FATAL VISION

CHAPTER NINE

Just about the time the men finished eating, Sean strolled in with his sketch pad and pencils. His long, stringy hair and small, wire rimmed glasses made him look more like a lost soul than the talented police artist that he was.

"Hey man, what's up?" Sean set his supplies on an empty chair and walked over to Hutch to shake his hand. He saluted Starsky who was engrossed in an old movie on the T.V. mounted on the opposite wall.

"Not much. Just here for the atmosphere, ya know?!" Starsky turned the sound down as he spoke but kept his attention on a movie that he hadn't seen for awhile.

"Don't mind him, as long as there's a comfortable place and a T.V., he's in heaven!"

Glaring at Hutch, Starsky thought about throwing something at him, but reconsidered, since Hutch wouldn't be able to dodge the projectile. Settling for mumbling under his breath, he went back to his movie.

Hutch got up and joined Sean in the corner where two recliners sat against the wall. He swayed a bit since his depth perception was still off. Hutch got comfortable and waited until Sean joined him with his drawing tablet and pencil.

"Excuse the sunglasses, but my eyes are still pretty damn sensitive since the surgery. But let's get started before I forget anything else about the person that attacked me." He leaned back in the chair and behind his glasses, closed his eyes in order to relax and get a clear picture of what he remembered.

"I got all the time in the world. Well, except for Dobey chewing my ass out to hurry up and get here and get back with the sketch. He sure don't have a lot of patience. He needs to learn to meditate." Sean wiggled out of his sandals and crossed his legs in the chair.

Hutch chuckled at the thought of Dobey doing yoga or meditating. He cleared his throat as he tried to relax and think.

"Just start with what you recall and we'll fill in the blanks as we go." Sean waited until Hutch began to speak and then the pencil began to hover over the surface.

A few minutes went by as Hutch talked and Sean drew. As the details began to slow, Hutch became frustrated and complained that he couldn't tell the artist any more.

"It was more of a feeling I guess than what I actually saw. I think I'm describing emotion rather than physical characteristics but maybe that will transpire into a true likeness."

"You did good, brother. It's definitely a woman and a cute one at that. You wanna look?" Sean set his pencil down and uncrossed his legs. He held the drawing up to the man sitting next to him. Hutch leaned forward, blinked hard but shook his head.

He swallowed hard and sighed heavily. He wanted so much to be wrong.

"Let Starsky look at it. I'm anxious to see what he thinks." Hutch was pretty sure of Starsky's reaction. Even though he couldn't clearly see the finished drawing, he knew the end result. He would never forget her. Now he was convinced that she was back.

Hearing his name, Starsky turned off the T.V. and struggled to get out of bed. Sean crossed to the other side of the room and helped Starsky balance and settle into the wheelchair. He propelled himself over to where the others were, stopping alongside Hutch's chair.

"So is this like one of those ink blot tests? You tell me I'm crazy if I see a dragon eating a donut?" Still laughing he reached out to get a better look but abruptly stopped as he took in the likeness on the paper.

"Hutch, are you kidding me? This is gotta be a joke, right?" He continued to stare at the picture the artist had drawn.

"You think I'd make something like that up?" The two men glared at each other, although the icy blue of Hutch's eyes were hidden behind the dark glasses, Starsky could still feel their pull.

Starsky rested his hand on Hutch's knee. His friend would need a lot of support and protection if his memory was accurate.

"Hutch, listen to me. You described someone that you couldn't possibly have seen recently. You sure about this?"

"Starsky, I may not be able to see now, but I know who I saw, who did this to me. Just tell me what you think."

Deciding just to say who he thought it was, he sighed and shifted in the wheelchair.

"Diana Harmon." The name felt like sandpaper on Starsky's tongue. The bile rose in his throat as he remembered what Diana had done to his friend.

Hutch rubbed his arms, as if he were cold. Sean watched the scene play out in front of him, wondering who this chick was, but was reluctant to break the startling tense atmosphere.

Starsky reached across and put his arm around Hutch's shoulder. The men huddled together, filling the third man in about this long ago incident.

They were unaware of Susan as she stood just inside the door. She watched them as they hovered over a large piece of paper. Her lips curled in disgust as she saw Starsky rub Ken's back. The man's head was bowed. The voices were low but she could tell that it was a serious conversation.

Her brown eyes blazed with anger but she licked her lips in anticipation.

Now that she would be going to the emergency room for her next shift, she made the decision to step up her plans. Actually it would be to her advantage to work in the E.R. because she would have easier access to supplies that she needed and could sneak back to this room on her own time.

As the door closed behind Susan, the three men continued discussing the meaning of Hutch's memory.

"See, when she attacked me, I felt like I knew her. But she gave me some kind of drug that not only paralyzed me but wiped out my immediate memory of the assault." He visibly started to shake. He rubbed his hands together, trying to calm and steady himself. He looked up as Starsky cupped the blonde's neck, giving silent support. Sean continued to stare at the picture, not willing to break the detective's train of thought.

"We better let Dobey know what's going on." Starsky began to roll himself toward the bedside table to make the call. He picked up the phone but held it in his hand when Hutch stopped him.

"Don't Starsk. There's more." Hutch stood up but the dizziness surprised him as he wobbled to catch his balance. Sean stood up too, held onto the man and slowly walked him over to the bed. Hutch sat on the side of the mattress, taking long, slow breaths.

The wheel chair bound man put the phone back on the cradle and sat next to his friend.

Sean broke the mood as he began to pack up his supplies. Quickly, he put the drawing in the leather satchel and boxed up the pencils that he'd used.

"I better get this back pronto." He raised the flat, black case to emphasize what he intended to do.

He didn't speak again but hurried out the door. As he moved swiftly down the hall to the elevator, he kept thinking about the serious turn this story had taken. What he had in his possession was priceless. He didn't pay attention to the chubby nurse with red hair who joined him in the elevator. He didn't notice that she hadn't pressed a button. Instead, she leaned back against the wall, her hand in her pocket, as the elevator continued to the parking garage.

He glanced over at her as she exited the elevator.

"Nice day now that your shift is over. Have a great evening!" Sean continued toward his car, not giving a second thought to the nurse who seemed to be going in the same direction. They both stopped beside his car.

As an artist, Sean was aware of details when it came to a police drawing of wanted criminals. His mind was on the beauty of the woman beside him, not the needle in her hand. She came nearer and he thought she was about to ask him something when he felt a quick jab to his neck. His hand automatically went to the area which was now burning. He looked surprised as he lost the ability to comprehend time or space.

The satchel slipped out of his limp fingers. Susan grabbed his keys as they dropped to the floor. Struggling to get Sean in the back seat, she shoved his legs across the seat and hurried to get behind the wheel.