considerable pain. "How ya doin', kiddo? How's your side?"
"Shut up, Joey," the curly haired detective warned. "Now do like I told ya, put your hands behind your back and do it slowly."
"Whatever you say, kid," Joey murmured, slowly lifting his hands from the wall to clasp them together against the small of his back. "I think Hutch might need some help, Davey. He probably ran into that mammoth thug who was hired to drive me here. He was waiting out back for me to finish the job and then he . . ."
"I said to stuff it!" Starsky snapped, silencing the older man for the moment as he grabbed the metal handcuffs from his belt and yanked one of Joey's hands up to slap it on. Though he didn't give away the anxiety he was feeling inside, the truth in Campanella's words made the hairs on the back of Starsky's neck stand on end. Just where the hell was Hutch, and why was it taking so long for him to get into the warehouse?
"Huuutch?" the dark haired cop called out, cinching one of the cuffs tightly to the taller man's left wrist, feeling bad inside as Joey winced in pain.
"S-Starsk?"
Not allowing himself to think of the repercussions or to feel any remorse, Joey didn't hesitate when they both heard Hutch's voice coming from the back of the warehouse. If he didn't get out of this now, it would be too late once the blond arrived. Moving quickly and instinctively, the lithe assassin twisted his arm out from the grasp of the dark haired detective, the glinting cuff dangling from his left wrist, while simultaneously turning his body to brutally elbow the curly haired cop into his hurting side.
"Ungh," Starsky grunted, eyes closing and fisting shut with the pain he felt as he went down, his body forcefully slamming into the dirty concrete flooring of the warehouse as he lost his balance. Immediately curling his body into the pain, Starsky gasped. Hot flaring stabs knifed into his side and tore into his ribs as the assassin quickly crouched beside him and almost reached out to touch him.
"Starsky!" Hutch shouted, hearing the quiet struggle near the front of the deserted warehouse. The blond pushed off the dizziness he felt as he ran, and then stumbled towards where he knew his partner needed him.
"Hut . . . Hutch?" Starsky stammered, grunting as he stubbornly tried to get up to his feet once more.
Sighing softly, long dark lashes closed briefly hiding pain filled green orbs before they opened once again to focus on the curly haired cop who had now risen to his knees. "I'm sorry, kid," Joey whispered; clasping his hands tightly together, only to forcefully bring them down against the back of the brunet's neck.
"I'm so sorry, Davey . . ."
Starsky thought he'd imagined the soft apology and the gentle touch from the man crouching near him, before the welcoming darkness pulled him under . . .
To be continued . . .
A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors or typos. With just a quick read through, this story has been virtually unbeta'ed. Any errors are my fault alone.