Author's note: Things are looking up. After these chapters written below, the anxiously awaited reunion scene is coming up!
After the list of warnings posted at the previous chapters I'm happy to announce there are no warnings at all for these ones. g>
Thanks to all you readers who keep reading this, and keep sending me all those wonderful reviews. You all make me enjoy my writing that much more.
Chapter 24
The city reflected nothing familiar. The busy streets only served to make him ill at ease. Starsky had hoped that once he'd laid eyes on the concrete surroundings, the smells and sounds would ring a bell.
They didn't.
As he sat in the passenger's seat, staring outside at the dark streets, the brunet's mood dropped significantly. Wild goose chase, you see, Dave? I told you so.
Night had fallen and his wife drove them to a hotel that was recommended to them by the motel owner they'd met the previous night. The man was even kind to give the place a call, and let them know they were coming.
Starsky sighed.
"Nothing?" Belinda asked carefully.
"Nothing, not one damn clue. It all looks the same to me, big grey cold buildings."
"Give it some time. Everything will look different in the morning."
"Sorry," Starsky said, gently taking her free hand and turning towards her.
"For what?"
He motioned outside with his other hand. "For all of this, for the way I've been acting."
"Well, Bay City isn't exactly where I pictured us spending our honeymoon, but it'll do. Besides," she gave him a slight smile, "I've always wanted to see the world."
He kissed her hand, and then spoke softly. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Her smile widened.
Normally that would fill his heart with pure pleasure, but now he wondered why it still felt so empty.
The next day had them waking up fairly late in the morning. Starsky hadn't realized how tired he'd been until his head had hit the pillow last night and he'd promptly fallen asleep. Walking out of the shower with a white hotel towel tugged around his waist, the brunet found his wife sitting on the bed, watching the small black and white screen with interest.
Starsky turned to face the television set standing on the dresser, curious to see what caught her attention.
A distraught woman was yelling hysterically at the camera', "He killed my boy! He shot him in cold blood!"
Jeez, welcome to the big city, Starsky thought.
The women continued, "He escaped, but rest assured justice will be done. If anyone sees him, call this number."
The news lady cut her off. "At this point the police are unwilling to give a statement regarding the possible suspect." The scene faded into one that showed a picture
Starsky felt his stomach sink a view feet. It was the oddest sensation. Blood was rushing to his head, and for a moment the whole world started to tilt as he recognized the man from his dreams. His mouth dropped to the floor. "That's him!"
"What?" Distracted, Belinda shot him a sideway glance.
"That-" He fell silent as the news flash started to repeat itself.
"We repeat: a body of a young boy was found this morning in an apartment on Sea View Road. In an interview taken earlier this morning Mrs Helen Anderson, the boy's mother, told us she identified the possible suspect as detective Kenneth Hutchinson."
"That's him!"
Belinda frowned, turning towards her husband. "Him who?"
"Him! The person I've been dreaming about, the one with the blue eyes… Well, you can't tell he has blue eyes now, cos the t.v.'s black and white, but-"
"David," his wife said softly, turning off the television. "That's a murderer you're talking about. He apparently killed a child."
"Yeah, but-"
Her words sounded cool, detached, as she interrupted him, "All this time, you've been having these nightmares, about… about a killer?"
The look on her face made him want to disappear deep into the floor beneath him. If Belinda had thought him to act a little crazy earlier, it was nothing compared to what she obviously felt now. She looked at him as though she was seeing him for the first time.
"Bell, that's him. I'm sure of it." He turned, heading for his suitcase to pull out some clothes and get dressed.
"What are you doing?"
"What d'you think I'm doing? I'm gonna try and find him."
"Find him! That's a person who shot a kid in cold blood, and you want to go and look for him?"
"He's the only one who can give me some answers!" Starsky retorted, as he was putting on one of his dark blue jeans.
"It's more likely that he'll kill you too! David, use your common sense!"
"He's suspected of killing a child. That doesn't mean he's done it." He had no idea why this small difference was so important to him, but it felt good saying it.
Squinting, his wife's voice dropped to a wary, but sad whisper, "Who are you? I hardly recognize you anymore."
"Does it matter?" he said, ignoring the question, for he wasn't sure he knew the answer. "Look, you don't have to come with me, if you don't want to."
Belinda stared at him, her eyes growing wide. Then her anger took over. "Fine," she said, standing up to pull her suitcase out from under the bed.
"What are you doing?" Starsky asked really confused.
"I'm going home." She stated, while walking over to the bathroom to pack the small things she'd left in there. She opened the lid of her suitcase to throw the whole lot inside, then closed and locked the thing permanently. "If you think I'm gonna sit here and wait, while you're out tracking a wanted criminal, you're out of your mind."
"Bell-"
"No," apparently not wanting to stay for a minute longer, she went over to the door and opened it. As she turned, her voice softened a bit. "Please come home with me, forget this whole thing. What you want to do now is just… crazy. " She looked like she wanted to say something more, but somehow the words seem to fail her.
He looked at her. God she was beautiful. For a second he was tempted to go with her, to head back to Burnaby, and get on with his life. Yes, that was what he would do… tomorrow, if things hadn't worked out by then. Because, he knew that if he didn't go through with this now, he would regret it for the rest of his life. "I can't. I have to do this."
His wife pursed her lips together in obvious disappointment. Then, without another word, she softly closed the door behind her.
Starsky sank down onto the bed, staring forlornly at the black television screen, hoping against hope that Belinda wasn't right, that he hadn't gone crazy.
Belinda was fuming, and sped up the truck considerably after having just past one of Bay City's many intersections. She was angry with her husband and berated herself for not putting a stop to this sooner.
They never should have left Burnaby. After the shooting incident, she should have persuaded Dave to seek some professional help to make sense of these strange dreams he seemed to be having. Not that he would have listened, but at least she could have tried. She shook her head in frustration, knowing full well that her husband would have left for Bay City anyway, without her consent.
His past was somewhat of a mystery. She'd accepted that, along with the strange dreams and the weird black outs. Oh yes, she knew he was having them. Hank from the store had told her about it, as had Ms. Bellcraft who'd seen David almost crashing into the bus stop, yesterday. However, to her, the future was what counted, not the past, and she had been willing to face it with him. Though she never could have guessed it meant chasing after someone -in a strange city no less- who had killed a kid for his own pleasure.
She'd meant what she'd said. She didn't recognise her husband anymore, not when he got stubborn like this. It was almost as if someone else was doing the driving in his head. Probably the blonde from his dreams, she snorted.
Taking the scenic route to clear her head, she was nearing the outskirts of the City, heading in the general direction of the motel they'd stayed at, the day before. Slowly the traffic around her lessened, and the city gave way to rough patches of farmland here and there.
Briefly, Belinda considered taking the highway again, but decided against it. As long as she kept going north she would eventually cross the thing anyway. Come to think of it, the Motel wasn't such a bad idea. She could stay there overnight, and head back to Bay City in the morning. After all, she couldn't leave Dave stranded here. And by tomorrow he would realize how ludicrous this idea of his was.
She sighed. The trouble was that she still trusted him. She loved him, and she knew he only needed some time to come to his senses. That was why she had left for a while, but she would never abandon him.
A loud noise coming from the back of the pickup shook her out of her reverie. Her eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. They grew wide with shock as she noticed a dishevelled blond man trying to hide himself in the truck bed.
A large bump in the road bounced her in her seat, and made him visible again. Startled, she took in a sharp breath, as she recognized the face from television. She broke out into a cold sweat and felt her heart rate accelerating. Oh my God, what do I do now? What do I do now?
For a few seconds she sat frozen behind the wheel, at a loss as to what to do next. Options were racing through her mind. Stop at a police station, but there isn't one around for miles. Look for a police car. That could take ages. Keep on driving. Great, and then what?
She really had no choice, did she?
Trembling with the force of adrenaline running through her veins, Belinda opened the glove compartment and took out the gun. David had objected fiercely when she'd suggested they should take it with them, but she'd ignored him. In the end, her husband had stopped arguing about it; mainly because he probably felt he was wasting valuable time. She never felt more relieved for getting her way as she did now when she closed her hand around the heavy grip of the weapon.
Paying close attention to the rear-view mirror, she carefully hit the brakes, slowing down the pickup, until it had come to a stand still next to a dirt road, which headed off into the densely overgrown fields, probably towards one of the farms located in this area. She killed the engine, not stopping to think about what she was doing, because that would only leave her rooted to her seat.
Exiting the truck, gun in hand; she was just in time to see the man more falling than jumping onto the sandy ground.
She aimed the gun.
The blond looked up, and for a moment their eyes met. Backing off from her on the dirt road, he raised his hands.
David had always said she was a great judge of character. That was one of the reasons why he loved her so much. It didn't always work to her advantage, however.
Like now.
For the terrified look in his eyes, coupled with him shaking his head in what seemed to be utter despair, made her doubt for a second if he was indeed capable of murdering a child.
Of course he can, you fool. Despair probably drove him to do it!
Then, before she could utter a single word, the blond turned and ran.
Finding herself unable to fire, Belinda just stood there, gun aimed at his back. When he disappeared into the undergrowth she led out a sigh of relieve. Well, she thought, lowering the weapon. At least that proves I'm not a killer.
She took a couple of shaking breaths, trying to get her trembling under control before entering the pickup again. From the side window, she suddenly noticed the mailbox located at the start of the dirt road. She squinted, barely able to make out the street and house number written on it in white paint. Then her eyes followed the road, which apparently led to private property.
With a sigh she sat back in the seat. The man wouldn't be getting far. Not in the condition he's in, she thought. Most likely he'll hide himself for the night somewhere on that farm.
Although she felt a slight twinge of guilt, her strong sense of justice overrode her hesitation. Determined now, she started the engine, turned the pickup truck around and headed back to Bay City.
The telephone number she'd seen on television flashed through her mind. With any luck the man would still be on that farm when the search party would arrive.
Chapter 25
Despite his brave words spoken against his wife earlier, Starsky didn't exactly jump at the prospect of going out to find a wanted felon. So he decided to drive around town first, to see if the daylight city scenes would be able to shed some light on these images of his.
As the brunet entered the yellow cab, the cabdriver looked at him with an odd expression on his face. When Starsky pushed the subject, the man just shrugged, stating that he looked familiar somehow, that was all. After ordering the man to just drive around downtown for a while they drove off.
Instead of keeping his eye on his surroundings, however, Starsky found his thoughts drifting back to Belinda. He felt tremendously guilty for acting the way he had, for practically asking her to leave if she felt she had to. Okay, he hadn't said that in so many words, but he knew that was what he had meant. She had come all this way with him. She had stood by him all through his anxiety ordeal at the Motel earlier. Only after his announcement to try and find a suspected murderer did she draw the line.
And she was right of course. Who wouldn't hit the brakes at that? And now that she was gone he felt more lost than ever. Maybe he should just turn around and head for home.
He sighed; unable to make up his mind he turned his attention outward for a while. An hour went by as, just as the night before, nothing looked in the least familiar to him. This was getting him nowhere.
Deciding to walk around for a bit, he paid the man and got out. Walking alongside dejected looking bars and diners Starsky's mood dropped again. The people passing by were all wearing the grim expressions that city dwellers usually carried, the bums sitting in the alleyways only adding to his depression.
What was he doing here? Did he really think this 'Hutchinson' on television was somehow tied into his confusion? That was stupid! The man was a suspected criminal for crying out loud. And according to that woman he had killed her child!
Shaking his head in misery, his rumbling stomach reminded him he had skipped breakfast that morning. I might as well get something to eat while I'm here, he thought wryly. Maybe that will clear my head a bit. He picked out one of the many diners, and entered it. He chose to sit down at a table located in a darkened corner at the far end of the bar, where he wouldn't be bothered by the diner's other clientele.
The waitress serving him asked if he'd been here before, since he looked familiar to her, somehow. But again, that was all she could tell him.
Starsky just muttered his order and broodingly sank back in his chair. His eyes fell on the television set on the corner of the bar, silently broadcasting the local news over and over again.
With a grunt Starsky stood up to turn the thing off.
Nobody dared to turn it on again.
Delilah spotted the familiar form sitting forlornly at the table right away. Sadness washed over her as she noticed the mental state the detective was in.
Sometimes she wished she didn't have this ability to see what others couldn't. A harmony lost, a locked up soul, a light all but extinguished, but it wasn't gone, not yet.
She bit her lip.
If anything this man sure was a fighter, and although she couldn't fix what was broken, anymore than she could bring back her dead husband, she could do something else. She had to be careful though. Revealing too much could destroy the fragile hold the man had on the situation.
He didn't notice the woman entering the establishment until she was nearly on top of him. The brunet looked up as he felt someone approaching him, to find a lady purposefully stopping in front of his table. He frowned, "You're looking awfully familiar, have we met before?" Inwardly Starsky shook his head for asking the same stupid question people seemed to be asking him all day.
A soft smile tugged at her mouth. "Very briefly, a while back, Mr. Starsky. I saw you enter and decided to follow you. Do you mind if I sit down?"
The calmness of her voice seemed to take away some of the tension he was experiencing. Ignored her question he raised an eyebrow and mocked, "Let me guess, I look familiar?"
"More than that, and I might be able to help you, if you would let me?
A glint of hope sparked in his dark blue eyes. Although still on his guard he stood up and pulled out a chair, graciously motioning for her to join him. "Now Miss…"
"Delilah, but you can call me-"
"Lilly." Starsky finished, his eyes growing slightly wider. He fell silent, as he tried to delve into the black abyss that went with the name, and failing utterly in the attempt.
She seemed to understand, and patiently waited for him to speak again.
Tired, the brunet held on to the fact that at least he knew she'd spoken the truth. Apparently they had been acquainted before. "So," Starsky said hopefully, taking a deep breath, "you know my name… what else?"
She stared at him with sad green eyes. "I'm not here to give you those answers, David. You'll have to find them for yourself."
He sat back, disappointed. Frustration colored his next question, "How? There's nothing there. Nothin' in this city rings a bell. You're the first to maybe have an answer, but you won't give it to me." He wondered briefly why he assumed she would understand his feelings, but then discarded his reservations. After all, he had nothing left to loose, and she somehow radiated a trustworthy atmosphere.
"Don't look for them out there, look for them in here." Delilah said, aiming a finger at his chest.
Realizing he might as well give her the whole picture, Starsky leaned forwards again. His voice turned slightly bitter when quite unexpectedly her words seemed to tap into a pool of fear, "The only thing I got in here are a bunch of dreams about a man who turns out to be a homicidal maniac."
"Are you sure they're dreams?"
"What else could they be?" He asked impatiently. This was getting him nowhere. Maybe if he'd hit the street again, he would stumble onto something familiar.
Unconsciously Starsky did pick up on the woman's extra sensory perceptions. Unconsciously it scared him. Normally, Hutch would be there to use his impeccable logic to counter Starsky's often out of control thoughts on all things superstitious, making fun of the brunet, settling him down.
But that was gone.
There was nothing to hold his fears in check. And the fact that Starsky did not realize where this sudden unease washing over him came from, scared him even more. With an effort he managed to hold his ground, ignoring the urge to run out onto the streets again.
"Repressed memories," she answered calmly.
Starsky froze, staring at her as if she had just dropped a bomb in his lap. "That's ridiculous," he finally said, suddenly more afraid than ever that she was right. Wasn't that why he'd come to Bay City in the first place? "Don't you think I would know? He pointed an angry finger at the television set. "I've never been to this city, and I certainly don't associate with killers."
"But you do remember him, do you? Images, pain, even during the day?"
"Maybe, and maybe it's just stress."
"Wouldn't you like to know for sure?"
Starsky eyed her thoughtfully, his breathing became slightly more erratic as he couldn't help but let some of his uncertainty slip through. "I thought you said you couldn't help me?"
"I don't have any answers, but I can help unlock some of those memories, if you want? And maybe that will help."
"I… I dunno…" He felt confused; part of him didn't want to face the truth. Part of him wanted to stay safe in the world he was in now. Then why was he trembling all of a sudden?
Lilly noticed it and gently grabbed onto his shaking hands. "You're going to have to trust me, though? You think you can do that?"
His heart throbbed in his throat. Why was this so damn hard? What was he so afraid of? Wasn't this what he'd been looking for, a way to find an answer? He breathed in deeply, trying to squash his fears. "Okay, if that's what it takes."
"Okay," she said, sitting up a bit, but not letting go of his hands. "The best thing to do is to try and find out what triggered these… images… of yours in the first place, agreed?"
He shrugged. "The dreams just started one night. I don't know why. You're saying there's a reason?"
"Maybe. If they are suppressed memories, something must have happened that caused them to surface all of a sudden."
Although Starsky couldn't think of any plausible reason, for the week in which they had started had been a perfectly ordinary one, her logic made sense. So he nodded, and looked around to make sure nobody was paying any attention to them. But he needn't have worried. Except for a costumer in a far off booth, the place had emptied.
"Now, close your eyes, relax. Try to think back to the time when these dreams first appeared. Can you picture that moment?
He nodded again. Her hands felt warm, soothing, and he found himself drifting away. With a shock he tried to stay focussed.
"No, let it," she ordered. "Now, try to recall that initial dream, the images. Try to relive it."
Starsky felt himself tense up as he raised the courage to face that part of him which scared him to death. With a trembling sigh he let the feeling of utter loneliness take hold again.
"I'll have to warn you, you'll feel a bit nauseous in a moment."
He braced himself. The nausea came all right, but so did an image so vividly that he couldn't pull away from it, no matter how hard he tried. The blue eyed, blond man didn't fade this time as Delilah helped Starsky to fight the all too familiar barriers within him.
Something violently stirred within him. Nausea intensified, he felt sick, but bravely held onto the image, to the despair he started to feel, to the love which suddenly filled his heart. Instinctively he lashed onto it. And something inside him triumphantly connected … hard… with the quiet peace that had been Hutch, right before he'd given in, and was gone.
With a silent sob, Starsky tried to pull his hands free from Lilly's grip, but she wouldn't let him.
"Not yet! … Trust me."
He whimpered as he tried to quell the unexpected pain of unbearable loss. The moment which triggered that first dream suddenly clarified, and Starsky could see it in front of him… as clear as day. And he knew… for a few seconds, who the blond man was.
He saw his partner lying on the floor on his side, broken inside and out, staring into nothing in particular, taking in shallow breaths.
He saw the decision being made deep within the blond's soul, a decision born out of hopelessness and devestation.
Hutch gave one more conscious sigh…then calmly closed his eyes… and gave up.
And in his sleep, all those months ago, with Belinda as his witness, Starsky had cried.
With a start he found himself back in reality. His eyes watered as he pulled in his hands. Even as the knowledge of his connection to this blond man slipped through his fingers, the heartbreaking scene which he'd just experienced stayed with him. And he remembered the name.
Lilly let him go.
Gasping, he whispered, "Hutch, not Hutchinson… Hutch."
"You remember?" Lilly asked.
He shook his head, running down his face to pull himself back together. The hand closed, his fist covering his mouth. He took a couple of deep breaths. "I don't know…" he said, opening his hand, shaking his head again. "But I do know who holds all the answers."
The women in front of him gave a genuine smile.
He stood up, walked over, and firmly placed a kiss on her cheek. "Thanks," he whispered.
"Where are you going?"
"To find me a killer."
"Thank you, Belinda. Now don't worry, everything will be all right."
"I hope so," she answered the man on the other end of the line. "I just want you to get this killer off the streets."
"It might take us a while to organize a search party and get there, but as I promised, we'll take care of it."
She hung up the phone. It bothered her somewhat that the number she'd dialed turned out to be that of the child's mother, not of the police. She shrugged. As long as the culprit was being captured, it didn't matter to her who did it, or how it was done. The man, who turned out to be the mother's brother, had sounded a bit revengeful, but who wouldn't be after your nephew had gotten murdered. The killer would get what he deserved, no more, no less.
Now that she was able to let go of the whole experience she sighed with relief.
The moment Belinda had entered the hotel room it was obvious to her that David hadn't been back here since this morning. Everything looked exactly the same since she had left. After having placed the call she was sitting on the bed, contemplating over what to do next. Deciding she might as well wait for him here, she lay down on the thick mattress.
She was nearly asleep, when the door opened and her husband walked in. A hopeful grin was added to the surprised look on the brunet's face. "Hey, you came back?"
"Yeah," she smiled, and told him what had happened. She never intended to keep him in the dark about her encounter with the blond, and hoped it would make him see enough reason to return home with her.
She was wrong.
To her astonishment he grabbed her by the arm and asked, "Do you think you can find your way back to that farm?"
"Dave-" she said in shock, her words dying in her throat as she noticed the spark of vulnerability concealed within his eyes. She'd never been able to resist that. Besides, what could possibly happen? Help would be hot on their trails, and by tonight the blond would be either captured or dead, anyway. So what if her husband wanted to try and look for him? Even if he was on that farm, she doubted the blond would come out of hiding. "Okay, I'll take you there, but you have to promise me you'll take the gun with you."
"Anything you say, sweetheart." He said softly and held the door open for her to exit.
She shook her head. "You're still a flatterer, did you know that?
Her husband just smiled, and closed the door behind them.
Tbc
