"You'd better come in."

She backed away from the door and used the back of her hand to rub her bangs from her eyes. Hutch led the way inside, stepping lightly onto the newly-polished hard wood floor. The air conditioning cooled his perspiration instantly and he shivered a little.

The inside of the house was as clean-cut as the outside. A floral-print furniture set was arranged neatly around a shining wooden coffee table and a small TV set sat unused in the corner. Floral drapes decorated the windows and bright sunlight spilled onto a large area rug. To the left, an open doorway led into the kitchen and the scent of apples and cinnamon filled the air.

"Please, have a seat," Ms. Bandy said as she closed the door behind them.

"Thank you for your time," Hutch said as he sank into the overly soft, plush cushions. He felt awkward and gangly and he tried to rearrange himself, but it was no use. The bright, fuzzy rose blooms swallowed him whole. "We apologize for the inconvenience," he added as an afterthought, giving up at last and settling back.

"You said you had new information?" she asked, having a seat herself and looking quite comfortable.

"Ms. Bandy, have you-"

"Elizabeth."

"Excuse me?"

She sighed, shifting a little. "Call me Elizabeth."

Hutch glanced at Starsky, who looked as awkward as he felt. "Okay, Elizabeth." His head was starting to pound again. "Were you aware that your husband was drunk at the time of the accident?"

The reply was meek. "Yes."

Hutch took a breath. "Did he drink often?"

The reply was even softer. "Yes." Her head was down as she wrung her hands in her lap.

Starsky spoke up. "Did your husband ever get into trouble? Get into any fights, make any enemies?"

Elizabeth glanced up and shook her head quickly. "I don't think so, no. He never told me much about where he would go."

Hutch leaned forward a bit and it felt like trying to climb out of quicksand. This couch was clearly made for shorter people. "Elizabeth, were you aware that the brake lines on your husband's bus were cut?"

Her eyes snapped up at that. "What?"

Hutch felt a stab of pain in his head and something dark slithering in his stomach. "Do you have any idea who would want to do this to your husband?"

Elizabeth brought her hands up to cover her mouth and Hutch couldn't help noticing how they trembled. She was also still wearing her ring. "No… I can't think of anyone that cruel." Her vacant gaze focused on Hutch. "You will find who did this, won't you?"

Hutch's gaze locked onto her watery brown eyes and he felt completely and utterly helpless. He could feel her need from across the coffee table and couldn't find the strength to look away.

Starsky broke the silence. "Yes ma'm, of course we will." He looked pointedly around the room. "You mind if we just have a quick look around? For any clues."

Elizabeth blinked and wiped at her eyes. "Um, no, of course not," she stuttered, rising to her feet. "Go ahead."

Hutch rose also, following Starsky around the living room. Elizabeth looked lost, standing with her arms hugging her torso as she stared at the floor. They wouldn't be able to get too much more information out of her. She looked close to breaking down, and Hutch didn't blame her.

Over the years, Hutch had gotten very good at reading people. He was no longer the doe-eyed kid from Minnesota who believed everything he was told. He had hardened, sharpened, and become more focused. He no longer took everyone at face value.

But Elizabeth was pure. He didn't quite understand it, but Hutch believed her- trusted her. You couldn't fake a pain like hers. The woman had lost the husband she was in love with, it was plain as day. And the fact that Hutch found himself so receptive to her pain scared him. Hadn't he learned to keep his emotions out of his work? Hadn't he perfected the art of erecting walls and hiding behind them?

Perhaps it was the innocence on her face. The knowledge that something terrible had been done to a good person. The same stab of sadness that cut through him each and every time he thought of that little girl he had held in his arms back in the bus. All the good things in life were being desecrated faster than he and Starsky could ever hope to protect them. And it wasn't fair. It saddened and angered Hutch at the same time, it just wasn't fair-

"Hey, look at this," Starsky murmured, elbowing Hutch gently.

Hutch blinked himself to awareness and looked down at what Starsky was poking with a pencil. A small, green opaque lighter reflected the sunlight as it moved on the bookshelf. Hutch's brows furrowed. Even under the smell of hot apples, he couldn't detect the smell of cigarette smoke. Surely with all the drapery and flowery upholstery, some of it would smell like tobacco. Hutch reached out and ruffled a curtain nonchalantly.

Nothing.

He looked at Starsky as the brunet withdrew his hand. Starsky had that look- the one that reminded Hutch of a dog guarding a meaty bone, and he knew better than to interrupt. Then something lit in Starsky's eyes and he practically ran to another shelf littered with photographs.

Elizabeth must have noticed Starsky's interest for she joined them silently. After a moment of looking at happy faces and better times, she spoke softly. "We were married for nine years. Would have been ten next month."

"I'm sorry," one of them, or both of them, murmured.

"You look very happy," Hutch noted, his eyes locking onto a picture of Elizabeth and her husband walking hand-in-hand down a beach.

"Tom was the best husband any girl could ask for. He never forgot a birthday, or an anniversary, or even a dinner date. Sure, he may not have made a lot of money, but he loved me."

The fondness hung in the air a moment before Starsky asked, "He drank a lot?"

"It was his only vice, you know," she replied. "He tried to stop once, but it made him so angry, so violent… I think it was hurting him." She sighed. "I should have gotten him help, I know, but I couldn't bear for anyone to see him like that. I couldn't bear to see him in pain any longer. He promised me he would cut back. He was such a proud man, you have no idea how devastating it was to see him so… needy. Helpless."

Hutch's thoughts were thrown back to his own time in hell, when he was locked inside Huggy's guest room and suffering from withdrawal. Starsky's thoughts must have been there too, for he said softly, "I get the picture."

Neither man looked at each other.

A clock on the wall chimed the hour and Elizabeth straightened. "Do you have any further questions, detectives?"

Hutch tore his gaze away from the collection of memories and looked at Elizabeth, suddenly finding even more respect for her. "I think we're done for now."

"Just one more question," Starsky said as she escorted them to the door.

"Of course."

"Do either you or your husband smoke?"

Elizabeth's brows furrowed. "No, of course not. Why?"

Starsky made his escape of the house and her question with practiced skill. "Just wondering. Thanks for your cooperation, Ms. Bandy."

Hutch stood in the open doorway, feeling like they owed her a little something more. "Uh," he started, withering under her sorrowful gaze. They were standing very close and her pain was palpable. "We'll keep in contact."

She nodded. "Thank you. And please, detective, find who killed my husband."

Hutch had been raised to respect women- to open doors for them and stand up for their honor and help them when they were in need, so when a single tear leaked from Elizabeth's eyes, he leaned forward those few inches and wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders. He felt her heartbeat and her hitching breaths as she struggled to maintain her composure. They were, after all, standing in the open doorway with both Starsky and the entire neighborhood able to see them.

His hand made small circles on her back as they simply clung to one another, one lost person finding solace in another. Neither said a word for several moments, then at last she made a tiny movement backwards and he let her go.

Elizabeth sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.

Hutch studied her in silence, a gentle smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. She had helped him as much as he helped her. She had uncovered the compassion and caring that Hutch had been trying to bury for the past three nights. Perhaps this was one case that could not be solved stoically. Maybe he needed to use his emotions.

A deep rumble sounded behind him as the Torino's engine flared to life. "Thank you," he said, then turned and stepped off the concrete vestibule and into the grass.

The dog appeared at his feet as he walked, yipping and panting as excitedly as it had when he arrived. Hutch ducked his head against the sun and kept walking, the sudden onslaught of heat once again giving him a headache. The dog suddenly ran towards a red Mustang parked along the street, then back to Hutch, barking loudly.

"Gus, come here boy!" Elizabeth shouted from the doorway, and the Golden Retriever darted towards the house. "Please excuse him," she called to Hutch as the dog went inside. "He doesn't get many visitors."

Hutch waved it off as he opened the passenger door. He watched as Elizabeth went inside, then he climbed in the car. "She was nice," he mused, pulling the door shut. It seemed like an understatement.

"She was hiding something," Starsky replied, pulling away from the curb.

"Why, because there was a lighter in her living room? That seems like pretty circumstantial evidence to me. Heck, even I have a few matchbooks at home!"

Starsky kept his eyes on the road. "I think it's worth checking out."

"Take me home."

"What? Why?"

"Because while you're wasting time looking for the owner of a cigarette lighter, I'll be at the bus barn, questioning people and solving the case."

"Hutch-"

"No. She's innocent Starsky, I can feel it."

Starsky sighed. "Well at least have lunch first."

"I'll grab something from home. I'm sick of Huggy's burgers."

"How can you be sick of it? It's free."

Hutch knew he was getting sucked in to the 'Starsky Zone', but he couldn't stop himself. "It's not free, he just keeps adding it to your tab."

There was silence for a moment while Starsky thought about the implications of that. "He's not charging me interest, is he?"

"Five percent," Hutch lied.

Starsky swallowed. "You don't think the department could cover it, do you?"

"Yeah, right."

"But they pay for the gas for my car."

Hutch snorted. "No they don't. You just keep putting your receipt on Dobey's desk and he keeps taking it out of your paycheck."

"No shit."

Hutch laughed, and it felt good. He knew Starsky was playing the fool for his sake, and knowing that only made him appreciate his partner even more. Hutch realized for the first time in days just how blessed he was. Their time with Elizabeth had healed him somewhat, although Hutch had no idea how. Maybe Hutch was feeling alone with his grief; Starsky, after all, was more hardened, more trained to deal with things like this. Starsky had more experience in the field, had seen just how cruel and violent humans could be. Starsky had seen things that Hutch would only have nightmares about.

And then seeing Elizabeth, lost in her own little world of grief as Hutch was, made him feel not so alone. She just seemed to know things, and while it probably should have scared Hutch, he felt he could let his guard down just a little. Not have to act so brave and impenetrable.

"Alright, here we are," Starsky announced.

Hutch blinked and looked outside. His apartment building was looming overhead. "Right," he replied, and opened the door.

Starsky took a breath. "You sure you wanna split up?"

Hutch stood on the sidewalk and turned around. "Yeah, we'll get done twice as fast this way. You chase your lead and I'll chase mine."

Starsky looked hurt. "You wont forget to eat lunch or anything, will you?"

The look on Starsky's face was hard to ignore. Instead of volleying a sarcastic remark, Hutch smiled and said, "Of course. I'll be fine. I'll meet up with you later, okay?"

Starsky didn't look 'okay', but he nodded nonetheless. "Yeah, sure."

Hutch backed up and patted the Torino's roof as Starsky pulled into traffic. It was his own fault Starsky was concerned; if Hutch could just get his emotions in check, everything would go back to normal. Or, as normal as it ever was.

First thing was first- he had to get rid of this headache. Perhaps he would have lunch after all. A couple aspirin and a cold beer sounded really appetizing right now. Then, he would head over to finish questioning the other bus driers. After all, he had a promise to keep.

Hutch had his back to the street when he pulled open the door to his apartment building and disappeared inside.

Behind him, a red Mustang slid to a halt in silence.