July 18, 2018/January 1, 2021 - By Startisparticus2017
NOT SO SWEET REVENGE
Prologue
Detective David Michael Starsky is cleared to return to full duty, almost a complete year since the encounter that set him and his partner into a tailspin of 'what if'. Starsky was gunned down viciously at the Bay City PD parking lot while his partner returned fire. Several long minutes of the unknown hung in the balance then, before him, Ken Hutchinson witnessed his worst fear. His partner lay on the ground with three bullet holes piercing his body. He watched as the blood of a man he adored and thought of as his brother spilled onto the pavement one drop at a time.
Chapter 1
Starsky sat at his desk, humbled by the celebration of cake and punch. Captain Dobey, Minnie, along with Simmons and Babcock, all stood beside Hutch and lifted their paper cups in honor of a toast. "Starsky, on behalf of the department, commissioner, and the mayor I would like to congratulate you on your recovery. Some of us have missed you; some of us…some, more than others - let's just leave it at that. Perhaps this precinct and office can return back to normal with you back to active duty and on the streets." The room erupted in laughter. "Welcome back, Detective David Starsky." The Captain raised his eyebrows in humor and lifted his cup.
Hutch smiled ear to ear and raised his cup. He noticed something odd with his partner's behavior. The smile was there, his eyes sparkled, but not with enthusiasm. There was something going on behind those elusive blue eyes and painted on smile. A voice called out next to Hutch.
"Hey Starsky, I'll gladly give you your partner back! He's the best there is…don't get me wrong, but let's face it, I ain't you. I'm no praying man, but I do thank the almighty for the return to sender policy. He's all yours." Babcock nudged the distracted blond's shoulder as he laughed at his comment.
Hutch laughed but could not remove his eyes from the somewhat shielded dark-haired man that stood from his desk in embarrassment. Starsky cleared his throat and bowed his head. "I want to thank everyone. You're all great and thanks for taking care of my partner. It's good to be back." The words were said with sincerity, but not the usual confident cocky attitude. "I…I want to thank, Hutch for stickin' it out with me. I couldn't have done it without ya, pal." The room erupted with applause. The blond blushed and bowed his head.
Simmons assisted Minnie in cutting the cake and distributing amongst the staff. A slice of cake sat in front of Starsky who seemed lost in thought as he sat down. Several moments had passed and the cake remained untouched and the dark-headed figure hadn't moved. Everyone went back to work. Hutch sat across from him and stared at his quiet partner. "Hey! You okay?" A raise of the eyebrows emphasized his question.
The brunet wasn't startled; he looked up to meet a set of worried blue eyes. "Hey, yourself." He smirked and sighed. "I'm okay. I can't believe I'm back to full duty."
Hutch sighed and smiled. "You did it, Starsk, never doubted you for a moment."
Starsky nodded and winked. "We did it, Blintz."
Chapter 2
The first official week back and the boys resumed driving their beat. The Torino was restored to its pristine shiny appearance. The bullet holes were now a distant bad memory. The week had been uneventful and rather dull as they followed up on leads.
The brunet steered the Torino skillfully as he pulled up to the curb abruptly. Hutch sat in the passenger seat, glancing over the surroundings. He peered over and noticed his partner looking into the rear-view mirror. "There's a sedan, dark grey with two gorillas. They've been followin' us from Sempter and Alabaster." Starsky pursed his lips and turned his head then looked at his partner.
Hutch pulled his gun from his holster. He looked into the side view mirror and noticed the vehicle parked ten cars down. "I think it's time we introduce ourselves. What do you say, partner?" With a mischievous wink, he exited the car with his weapon tucked in his pants and entered the convenience store.
Starsky placed his gun in the frontal area of the waistband of his pants and closed his jacket as he exited the car and walked around onto the sidewalk. He placed his hands in his jacket pockets and swaggered toward the grey car. The two occupants sat reading newspapers. Casually, the brunet walked by as he whistled. He quickly dove and crouched behind the car, then headed for the driver's side. Hutch came from around a building and headed for the passenger side. Simultaneously both pulled their guns and stood by the doors of the car. Hutch recognized the passenger as one of the men that tried to kill them at the Bay City PD parking lot. "Police! Put the paper down and place your hands out the window where I can see them. NOW!" The blond's intense request alerted his partner.
Starsky opened the driver's door and ripped the paper from the driver's hands. "You heard my, partner, keep your hands where I can see them." He reached in with his right hand and pulled the man from the car. The driver wore a cheesy brown suit and reeked of cigarette smoke. His jet black hair held enough grease to lubricate the car. Starsky shoved the man against the back of the car and then patted him down to find a pistol in his pocket. "What…do we have here? Lucy, you have some splainin' to do. Why were ya followin' us?" He briefly looked at his partner who roughly pulled the other man from the car. The blond's behavior was uncharacteristically overly hostile. Unsettled, Starsky focused on the man he had retrieved. The dark greasy haired man placed his hands on the car in a huff. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Hutch removed a pistol from the passenger who also had dark hair and a thin wispy mustache. "We have a nine-millimeter, fully loaded with some nice shiny silver bullets. A little smaller than you were packing a year ago, huh, pal?" His voice held anger. "I don't suppose you remember emptying your weapon into my, partner?" Fury consumed the normally cool, collected blond.
Temporarily stunned by what his partner just stated, Starsky removed a wallet from the perp he had pinned. He opened it to reveal a driver's license. "Darrell Banks, well wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet ya, Darrell. Talk! Tell us a story. Ya better make it good, my partner over there is suddenly in a real bad mood," he shouted. "Ya see tryin' to kill us does that to him."
The man now known as Banks squirmed slightly. "I want an attorney." He moved aside exposing two assault rifles displayed on the back seat through the window.
The brunet caught a glimpse of the rifles. He suddenly felt extremely anxious as though he couldn't catch his breath. One of the weapons was the same one that had barraged them in the Bay City parking lot. "We may have won the jack-pot, Hutch. There's a full arsenal in the…b-back s-seat." A slight stammer and loss of breath was audibly present.
The man that Hutch held spun around and punched the distracted blond in the face. This caused Hutch to fall back onto the sidewalk. The man lunged onto the fallen detective and served him several blows to the face, then abdomen and attempted to extract his weapon. Hutch was dazed and confused, but clung to both the weapons.
Starsky raised his gun and pointed it at the creepy man who fought with his partner. The pounding in his chest made him feel as though he were running a marathon. "Get-away-from him! H-H-Hutch?" His voice was strained and gripped with panic.
Banks elbowed and then punched Starsky in the abdomen causing him to lose his breath and fall to the ground onto his knees. "Get in the car before someone ID's us! The blond cop is second. Get in the damn car!"
The injured brunet grabbed the greasy man's pant leg, but was met with another punch to the jaw. Starsky fell back but regained his balance and raised his left hand and aimed his gun. His hand trembled, his lungs felt as though they were going to explode. A flashback overtook his thoughts, the sound of metal scraping and Hutch screaming 'Starsky get down', and a police car spiraling toward him with rapid gunfire. His chest was clenched with pain or was it panic? All his thoughts were scrambled. A sense of pure fear paralyzed him.
Banks and his accomplice entered the car and took off narrowly missing Starsky's foot near the rear tire. Hutch rolled and bounced to his feet with guns still in hand. Although unsteady, he watched as they drove off. "Damn." He rubbed the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand leaving a streaked blood stain. The sound of gasping caught his attention. He was at Starsky's side immediately. Starsky's face was covered in sweat and his color was ash. His breathing was labored and wheezy.
"Where'd he hit you, Starsk?" His tone expressed panic. The guns were placed in his waistband, he touched his distraught partner's face. "Starsk, hey…talk to me. Take short breaths…easy."
As though he were in a whirlwind tunnel of white light, Starsky heard his partner's voice and wrapped his arm over his abdomen. "I'm okay, knocked the wind out of me." He coughed several times, then handed his partner a wallet along with a gun. "Got ya a keep sake from the flake." His chuckle was labored. "You okay, are ya hurt?"
Hutch assisted his partner to his feet gently, and then wrapped his arm around his waist. He chuckled and guided him back to the Torino's passenger side. "Just my pride. Come on, Muhammad Ali."
Chapter 3
At the precinct in the men's room, Hutch attended to his cut lip. Several areas on his face were red and had begun to bruise. Starsky exited a bathroom stall and went to the sink and washed his hands. He wiped them and touched his partner's chin and examined his face. "You'll live. Besides, it adds character, the ladies will love it." Amusement caramelized his words.
Hutch swatted the hand away and lifted his partner's shirt to expose a massive bruise on his stomach and chest area along with the residual scarring. "Never mind me. You should get this checked out." He released the shirt and glared directly into his partner's eyes.
Starsky frowned and dismissed him with the roll of his eyes. "I'm the miracle man, superman powers…remember?" He hoisted himself onto the bathroom vanity and sat, but avoided the usual eye contact. "So…that was the guy who filled me with bullets?"
Hutch's features grew rigid. His eyes held deep suppressed rage. "Why were they following us? It's been a year. Gunther is locked up at state pen." He turned and leaned his hands on the vanity.
Starsky could see the fear in his partner's tense body. He was feeling the same thing. "I'm getting the feelin' we're gonna find out whether we want to or not, Hutch. We got an ID, guns, and hopefully clean prints." He bowed his head and sighed deeply. The panic and paralyzed reaction he endured at the scene frightened him. "I'm sorry."
Hutch looked up into the mirror then over to his partner. "Sorry, for what?" His expression was that of astonishment. "Don't even go there." He raised his hand and pointed.
Starsky looked to the ceiling and back at his partner. "I didn't back you. I collapsed on one punch. That hardly makes me competent or ready for full active duty, Hutch. What if…I'm never ready?" He raised his voice in frustration. "What if that creep had gotten the gun and shot ya?" Distress radiated through his eyes and voice.
Hutch bowed his head, and then took a deep breath. He turned and looked at his upset partner. "I've been out there without you. Babcock and Simmons are good, but they aren't you, Starsky. Today for the first time in a long time, I felt whole, and complete. My back was covered, and I felt safe. Do you hear me?" He smiled. "As far as competent, you weren't before…so what's the problem?" A raise of the eyebrows followed the sarcasm.
The brunet pinched his lips together. His eyes filled with unshed tears as he crossed his arms gently over his hurting chest. "Well when ya put it that way." He smirked and took a deep breath. "Thanks pal." The unsettled feeling was still present. This was the first time in many months Hutch seemed confident and himself. He was not going to burst that bubble with the maze of doubt that plagued his own mind.
Chapter 4
The two men entered a rundown apartment building across town. The area was filthy and not a welcoming or homey section of Bay City. A majority of the properties were abandoned buildings set for demolition. The greasy haired man, Banks, led the other with a mustache down a dark hallway and entered the last apartment on the left. The phone rang on the lamp table near the plaid, torn couch. Banks reached and grasped the handset and brought it to his ear. "Hello! Yes." His eyes glared at his counterpart. "It's for you, Becker." He extended the handset to Jack Becker.
Becker appeared unsettled and hesitantly took the handset and placed it to his ear. "Becker!" His voice elevated. His shoulders became rigid. "No, Sir he's still alive." He pulled the handset from his ear a few inches and cringed. The voice on the other end shouted. "I waited like you asked me, Sir. Look, they made us today. We had them, but too many witnesses." His voice held anxiety and anger. "Starsky will die and the blond will watch, then we will waste him. I said I would do it and I will," he snapped. The phone went to a dial tone. He reached and slammed the handset onto the cradle of the phone.
Silence hung in the one room studio apartment as Becker tried to regain his composure. He clasped his hands and locked his fingers causing his knuckles to snap and pop loudly. "Mr. Gunther isn't in a good mood. He was clear about where we stand if those two cops aren't dead in twenty-four hours." His voice was tense and direct. "We need another car and our backup pistols. We'll lay low for today." He ran his trembling hand through his slick black hair. The two men walked toward the two twin beds and reached under them and each pulled a long black case and placed them onto the beds. They both pressed the gold latches allowing them to pop and creak open. The cases were opened and housed pistols and rifles of all sizes. Banks pulled a small silver pistol and held it in his right hand. "We'll get them. We aren't gonna let Mr. Gunther down this time, Jack."
Chapter 5
Captain Dobey sat with his head pressed against his large hand. His elbow anchored onto the desk. He watched the dark headed figure before him. Starsky appeared to be lost in thought and was all too quiet. The Captain sighed heavily. "Out with it?" He sat up and leaned back in his big, black, creaky office chair.
Starsky raised his eyes to meet the concerned man across the desk. He shifted in the leather seat and sat leaning forward. "Gunther hired those goons. I know it. One of them said, the blond one is second." He dropped his elbows onto the arms of the chair. His eyes displayed concern. "Maybe my comin' back wasn't such a good idea. I couldn't even cover my partner's back today." He covered his face with both hands and then ran his fingers through his hair. "Cap'n you know if they come after me again…ah damn. They are comin' after me, then Hutch." His jaw was rigid and eyes fueled with fire.
The Captain took a long, deep, breath and focused his dark brown eyes on his distraught detective. "I need my team back. That team is you and your partner. You are a seasoned police officer, not a rookie. If it were anyone else that went through what you did, I'd agree it was too soon to come back. But you? No way, Starsky." He slammed his hand on the desk. "As far as Gunther, I won't argue with your theory. He wants you both dead." His voice growled.
The door to his office opened to admit Hutch focused on a file folder. He closed the door and sat next to his partner. He handed the Captain the file folder. The agitated look on his face spoke loudly. "They were definitely the two that…they were the two." He didn't want to bring up that horrible day a year ago. "Jack Becker, he's been in and out of federal prison as though it were a revolving door. The prints were clean. Gunther's lawyers have managed to stall or remove every murder rap. Darrell Banks has an almost identical rap sheet." Stress emanated from the blond's features. "I was too focused on getting Gunther. I failed to find these two scumbags."
Captain Dobey tossed the file folder he was reading onto the desk. He sat back and beamed his dark eyes on the two men before him and pointed his thick finger at them. "Hutch you had a lot on your plate. I don't want to hear this coming from you or your partner. You both know where this is coming from and he's in a jail cell rotting. He is to blame for turning all our lives upside down." He slammed the sizeable hand onto the desk. The duo knew their Captain had endured the same pain and grief. The anger was not directed at them.
Starsky glanced at his Captain then to his partner. The sober expressions set into his features were not characteristic. "Should've, could've…don't matter. You took down the scum who called out the orders, Hutch. Gunther's MO has always been to eliminate. As far as you knew those two flakes were dead." He reached over and patted Hutch's arm. His voice was soft and lacked resilience and fight. He slowly pushed the arm rests of the chair with his hands to stand. "I…huh, I'm sorry. Maybe it's time I show my cards and expose the ace." He fumbled with his fingers. Hesitating, he took a deep sigh and left the room slowly and quietly.
The Captain watched awe struck. Hutch rubbed his forehead aggressively. His tall stance shrunk in the chair in defeat. "I don't believe this, Captain. This isn't like Starsky. Something has him spooked. It was just two weeks ago he was driving us all crazy about being back on the streets. What the hell is he talking about showing his cards?" Frustration was emanating in his voice and features. "He'd better not be thinking of resigning."
The white handkerchief in hand, the Captain dabbed his forehead. "Someone needs to get into that head of curls and remind him that the two of you are targets. We aren't playing old maid, Hutch."
Hutch stood abruptly and turned to leave. He stopped and looked back at the Captain and bowed his head. "It has been tough on all of us. I never thanked you, Captain. Thank you." His voice held emotion and authenticity. Before the Captain could react or respond the blond was gone.
Chapter 6
Starsky arrived at the gate to the state penitentiary. He quickly flashed his badge at the guard at the gate. "The warden informed us you would be arriving." He looked at the driver of the red Torino and nodded. "What he did, Detective Starsky was wrong. I hope he is miserable." He pressed the button to the electric gate.
Starsky placed his badge in his jacket pocket, uncomfortably. "Yeah, thanks."
Inside the prison it was dimly lit. The sound of metal upon metal and buzzers echoed. Starsky sat in a room that housed a metal table and two chairs. The walls were two toned grey and bland looking. The brunet sat and wriggled his shoulders. Guilt and unease traced his features as he thought and whispered to himself. "I'm sorry, Hutch. I won't let him hurt ya."
Five months prior, still on leave, Starsky along with Hutch attended the Gunther hearing. The District Attorney along with several high profiled suits gathered in a pre-hearing meeting. At the time Starsky was still fragile in health and tired easily. He sat on the edge of the desk. The expensive suit, John Schillinz who was Gunther's attorney left a file folder opened on the desk near his brief case. Schillinz was in a heated conversation with Hutch who had his finger intimidating the man's face. Captain Dobey stood near his highly agitated detective and attempted to calm him. The brunet was enticed by the opened folder and took the distraction to his advantage. The words 'Juanita Escobar, daughter of James Gunther' in bold print caught his attention. The information below gave details on the daughter who was to remain a secret. Starsky took action and closed the file folder. He stood to step in and stop his partner from striking the abrasive lawyer.
Interrupting his train of thought, the door opened with a guard and beside him, shackled, was James Gunther. The year in prison had aged the once well-manicured man. His hair was long and his face unshaven. His eyes were dark, pale blue orbs of coldness. His skin color was pasty. The guard escorted the frail looking man to the chair opposite of Starsky. "Detective Starsky, I'll be just outside the door." The guard glanced at Gunther with hatred and walked out.
The brunet's body was rigid. His shoulders rose as though he were ready to fight. His eyes pierced the entity known as Gunther. "Your goons, Becker and Banks, were followin' me and my partner."
Clearing his throat and relaxing his shoulders, the old man raised one corner of his mouth. "Why, Detective Starsky, I really don't know what you are talking about." His eyes scrutinized the man before him. "I do have to say for a man that was near death you look well." His smile faded slowly and took on a more sinister appearance. His eyes darkened.
Starsky leaned forward with his arms placed on the table. His hands were clasped. "Do you really think I'd let ya claim victory?" He raised his eyebrows. "Way I'm seein' it is you plan on killing one of us then the other. I'm guessin' me first to make my partner suffer for humiliating you." He stood and placed his hands on the table and leaned in closer to the fragile man. "You think you've won. Maybe you have. Hell I don't know if I'll ever be a cop again." He leaned in even closer. The focus and intent in his eyes nearly bored holes in the old man. "Revenge can be sweet until it turns on ya. Nothin's stoppin' me from wrappin' my hands around your neck. Would I get away with it? Probably not, but no one would blame me." His hands closed into white-knuckled fists. "Don't even think about touchin' one strand of blond hair on my partner. You get my drift?" The normally crystal blue eyes were darker and terrifyingly focused. He slowly sat back down.
Gunther's shoulders rose as he looked away. He was uncertain if Starsky was serious or not. He did not anticipate this outcome or that a cop would be threatening him. He cleared his throat. "Detective Starsky that almost sounded like a threat, you can't be seriously entertaining such an act. You are still employed as a police officer, aren't you?" His voice held a slight trace of unease.
Starsky's face resembled a stone sculpture with raging eyes and rigid jaw. "It's a promise, threats aren't my style. Call off your gorillas." His voice was soft but menacing. "Here's a notch for your gun. You succeeded, but not the way you intended. Maybe ya created a monster." The brunet winked and reached across the table and patted the grey-haired stubble face playfully.
The man startled and pulled away from the hand that lightly slapped his face. His body trembled. Anger poured through him. "No one speaks to me that way, Detective Starsky. Those idiots failed me the first time. They won't this time. You and that partner of yours are dead. Do you hear me? You destroyed my legacy. Becker and Banks have their orders. You will die and Hutchinson will watch and suffer. Then he will die." His voice growled.
The door to the visiting room opened. A tall thin man in a grey suit stepped in. His hair cropped close to his head. He smiled from ear to ear. "Detective Starsky, we have it." He reached out to shake Starsky's hand.
Gunther pounced to his feet. The clanking of the chains and shackles caught both Starsky's and the Warden's attention. "I demand an explanation?"
The brunet glanced at the Warden then back at Gunther. A smile formed as he reached inside his shirt and pulled a wire and tape. "Got ya! Mr. Gunther you just confessed to ordering the hit and potential hit. If anything happens to my partner or me, you are going down. What remains of your legacy, will be null and voided." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "I know about Juanita your daughter. Your attorneys are a little sloppy. Ya see an open file folder gave me that little tidbit." He leaned back onto the table. "Oh…it's not a promise, I give ya my word. Remember, just one blond hair?" His eyes held an intense glare before he winked.
James Gunther lunged forward and grabbed Starsky's arm with his cuffed hands. He trembled from head to toes. "You leave Juanita out of this equation. She is innocent. You leave my daughter out of this, Detective." His voice growled with intention. The guard grabbed the distraught man's arm and tried to pull him away.
The warden watched. Starsky tugged his arm free of the demented man's grasp. "Warden, I believe the man has one phone call. I suggest he uses it wisely." He shrugged his shoulders and exited the room.
Chapter 7
Hutch stood in front of Captain Dobey's desk with his eyes wide and mouth gaped open. The Captain shook his head and appeared rattled. "The Warden contacted me this morning. Starsky apparently acquired the information from an open file folder from Gunther's attorney. He has apparently been doing a little moonlighting to verify. Her mother was his housekeeper." He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "He managed to get a full confession from Gunther."
Hutch closed his mouth. The stunned expression evaporated to anger. "Starsky knew about his daughter. He used this to barter for our lives…no…my life!" the blond shouted and began to pace in front of the Captain's desk. "I'm going to kill him with my own bare hands." His hands formed white-knuckled fists.
The Captain sighed. "Although I don't condone this behavior or action, I have to admit it was brilliant. If the pot were calling the kettle black, you would have done the same thing, Hutch." He mischievously grinned, then cleared his throat. "However, he should have informed us of his intentions," he barked loudly.
Startled by the phone, the Captain took a deep breath and grasped the handset. "Captain Dobey! What? Thank you, Lorraine." He slammed the handset into the receiver. "Your partner called in sick."
Hutch stopped pacing. His shoulders were tight and tall as he turned to exit the Captain's office. "Sick! Not as sick as he's going to be when I get through with him." His voice sharpened. "His hand held more than an ace."
The door slammed causing the Captain to jump from his seat. "Hutchinson, get back in here!"
Chapter 8
James Gunther sat at the Warden's desk in shackles. The Warden pushed the telephone across the desk. A guard stood behind him. The feeble looking man took the handset and began to dial. He put the handset to his ear. "Stay in hiding. There's been a change in plans." He pulled the handset away and dropped it onto the cradle. He looked at the Warden as his left eye twitched. "They are at 1230 Garvin Way, Apartment 2B. I don't want my daughter dragged into this mess." Defeat laced his words.
The Warden pulled the phone back and dialed. He smiled. "Captain Harold Dobey." He continued to watch the unstable man before him. "This is Warden Gorman, you will find Becker and Banks at 1230 Garvin Way, Apartment 2B. You are welcome, Captain."
The building at Garvin Way was surrounded with police presence. Simmons and Babcock escorted Becker and Banks in handcuffs to an awaiting police transport van. The frowns on the two handcuffed men's faces gave little to the imagination. They knew they had been betrayed.
Chapter 9
Hutch sat at the bar at The Pits. His dark mood encompassed his features and sent a clear message to all occupants. Huggy emerged from an office in the back of the bar. His silky red shirt and yellow cravat shimmered in the dim lights. He gallantly scanned the bar for the other half of the duo. The television caught his attention along with Hutch. The volume muted. A photo of Starsky along with a video of the arrest of Becker and Banks unfolded.
Huggy without a word sauntered to the bar and reached for a glass and poured the beer from the tap. He placed it in front of the quiet blond. "It's all over the radio. There's a lot of buzz on the streets." The thin black man sat on a stool near the silent detective.
Hutch tilted his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. He sucked his top lip in and sighed upon release. "I should be relieved, I am." His fingers traced the side of the dew covered glass. "He went at it all on his own. My partner confronted James Gunther." The tone was soft. "Do you know why, Hug?" His eyes shimmered with emotions. "He did it to protect me. He did it to make sure I was safe because he doesn't think he can back me up." His jaw grew rigid. "Bitter sweet, isn't it?" He bowed his head. "I was ready to go over there and tell him exactly what I thought. Now…now I don't know what to say. It's as if he knew this was going to happen. He deliberately kept information from me." The long fingers formed into balled fists. "Something's got him skittish. That's not how we work." Sadness clung to the nearly in-audible words.
The sound of a shot glass being placed before him startled Hutch from his thoughts. The long time friend and informant poured the dark amber liquid into the glass. "I knew something was up when he turned down the brunette he'd been eyen' for the last two years." He glanced and sighed. "It just doesn't make sense. Months now all he's talked about is being back on the streets. The last week he's actin' like the cat that lost the mouse." He tilted his head and pursed his lips. "When it comes to you, my blond friend and you bein' in danger, there's no stoppin' that stubborn nest of unruly curls you call a partner. He's spooked just like you were my man…give him time." The tall thin man pressed his lips together and glared at Hutch.
Hutch put the glass of beer to his mouth and swallowed the last few gulps as he tilted his head back. He placed the glass onto the counter and took the shot glass in hand and took one big swallow. His face cringed as he pulled a crisp five-dollar bill and placed it on the counter. "I hope you are right, Hug. Thanks." The large hand grasped the thin barkeep's shoulder as he left.
Chapter 10
Hutch decided it was best to not address what had occurred after having a few drinks. He drove home and went to bed. The night was long and sleep was far from his reach. He lay on his back with his forearm draped over his forehead. The other hand pulled the sheet and blanket over his bare chest. There was no sound but the rain hitting the roof and the ticking of the clock on the night stand. It read 1:32 am. The phone rang which startled the blond. He quickly rolled and grabbed the handset and put it to his ear. "Hello!" He listened and waited. "Hello." Quickly he sat upright. "Starsk?"
Starsky stood in a phone booth with the collar of his newer version of leather jacket pulled up. He was cold. The rain pelted against the glass phone booth. "Yeah, it's me." He leaned against the glass and tugged the handset cord. "I should've told ya."
The downpour could be heard over the phone line. Hutch rubbed his face vigorously. "Yes, you should have clued me in, but you didn't. What's going on, Starsky?" Although furious, his compassion and worry for his friend crept into the question. "Where are you? It's 1:35 am."
Starsky glanced around and sighed. "I'm in a phone booth a few blocks from your place. I'm sorry Hutch; I couldn't let him hurt ya. Somethin' was eatin' at me. I knew he wasn't goin' to let us off. I saw the file on his attorney's desk. I should've told ya."
Hutch glanced out the window to see the torrential downpour. He blinked several times with concern. "Since we're both awake, why don't you come over? I'll make us some coffee." The intensity of the rain grew louder. A sound from the living room distracted the blond. He whispered. "Starsk, someone's in the living room."
Starsky's eyes widened. "I'm on my way." He hung up the phone and pulled the glass door open and ran for the driver's side of the Torino. He started the car and shifted it into drive and accelerated at high rate of speed. As he maneuvered the large car around the corner, he almost lost control. It skidded sideways. The screeching of tires echoed. He slowed the car down as he arrived in front of Hutch's apartment building and turned the engine off. He quickly put it into park and retrieved his gun from the holster. The cat like reflexes ignited as he exited the car and ran to the entrance. He stopped at the base of the stairway. His hair flattened from the heavy rain, he held his gun in front and scaled the stairs slowly and cautiously. The apartment door was open. Starsky placed his back against the wall and peeked in to see his partner in the kitchen with his hands raised. In front of him was a man who seemed on edge. "Keep your hands where I can see them. I need cash."
Hutch caught a glimpse of his partner. "Hey, you are in the wrong place for cash. I'm a cop. We don't make a lot of money." The words left his lips with sarcasm.
The young man not much older than eighteen trembled from head to toe. His hair was tucked under the knitted hat he wore. His eyes were dilated and wide. "Cop, yeah right. Give me your watch, and your wallet." He chuckled nervously and waved his gun.
Starsky nodded and stepped in quietly and put his gun against the weary young man's back. "Police! Put the gun down now, kid." His voice felt like it was distant and echoed. His heart pounded out of control. He felt as though he were going to pass out. A flash of the Bay City parking lot engulfed his thoughts and his blond partner's voice calling out to him 'Starsky get down.' The sound of gunfire echoed then faded to a heart monitor with voices all around. The words spoken from an attending physician, 'He may never resume his duties as a police officer; the man is the walking dead.'
The kid cocked his gun and fired at Hutch. Hutch was already headed to the floor behind the counter. Starsky snapped back to reality and kicked with his right foot knocking the gun from the boy's hands and tackled him. He pinned him to the floor and put the handcuffs on him. His breath was labored and he was in a spiral of panic. "Hutch!" He looked to see if his partner was behind him. "HUTCH!"
The brunet jostled the gunman to his feet and shoved him onto the couch. "Don't move." He pointed his gun at the startled young man. His eyes were wide and wild. He went into the kitchen and saw his partner sprawled on the floor face down. Starsky was on his knees instantly and attempted to touch his partner and pulled away. A second attempt was made with trembling hands. He turned his partner over slowly and gently. "Hutch, hey…hey talk to me. Are ya hit?" The dark-haired detective scanned his partner for any gunshot wounds. He found a crease on his partner's forehead. "I'm gonna get ya some help." His voice cracked as his hands cupped his unconscious partner's face delicately.
Chapter 11
At the hospital Starsky sat in a long hallway and watched the medical personnel scurry along. An elderly nurse stepped out from a room and stopped near him. She crossed her arms and scowled. Her five foot four frame displayed a no-nonsense attitude. "I know about you two and no monkey business on my watch. Your friend is awake. He's persistent and stubborn and refuses to rest until he speaks to you. He has a mild concussion and needs his rest. Do you hear me?" She pointed in the direction of the door behind her.
Starsky smiled bashfully acknowledging he heard her and walked into the room. He adjusted his jacket and walked quietly toward the bed. Hutch appeared to be asleep. A small white gauze bandage covered the right side of his forehead. The brunet sat quietly in the plastic, sea foam green chair. "Hutch?" He cleared his throat and attempted to touch his partner's arm, but drew back his hand. He couldn't quite understand why he was so afraid to touch him. This shouldn't have happened. His mind tossed the reasons around and the only one that made sense was he had failed his partner.
The blond opened his eyes and blinked several times. His vision was a little blurry. He smiled. "Hey, you okay?"
Although uncomfortable and worried out of his mind, Starsky managed a smile. The negative thoughts were temporarily lodged in his subconscious to deal with later. "Ya got that all wrong, you're the one in the bed, Blondie. I'm okay now." He snorted slightly and bowed his head. "How's your head?"
The blond pushed himself up-right and looked at his friend. From the look on his friend's face he was far from fine. "Headache, but I'm fine, Buddy. I misjudged the distance between the cabinet and my head. But, then again…one rarely has time for accurate measurements while being shot at." He shook his head with disbelief.
Starsky grinned, but it didn't convince his partner. "The kid held up everyone in your building. The little punk was strung out on snow and needed a fix. He just turned eighteen." His eyes avoided the man in the bed. "They said I need to let you rest." He stood abruptly. "That pint size drill sergeant dressed as a nurse means business."
Hutch reached and grasped his partner's sleeve. "Oh, no you don't! Starsky…Starsk?" He raised his eyes to meet his partner's and tugged on the sleeve aggressively. His eyes pleaded for him to stay. "Talk to me!" Concern devoured his features.
A warm smile formed on Starsky's face as he gently grasped his partner's hand which held a tight grip on his sleeve. Comfortingly he cupped the hand. "We'll talk tomorrow. I give ya my word. Get some rest." Starsky needed to leave before the volcano erupted within him. He couldn't allow this, not with his partner injured. The truth was he wasn't even sure what to tell his friend. He didn't know exactly himself what was going on. The reality was he wasn't the cop he used to be and he had failed.
The grip was loosened, but the blond's eyes remained focused like ice blue lasers. "I'm holding you to it." His voice was soft, but the expression meant business.
Starsky grinned and nudged his partner lightly and turned to leave. His back to his friend, he briefly closed his eyes to keep his forced composure in check. "I'll be back with some clothes for ya…and I won't forget your pants." He chuckled. It was the perfect distraction.
Hutch opened his mouth slightly annoyed by the comment. He also knew David Starsky and what his partner was doing which was holding his emotions hostage. "You're never going to let me forget that are you?" he snapped, but in a playful way.
Chapter 12
Restless, Starsky had returned to the office to file a report. He sat at his desk and shuffled several file folders. He was exhausted, the darkness under his eyes were a dead giveaway. Dropping the file folders he raised his hands and rubbed his face and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 11:00 am and time to check on his partner. The brunet was startled from his thoughts when the phone rang. Releasing a deep sigh he retrieved the handset and placed it onto his ear. "Detective Starsky." His shoulders tensed and eyes widened. "Warden Gorham! What do you mean he's dead? How…when?" The stunned expression remained on his face for several moments. "Yeah, thanks." The handset met the cradle very loudly. The once tense shoulders relaxed, he bowed his head.
"It's true, Gunther's dead, Starsk." Hutch stood in front of the desk. He wore hospital scrubs. The bandage on his head was reduced to a band-aid.
Starsky jumped to his feet and was as his partner's side. "What are ya doing here? I was on my way to the hospital." He grabbed the duffle bag filled with clothes on the table next to him.
Hutch grabbed the bag and held it as he scanned his partner over. "Dobey came directly to the hospital, he thought you were there. It appears to be suicide." He took a deep breath. "I'm going to go change."
Silence hung as the distraught brunet nodded and turned away. Captain Dobey entered as Hutch exited exchanging a brief unsettling stare. "Hutchinson, Starsky why don't you take the rest of the day off. I'll keep you updated on the investigation." The Captain adjusted his grey necktie and went to his office. Hutch peered over to his catatonic counterpart then went to the restroom to change.
Simmons sat across the room and watched as Starsky moped. He glanced over to his partner, Babcock. The squad room of fellow detectives and officers delicately tiptoed around the room. Although no words were spoken there was definitely a charge of questions in their minds. The news of Gunther's death had spread through the department.
Starsky sensed all eyes were on him. The room felt as though it were shrinking. He stood and glanced around the room. "Go ahead; I know you're all thinking it. Why isn't he celebratin'? The scum allegedly took his own life. Coward!" Captain Dobey's door opened and he stepped through the threshold. Starsky's shoulder's tensed. "I should be happy, and relieved that he's no longer a threat." He covered his face and wiped his hands down and painted on a fake smile. "An eye for an eye, except this ain't no western. I can't even say it was sweet revenge. Nothing sweet about it."
Hutch appeared behind his Captain and stood to his side. The Captain looked at him then back at the dark-haired detective.
Starsky raised his left hand and pointed at nothing in particular just as a gesture. "He's never gonna pay for what he's put my partner through. Dead or alive…it doesn't change a damn thing. Ya see the damage's been done. I thought it would…but it doesn't. I don't know if it ever will. Hutch is safe-that's all that matters." The radiant blue glare harbored strands of redness as he lowered his hand to his side as though in defeat.
Hutch quickly walked over and placed himself between his partner and the onlookers. His hand touched the limp and semi-lifeless figure before him. "Let's get out of here." His soft blue eyes met his partner's, emanating compassion as he tilted his head and silently sent a message 'I'm here, Starsk. It's going to be alright.' He guided his partner out of the room.
The Captain adjusted his dark grey suit coat. "Everyone get back to work." His bark was more like a dull roar.
Chapter 13
Hutch lay on the sofa sleeping. Starsky was in his partner's kitchen sitting on the counter. He was in deep thought. He jumped off the counter and went to the stove to stir the rather large pan of spaghetti sauce. His shoulders slumped he turned the knob down to simmer. A soft knock on the door caught his attention as he quickly swaggered to the door. He opened the door looking back at his sleeping partner briefly and turned to greet the guest.
Two men stood in the doorway, both looked like professional body guards. The taller one who wore dark glasses nodded. "Detective Starsky, Ms. Escobar would like to speak to you." The two men stepped aside and a young Hispanic woman with long black hair stepped forward. She was beautiful, but dressed rather casually. "Detective Starsky, may I come in?" Her voice held an accent and was pure and soothing.
Starsky was uneasy; he peered back and noticed that Hutch was no longer on the couch. He stepped back and motioned for her to enter. "Please, come in."
The two guards remained outside as she closed the door. "I apologize for interrupting you at your partner's home. I was informed he was injured. I do hope that it was not serious and that he is recovering." She bore her chocolate brown eyes into the brilliant blue.
The young woman casually made her way to the couch and sat. She crossed her legs. "Detective Starsky, I know what my father was and I cannot defend him. It is all true. What he did to you and tried to do to your partner is unforgivable."
Hutch entered the bathroom leaving the door opened enough to overhear the conversation.
Starsky who still stood in the middle of the room sauntered tensely over to a nearby chair and sat on the arm. "You aren't responsible for what your father did, Ms. Escobar. I wish I could say that I am sorry for your loss, unfortunately, I'm at a loss for words."
The woman eyed Starsky as though studying him. "Please call me Juanita." She sighed. "There is no need for condolences. You are correct. I am not to blame for my father's actions, but I do feel a sense of responsibility." She stood and pulled an envelope from her back pocket and extended it. "This should cover all your medical expenses, the repairs on your car and you and your partner's salary." She looked intently at the still form sitting on the arm of the chair. "Detective Starsky this is from my own account. This is not tainted by my father. I happen to be a very successful business woman. Please take the check." Her hand trembled.
Starsky bowed his head and took a deep breath. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced up at the timid woman. "Juanita, I can't accept the check. I won't accept your money."
The bathroom door creaked open. The tall blond stepped through the doorway. His eyes met his partner's. The young woman extended the check to Hutch. "Detective Hutchinson, my name is …"
Hutch bowed his head momentarily, then raised and looked at the woman. "You are Juanita Escobar." He walked over and stood near his partner. "As my partner stated Ms. Escobar, we cannot and won't accept the check."
Juanita's features saddened as a frown formed. She placed the check onto the coffee table. "Detectives despite what my father was I still loved him. I spent many years in therapy to overcome the short falls. His death both saddens me and strangely gives me a sense of relief." Her eyes watered and voice trembled. "Detective Starsky, it was my father who ordered the hit. How do I know, I overheard him speaking to Mr. Bates who acquired Mr. Becker's services. I'm sorry." Her trembling hand wiped a stray tear. "I feel as though I know you. I've been to the hospital, the department. I even followed you to your physical therapy sessions. I need to make this right. I know you kept your knowledge of me to yourself. I know you used it as leverage."
Hutch's shoulders tensed with unease. He peered over to his stunned partner. "Ms. Escobar." The blond was interrupted by his partner's hand being placed on his arm. Starsky stood and placed himself between the woman and his partner. The brunet's stance was rigid. His face wore a facade of stone. "Juanita, I think its best ya leave. I wish I could say that I'm sorry about your father, but I'm sure you understand." He retrieved the check from the coffee table and looked at it. Eyes wide, he glanced back at his partner. "A hundred thousand dollars." His eyebrows rose as he looked back at the fragile woman. "We're cops. I can't and won't accept this money. I appreciate your gesture, but I won't accept it." Slightly trembling fingers folded the paper in half. "This won't ease your guilt. The money won't fix what happened. The damage is done. The time is lost. Ya seem like a nice lady, but this wasn't your fault. Thanks, but no thanks." The sound of paper being torn filled the quiet room. The torn check was placed onto the coffee table.
Stunned, the young woman looked at the torn check. She approached Starsky slowly and placed her hand on the side of his face. Her eyes swooned with emotions as she glared into his blue indigo pools. Her thumb rubbed his cheek softly. Tenderly her hand slid closer to his mouth and she placed her fingers on his lips and touched them. "Lo siento mi amor. Estoy aquí si me necesitas. Quiero hacer una reparación. Mi corazón te pertenece." Her hand fell to her side as she walked to the door. She hesitated then opened the door and left.
Starsky shivered with discomfort. Hutch quickly went to the door and opened it to looked out. He closed the door and locked it. "What the hell was that all about, Starsky? My Spanish is rusty but I think she just said, I'm sorry my love. I am here if you need me. I want to make amends. My heart belongs to you." The tone of agitation spewed through his words.
Starsky put his hands to his face and wiped downward. "I got the part about love and my heart. This is like a twilight zone episode." He bowed his head then glanced at his unsettled partner.
Chapter 14
Starsky drove to his apartment. His mind was heavy with everything that had transpired. The thought of Gunther being dead and it being a suicide angered him. The other situation weighing heavy was the talk he promised Hutch. He pulled into the driveway and exited the car. The usual vibrant strut was dulled with a slow walk and drooped shoulders. Each step almost appeared labored. Taking a deep breath, he retrieved his keys to unlock the door which popped open before he could turn the key. Quick reflexes took over as he stepped back and pulled his gun from his holster and pushed the door open with the tip of his tennis shoe. His shoulders rigid, he stepped into the apartment his eyes focused. In the middle of his living room was a brand new, black and chrome detailed Harley Davidson motorcycle with a red bow. Included was a black leather jacket, helmet and leather chaps. On the coffee table sat a pair of black polished biker boots.
The brunet quickly scanned the rest of the apartment entering the bedroom and bathroom. He exited the bathroom with his gun still in hand. Anger overtook his features as he placed the gun back into the holster. "This is just terrific."
He noticed a folded piece of paper on the seat of the bike. Hesitantly he took a few steps and retrieved the paper and unfolded it. "Please accept this as my apology. This is a small token of my affection. Juanita." The paper crumpled under the pressure of a tight closed fist.
Chapter 15
A van was parked in front of Starsky's apartment. Two men directed the motorcycle out of the doorway. Hutch pulled up behind the van and exited his car. The perplexed look on his face was an indication that he had no idea what was going on. He walked quickly past the men and took the stairs two at a time. The brunet held the handset from the phone to his ear and rubbed his eyes with the other hand. He was showered and changed. "Thanks Minnie." His tone was stained with frustration as he slammed the handset onto the cradle of the phone.
Hutch stood a few feet behind his partner. "Hey! What's going on?" His tone was calm but the look on his face read that he wanted answers.
Starsky startled and spun around. It was obvious he was on the edge. "Juanita Escobar is what's going on." He swaggered with rigid shoulders to the arm of the couch and sat. "She left me parting gifts and a note."
The tall blond stood with his mouth partially open momentarily. "That was a brand-new Harley Davidson motorcycle! The exact one you tortured me with for a month, Starsky."
Two men entered, one of them extracted the pair of boots and leather chaps on the coffee table. The taller man handed Starsky a receipt. "Thank you, Mr. Starsky. If that woman doesn't take the money back, we'll hold a raffle and donate the money to the police family fund." He smiled at Hutch and followed his co-worker.
Starsky placed the receipt on the coffee table. He looked at his confused and stunned partner. "I notified Dobey. As you just heard, the bike and accessories are being returned to sender." His voice was low and trailed with irritation. He crossed his arms over his chest. "How's your head?"
"The headache is gone." He sighed and looked at his partner. "Why'd you leave? We were supposed to have breakfast and talk, remember?" His eyes focused on his friend as he tilted his head exposing the worry crease between his brows.
The phone rang distracting Starsky momentarily. He grabbed the handset from the cradle. "H'lo." A frown formed and his eyes grew wider. "Thanks, Minnie. We'll be there in twenty." Shock now appeared to settle on the dark-haired man's face as he dropped the handset back into the cradle of the phone. "Capt'n wants us there pronto. They found Becker and Banks, along with Schillinz, dead."
Chapter 16
A tall thin man stood behind Captain Dobey's desk looking out the window. The Captain sat in his chair scanning through a file folder. He slowly nudged the folder away. "Dobson there is nothing here to prove a damn thing. Internal Affairs is sending you on a wild goose chase." His voice held agitation.
Dobson turned and leaned against the file cabinet near the window. "It's only natural, Captain, that you would defend your detectives. Detective Starsky paid Gunther a visit. Who's to say he didn't pay them a visit as well?"
A single knock and Hutch entered with his partner in tow. They both stopped and stood behind the two chairs in front of the desk. Hutch focused on his Captain. "What's he doing here?" His voice held tension.
Smirking and walking closer to the side of the desk, Dobson crossed his arms. "The name is Dobson, Hutchinson…you can't be still ticked off about that hooker girlfriend comment?" The remark was followed by an evil cackle of a laugh.
Starsky walked around the chair and invaded the man's personal space. His eyes were a piercing dark blue. "Dobson if I were you I'd tread lightly. Last I knew you were suspended." He raised his left hand and pointed. "What was that for…oh, sexual harassment, no wait…solicitation. See, we don't have to pay for our pleasantries." Sarcasm intertwined with dislike coated his words.
Captain Dobey stood and slammed his fist on the desk. "Gentlemen, let's cut the accusations and get to the issue at hand."
Starsky stared at the man and turned slowly to join his partner.
The man seemed rattled and adjusted his suit tie. He sat on the edge of the Captain's desk. "Where were you between 2:00 am and 4:00 am this morning, Starsky?"
Hutch's shoulder tensed, his jaw grew rigid. "He was at my place. There's a full police report on the break in at my apartment." The blaze of blue that emanated from the tall detective's eyes nearly bore holes in the agent.
Starsky turned away from Dobson and looked at his extremely upset partner and placed his hand on his rigid forearm. "He's fishin' without bait, pal." He winked at Hutch.
"It's all in the report. Both my men are accounted for between the times specified. You will find the names of the officers, EMT's, physician and nurses on duty that will account to Detective Starsky's whereabouts. I was there!" The Captain retrieved a file and extended it to Dobson.
The suited man took the folder and reviewed the contents. His facial features tensed as he dropped the folder onto the Captain's desk. "Nice cover, I'm sure there are holes in it like Swiss cheese. You'll be hearing from me." The muscles along his jaw line twitched. Slowly and stiffly he stood.
Captain Dobey retrieved the folder and pointed at the Internal Affair agent. "I'll be handling it from here, Dobson. You have anything to say to my men, you go through me first." His voice carried loudly through the office as the door slammed behind the irritated IA agent man who had walked out.
The Captain sat back and took a deep breath. He retrieved a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his face. "Don't antagonize him. I've got the Chief, Internal Affairs, and the Mayor on my back. We have three bodies, which are tied to Gunther and the two of you."
Both detectives sat in the two leather arm chairs before their Captain's desk. Simultaneously they sat back and glanced at one another silently communicating. Starsky's chest began to tighten, his heart rate increased. He quickly attempted to mask the situation by leaping from the chair and going to the water bubbler. A trembling hand extracted a paper cup and pressed the lever; he put the cup to his lips, drank and swallowed. Although the brunet thought he managed to fool his partner and the Captain, his abrupt shift in mannerism did not go unnoticed. Quietly taking a deep breath, Starsky headed for the door. "I'll be right back." His voice was breathy and quivered as he left the room.
Silence hung in the small office, the Captain leaned forward. "What's with him?" The question was spoken out of authentic concern.
Hutch sat up straight and leaned forward, he placed his elbows on the arms of the chair. The look on his face was of concern and confusion. He bowed his head and looked back up to meet dark brown eyes from across the desk. "I don't know, Captain, but I plan to find out."
The Captain extended a file folder and placed it on the edge of his desk across from Hutch. He sat back and folded his hands. "Banks, Becker, and Schillinz were poisoned. The lab confirms that it is the same compound that killed Bates, Gunther's former right hand man.
Hutch rubbed his forehead with his fingers as he sat back. The Captain's phone rang. He reached and grabbed the handset and brought it to his ear. "Dobey…thanks, I'll let him know." He placed the handset onto the cradle of the phone. "Follow me!" The heavy set man walked around the desk toward the door. Hutch catapulted to his feet and followed. A black box sat on Hutch's desk. There was no card attached on the outside. "Is this someone's idea of a joke?" The blond's voice carried through the squad room. He went to his desk and carefully opened the black shiny box with a pirate's latch, inside was several hand sewn bags of assorted teas. In the middle was a tea cup and saucer along with a silver spoon.
One of the officers near the door cleared his throat. A kid came in and said this was for Detective Hutchinson, he was really skittish. He handed it to me and ran out of here." He smiled but appeared nervous.
The Captain reached for a phone near the desk and dialed. "I need forensic down in the squad room stat." He slammed the handset onto the cradle and looked at Hutch. "Go find your partner."
Chapter 16
In the men's room, Hutch sat on the vanity. The retching sound of his partner vomiting turned his stomach. The long fingers reached for the paper towel dispensary and pulled the brown napkin. The stall door opened to a pale, perspiring David Starsky. Compassionately he extended the paper towel to his friend. "Something you ate?"
Starsky took the towel and wiped his face. "Un…yah! How long have you been here?" He bent over to wash his hands and splashed some water onto his face, then tossed the dirty towel. Methodically he retrieved another napkin to dry his hands and face.
Leaning back against the mirror, Hutch scratched the side of his face. "Long enough." He stared across the men's room then turned his head to meet his partner's gaze. "Starsk?" The look on his dark-haired friend's face held a no holds barred, 'I'm not in the mood to talk, Hutch'. Sighing heavily, Hutch continued. "We are going to talk sooner or later. A box was delivered with tea, a cup and spoon to my attention."
Starsky's mouth opened slightly. "What?" He tossed the paper towel into the trash. They looked at each other briefly. "What the hell is going on here? Gunther…then his goons are dead. Juanita Escobar and now a box of tea." Shoulders tensed; the agitated brunet leaned against the sink. "Is someone still trying to kill us?" His voice sounded strained and raspy, but most of all defeated.
Catapulting off the vanity, Hutch reached into his pocket and extended a stick of gum to his partner. "We are about to find out. Coming?" His voice extended the question softly.
A short while later, both men were focused on the situation at hand. Minnie Kaplan entered the squad room and dropped some spread sheets and folders on Hutch's desk. She worriedly examined both men and their demeanor. Standing near the blond, she nudged him with her elbow and nodded her head in Starsky direction. "Is there anything else I can get for you two?"
Starsky was miles away glaring at a closed file folder. Minnie squeezed Hutch's shoulder tenderly as she prepared to exit. She turned to Starsky. "Hey, Starsky…it works better if you open the file folder." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you okay, handsome?"
The drooping head of curls raised to meet her gaze. He smiled bashfully. "Um…yah. Thanks Minnie."
Concerned, she quickly made eye contact with Hutch. "You're welcome." She left the room.
Hutch reviewed the paperwork on his desk. He sat up straight. He fumbled with each sheet, catching his partner's attention. Shock overtook his features; he raised his eyes to meet his partner's. "The tea was laced with the same poison that killed Bates, Banks, Becker, and Schillinz." His eyes grew wider. "Gunther was also poisoned. It wasn't a suicide." He sat back in awe. "There's a partial print."
Dobson entered the squad room. He stood near the edge of the shared desk. "That's correct, Hutchinson. The question is when and how did your partner do this?" He cocked his head back confidently.
Hutch was up and out of his chair and headed toward the cocky Internal Affairs Agent. Captain Dobey had entered the room and placed himself between Dobson and Hutch. He turned to meet Dobson's smug expression. "You are out of line Dobson; I suggest you take yourself and your accusations elsewhere. You have no proof of anything." The Captain's voice stunned all within hearing distance.
Dobson adjusted his suit. "You'll be hearing from Internal Affairs, Captain. As an unblemished a career as yours, a pity you're wasting it on him." He turned to leave and stopped. "Oh, Detective Starsky…I suggest you don't leave town. Don't worry Hutchinson, we'll treat him just like any other criminal." A wide grin formed as he exited.
Hutch attempted to go around his Captain and was met with a firm, but comforting hand clamped around his arm. He turned to see his partner. "Hey, it's okay. He's a jerk…come on?" The forced partial smile and pleading eyes dispersed the anger that surged through his protective blond partner.
Chapter 17
The living room was adorned with fur draping the sofa. An ambiance of class and expensive taste. The drapes were lavish and long. Juanita stood before white double French doors sipping white wine from a fancy etched glass. The dress she wore was red carpet ready.
A knock on the door distracted her from her thoughts. "Come in." She turned to meet Agent Dobson standing in the doorway. A servant escorted Dobson to a chair near the sofa and exited closing the double white solid door.
The pastel shimmering pink dress flowed as she walked toward the fireplace mantel. "Agent Dobson, update me, please." She looked up at the portrait of her father on the wall. "My associates have taken care of your fee, I assume?"
The Agent smiled. "Yes, Miss Escobar. Detective Starsky currently appears as a person of interest. He won't be for long." He looked toward Juanita and waited for her response.
A smile formed making her pink glossy lips dazzle. "Wonderful." She smiled and turned away looking at her father's portrait once again. "What about my father's death? The others?"
Dobson shrugged his shoulders and cleared his throat. "No one can tie them to you or me. I made sure of that." He stood abruptly.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she turned to make eye contact. Her shoulders relaxed. "Agent Dobson, my only concern is that I make Detective David Starsky fall in love with me." She took several steps towards Dobson and crossed her arms. "Make sure nothing gets in the way. That includes his partner." Her eyes were darker and body tensed.
The tall agent puffed his chest and grinned. "Don't worry, Miss Escobar. If Hutchinson gets in the way, we'll make sure he's removed."
Chapter 18
In a booth in the far corner, Starsky sat nursing a bottle of beer. His posture indicated he wasn't in a very good mood. Hutch was at the pay phone. He leaned against the wall and watched his partner. Huggy stood between the two and quickly assessed there was trouble. He took a deep breath and waited for Hutch who just hung up the phone. They both walked over to the table with Hutch sliding into the opposite side of his partner. Huggy slid in next to him.
Hutch took a sip of his beer and glanced at the quiet figure acrossed of him. "Well, good news…you're off the hook. Bad news…I'm on the hook."
Starsky's head rose and his eyes met his partner's. "Dobson's got nothin'."
Huggy glanced around the bar briefly. "Dobson?" He chuckled. "Way I hear it he's no ladies man. He hates Blondie here and according to Manny The Moose, he just paid off a huge gambling debt." He placed his hand on the table leaving a piece of paper the size of a photo. "You two watch each other's back if you know what I mean?" He looked at each detective. "I'm short a waitress, I'll be seein' you." The tall thin man slid from the booth and went to the bar.
Hutch took the piece of paper from the table and read it. "Dobson's been playing the ponies, twenty grand in debt." His fingers flipped the picture for his partner to see. "This alone could get the creep suspended." The photo showed Agent Dobson at a race track with a fist full of money and two well-known hookers at his side.
Starsky took another sip of beer. His shoulders tensed. "Where did he get that kind of money?"
Hutch tucked the picture into his pocket. "We know for sure he didn't win it." Hutch watched his partner play with the bottle of beer which was half empty.
The room erupted with chaos. Two men in ski masks with guns raised, pushed, and shoved patrons. Starsky had already retrieved his gun when one of them pointed his gun at Hutch. The dark-haired detective without hesitation ejected himself from the booth and got in front of his friend. A shot was fired from one of the masked men. It felt like several minutes went by. The ringing in Detective Starsky's head consumed him along with adrenaline. His gun hand felt numb and it tingled. He felt his heart race. Starsky returned fire and hit the man in the chest. The tall, muscled, masked man fell back onto the floor; the other exited the bar quickly.
Hutch quickly made his way around his partner and went to the man on the floor. He extended his hand and felt for a pulse. The other hand retrieved the gun. "Huggy, no need to call for an ambulance." The blond's focus was now on his partner. "Starsk, you okay? Are you hit, huh, are you?"
Starsky didn't move. His gun was still drawn. He appeared to be in a trance. The color was drained from his face. Hutch quickly went to his partner and gently and carefully retrieved his gun and put the safety on and tucked it into the belt area of his pants. "Starsky, hey…hey, it's okay. You did it, Buddy." Comfortingly, Hutch encouraged his partner to sit in the booth.
Once he felt his friend was safe, the tall blond went to the man that lay on the floor and removed his mask to reveal one of Juanita Escobar's personal guards. Hutch's fist clenched the mask tightly. He noticed Starsky seemed to be coming back around and was staring at the man. "That's Juanita's body guard."
The police arrived to secure the scene. Hutch handed back his partner's gun after talking to the lead officer. "Thanks, Buddy. You saved my life." He gently touched his shoulder.
Huggy sashayed his way over. "There's a bullet hole in my wall! You two turkeys managed to liven up the place. That masked bandit was after one thing, and that was you, Goldilocks." He glanced over to the body. "He's been here a few times over the last couple of weeks with a pretty brunette. What was her name?" He placed his hand on his hip.
Starsky's shoulders raised and tightened. "Juanita Escobar."
Chapter 19
Starsky sat on the couch with his feet perched on the coffee table. Hutch's apartment was dimly lit. Hutch exited the bathroom, towel drying his hair. He wore a baseball type t-shirt and sweat pants. He noticed the darkness that clung to his best friend's mood. He tossed the towel back into the bathroom. He went to the refrigerator and pulled two beer bottles, then grabbed a bottle opener and pulled the metal caps off. Taking a deep breath, he made his way over to the coffee table and sat and extended the beer to the quiet figure on the couch.
Starsky took the beer. "Thanks. Ya can stop tiptoein' around me, Hutch." Silence hung between them. Starsky glanced up to meet two very vibrant blue eyes and a warm smile. "You remind me of the puppy my Aunt Ramona had, he was just a street mongrel, but cute." He smirked sheepishly. "Dobey called while you were in the shower. Simmons and Babcock paid Juanita Escobar a visit. She claims she hired Mr. Muscles through an agency." He looked away from his partner. "According to Babcock, she was a basket case when she heard we were shot at, and asked if I was okay." He took a long sip of beer. "The guy missed hittin' me on purpose. I definitely wasn't meant to be the target. I'm beginning to think we are dealing with another Diana Harmon."
Hutch sipped his beer. The mention of the woman's name sent a shudder through his body. He bowed his head. "It sure sounds that way." Slowly he raised the bottle to his lips and sipped again.
Starsky felt the weight of the elephant in the room. He owed his partner a long overdue discussion. On cue, the blond near his partner's propped feet sat on the coffee table. He placed the beer on the floor near his foot. Time seemed to stop; the room felt as though it shrunk. Feeling the spirals of the endless tunnel, Starsky peeled the label off the beer bottle. "I think I'm goin' bananas." Scared blue orbs, stained with embarrassment and pure fear, stared desperately at his inquisitive partner.
Hutch met the shimmering strained eyes. He knew his partner was attempting to explain what had been going on. "Going, seems to me you were there a long time." He winked playfully. A more serious demeanor plagued his features. "Yeah, talk to me, Gordo." He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees and cupped his hands in anticipation.
Starsky crossed his arms over his chest. "I really thought bein' reinstated was what I wanted. I did…no, I do…want." The usually confident man appeared displaced, lost and at odds. "Did I think I was the man of steel or something?" Eyes seeking answers rose to meet his partner's. Confidence was nowhere to be found. He bit his bottom lips nervously.
The blond partner scanned the figure better known as his partner. The question caught him off guard. "Well you've certainly earned the title, Starsk. You had a personal interview with the grim reaper. Glad he rejected you. Where are you going with this?" The response held admiration, but something told him that wasn't what his partner wanted or needed to hear.
A moment of silence held. Starsky dropped his feet to the floor abruptly, his hands covered his face and pulled downward and dropped to his lap. "Ya told me to get down. What was I thinkin'? Well, it was obvious I wasn't thinkin'." The once slumped shoulders grew more rigid. "I put ya through all of this and for what, to second guess myself." His voice faltered to almost a whisper.
Hutch wasn't prepared for what he heard. He cupped his hands together nervously. His head bowed momentarily in thought. "Why didn't you get down?" His words sharpened slightly. "Don't you think I've asked myself the same questions over and over." The blond held his friend's attention. "What's the first thing either one of us do in a situation?" Perceptive blue eyes bored a path directly to his partner.
The dark head of curls sat with a blank expression. "We watch each other's back. Assess the situation as best as we can, protect the innocent." The downward cast of his eyes meant defeat. Starsky sat there tossing the question around in his mind. "I froze Hutch…I froze then, in that parking lot. I almost got ya killed then. I froze several times since." Leaning forward he pressed the palms of his hands to his forehead and leaned his elbows onto his knees. A whirlwind of emotions turned like a tornado inside his head. "I keep hearin' your voice calling out to me…'Starsky get down'. I can't breathe, everythin' around me stops. What is goin' on with me, Hutch? I am no good to you…I could get ya killed. I…I can't, couldn't live with that." The palmed hands crumbled into tight white knuckled fists and came down hard onto his knees with rage as he sat upright.
The sound caught the blond's attention. He reached out and grabbed the inferno ridden hands and stopped them from doing damage. Hutch stood leaning his weight and brute strength onto his partner. "STOP…Starsky, stop." His eyes and voice were pleading.
Nodding understandingly, Starsky's fists relaxed and fury filled eyes warmed. Hutch released his wrists slowly and sat back down and never took his eyes off his best friend. "Don't think for one moment Starsky that I haven't played out that day in my mind thousands of times. I blamed myself." Heart brokenly desperate, he continued, "I blamed myself because of Kira, the downward spiral of depression and hurting you. I blamed myself because we had stopped communicating. I know we hashed it all out." Glimmering eyes averted momentarily then back to the form on the couch. "Babcock wasn't kidding about the return partner policy, Starsky. I was a mess when I went back to work. I didn't tell you…well, you had enough to handle with your recovery. I froze too, but with the department psychologist's help, I'm back."
Starsky catapulted from the couch and walked away slowly. He crossed his arms over his chest as he looked out the window. The tension was present in his stance and shoulders. "It takes two to tango, Hutch. We both were to blame for not communicatin'." He dipped his head. "It was all about me and me getting' better. I'm sorry, Blintz. Why didn't ya tell me?" He sighed. "I woulda helped ya. The rest of me was a mess, but my ears worked."
Hutch stood; his back was to his partner. Thoughts rummaged through his mind rapidly. He turned and walked toward his partner and stopped just a few inches away. Letting out a loud sigh, "I thought I should have been the man of steel. I went to the ground, when I should have gone around the car to cover you." Cocking his head to the side. "Starsk, telling you might have hindered your progress. Well that's what I thought at the time. We've been through a lot, Buddy." Every nerve in his body tightened. It was time to go all the way and say what he was thinking and feeling. "I didn't know if you remembered. We never talked about it. It was taboo. I don't know, Starsk, maybe telling you could have helped you too." Hutch reached and placed his hand on his partner's shoulder. "I know you; I know how you think, what you feel and that you are one hell of a cop. You did what you do, which is protect. You protected me. You turned and tried to pull your gun and protect me." His hand slid from the shoulder down the tense forearm and encouraged his friend to face him.
Starsky turned, his arms still covered his chest, but not as tightly. "I don't remember much of what happened. Yah, well, I should have told ya what was goin' on. I knew you was hidin' something, guess part of me was afraid I wouldn't make it back to the streets. I didn't want to disappoint ya." A faint grin formed. "I guess neither one of us are a super hero, we're human. The shouldas and couldas can't be changed now. Either way, me or you beside the car with a gun happy fake cop, there was no right way or wrong way. We're both here, that's what's most important. I'm sorry you had to go through that, Blintz." He said in a soft, warm trembling voice. Starsky's shoulders were hunched as he bowed his head from embarrassment. There were unshed tears threatening to erupt.
The blond's large hand cupped the back of his partner's neck and pulled him into a hug. Hutch's chin quivered as the vivid blue eyes watered. "We are back, Gordo. We are going to do this together. One day at a time, no holding back. No apologies." He placed both hands on his partner's shoulders as he pushed him back and looked at him. Acknowledgement expressed through emotional wide smiles.
Chapter 20
Hutch was reading a book as he sat in a comfortable chair in his living room. On the couch Starsky slept. The blond dropped the book quietly onto the side table and glanced at the clock which read one in the morning. He rubbed at his tired eyes and stood. He reached and shut off the lamp when he heard a noise. He quickly went to the window and peered outside to see a dark sedan and two thugs exiting. Pulling back when one of them looked up. He quietly went to his partner. Gently he placed his hand on his arm and bent over. "Starsk, we got company."
The brunet's eyes opened slowly as though he were already awake. Ejecting from the couch he grabbed his gun from the coat rack along with Hutch's. Hutch went to the right and Starsky to the left. Starsky felt his anxiety levels rise, the room began to shrink. Hutch noticed this immediately. "Starsk, Starsky…"
Starsky's moment of panic disappeared instantly upon hearing his partner's voice. He blinked his eyes several times and focused his eyes on his partner. "I'm okay, thanks."
A knock on the door distracted both of them. Hutch leaned back and waited for a moment. "Who is it?"
A woman's voice responded. "Detective Hutchinson, it's Juanita Escobar. I need to speak to you, please."
Starsky grabbed his jacket and shoes and slid into the closet.
"Let me get some clothes on, give me a minute." Hutch placed his gun into the back of his sweat pants and covered it with his shirt. Once he knew his partner was hidden, he slowly unlocked the door and opened it.
Juanita wore a black leather jacket and jeans. She entered leaving the guards outside. The door closed. She looked around the apartment and turned her attention to Hutch. "Where's your partner?" Her voice held a tone of disappointment.
Hutch walked toward the couch and turned to address her. "At his apartment. What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked abruptly.
Juanita bowed her head and took a long deep breath as she toyed with the zipper on her coat. "I'm here to proposition you." Her eyes rose. "You've taken care of him long enough, it's my turn now. I've been fascinated with him since…since I saw his photo on my father's desk." Her hands dropped to her side. "I'm in love with your partner."
Eyes wide with recognition, Hutch tilted his head to the side and inhaled. "Look lady, my partner is his own person. We're cops, taking care of each other is what we do." The tightness of his jaw stained the words with irritation. "I'm gathering that this talk has nothing to do with me going along or not. I get the feeling I am the obstacle and you want me removed." The blond stood tall with wide rigid shoulders.
The dark-haired women smiled widely as she twirled her fingers through her long black hair. "Detective Hutchinson, you are very smart." The smile grew more malicious. "If you cooperate and step back, no one has to get hurt. I want David."
Hutch crossed his arms in defense over his chest and pursed his lips together. "So, if I look the other way…let you take care of my partner, I won't get hurt." He reached his hand up to rub his chin as he chuckled in disbelief. "What if he doesn't want you to take care of him? I know for certain he doesn't have feelings for you," he responded gruffly. "Ms. Escobar, need I remind you he's a cop. Threatening me won't get you what you want." Hutch's brows furrowed and his eyes grew threatening. "I'm not going anywhere. The only person who's going to relieve me from my duties is Starsky himself."
An anger induced shrug of the shoulders followed by a tightened jaw; Juanita stepped back. "Boys, come in." The door opened to reveal the two guards both pointing their guns at Hutch. The frustrated woman stepped aside to allow the men to enter and close the door.
Starsky peeked through the partially opened closet door. The strained look on his partner's face clearly stated he was in danger. Starsky placed his gun down the front of his pants and pulled his shirt over it and pushed the door open slowly and stepped out. "As I told your father, harm one strand of blond hair on his head you won't like the end result." His eyes were dark and piercingly direct and focused on Juanita. "I'll go with ya…call your apes off, now." The words were deliberate, but flat in tone.
Juanita stepped back and smiled. "Come with me. I give you my word. Your friend will not be harmed."
Hutch's eyes were wide, his body was stiff. "Starsky…you don't need to do this." A slight hitch in his voice followed the chill that went down his spine.
Starsky slowly walked toward the mesmerized woman and put himself in front of his partner. His back to the pointed guns. He winked at Hutch then turned to face Juanita. "Call them off, that means drop the guns, and leave." The words held a menacing tone.
Juanita approached him and touched his stern rigid face. She caressed him softly with the palm of her hand. "Trust will come in time. Come with me, they will make sure Detective Hutchinson remains here until we are gone." Dark swooning eyes studied his face.
Starsky's shoulders shrugged forward, then back. He raised his eyebrows and formed a partial smile. "Well ya see, Juanita, that's not goin' to happen. See, Hutch and me…let a woman come between us once. We swore that wouldn't happen again. Our number one rule, she has to accept that we are partners!" The smile that once was disappeared. "Where Tonto goes, the Lone Ranger ain't far behind." Starsky grabbed her arms and shoved her to the side. He reached in the front area of his waist band and pulled his gun. There was no hesitation, no tunnel feeling or anxiety. It was as it had always been.
In sync the tall blond pulled his gun from the back of his waist band. One of the guards cocked his gun and fired. Juanita screamed as she tried to get to her feet. Starsky flinched, gut instincts kicked in without hesitation. The reaction was just like it used to be, no flashbacks. He fired a shot hitting the gunman and rolled onto the floor with his gun readied to fire again. The large body builder type fell back. Hutch had his sights on the other bodyguard who fired a shot nicking his left arm. The large python was engaged. The man fell to the floor. Hutch quickly went to the two fallen men to verify if they were dead or just injured. The weapons were taken and put on the table. He handcuffed the one Starsky had shot, he was injured; the other was dead. A slight wince left his lips as he extended his injured arm. The wound bled. Quickly he glanced back and noticed his partner was still on the floor and went to his side and kneeled. "Where are you hit, Starsky?" Trembling hands searched and tried to assist. Terror paled the blond partner as he saw the bloodied hands covering a wound.
The brunet stirred. His breathing was wheezy and rapid. "Mr. Muscles got me on the side, I'm okay. I think it's just grazed." He grunted and coughed. "You're hit." Panic caused his eyes to widen with worry.
Juanita crawled to Starsky's side and pushed Hutch away violently. "Stay away from him. This was not supposed to happen this way. I got my father out of the way, I killed him and his lawyer, those other two idiots, Becker and Banks." Her screams filled the apartment. Hutch raised his arms to prevent her from hitting him in the face. Fists struck the blond numerous times.
Starsky sat up, blood poured from his side. He grabbed the enraged woman's wrist with a blood covered hand. "Juanita…stop!" A guttural groan passed through his gritted teeth of pain.
Dark black hair covered her tear-soaked face. "I just wanted to help David. I wanted to fix the bad things that my father caused." She suddenly stopped. "You're hurt. I never meant to hurt you, David. I never meant to hurt you. I love you…I-love-you." She sat back onto her bottom and cried hysterically.
Dobson was at the door with his gun pointed. He stepped over the two bodies and made his way in quietly. "Well…well, what do we have here?" A creepy half crooked smile formed.
Hutch wrapped his hand around his throbbing arm. "Dobson, what the hell are you doing here? Why don't you call this in, Starsky's been hit!" He tried to calm his breathing.
Juanita jumped to her feet. She wiped her face and pulled her hair back. "If you had done your job, this would have never happened."
The suited man laughed. He pointed the gun toward Starsky and Hutch. "Ms. Escobar that makes no difference now, you see, we can't have any witnesses. I can't be implicated. It will give me great pleasure getting rid of these two." Evil eyes focused on their prey.
Hutch's gun sat near his knee on the floor. He sat partially on his side which left the gun hidden from Dobson's view. A quick side look toward his partner, he moved his hand slightly and placed it onto the weapon. "Why doesn't this surprise me?" He chuckled. "How do you explain two dead cops with a department issued weapon?" The question was followed with raised inquisitive eyebrows.
Dobson's jaw grew rigid as he pulled the hammer back on the gun. A scowl formed on his face as he looked back at Hutch. "Where are their guns?" he growled. His gun moved and pointed at Starsky who laid back holding his right hand to his side.
Juanita saw the gun moving toward Starsky. She screamed and lunged forward placing herself between the gun and the two detectives. Dobson startled and fired a shot. The dark-haired woman fell forward, Hutch raised his gun and engaged the trigger, hitting Dobson in the shoulder. The pistol fell to the floor.
The injured woman grabbed her left arm with her hand as she sat on the floor. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this, Detective Hutchinson. All I wanted to do is help David."
Hutch slowly rose to his feet and retrieved Dobson's gun. "He's not the one that needs help, lady." He gazed at his partner and took a deep breath. "I'll call it in, Tonto." A sheepish smile formed on his pale sweating face.
Chapter 21
Starsky was in the kitchen of his apartment preparing coffee. His clean white long sleeve shirt was unbuttoned displaying gauze wrapped around his waist. Hutch emerged from the bedroom slipping on a long sleeve blue shirt delicately over his injured arm. Starsky turned to greet him clasping his last button. "That shirt makes your eyes sparkle, ya big Lummox." A silly side grin formed.
Captain Dobey knocked and entered. Starsky turned and retrieved a cup of coffee and extended it to his Captain. "Here ya go, Cap."
The Captain handed the file folder to Hutch and smiled as he accepted the cup of coffee. "Thank you, Starsky. Glad to see that the both of you weren't too seriously injured. You're both off the roster for the remainder of the week." He raised the hot cup of coffee to his lips and sipped. His dark eyes slowly went from one detective to the other. "Miss Escobar's attorney is filing for a plea of insanity."
A grim rigid expression came over Hutch's face. "Captain she tried to kidnap Starsky, she ordered the death of her father along with his accomplices, not to mention hiring a dirty cop." He released a heavy sigh.
The Captain glanced at Starsky who was biting his bottom lip. "I'm fully aware, Hutch. The department is conducting a full investigation to make sure no one else was on Gunther's or Miss Escobar's payroll." He turned his attention back onto Starsky. "Starsky, where are you with all of this?"
Starsky crossed his arms over his chest and a tone of seriousness covered his still exhausted features. His eyes briefly met Hutch's glare. "I think I can vouch for the insanity plea. I was feeling some of its ugly strangle. The key word…was. If ya wonderin' where my head is at, I'm okay, Cap'n." He winked at Hutch emphasizing all was good. "Juanita, she's a victim to a sick man's delusion." The words were spoken softly. "Gunther, his daughter, any one of them had no right to do what they've done. What it all comes down to, is this was not so sweet revenge. It doesn't fix anything, and definitely won't give you your life back." Guilt and embarrassment launched its claws onto his heart and soul.
Hutch's eyes shimmered with emotion, as he cupped the back of his neck and delivered the heartfelt words, "I know where you're going with this, Starsk. Y-you are nothing like them, there is no comparison."
The Captain took a long sip of his coffee and placed the cup onto the table. "Your partner is right, Starsky. What you've been through, what we've all been through doesn't just go away without some sort of residual scarring, mentally or emotionally." The dark chocolate eyes scanned both partners intensively. He could feel the darkness and heaviness of the moment. "If you need to talk, my door is always open. I can recommend a department psychiatrist. I strongly suggest taking advantage of the offer. That being said, you both have been through hell and back. Maybe a little time off is what you need. You aren't crazy, but if you tell anyone I told you this, I will deny it to my grave. You may be unconventional, but you get the work done. Despite what is going on, you manage to get the job done." A mischievous curve to the corner of his mouth formed as he waved and exited.
The two detectives gazed at one another questioningly. Starsky opened his mouth but nothing came out as he blinked. A moment passed as he finally spoke. "Did he…did he just say what I thought he said?"
Hutch put his hands on his hips shaking his head. "Yes, he did say what you thought he just said." The awestruck response was rewarded with a snuffed side-ways smile. "That, partner, was a compliment." A sense of accomplishment caused the blond detective to smile widely.
Authors comment: Revenge isn't always the answer. We have all been in some sort of situation where something or someone has been taken from us. At that moment revenge can consume you, but what you are truly missing is that it is controlling you along with the spiral of doom and gloom. The side effects will only lead down a path of destruction. The anticipation of satisfaction will never be conquered.
Putting one behind bars, wishing them bad karma or even contemplating physical harm will never replace what you lost. Revenge can only come in the form of painting on a smile and moving on. Allow their unsavory act to remain just that and remove yourself from the victim mentality. You may never be the same person, but you will be a survivor.
