Eyes in the

Night

by

M. Willow

Chapter One

Starsky welcomed the warmth of the 1950s style diner. An hour ago, he'd nearly had a bad accident, when his car had careened off the road. It would have been a steep drop, but he'd managed to get the car under control. Just barely. It hadn't helped that he had been driving a lighter vehicle which lacked the feel of his Torino.

He had fallen asleep behind the wheel. It had been too close, a sign that he desperately needed rest. He'd gone forty-eight hours without sleep, all because he was too wired and there was no time for it. He had to keep moving. No choice there. Too much was at stake. Now he sat in the diner, nursing his second cup of black coffee, hoping it would be enough to keep him awake.

The diner was decorated in orange and black, with large cutouts of spiders, ghost, and ghouls. There were booths on either side of him, red and black stools in front of the bar. The homey atmosphere of the place took him back to a simpler time, when he'd come to places like this with Hutch as they traveled the roads.

He felt almost normal.

He was far from that.

He could see it in the small gathering of people that somehow always avoided his eyes and who'd managed to find booths on the other side of the diner, keeping a safe distance from the wild-eyed man he had become. Still, the diner provided a distraction for his frazzled nerves. And there was the coffee.

Starsky gestured for the waitress who stood behind the counter, her eyes glassy with fear. The woman looked around, scanning the small crowd as if she hoped that someone would volunteer to take his order. Starsky felt bad that the woman was so afraid. It was not his usual effect on women, but he hadn't had a decent bath in almost two weeks, hadn't bother to shave because he simply didn't care. His curly hair was long, the curls reaching out in every direction. Add to that he was shaking from all the coffee and the fear that he was too late.

It was like a record skipping, repeating the same lyrics over and over—too late, too late, too late.

Three people got up and left, leaving a family of three, who sat in the booth on the other side of the diner-a mom, dad, and teenage girl. The girl was apparently not pleased to be spending her weekend with her parents on Route 66.

"I don't see why I had to come," she cried. "Jennifer and all my friends are probably having the time of their lives at the pool party right now, while I'm sitting here on Route 666."

"Now, don't say things like that," the father said. "It's Route 66, the Mother Road, the road our family took from Oklahoma years ago to find a new life in California. It's got nothing to do with the mark of the beast."

The man looked genuinely hurt that his daughter didn't share his enthusiasm for the historic road. The wife patted his hand. "Now, Sid, she's young. You got to understand."

The girl looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm having a good time. Just missing my friends."

Starsky watched as the man perked up and promised to throw the biggest party ever when they got back home. A few minutes later the family left, leaving him the only customer. The waitress still hadn't made a move towards him and was now looking at the clock. She was a cornered animal and knew it. She probably wondered if the cook could reach her in time should Starsky attack. But the cook was an ancient woman and would be of little use to her against an actual assailant.

Starsky considered flashing his badge. But he knew that was out of the question. The price was too high. He decided against it, instead putting on his best smile, the one that melted women's hearts. It had no effect on the woman, but she made her way over, pen and pad in hand, her entire body shaking.

"More coffee?" she asked, her voice trembling, keeping a distance between them.

"Just a cup of coffee to go and where is your telephone?"

She pointed outside to a booth barely discernable in the darkness that surrounded it. It made Starsky shiver for a moment, a moment not lost on the waitress because she stumbled backward, nearly dropping her order pad. Hutch would laugh if he saw this and never let him live it down.

Thoughts of Hutch overwhelmed him for a moment, taking his breath away. He breathed deeply, calming his mind. Then the red-headed man walked in, and all was lost.

Five days ago, Starsky glimpsed him in another restaurant along Route 66. The man looked at him an instant too long, arousing his suspicion that this was no ordinary encounter.

The days that followed found the man keeping pace with hm, the dark blue car always a safe distance behind his own black Fiat. Starsky traveled only at night. It was a safety precaution. But Route 66 was dark with few lights in some areas. Which made it very easy for a vehicle to conceal itself in the darkness just by turning off his headlights.

Starsky was sure the man never stopped following him. Perhaps he rested during the day, only to resume his pursuit in the darkness of night. He seemed always to catch up like he was doing now. They'd shared several meals together in the various diners that dotted Route 66, never sitting together, never exchanging a single word.

It was psychological terror at its best. He was scared enough for it to work.

The man was tall and always wore a black jacket that could easily conceal a gun. He was powerfully built, his face hawkish with deep green eyes, and a shock of red hair that was nearly orange. Starsky placed him somewhere in his thirties, but he had the sort of face that made it difficult to be certain. He seemed to be the type of man who lifted weights, maybe jogged five miles a day. He would be a formidable opponent in a fight.

Starsky knew at least five people had been watching him over the months, but he could never get close enough to see their faces. This man could have been one of them. Maybe he covered his red hair with a cap. He'd seen a man like that a few times, but that man seemed shorter.

Maybe he was a new guy on the team.

Red walked to the counter and slid onto one of the bar stools. "I'll have a burger and fries and a large malt."

The waitress smiled as she wrote his order down. "Coming right up," she said cheerfully. Then she turned and went into the kitchen, a look of relief on her face that she was no longer alone with the wild man.

Red didn't bother to turn around. He sat confidently with his back to him.

Starsky thought back over the days.

Starsky had slept in his car during the day. He preferred to drive at night with plans to sleep in the daytime, but insomnia had a better idea, and he'd spent the day going over the map. He'd resumed his trek at night without seeing Red for hours. Then suddenly he saw him just behind his car, the moonlight providing just enough light to announce his presence. They'd traveled on for another day or two. Then the man dropped off and Starsky breathed a sigh of relief. But now, here he was.

Coincidence?

His cop instincts told him no. But those instincts were not exactly reliable, of late.

What could he do? He couldn't just walk up to a random stranger and demand answers. For one, he was at least two weeks out of his jurisdiction. And he could be wrong. He was sleep deprived, for one. That could cause the mind to make up all sorts of things. Like a simple tourist was really a man who'd been sent to follow him, and maybe kill him.

At any rate, Starsky had taken great pains to make it look like his exit from Bay City was a desire to get away after the Kira fiasco. He had wanted his trip across Route 66 to look like an adventure, a sight-seeing trek that people took every day, a way to clear his head after the ultimate betrayal of his best-friend and partner. He needed to continue as if the man's presence was no big deal. Plus, what was the old saying about keeping your enemy close?

Yet, he would admit that he was becoming unhinged by the man's presence. He could feel himself slipping from days where insomnia had become his new best friend.

Why hadn't his pursuers made a move? They had plenty of opportunity.

So, maybe they had someone at the airport, the train station, the interstate. And route 66, too. And maybe Red was part of this. And maybe Red wasn't alone and Starsky was a dead man driving. Maybe they were watching to see how much he knew. They still didn't know that he'd figured out their location. And it would stay that way to the last minute, if he had anything to do with it.

Route 66 had seemed a safe bet with its scenic tours through various towns. He figured going this way made it look like he was clueless. After all, who wouldn't rather take a faster mode of transportation. But now, he wasn't so certain. Maybe this act of a man betrayed by his best friend wasn't good enough to trick them.

Maybe, he should have thrown caution to the wind and flown. He would have gotten there much faster. On the other hand, that may have alerted them to his intentions. It was the same reason he'd had Huggy get him a car. The same reason he avoided hotels and traveled at night.

Right now, it looked like anything he did was a bad idea.

The waitress appeared with his coffee, handing it to him with trepidation. Starsky thanked her, then slid from the booth, leaving a generous tip. She sighed audibly as he left the diner. Red didn't even spare him a glance. Starsky knew he didn't have to. The man could sit there all day, knowing exactly where he would be on Route 66 at the end of it. He needed to change that.

Outside the air was cool and crisp, the sky moonless as he crossed the dirt road that led to the phone booth, the sense of foreboding clawing at him with each step. He reached the booth and quickly slipped inside, closing the accordion door against a darkness that felt almost alive.

Was there someone out there besides Red watching, waiting, ready to pounce at any moment?

Starsky willed his heartrate to slow as he picked up the receiver and dialed 0, connecting with the operator. Then he deposited the required coins and waited as the phone rang. It seemed an eternity before he heard his good friend Huggy Bear answer.

"Who is calling me this time of night?" he asked breathlessly.

"It's me. And it's not late. You got someone with you?"

Starsky heard a woman's voice and the rustle of fabric. Then Huggy was back. "Not anymore."

Starsky could hear the concern in his friend's voice almost immediately. "Where you at, man? You got me worried."

"M' fine. Just checkin' in." Starsky was shocked at just how shaky his voice sounded. He needed to do better. Huggy was sworn to secrecy, but he wasn't certain how far that would go if his friend thought he was going over the edge in a big way.

"Your other half is going crazy, Curly. He knows he did wrong with Kira. Not thinking with the right head, if you ask me. But can't you forgive him? You know that stuff you've been telling me ain't true."

"Huggy. You promised. And I need for you to keep that promise."

It had been a bad idea to tell Huggy, but he'd been desperate, sleep deprived even then. Made him open his mouth when he should have kept it shut. Still, he needed Huggy for this whole thing to work out. He was a man without backup. No Blondie to talk things through or offer emotional support. He was flying without a net.

He shuddered, feeling as if a thousand eyes were boring into him. He scanned the darkness, seeing nothing, the inky blackness seeming to swirl. He looked at the diner and was relieved to find Red still sitting there with his back to him.

"So, you walked out of this bar arm and arm with your other half, pretending this whole Kira thing was behind you and then you leave him standing on the curb while you take off to parts unknown."

"Yeah. And I told you why."

Huggy didn't say anything for a moment, but Starsky was bracing himself for what he knew would come.

"You need help, man. Serious help," he said softly. I ain't gonna even bother trying to get you to tell me where you are, but you need to come back."

"Can't. You know I can't. Please, Huggy. This will all be over soon. I just need for you to keep your word to me. Can you do that?"

"Ain't ever gonna be any other way. But it ain't easy with Blondie coming in here every day asking when you're coming back. And if I know where you went. Dobey ain't a walk in the park either. They're both crazy with worry. Even Kira."

"Don't want to talk about Kira and I left the captain a letter saying I was taking some time off to get myself together."

"Yeah, but the captain ain't stupid. He knows this whole Kira things been…"

"I know, Huggy." Starsky felt guilty about involving Kira even though she was hardly innocent. He didn't have a choice. Maybe he would apologize when he got back. Maybe.

"Well, Huggy, I was just checking in."

"When you coming back?"

Starsky didn't answer. The less Huggy knew the better.

"Well, okay. But I still think you should come back. Talk it over with…"

"A shrink," Starsky supplied.

"Didn't say that."

But they both knew he had.

"Don't let a woman destroy everything. You two are tighter than brothers. That kinda thing comes once in a lifetime, if it happens at all."

Starsky held the phone tight in his hand, his eyes stinging. He needed to hang up before he lost his voice, before the tears came. "You'll hear from me when it's going down. You know what you have to do when that happens?"

"Yeah, yeah. You told me."

"I gotta go, Huggy. Thanks again for getting me the car."

"Wait. Wait." Huggy shouted. "Don't you want to leave a message for Hutch?"

"No." And then Starsky hung up.

TBC