Thank you all for your patience, I think I mostly have my computer problems under control, and have started rewriting the chapters I lost. I now return you to our regularly scheduled program…..

Broken Doll- Chapter 14

October 29th, 1977

Sitting on the stripped hospital bed, Starsky waited anxiously for his partner to arrive. Fidgeting with a loosely held bottle of pills, he impatiently hopped off the bed to once again pace around the room. Several rounds later, he sat down and began juggling the medicine again.

Two days had passed since his lunch with his friends in the small private room, and he was really beginning to feel like a captive. His fever was gone and his lungs were clear; the only evidence left of his illness was a slight cough when he breathed too deeply. It was bad enough that he'd been forced to remain in bed, but for the last two days of his recovery (and he was very recovered in his opinion), he hadn't been allowed to leave his room without an escort. He tried once or twice, maybe even three times, to sneak out alone, but the same nurse (the one with the hair on her chin) seemed to have radar and caught him each time. Damn, doesn't she ever sleep? He thought. He stood again, but only to move to the far side of the bed. There he sat, chin in hand, staring out the filmy window into the gloom of another overcast day.

Twenty minutes passed before Hutch paraded into the room pulling Starsky from his brooding thoughts.

"What took ya so long?" He knew he was whining, but he'd been waiting for at least…he studied his watch… it was only five minutes later than Hutch said he'd be.

Expecting a negative reaction from his cohort, Starsky was pleasantly surprised when Hutch tossed a heavy paper bag into his lap. He looked up expectantly.

"Everyone at work heard you were coming home today, so they took up a collection. Open it." A smile warmed Hutch's smooth face.

Eagerly Starsky unrolled the paper bag and looked in, his eyes growing bright. "Oh, man, Hutch. This is the best…I mean…wow."

Hutch laughed heartily as Starsky dug into the bag of Halloween candy, pulling out his favorite tiny chocolate bar and consuming it. Starsky looked up guiltily. "You want some?"

"No thanks, buddy. They're all yours."

With a shrug of his shoulders, Starsky dug more candy out of the bag and consumed it with relish.

"Are you already trying to make my star patient sick, detective?"

Both young men looked at the door. "Hey, doc, the guys from our precinct sent me a going home present. Want some?"

Dr. Ness looked delighted with the offer as she took the bag from Starsky. "I thought you would never ask." She investigated the various candies while she spoke. "Now, listen, Dave. I don't want to see you in here again for a very long time. So that means you need to take all of your medicine, and get plenty of rest. Understood?"

Blushing at the motherly treatment, Starsky mumbled a polite, "Yes, ma'am," and stared at his folded hands.

"Good. Now, take care, both of you." And, deftly turning, she left the room.

"Hey, wait!" Starsky hoped off the bed in indignation and stalked toward the door. "She took my candy, Hutch. She…she…that… woman took my candy." Starsky was angrily flailing his arms in emphasis.

Hutch calmly put his arm around his partner's shoulders. "Let it go, Starsk."

"But, she…"

"Starsky…"

"But…"

Hutch directed his index finger at Starsky, silencing the man mid-thought. "Halloween is in two days; just eat the candy you buy for the kids."

Starsky began to argue the point, but gave in with a smile when Hutch winked and pulled a Payday from his jacket pocket. Grabbing the bar, Starsky blissfully stepped out the door.

Hutch grabbed the forgotten pills from the bed and followed. "Don't worry, partner. I'll buy you lunch at Huggy's."

"You're buying? Voluntarily? No way would I miss that." Starsky grinned as the elevator doors closed.

O0O

Hutch pulled the battered Ford out of the hospital parking garage and headed south toward The Pits. Normally, he wouldn't offer to feed his partner the heart clogging fare served in that establishment, but, to Hutch, Starsky looked undernourished and unusually thin. Too thin, in fact, he thought. Here was Starsky, healthy and grinning, riding in his car, and if keeping him healthy and happy meant feeding him that junk, so be it. He would even buy.

The wipers squealed as they ran across the windshield, smearing the light misting of rain. "Looks like another wet day," he remarked, taking in the darkened sky.

The LTD pulled up to a red light as the rain began to fall in hard droplets.

Starsky leaned forward to hit the defrost button. "Man, you need new wipers. Look at those streaks."

"I just got…"

"Hey!" Starsky interrupted, throwing open the car door. "Did you see that? Hey! Police, drop that purse, turkey!"

Before Hutch even had a chance to react, Starsky darted from the car.

"Starsky! Damnit." Hutch threw the beater into park and stepped out, silently cursing his impulsive partner. A crowd was gathered around a fragile looking older woman, who sat on the curb cradling her arm and crying.

Hutch knelt next to her, feeling the rain seep through the knees of his jeans. "Ma'am, I'm a police officer," he spoke gently. "I'm going to call an ambulance for you."

"He took my purse. That man took my purse."

"Yes, ma'am, I know. We'll get it back for you. I promise." Hutch looked down the street toward the fleeing men and then at his car, the separation from his partner causing him anxiety. On their way back to the woman, his eyes paused again on his shrinking colleague; if he left right now, he may be able to cover Starsky.

As if reading his mind, a young feminine voice spoke, "I'll stay with her, officer."

Hutch nodded his thanks without seeing and dashed back to his car, slapping the mars light on the rusted roof. Then, gunning the heap, he grabbed the mic to request an ambulance.

Hutch cruised slowly through the retail laden neighborhood bordering La Cienega, scanning the alleys on both sides of the slick road. "Where the hell are you, partner?" he voiced aloud.

Although it was early afternoon, the sky began to grow ominously dark, blocking the few rays of sun still struggling to break through the dark cover. As the wind began to pick up, autumn leaves fell into piles on the wet pavement. Hutch could smell the ozone that promised a huge storm, and the hairs on his arms began to prickle.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a dark figure face down on the asphalt in a dingy alley. Heart pounding, he twisted the wheel and pulled into the back street, blocking the exit. Sprinting from his vehicle, Hutch glanced at the overflowing dumpsters trying to spot his foolhardy partner. Approaching the prone form, he let out a small release of air. It was a kid laying face down on the grungy alley floor, hands cuffed behind him.

Hutch glanced up at the loud racket echoing from a dumpster spilling over with rotting, fetid garbage. A brown head covered in wilted lettuce popped up and just as quickly disappeared. Hutch stood silent for several moments, letting relief wash over him before letting anger take over his senses.

"Starsky!" he yelled. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You scared the crap outa me back there. You just got out of the fucking hospital, and here you are chasing some juvenile delinquent and crawling around in dumpsters…without back up! What the hell are you trying to prove?" Hutch threw his arms up in exasperation.

Starsky glared at Hutch without saying a word, then dove back into the foul clutter.

"Starsky…!"

"You taking shouting lessons from Dobey?" Starsky's hand came up clutching an off white bag.

"I'm serious, Starsk; we need to talk about this," Hutch said reaching into the trash receptacle. Moments later, Starsky was out of the garbage and stuffing the teen into the car. It felt good to see his partner back in action, but at what cost? Starsky seemed intent on ignoring any sound medical advice and driving himself into a relapse. Hutch was pretty sure he could hear Starsky's ragged breathing as he fought to hold back a cough. "Starsky, I…"

"Look, can we discuss this later?" Starsky's face was a sad mix of agitation and dejection, as Hutch climbed in. "I want to give the lady back her purse, get the kid booked, and shower. Then I want to eat."

"Sure, Starsk, whatever." Starsky fixed his eyes on something out the side window, and Hutch wondered where he'd gone wrong in voicing his concerns. One thing he knew for sure, though…his partner was stubborn.

The horrid memory of finding Starsky collapsed on the bathroom floor, burning with fever and hallucinating, caused Hutch to shiver. He leaned over to flip on the heater, and caught Starsky inspecting him.

Hutch turned his eyes back to the road, but continued to feel his friend's gaze.

"You okay?" Starsky finally asked, a hang dog expression taking over his face.

Hutch glanced at him, frustration welling up. "No, I'm not okay. I just spent several days watching you in the hospital, hooked up to all sorts of monitors and God knows what else, wondering if you were going to make it. Wondering if…if only I'd said something…done something…earlier, if maybe, just maybe you wouldn't be there, half dead. And, now that I have you back, you take off on me chasing some knob down side streets. You could have been killed and there would have been nothing I could have done about it."

"Are you done?"

"No. I'm NOT done. What makes you think you can break procedure and run off without back up, huh? Where do you get off doing that?" Hutch felt the tension slowly easing back as his anger dissipated.

"Anything else?" Starsky calmly inquired.

"Yeah. You stink." They were both smiling now.

"You always were one for telling the whole truth… Hey, Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for…well…thanks." Starsky placed a strong hand on Hutch's shoulder and squeezed.

Most people didn't see Detective Sergeant David Michael Starsky as being a diplomat, but Hutch had seen his diplomacy in action on many occasions, usually during hostage situations or tense showdowns. He also had personal experience with the man when his skill as a mediator was put to the test…Gillian came painfully to mind. Starsky was an expert on knowing when to talk and when to just listen, and right now was one of those times. Hutch suspected his friend knew he needed to blow off some steam, and Hutch was grateful for that.

The remainder of the ride was made in thoughtful silence.

O0O

The halls of Parker Center were bustling with the usual afternoon rush. People milled about the front desk waiting for papers to be signed, or loved ones to be released, while uniformed officers moved suspects from one holding area to another and detectives stood in groups chatting about their latest busts.

Smelling strongly of Irish Spring soap and wearing a pair of sweats, Starsky made his way down the crowded hall in search of his partner. Right now, all he could really concentrate on was getting some food, and Huggy's down home cooking was his top priority. He was slowed down, though, by greetings and hearty back slaps from fellow officers. Still, he smiled his cheshire grin and visited briefly with various friends on his way to hunt down Hutch, pleased that he was actually missed.

"David." Starsky immediately turned toward the familiar voice. Gail was standing in the doorway of the homicide unit dressed in a white lab coat. The coat was hanging open and Starsky could see the subtle outline of her full breasts through the tight green sweater she wore underneath.

"Hey, beautiful." Starsky put on his most brilliant smile and was silently grateful that he'd had a chance to shower. Taking her hand, he pressed it lightly with his lips, causing a blush to form on her high cheeks. He'd always been attracted to Gail and even dated her a few times, although the most they'd ever shared was some heavy petting after a long night of drinking. It just never seemed to be the right time to begin a relationship; he was always busy with a case or preparing for a stakeout. And, although her job had more stable hours, on occasion she did get called away to perform an autopsy or visit a crime scene. Seemed fate always had another idea for them.

"When you get a chance, I'd like to go over the evidence from the last crime scene with you and Hutch."

"Have you eaten?"

"No, why?" She cocked her head to the side in a way that Starsky found alluring.

"How 'bout you join Hutch and me at Huggy's. He's buying, and we can talk about the case on full stomachs." Starsky smiled inwardly, imagining what his partner would say when he found out he'd been volunteered to buy.

"Sounds good. I can be there in half an hour."

"Alright, I'll see you there."

Starsky gave her a quick wink while he sauntered through the office almost plowing into Hutch.

"Hey, watch it, buddy." Hutch quickly jumped out of the way.

"Sorry, I was…uh…distracted."

Hutch looked toward the closing glass door and spotted what had his partner so absorbed. When Hutch looked back at him, Starsky just shrugged his shoulders and gave his most charming smile.

Hutch chuckled briefly before returning to business. "I just got done talking to the captain."

Starsky hoped from his expression that the news was good. "Well, don't hold out on me."

Hutch held up a piece of paper with what looked like an address printed on the front. "The captain did some digging and found an address in Hillside for the Grippo residence. The house is still in their name, so Dobey wants us check it out first thing in the morning. Maybe, if Billy's parents are still alive, they can give us the information we need to find his sister."

"What kind of family could create a monster like her, Hutch?"

"I don't know, buddy, but we may find out tomorrow."

"Not sure I want to." Starsky swallowed against the churning in his stomach.

"Let's get you something to eat, then we can both get some rest tonight."

Starsky grinned lopsidedly. "Oh, about Huggy's…Gail's coming with us."

"Oh, yeah? Is it a date?"

"We're just friends."

"That's not what I've heard."

"Oh, and what have you heard?"

"She likes you."

"She does not like me. We're friends." Starsky rolled his eyes at Hutch's teasing, but he had to admit, he'd missed it.

O0O

The rest of the late afternoon through dinner was much of the same teasing and banter the young detectives were known for, and Gail seemed to enjoy being the focus of the play on occasion. But, finally, when the plates were removed and they each had a chilled mug of beer before them, talk turned to the morose.

"I did a more thorough examination of the hair strand I found, but not much was there." Gail pulled a folder from her briefcase, setting it on the table. She then put the case back on the bar floor.

Putting his drink down, Hutch asked, "But you did find something?"

Both detectives were gazing intently into the fawn colored eyes as she continued to relate the new information.

"Yes, I did. But I don't understand it."

"Gail, why don't you tell us, and maybe we can figure it out together." Starsky took her hand and rubbed his finger lightly over her knuckles.

"Okay." She pulled her hand away to open the folder and withdrew a photo. From what Starsky could tell, it was a dark hair with a large hoop on the end, surrounded by several specks that clung to it like lint. "This is the hair removed from the scene. As you can see, it's human hair. Now, on the end of it here," she pointed to the bulb, "it has been tied in a knot. The small particles you can see lining the hair are a combination of cotton and nylon. So…any thoughts?"

Both men stared at each other before silently admitting defeat.

"What else did you find?" Hutch inquired.

Gail took a sip of her amber brew then pulled out another photo. Starsky took a deep breath before studying the picture, and was more than relieved to see that all it showed was Anna's neck. Unlike Hutch, he hadn't been at the crime scene, and wasn't sure if he could handle seeing any more than he was being shown now.

"Obviously from the ligature marks around her neck, she was strangled to death. From the fibers left behind, it appears the killer used a nylon rope."

Starsky asked for clarification. "The same type of nylon you found on the hair?"

"No. I thought it would be a match, but when I examined them both under the scope, they were different. The nylon used to strangle the victim was made up of black fibers. The fiber on the hair is light brown."

"So, our killer is a woman who wears black nylons, has dark brown hair, and wears fake nails. Now, all we need to do is find her."

"Wish it were that easy, partner." Hutch finished off the last of his drink and stood. "Well, maybe we'll get an idea of where to start looking after we visit the family home tomorrow. In the mean time, I need to get some sleep. You need a ride home, Starsk?" he asked, handing her the pictures.

"Actually, I was going to ask David to ride with me." She smiled shyly at both men. "You live on the way to my house, so it really would make more sense for me to take you."

"Can't argue with that logic." Starsky felt himself growing warm at the thought of being alone with Gail, and hoped it wasn't too obvious.

Hutch raised a teasing eyebrow. "Just make sure you're ready when I pick you up in the morning, Gordo."

"Yeah, yeah…get outa here, would ya already." Starsky ignored the bait, and instead, took Gail by the arm and out to her car. "Night, Hutch."

The moon was beginning to glitter through the thinning clouds as the LTD pulled away on its short drive home, and Starsky felt relaxed for the first time in, well, a long time.

O0O

The streets were still slick with water as it continued its predestined trip down the gutter and out to sea. The flood angrily left the street with a loud whooshing babble down the concrete tube and the air was plump with the effusion of eucalyptus and oleander, only adding to the excitement Starsky felt at holding a sensual woman in his arms.

"Sorry bout the mess, I haven't been here in a while," he whispered as he lightly nibbled on her earlobe. Gail snaked her arm around his strong neck and pulled him closer until he could feel her hot breath against his lips. He pressed his mouth to hers, softly, deeply.

"I could get used to this," she sighed, and his skin tickled with the feel of her breath brushing warm against his face. She laced her fingers into his hair and pulled his head down to deepen the kisses which were soft and warm, but hardening as their passion grew.

Starsky felt her tongue slide smoothly against his teeth. His thighs trembled with anticipation as his groin filled with a growing warmth, his entire body aching to fill her. He shifted a muscular arm down her back and pulled her to him as he moved toward the bedroom.

He knelt over her on the bed as he lifted off her sweater and tossed it into the corner. Caressing her neck with his silky mouth, Starsky reached a firm hand under the lacy fabric of her bra, cupping a breast, stroking the tip with his thumb. It began to harden as he swallowed her moan in a deep kiss and she arched against him in pleasure. His tongue trailed down to her full breasts as his nipped and licked, her moans becoming louder. The anticipation of tasting her was almost too much as he placed kisses along the curve of her ribs.

Billie Holliday was singing a silvery melody somewhere in the background, her tones sorrowful and forlorn, the song of a lost love never forgotten. Starsky had heard the music before, could almost repeat the words, but why he didn't know. He opened his eyes to the alluring pale body on the bed underneath him, sinuous and seductive, stiffening his groin to the point that he let out a quivering breath. She ran her red lacquered fingernails over his back and he shivered with excitement. He climbed up to kiss her rich, full, rosy mouth again before removing her black dress along with what remained of his clothes.

He nuzzled his way down her velvety body until she gasped as his tongue slid over her core, then purred as it moved faster, teasing her with rapid, easy strokes. A moan erupted from her as he slid one, then two fingers, inside her warmth. Starsky sped up the caresses of his tongue and hand as she began to reach her peak and climaxed with a shiver and cry of pleasure.

"I want you inside of me," she hummed, still shuddering.

He moved up her body until he could see her wide, blue eyes, and then pushed inside of her, relishing the heat that sheltered him. He began to slowly move in and out of her, drowning her gasps with his kisses. She wrapped her legs tightly around his back, arching herself upwards, willing him to go deeper. His hardness began to swell inside of her as she gripped his body tighter. He growled in anticipation with each thrust. The sensation was too much to bear and she came again, her body rhythmically rippling in contractions around him. He gripped her back with one arm, braced with the other and pounded into her, roaring with his own climax, burying himself as deeply as he could into her body. "Oh, God, Lizzie," he panted.

The music suddenly died and the tantalizing body next to him vanished, filling his mind with confusion. Looking over to the dark, tear filled eyes of Gail, self-loathing filled his soul.

To Be Continued