Chapter 5

There was a flurry of activity at the ninth precinct. Everybody was putting in their best efforts to try and find the missing detective. Starsky had been kidnapped roughly twenty hours ago, and time was of the essence. As Peterson was their main suspect, Hutch and Collins went to pay him a visit at his lavish mansion in the hills of Bay City.

"Well, well, look who we have here… Come in, Detective Hutchinson, make yourself at home," Peterson said, sitting behind his mahogany desk and playing idly with a gold letter opener.

"And… With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" Peterson addressed Collins.

"Detective Anthony Collins. I am Detective Hutchinson's partner," Collins said, showing his badge.

"Partner?" Peterson said, arching an eyebrow and glancing from Collins to Hutch. "As far as I recall, your partner used to be that other cop, you know detective…, the scruffy-looking one, what was his name? Starsky, oh yes, Starsky." Peterson saw Hutch clench his fists and Collins discreetly move a step closer to him. The perp knew very well that Hutch was about to lose his temper and make a mistake, and he was enjoying it.

"By the way, if you don't mind me saying… I like your new partner much better, Hutchinson. He seems to have manners. Also, his clothes don't look like he found them in a dumpster." The evil perp teased Hutch pitilessly.

"I'll ask you just once, Peterson! Where's Starsky?" Hutch asked, staring intently at Peterson.

"I haven't the foggiest idea, Hutchinson," Peterson stated. "Why should I know or even care? Anyhow, he's been a cripple since that assassination attempt, so I don't think he'd be able to get too far… Frankly, I have a hard time picturing him being able to do even ordinary stuff like, I don't know… going out with a lady on a date."

This was too much for Hutch to take. Before Collins could stop him, he lunged toward Peterson, grabbed him by the front of his jacket, and lifted him from his seat. Forcing him onto his desk, Hutch choked the perp with his forearm and used his free hand to press the tip of the letter opener against his neck.

"WHERE'S STARSKY, PETERSON? WHERE DO YOU HAVE HIM?" Hutch bellowed.

"Hutch!... HUTCHINSON, LET GO OF HIM!" Collins shouted, trying to pull Hutch off of Peterson. "Don't fall for his tactics!"

"I'm warning you, Peterson," Hutch spat, releasing the vice-like hold he had on him. "I know that you are behind Starsky's disappearance!"

"No, Hutchinson. I AM warning you." Peterson got to his feet, gasping for air and straightening his clothes. "I have my rights! And I'm not going to put up with this kind of police brutality. Come back here once more and my lawyers will get a restraining order against you... Have I made myself clear?"

OOOOOOOOOO

"Come on, Hutchinson! What the heck was that?" Collins scolded once they were out of Peterson's house. "A fucking letter opener to his neck; really?"

"Drop it, Collins! Fuck! Just drop it!" Hutch warned angrily, pointing his forefinger at Collins.

"No Hutch; damn! I'm not gonna drop it! What are you now? A thug? Don't you see it? That guy could and I mean COULD really sue you and even the whole department for police brutality, and then, what, huh? Do you want Peterson getting off the hook, if he has something to do with Starsky's disappearance, just because you've been acting like a goon instead like the experienced cop you supposedly are? Listen, Hutchinson, rules are important, and they are there for a reason."

"Oh, of course! The rules, THE FUCKING RULES!" Hutch shouted, "You're so fond of these damn rules! Listen Collins, I am positive that that scumbag has got Starsky!"

"And if you are right, then we have to prove it, Hutch. Otherwise, we have nothing." Collins put his hand soothingly on Hutch's shoulder. "Listen Hutch, do you think that I don't care about Starsky? Because if so, let me tell you how wrong you are. He may not be my partner, or my best friend, but I know how much of a good guy and a fine cop he is, and I am truly worried about him. I really am, and I can picture how are you feeling."

Hutch breathed deeply, running both hands through his disheveled hair.

"You look exhausted, Hutch." Collins said, sympathetically. "Tell you what we'll do. I am going to drop you off at your place, where you will take a shower, change your clothes and get something to eat. Then, in an hour, I'll pick you and we'll keep looking for Starsky. Sounds good?"

"Yes Collins… sounds good enough," Hutch said dejectedly.

"Ok, then, let's go to your place." Collins made an U-turn, heading towards Hutch's place.

"Collins?"

"What?"

"Thanks… It may seem like I don't care, but I really appreciate your concern."

Collins acknowledged Hutch's thanks with a nod of his head and a smile, as he kept driving towards his place.

OOOOOOOOOO

Starsky was thirsty, exhausted and most of all, he hadn't his painkillers for more than twelve hours. His whole body was screaming in pain.

When he'd been kidnapped, his captors had brought him to a large empty warehouse, tied him to a chair and left him alone for a long time. Starsky tried to tug on the ropes, but they were very tight and didn't loosen an inch.

Finally, someone opened the warehouse door. A tall, muscular man wearing an expensive grey suit and matching tie walked in. The man had pale skin, angular features and blond hair, matching a pair of light blue eyes that gleamed insanely. This was one face that Starsky remembered all too well and that he had hoped never to see again.

"Detective Starsky… we meet again!" The main said, as an evil smile curled his lips.

"Let me go, Peterson!" Starsky said with all the strength he could muster. "You're getting yourself into a bloody mess. Right now Hutch, and the whole Ninth Precinct, will be looking for me."

"Well, maybe they'll find you in time, or maybe they won't. Let me tell you Detective; if I was in your shoes, I wouldn't bet my next month salary on it. Most likely the only thing your fellow cops will find of you and Hutchinson will be your bodies floating adrift in the pier." Peterson followed up his words with a hard punch to Starsky's already aching stomach.

"We have a score to settle, Detective, remember?" Peterson said sadistically enjoying the sight of Starsky wincing in pain. "And I always keep my word!"

"Let… let Hutch alone, Peterson, or God help me!" Starsky said, while trying to ride out the wave of pain that was wracking his entire body.

"Know something, Detective? I find you delightfully cocky, even in your current circumstances. This time, however, your attitude isn't going to help you at all." Peterson glanced at his watch. "Well, unfortunately, I have to go," He said, nonchalantly. "As you must know, I am a very busy man. However, I've asked a couple of friends to entertain you while I am gone. Rest assured, Detective. You're going to enjoy their company. They are quite… how should I put it… imaginative? Creative? Yes, I think that either of those words would fit."

Without further comment, Peterson headed to the warehouse door, opened it and signaled his men to come in. Right away, two tall, sturdy goons came in.

"Have as much fun as you want with this piece of scum, but don't kill him, do you hear me?" Peterson commanded his men. "For things to go as I have planned, he has to be still alive when Mike and Jake bring in his partner."

Peterson left and his goons began beating Starsky viciously. Punches to his face, to his abdomen, even kicks that repeatedly knocked over the chair he was tied to.

OOOOOOOOOO

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Starsky had lost track of time when Peterson returned. He was followed by the two fake cops, who entered the warehouse dragging a half- conscious Hutch between them. They unlocked the cuffs that kept his hands tied at his back and quickly secured them to a nearby pipe. Hutch limply slid to the floor. His cuffs made a screeching sound against the pipe as he fell.

"Now, leave us alone. The party's grand finale is gonna be private," Peterson said to his thugs. They stepped silently out of the warehouse, shutting the door.

"I'm glad to have you here finally, Detective Hutchinson. Now our little get together is complete; besides I bet that your partner here was missing you" The felon aimed his gun at Starsky's head as he spoke, insanity shinning in his very clear blue eyes.

"Starsk? You... you 'kay?" Hutch asked, attempting to clear his mind.

"Yeah… Blondie, t'rrific… You?" Starsky tried to take a deep breath, wincing in pain.

"Shut up, you both! No one's talking here till I say so!" The deranged man accompanied his words with a hard hit to Starsky's temple with the butt of his gun. Starsky's head fell sideways as he plunged again into unconsciousness.

"Le-leave him alone, you bastard!" Hutch tried to sound firm while struggling to shake off the last remains of the chloroform that Peterson's goons had used to subdue him.

"Know something, detective?" Peterson said, unruffled, turning around to face Hutch. "I am a bit disappointed… quite a lot, actually. I never thought that getting the two of you would be this easy. It has been almost boring, I'd say."

Just as Peterson said, nabbing Hutch had been much easier than he had anticipated. After watching his daily habits for a few days from a safe distance, Peterson and two of his goons only had to take Hutch's house key from above his entrance door frame, get in and wait until the blond detective, exhausted and preoccupied after many hours without sleep, looking for Starsky, came home. When Collins dropped him off to take a quick shower and change his clothes, Peterson's goons only had to lunge at Hutch, taking him off guard. After a brief two-against-one fight, they put a chloroform soaked cloth over his mouth and nose, as Peterson watched the scene with his arms folded across his chest and a smirk of sadistic delight in his lips.

"Never mind, I'll make sure that we have fun all the same… Ok, and now, as Jack the Ripper would say, let's go by parts." Peterson laughed out loud, genuinely amused by his own joke. Then, calmly, he placed his gun onto a nearby ramshackle table, produced a large claspknife from his jacket pocket and grabbed a handful of Starsky's curls. He yanked Starsky's head backwards pressing the knife against the brunet's neck, drawing a thin thread of blood.

"Does this look familiar to you, Hutchinson? Earlier today, at my place, my letter opener and what you did with it? Though, just in case you haven't noticed, this isn't a letter opener, but a knife, and a very sharp one…" TBC