CHAPTER 4

"Hug, give me another drink." Hutch slurred his words badly as his bloodshot eyes sought out the tall black man behind the bar.

"I think you've had enough my friend." Huggy said firmly, eyeing the blond detective solemnly. Hutch had been there all evening, drinking heavily and he'd been drinking the hard stuff, not just beer as he usually did. Drinking seemed to be his favorite pastime since the plane crash almost six months ago that had shattered his life. With a practiced eye, Huggy noted the too thin frame and the dark circles underneath the eyes that had lost their glow. When Hutch lost Starsky, he lost the other half of himself and a part of his very soul.

"If I want another drink, I can have another drink!" Hutch growled belligerently, glaring at Huggy as if daring him to argue.

"Not here, you can't." Huggy said, ignoring the glare in the tall blond's eyes. Huggy had years of experience dealing with belligerent drunks and he knew how to handle them without making a scene. "You're cut off, blondie." He threw a glance at a pretty brunette helping tend the bar "Diane, take over for me while I take our big friend here home." The girl nodded absently as she continued to wait on the customers at her end of the crowded bar.

Huggy sauntered around the end of the bar and approached Hutch cautiously. He had taken his car keys away from him earlier and he hoped that he could get him to leave peacefully. Gently touching the big man's arm, Huggy said gently "Come on, Hutch. I'll drive you home."

Hutch grumbled something under his breath but he slid off his stool without any further comment. Unsteadily, he followed the bar owner out to the street. Huggy found Hutch's car and climbed beneath the wheel using the keys he had confiscated earlier to turn on the engine. Hutch slid into the passenger's seat and leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes wearily. This was getting to be a nightly ritual between the two friends.

Huggy concentrated on his driving as he headed for Hutch's Ocean Place Apartment. The thin black man was worried and concerned about his friend's welfare. He knew that Hutch was coping with what had happened to Starsky the only way he knew how. The alcohol was the only way he could numb the pain that was slowly destroying him, one piece at a time. The only thing that could make him feel any better was what he had already lost.

When he reached Hutch's apartment, Huggy parked the battered LTD in Hutch's usual spot and climbed out from behind the wheel. Crossing to the opposite side of the car, he opened the door and helped Hutch to climb out of the car. Supporting the bigger man's weight as best he could, Huggy helped him to stumble up the stairs to his second floor apartment. Reaching above the doorsill, Huggy grabbed the spare key that Hutch kept there and unlocked the door. With some effort, he managed to get Hutch back to his bedroom and into bed. Hutch passed out the minute his head hit the pillow, snoring softly. Huggy pulled off the blond's boots and laid his keys on the nightstand. "Sleep well my friend." Huggy whispered once he had Hutch safely settled into bed. Sighing softly, Huggy grabbed the phone and called for a taxi to take him back to The Pits. Quietly letting himself out of the apartment and locking the door behind him, he went down the steps to wait for the cab.

Hutch groaned and squeezed his eyes shut to block out the glare of sunlight pouring through the window that overlooked the bed. His head was pounding relentlessly and his stomach churned uneasily. Cautiously, he shoved himself to the edge of the bed, regretting it almost immediately. He barely made it to the bathroom in time to fall to his knees in front of the commode. He retched violently until there was nothing left in his stomach to bring up and even then, he continued to dry heave for several more minutes. Finally, he managed to push himself back to his feet, still weak and unsteady on his feet.

He reached into the tub and turned on the shower, adjusting the spray to a comfortable temperature. He was going to be late to work again but he didn't care anymore. Since the plane crash, he hadn't been working the streets, he'd been stuck behind a desk writing reports and reviewing other detective's cases. He flatly refused to work the streets with another partner and Dobey wouldn't let him work alone. Stripping off his wrinkled clothes, he threw them in the general vicinity of the hamper and then climbed into the tub. Bracing his hands against the tiled wall of the shower, Hutch leaned forward and let the water wash down over him, clearing his head and washing away some of the aftereffects of his drunken haze. Hutch stood there for a long time, his tears mingling with the water from the shower that streamed down his face.

The water abruptly turning from hot to cold shocked Hutch out of his daze. As quickly as possible, he finished washing off and climbed out of the tub. Grabbing a towel from the floor, he sniffed it, then shrugged and used it to dry off. After shaving and brushing his teeth, he went into the bedroom and dug though his closet until he finally found a clean shirt and pair of cords. He made a mental note to do some laundry or he'd be wearing dirty clothes for the rest of the week. It seemed to take all of his energy just to get out of bed most days, insignificant things like laundry and grocery shopping were things he could ignore.

It was almost an hour later when Hutch pulled up in front of the Metro Division of the Bay City Police Department. Other officers looked the other way, carefully avoiding any eye contact with the big blond as he walked into the building. Most of them had learned through painful experience not to attempt to exchange pleasantries with Hutch, not since the plane crash that killed his partner. If he didn't ignore them outright, he was just as likely to slam them into a wall if they said the wrong thing. The big man was on edge and ready to blow. The only question was how soon.

As Hutch walked into the squad room on the third floor, he noticed that the other officers in the room as seemed strangely subdued and quiet. He wondered what was going on. He didn't have to wait long for an answer. The door to Captain Dobey's office flew open and the burly black man bellowed "Hutchinson! Get in here now!"

Hutch walked into the office and slouched into a chair as Dobey slammed the door shut. Walking back behind his desk, Dobey eyed the fair half of his best team of detectives and said somberly, "Hutch, we have a situation and I need to know that you're capable of handling it."

"What kind of situation?" Hutch asked cautiously, his eyes narrowing as he looked at his commanding officer suspiciously. He knew that it had to be something important for Dobey to even consider sending him back on the streets in his present condition.

Dobey pushed a small package wrapped in brown wrapping paper across the desk towards Hutch. Hutch picked it up, glancing briefly at the postmark. It was addressed to Captain Dobey at the Bay City Police Department, Bay City, California and it was postmarked from New York City but there was not return address. The package had already been carefully opened and still contained traces of fingerprint powder. Hutch pulled open the flaps and caught his breath sharply. He hesitated before carefully examining the contents.

His breathing quickened and his stomach twisted painfully as he carefully examined each item in the package. It contained Starsky's badge and police ID. His wallet with all of his credit cards, his driver's license and eighty dollars in cash. His wristwatch and the two rings that he always wore on his left pinky finger. His key ring which contained the keys to the Torino, his apartment, his locker at police headquarters and to Hutch's apartment. The last item in the package was Starsky's favorite blue tee shirt. Hutch struggled to control the violent shaking of his hands as he looked back at the Captain, silently demanding answers to his unspoken question.

"That was on my desk when I got to work this morning." Dobey explained gruffly. "It's already been checked. There weren't any usable prints on it."

"This m-means that S-Starsky has to still be alive…." Hutch said his voice barely above a whisper. Although his face remained calm, the stutter in his voice that only occurred when he was nervous or under a lot of stress belied his calm exterior expression.

"He could still have been on the plane and somebody is playing a sick joke," Dobey said gravely "The question is…why is someone sending it to us now?"

"Someone is trying to tell us that he's out there somewhere….that he's still alive." Hutch said with a catch in his voice.

"Even if someone is trying to tell us that he wasn't on that plane," Dobey agreed "That doesn't mean he's still alive….." Dobey hated to crush the big blond's hopes but he needed to keep him grounded in reality. "Starsky would never voluntarily let anyone take those things from him without a fight."

"I need to go to New York." Hutch said firmly "I need to find out what really happened to Starsky."