Chapter 4

"Hey, partner, I think we should go shopping for groceries. I thought that we had more eggs and bacon left, and even some leftover chicken," Hutch said, perusing the fridge. "Did you eat all of that?" he asked, being pretty sure that there was no way his convalescent friend could have eaten that much food without being seriously sick to his stomach later.

"Uh?" Starsky asked absentmindedly. He was browsing through the newspaper Hutch had bought on his way back home after his overnight stakeout.

"Groceries, Starsk. The fridge is almost empty!"

"Oh, well, see, Hutch, it was Buddy. He ate quite a lot last night."

"Buddy... who the heck is Buddy, Starsky?" The blond one asked, bemused.

"The big black dog. Don't you remember, Blondie? The one that I met at the beach? and then it showed up yesterday morning a few feet away from here. He came back last night and I fixed him something to eat… and wanna know what's really strange?" Starsky didn't wait for an answer. "Right after eating, he broke into a run… seemed to be in a helluva hurry."

Ok, let's see. So there's a dog out there, somewhere. Hutch thought absentmindedly, while fixing breakfast for his friend and himself. A very large one, according Starsky. But so far, no one's seen it, no one but Starsky, of course… Oh, boy, this is starting to look like when I was seeing that Dalmatian…

"By the way, Hutch, any word on him?" Starsky took him out of his thoughts. "Were you able to find out if someone's looking for a dog like Buddy?"

"Nope, Starsk, nothing so far," Hutch said, pouring two glasses of orange juice and placing one of them on the table, across from Starsky. "I've even asked Merle, but he's not seen the dog anywhere, and no one has asked him about it."

"I wasn't any luckier," Starsky said, dejectedly. "I phoned Huggy, but none of his patrons has lost a pet. What a shame! A nice dog like him shouldn't be a stray, roaming around, all matted, filthy and hungry. I just hope he doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

OOOOOOOOOO

Afterward, Hutch went back to the precinct, leaving Starsky at home, once more feeling trapped inside the four walls of his apartment. Sure, he was glad to be alive and on his way to recovery, but he missed his old life so much! He wanted to be out there with his partner by his side, doing the job he loved and was so damn good at, not spending countless hours on his own, worrying about Hutch and bored. And that was on a good day. On his bad days, he was on his own, worrying about Hutch and in pain.

Unwilling to give any more room in his mind to these somber thoughts, Starsky decided to drop by the Pits to have a soda and chat with Huggy. Since he was on painkillers, beer was out of the question, so a soft drink would have to do. Starsky called a cab.

A short while later, after paying the cab driver, Starsky was walking towards the Pits, when a muscular mutt stepped from behind a nearby trashcan chewing, on a stale bone. It wore a collar but no muzzle or leash. Maybe it had run away from home, or perhaps its irresponsible owner let it roam freely around.

Starsky's posture stiffened as the dog headed towards him, menacingly showing its teeth. "Hey… take it easy, dude… I didn't mean to disturb your lunch," he said, calmly while reaching for his gun. He'd hate to have to shoot the dog, but he knew that in his current condition, if he had to break into a run or fend for himself unarmed, he wouldn't stand a chance.

Wouldn't be kinda creepy if a couple of wet-behind-the ears rookies found my mauled body just a few feet away from Huggy's place? The brunet mused wryly.

His concerns, though, were short lived. From a narrow alley at his back, a familiar black animal came running. Brushing past Starsky, he forcefully knocked the other dog backwards with a thrust of his massive head, just as a bull would do. Swiftly, Buddy slid to stand protectively between Starsky and the intimidating-looking dog that had scrambled back to its feet.

For some seconds, both animals looked each other in the eye, growling hoarsely. It looked as if a fight might break out between them at any moment, so Starsky stepped cautiously back. He knew that any sharp movement; any attempt by him to prevent the fight from happening, would only make things worse. The growling escalated for a bit, but then all of sudden, the smaller dog uttered a faint yelp and stepped back. It scurried away, tail tucked in between its legs.

"Whoa, Buddy! I owe you one!" The dark-haired detective said, releasing a breath he didn't know had been holding. "How did you do that? You're quite the Alpha male in town, aren't you?" Starsky crouched down to effusively pet Buddy.

"Know what we're gonna do, Buddy?" he said to the dog, who was looking at him, head tilted and slowly waving his tail, "I'm going to ask Huggy to let you in and give you a well deserved treat. You just wait for me, I'll come back to get you in a minute, ok?" Saying this, the dark-haired detective stood and headed to Huggy's.

"Hey! Look at who came to visit his ol' friend Huggy! Hiya Starsky! How ya doing, bro?" Huggy greeted Starsky cheerily, as he entered the Pits.

"Short version; I feel like a 90 old with plenty of aches and pains. I spend most of the day bored out of my mind or dozing off because of my painkillers. Does that answer your question?" Starsky answered, dejectedly, sitting down on a stool by the bar.

"Come on, bro, give it time. You're still recovering. Better days will come, you'll see." Huggy put a friendly hand on Starsky's shoulder. "Want something to drink or eat?"

"Double bourbon, neat, please, Hug," Starsky asked, keeping a straight face.

"Right away!" Smiling, Huggy went to the kitchen and came back a moment later with a glass of milk and a healthy portion of apple pie for Starsky.

"Here you go! Brenda did the pie herself, and ya know, that girl makes the best apple pie in all the West Coast." Huggy put the apple pìe and glass of milk in front of Starsky.

"Thank you, Huggy, but I'm not hungry. By the way, I'd like you to meet someone. Would you allow a friend of mine in?"

"A friend of yours in?" Huggy inquired, feeling a little puzzled. "And how come he's not come right in with you?"

"Well, see, Hug, my friend isn't a guy or a lady, but the stray dog I was talking you about yesterday. He's just helped me get out of a hairy situation and I'd like to give him a treat."

"It's ok, Starsky, go get it," said Huggy.

Starsky headed outside, but once more, the dog was gone.

Peering around, Starsky called out for the dog a couple of times, to no avail.

Alright, so it looks like Buddy doesn't want to meet any of my friends, he thought, disappointed, and headed back inside. At the bar, Starsky drank a few sips of the glass of milk and took a couple of bites of the apple pie, while telling Huggy all about the aggressive-looking mutt Buddy had scared away earlier.

Shortly thereafter, Starsky decided that it was time to go back home. His body ached and exhaustion was starting to take its toll on him.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Hutchinson," The blond one answered the phone, as he browsed through a file at his desk in the precinct.

"Hiya bro!" Huggy greeted him in his usual upbeat fashion.

"Hey Huggy, what's up?"

"Curly... he was here a little while ago." Upon hearing Huggy mention Starsky, Hutch went into fully alert mode.

"Is something wrong with Starsky, Hug? Is he ok?" His voice sounded a tad more anxious than he'd intended.

"Well, he seems to be pretty ok, given his current circumstances. No way ol' uncle Huggy would've let him leave my humble abode otherwise. Ya know bro, I really care about Curly," the lanky man answered. "But see, Hutch, it's about that dog. I mean, the one that only our mutual friend is able to see." Huggy filled Hutch in on exactly what Starsky had told him about the black dog saving him from a different stray dog. "He even asked me to let the doggo in. But, there was no dog in sight. Listen Blondie; don't get me wrong, Starsky seems to be in his right mind, no doubt about that, but even so… Do you think that maybe those pain pills he's taking might be messing with his head?"

An unsettling suspicion began to creep into Hutch's mind.

"That stuff may be as legal as goin' to church, Hutch. But it ain't candy, ya know. And I wouldn't like to see our Curly losing his marbles, especially not with his gun within reach, if you get my drift…"

Hutch didn't need to hear more. He hung up the phone, bolted from his chair and grabbing his jacket, stormed out of the squad room, almost colliding with Minnie on his way out of the precinct.

Idiot! I am a fucking idiot! That's what I am! Hutch chastised himself, as he raced with light and siren towards Starsky's place. Could Starsky be having painkiller-induced hallucinations? Why the fuck didn't I think of that earlier? Actually, the doctors had warned them that hallucinations could be a possible, albeit uncommon, adverse effect of the strong medication Starsky had been prescribed.

Starsky, partner; be at home please; be at home and don't get yourself in trouble… Hutch begged mentally. I'm gonna ask Dobey for a leave of absence. And if it isn't enough, I'll resign; whatever it takes, but I'm not going to leave you on your own, not even one more time, until I'm sure that you're completely ok.

OOOOOOOOOO

Starsky's doorbell began to ring insistently. The dark haired detective had come home less than five minutes earlier. He sat up on the couch, got to his feet and opened the door. What he saw there made his heart skip a beat.

"Detective Starsky? I am Officer Lewis and he's Officer Daniels," the patrolman on his doorstep looked contrite. "Captain Dobey asked us to take you to Memorial Hospital. It's your former partner, Detective Hutchinson. He's been shot. It's bad, Detective, real bad."

Hutch… no… please Blondie, not you! Starsky thought as a cold terror gripped his heart. Hang in there, partner, I'm coming! He closed his door, hurrying to the patrol car. His jacket hung forgotten from the rack coat.

His holstered gun too.

The patrol car took off and for a few minutes no men spoke; however, soon Starsky realized that something wasn't quite right. They weren't heading towards the hospital but towards Bay City's warehouse district.

"Hey guys… Where are we going? This isn't the way to the hospital," Starsky said; an alarm ringing at the back of his head.

"Nope… it's not." The man who had earlier introduced himself as Lewis, answered, not even turning to look at him.

No, shit!… oh, damn! no… At that point, Starsky had no doubts left. He'd been set up. With a quick movement, he reached for his gun, just to realize that he hadn't brought it.

"Looking for something like this beauty, Detective?" Lewis teased, turning towards Starsky and aiming his gun at the brunet's head.

Starsky's eyes darted left and right. As he had guessed, the car's back doors were locked. There was no way out, he was trapped and at the mercy of his captors.

Soon the car pulled to a halt in front of a derelict warehouse ion a lonely alley. The fake cops dragged Starsky roughly out of the car as he tried to put up a fight.

"Lemme go, you bastards!" The curly haired detective hollered, fighting like a feral cat against the firm grasp his kidnapers had on him. His struggles were cut short when the gun pointing at his head made its reappearance.

OOOOOOOOOO

Meanwhile, back at Starsky's house, Hutch slammed on the brakes, jumped out of his car, and climbed the three front steps in one single stride.

"Starsk? Partner, are you at home? You ok? STARSKY!" he called out, while searching the small, empty apartment.

"Damn, Starsk where did you go?" Hutch said, rubbing his face. Then, lowering his gaze, he saw it. A small note made with cut out letters had been left onto the floor. It read…

One down, one to go.