Broken Doll-Chapter 3

Hutch sauntered over to his uncharacteristically organized desk, while his partner hobbled to his own, lowering himself painfully into his chair.

"Whups bis?" Starsky asked through a large mouthful of cream-cheese Danish.

"What's what?" Hutch sighed a bit impatiently.

"This."

Hutch sighed and rolled his eyes, "I don't know, buddy, what?"

Starsky tossed a yellowed folder on top of Hutch's report hoping to grab his partner's attention. Irked, the blonde tossed it back.

"Starsk, it was on your desk, it's yours. Why don't you just open it and see what it is?"

Frowning tiredly, Starsky folded open the cover. Then, in an instant, he stumbled back from his desk, causing the wooden chair to crash loudly to the floor. Hutch, startled, looked up to see the shocked face of his friend staring down at the file on his desk.

"Starsky! Hutchinson! What's going on out here?" The loud crash in the squad room brought the gruff Captain from his office, but upon seeing the shock on Starsky's face--and the worry in Hutch's--Dobey's annoyance turned to concern.

Starsky tried to stop the shaking of his hand as he pointed towards the file, "This is a joke, right. Hutch, you put this here, right? Please tell me this is your twisted idea of a joke."

It was then Hutch noticed how pale his partner looked. He was beginning to think his partner was more injured from his beating today than either previously realized, until he saw what Starsky was wildly pointing to. Inside the aged folder was a black and white picture of a striking dark-haired woman. Her black hair was coifed in a 1940's style, but it were her eyes that were most arresting. Dark in color, the eyes that sprang from the old photo were full of life and vivacity. Even her luscious, full lips paled in comparison to her radiant gaze.

"Hey, Starsk, that looks kinda like the woman you described from your dreams." Hutch moved closer to the desk for a better view of the file folder.

"No kidding." Starsky swallowed, rubbing his tired eyes.

"I hate to tell you this, partner, but I didn't put that file on your desk. I've been out with you all day, remember?"

"Well, then who did, huh? Captain?" By now Starsky had overcome his shock, and his impatience was moving rapidly into anger.

"Will one of you tell me what's going on here? Who is this woman and why is she on your desk, Sergeant!"

"That's just it, Cap, I don't know who this woman is. I've seen her before, but, err…I don't know where."

Studying the file more closely, the portly Captain began to register a look somewhere between recognition and confusion.

"I remember this case. I was a teenager when her body was found. Her case is still unsolved, Starsky."

"But why's it on my desk, Cap?" Starsky couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was brewing.

Dobey rubbed his thick neck with a large hand, "That, I don't know, Detective. It's been filed away in the archives for at least twenty-five years. How it got up here's a mystery to me."

"What can you tell us about the case, Cap?" Hutch asked, receiving a sideways glance from Starsky.

"Well, seems to me it was pretty gruesome. I remember some of the detectives on the case, when I was still in uniform, talking about how her body was cut in half in one stroke, and how they never had any good suspects. Some of those guys had a hard time letting that one go."

O0O

After downing several beers at The Pits in an attempt to numb the pain in his aching, bruised body, and to hopefully forget the woman in black, Starsky was dropped off at his apartment.

O0O

He filled the bathtub nearly to the top with steaming hot water and groaning, carefully lowered his injured body into its inviting depths. With a loud sigh, the weary detective closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cool porcelain tub.

Something was wrong.

The water was no longer warm and soothing, but cold-prickling his skin, giving him goose bumps.

When he felt the cold water crawl against his skin, he immediately opened his eyes. His bathroom was cloaked in a thick mist, and he could see his own breath in the air. The heaviness of the atmosphere was overpowering, causing Starsky to feel like he was suffocating. His heart began to pound against his chest and with that, a rising panic, but he could not move. His mind screamed at his body to climb out of the tub and race to where he could draw a desperate breath, but only his eyes would move. He was powerless.

"Help me." The startling cry came from beside him, but he was afraid to look. He didn't want to, was scared, afraid to, but yet he couldn't resist. Slowly, his head not moving, his eyes shifted toward the unwelcome sound.

David Michael Starsky screamed. No sound came out, but his entire body screamed. He wanted to make noise, had to make noise, but the sheer terror had an iron grip on his voice. Standing very close to the mute and paralyzed man, was the woman from his dream—the same startling dark eyes pleading to him.

"Help me..." she hissed.

Then the beautiful, frightening face morphed. The dark eyes became silver, no longer human. The rich red mouth became a grimacing bloody gash running from ear to ear. Her hands were now swollen, fish-white claws. In a dream-like slowness, they reached toward the dark-haired man's throat. Starsky watched in horror as the hands reached towards him, and could smell the rotting flesh slipping around his neck, but he couldn't pull away. His heart swelled with fear until he was sure it would burst.

No, don't. Please. I can't defend myself. Damn you, bitch. Hutch, I need you buddy. Now! God, Hutch. Please come….

Thoughts of Hutch finding his bloated body floating in the tub filled the detective's mind as the putrid hands pushed his head under the frosty water. His dying blue eyes stared up at the creature. He was powerless to close them against the repulsion. Sorry, Hutch, I didn't fight, I'm so sorry…

As his burning lungs painfully filled with water, and his thoughts began to slow, all he could think was, why? Then he fell into darkness.

To Be Continued…