Chapter 4

The brunet shook as he collapsed back onto his bunk. The pains in the core of his body reminded him of the indignity of Rafferty's visit, which had lasted one long, painful and harrowing hour. At the end of it, Starsky felt sore, dirty and broken and even the guard's promises that the brunet was "his little puppy now" and that Rafferty wouldn't allow anyone else to lay a hand on him had not assuaged the curly haired cop's fears for his wellbeing. The guard was a big man, not only in stature, and both Starsky's jaw and ass felt stretched beyond belief. The man hadn't been content with defiling his prisoner just once and had repeatedly assaulted the brunet over the hour until he'd finally looked at his watch, zipped himself up with a sigh and had left the cell with promises to be back soon.

Starsky had yet to check whether blood had been drawn this time, although he thought he could feel the familiar trickle down the inside of his leg. Yet it didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more. His whole world was reduced down to these four walls because of what he'd done. He deserved it. He deserved the degradation and the hurt. He deserved to feel like he was the lowest of the low. He'd tried to kill his partner, the only man in his life he'd always promised to save from harm. Starsky didn't understand what had driven him to do it. He had no recollection of the actual act and his first thoughts upon seeing Hutch unconscious and bleeding on the ground, and the gun hot in his hands had been to snap his own cuffs onto his own wrists and go to sit quietly in the nearest black and white until he was driven away to the Metro and Dobey's questioning. Self hatred was too kind a description for the feelings Starsky held inside him. He felt as though, if he had it to hand, he'd turn his gun against his own temple and pull the trigger.

With a shaky sigh, he laid back down on his bunk, hissing quietly as he tried to get comfortable, and slowly his eyes drifted closed.

The drive to the children's home took the two cops along the coast road past the dunes and to the other side of the pier stretching out to sea. Those who knew of the existence of the home thought it a wonderful place to have an orphanage. If the poor mites missed out on having parents, then at least they could enjoy the freedom of the beach, and feel the sea breeze though their hair. There had been nothing other than good reports about the home. It seemed progressive and fair and housed over its 25 year history over 300 boys and girls from the poorer sectors of Bay City society. It had closed over three years ago after social reform dictated that orphans should be given the opportunity to have a proper family life and the thrust of care had changed from care in a home to care in foster families. Now the building stood empty, casting a baleful gaze from dusty windows out across the shore road. Gulls had taken up residence in the topmost floors of the semi derelict building and the same children who had once been sheltered in its hallowed portals now threw stones at the windows, putting the glass through. Sand blew up in miniature dunes against the door and the steps and the old curtains blew desolately in the wind.

The red and white Torino drew up outside the big stone building and the two detectives got out. The yellow and red police tape fluttered around the site, making it look incongruously festive considering the ghoulish reason for Starsky and Hutch's visit. They ducked underneath the perimeter tape and flashed their shields to the two uniformed officers on patrol by the gate. The men had their work cut out fending off the usual rubber neckers who wanted to get a good look at the human remains as they were exhumed from the cellars of the orphanage and they smiled as the two detectives walked past.

'Jeez, it never fails to amaze me how ghoulish these guys are' Hutch said as he walked up the narrow path to the doorway.

'Yeah, I know what you mean buddy. I guess they should try our job for a while huh? Seen one dead body, seen 'em all.'

They went inside the dark building where they were met by the coroner and the photographer from the forensics department.

'What've ya got Ed?' Starsky asked.

'From the looks of it, at least three skeletons in the cellar. They look to be child sized although I can't tell the sexes yet. They were pretty much disturbed and tangled all together, but I'd say they'd been there a good few years. The earth was fairly well compacted over them and it looks like someone took a deal of care to make sure they weren't discovered.'

They had reached the top of some steep steps down into the basement. Hutch borrowed a flashlight from one of the guys keeping guard. He switched it on, the blazing beam piercing the darkness as they cautiously walked down the stone steps into the darkness. The blond repressed a shudder. There was a dank, damp smell down in the bowels of the building and with it the all pervading smell of death carried on the slight breeze through the network of interconnecting cellars.

Towards the back of the room and a little to one side of the steps, the earth floor had been disturbed and more police tape had been used to cordon off the area. Spades were laid on the compacted earth and three zippered body bags lay to one side, awaiting inspection. As Hutch shone his flashlight into the hole from where they'd obviously come, Starsky hunkered down by the side of the first one and undid the zipper. He reeled at the smell of decay and even his hardened police experience did little to prepare him for the sight of the badly decomposed remains. Pieces of skin and hair still clung to the skull of what had obviously been a young person and as he unzipped the bag further, he realised it had been stripped naked. Imagination started to run riot and the brunet thought about the unfortunate individual's last moment alive. Had they been scared? Had they known what was happening? Starsky jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

'Ed thinks there could be more bodies' Hutch said as he too looked at the grisly remains.

'More? Fuck! They're only kids! Who'd do this to kids, huh? Didn't they have enough problems in the world without meeting this kind of an end?' the curly headed cop complained bitterly.

His partner nodded. 'This children's home was always so well thought of. Ed doesn't know at the moment how long they've been here. The cellar is cold and reasonably dry, so it may have helped preserve the bodies longer than normal. He'll be able to give us a full report within the next 48 hours.'

Starsky gave an involuntary shiver and stood up, unconsciously putting distance between himself and the corpses. 'Let's get outa here' he muttered and made a swift exit up from the cellar into the relative light of the upstairs of the building. For a while, both detectives poked around the large house, looking into the myriad of bedrooms and bathrooms on the first and second floors. In its heyday the home looked as though it could have accommodated at least 70 children all in long bunk rooms and some of the small wooden bunks still remained in place, other rooms having been made slightly more homely in appearance and obviously changed to be occupied by smaller groups of three or four.

There seemed to be no evidence of struggles or any other signs of habitation for months past, the only life being the occasional rat scuttering away into the skirting boards, and a family of bats up in the loft and so the two men called it a day, made the notes they needed to and walked back down the broad staircase and out into the warm afternoon sunshine.

It felt to them as though they'd been released from prison almost and Starsky stood on the top step of the pathway, blinking in the bright light and allowing the sun to warm through his leather jacket. The inside of the house seemed permeated with death and fear and it felt good to be outside. He pulled deep lungfulls of air into his body as though clearing out the dirty air from the inside and as Hutch joined him, they made their way down the path between the ranks of weeds overgrowing the concrete and towards the gate.

The uniformed officers were still there, as were the usual brigade of old ladies and children come to see the spectacle. Amongst them were a few middle aged men and as Starsky and Hutch ducked back under the tape and made their way to the car, one of the faceless crowd looked at them carefully. As the Torino's engine started and it drove away, that same man tapped one of the flatfoots on the shoulder. Joe Turner turned, ready for the usual ghoulish questions.

'Who were they?' the man asked.

'Huh?'

'The two detectives. Are they investigating the murders?'

'We don't know if they're murders' Joe said easily. 'We won't know anything until we have the coroner's report.'

'But you're treating them like murders. They were detectives, right?' the man persisted.

'Yeah, Sergeants Starsky and Hutchinson. They work homicide' Joe explained.

'Homicide huh? So it is a murder.'

Turner sighed. 'If that's what ya want to think, fine. But like I said….'

'Hitchinson you say?'

'No Hutchinson H.U. Why?'

The man shook his head. 'Nothing I was just wondering. See ya.'

Joe shook his head. He'd been on the force 26 years and the public never failed to amaze him with their attitude to crime. As the man walked away, Turner returned to his business.

Starsky's eyes shot open as he heard another noise outside his door. He watched in sick fascination as the door handle turned and he braced himself for a return visit from Rafferty. What was it with the guy? He wore a wedding ring. Wasn't he getting enough at home or something? The brunet pushed himself upright on the bunk in readiness as the door opened, but it was one of the other guards that poked his head round the door.

'02698? Legal visit' the guard said abruptly.

'I'm not due another legal, boss' Starsky said, his encounter with Rafferty having left him feeling distrustful of everyone and everything in this place.

'I don't make the rules, I just bring the prisoners. On your feet and assume the position.'

Curious, Starsky got up slowly. He'd learned in his first few days in jail that all movements should be slow and deliberate. Any sudden moves made the guards jumpy and a jumpy guard usually led to more bruises somewhere down the line. He turned his back on the man and stood against the far wall of his cell, legs 12 inches apart and hands braced against the wall, where the man could see them. He felt the hard leather belt circle his waist and the guard pulled it tight at the back, buckling it into place. The strong silver chain hung down from the D ring in the front and the anklets dangled next to his feet. The guard bent down and snapped one onto each ankle and then stood. Obediently, the brunet turned and allowed matching bracelets to be snapped around his wrists. The process was dehumanising, allowing him neither the ability to stride out, or to reach for anything. But again, he knew he deserved it. He'd done wrong. No, he'd done more than wrong. He'd done something so bad that he didn't want to live with himself. He couldn't handle the memories and so he didn't argue or pass comment.

Starsky walked by the side of the guard down the corridors to the visiting rooms for the second time that day, but this time, he was shown into a small room cut in half by a bullet proof screen. It had a desk in its middle which was also bifurcated by the screen with a chair at either side. As he walked in, expecting the small, balding and bespectacled lawyer the state had provided, he gave start. Sitting in the lawyer's place was Elizabeth Abraham, beautiful woman and a lawyer he'd once dated and who had since gone on to bigger and better things running her own private practice.

The brunet felt the door close behind him and with no hopes of telling anyone he didn't want the visit, he shuffled slowly forwards and sat down on the plastic chair bolted to the floor. He refused to meet Liz's eyes, but the woman was more direct and fixed him with piercing moss green eyes. She flicked her long chestnut hair over her shoulder, opened a pad and then looked up.

'So, tell me from the top what happened. We need to get your defence under way and we need to do it now' she said calmly.

'What are you doing here?' Starsky asked, his voice a flat monotone and his eyes dull and lifeless. The woman's heart bled for the man she had known to be a brunet dynamo.

'I'm here because you need the best, which is me. And also because Hutch sent me. He wants me to defend you at trial, and to be honest Dave, I didn't need much persuading. So, tell me what happened.'

Starsky looked up and snorted softly. 'I shot him. I tried to kill him. There aint no defence, so don't waste your time. I'm not goin' to trial.'