Chapter 12

Hutch lay on his back and stared at the ceiling wondering how long he'd been in the hospital. It seemed like forever although judging by the feel of the bristles on his unshaven chin, it didn't think it could have been more than 24 hours. The pains in his chest had gone and the infernal headache he'd had for days had also gone. Now his head felt fuzzy and stuffed with cotton candy, but the pains had dissipated and he could think more clearly. Whether thinking was a good or a bad thing, however, was something he had yet to decide.

His last recollection had been of the argument he'd had with his parents inside his hospital room and Traff's angry face as he'd bawled Dr Hutchinson out. Hutch grinned to himself. It was about time someone stood up to the eminent doctor and who better to do that than the soldier? Traff hadn't before met Hutch's parents and had never sampled the delights of the Hutchinson bedside manner but it had been obvious that Traff was unimpressed.

And thinking of Traff, where was he? Hutch remembered drifting away on a cushion of something that felt suspiciously like morphine while the soldier had still been there, but now his room was empty, and that made him feel worse. Not that he was childish enough to need someone there with him all the time. That wasn't it at all, but in all the times that Hutch had been sick in the past ten or twelve years, there had been one person who'd steadfastly refused to move until he was ready for discharge. Now that person had been missing from the blond's life for almost a month and Hutch missed Starsky more keenly than he'd ever thought possible.

Starsky.

The last time he'd seen his partner, Starsky had taken one look at him, had turned on his heel and had gone. Hutch had shouted after him, desperate to tell the smaller man that he didn't blame him for what had been done and yet for some reason – for whatever reason was going on in that curly brunet head, Starsky had not wanted to talk. Instead he had shut Hutch out although the blond had seen hurt, fear and distrust in the fleeting glimpse he'd had of those indigo eyes.

He sighed. Starsk, come back to me. I don't know what's goin' on but let me in buddy. I can help…..if you'd just let me.

Hutch let his mind wander back to the last case.

They'd turned up no leads on the case. Each and every guy they interviewed about the case either said they remembered nothing about any odd goings on at the Children's home, or they got abusive and protective. There was one teacher whose name came up time and time again. Edgar Fisher, but when pressed the former residents were all of the opinion that although they didn't like him, there was nothing really that they could say against him. It was kind of disconcerting that no-one wanted to talk.

By the second week of the investigation, Hutch had had another one of those crank phone calls and two more skeletons had been discovered, bringing the total number of bodies recovered to five. About this time, Hutch also started to see a change in his partner.

It all started that one morning when Hutch had gone around for his partner. It wasn't unusual to find the brunet still in bed, but this particular morning, Hutch had to pound on the bedroom door before he heard a startled grunt and a bad tempered 'Fine. I'm comin' from the interior of the room, Minutes later the brunet appeared, rubbing his hands through his curls and looking like he'd had the worst night on record.

'Wow, you look like shit!' Hutch said. 'How many did you have last night?'

'Huh?'

'Beers, tequilas….whatever. How many?'

'None, why?'

'Cos you look like you downed a brewery buddy. Are you sick?'

'No…..yeah…..dunno, maybe. I feel like I've never been asleep, an' yet I think I went to bed early.'

'You think you did? Didn't you sleep?'

Starsky glared at his partner. 'What is this? 20 questions? I said I was fine. I'll be with ya in a minute. Just lemme go shower.'

Hutch watched his partner skip into the bathroom and there was the sound of running water, followed by quiet, a curse, splashing and then silence again. Ten minutes later, Starsky emerged washed and dressed and with pieces of toilet tissue stuck on his chin, obviously blotting up the blood from the razor cuts. Hutch wisely made no comment and the brunet followed him out to the car and sat in the front seat morosely.

'Is it girl trouble?' the blond asked softly.

'I said leave it!' Starsky almost yelled and immediately looked ashamed. 'I'm sorry. I have no idea where that just came from!'

'S'ok. Are you worried about somethin'?' Hutch asked.

'Worried? No, I don't think so, why?'

'Coz you don't usually bawl me out first thing in the mornin' without you're worried about somethin'. Is it the case? Is that what it is?'

The brunet put his head in his hands and sighed deeply. 'I have to admit it's not my favourite case, no, but I'm not worried about it. Are you?'

Hutch pursed his lips. 'Not really no. I wish we could get a lead on it. I think that part of it is getting' to me. And that guy, that Edgar! He's beginnin' to creep me out. How can a guy be so unpopular and yet no-on wants to get involved in what he's doin'?'

'He's fine. It aint Edgar's fault!' Starsky snapped, looking up sharply.

'I didn't say it was buddy. I just said it's strange that no-one wants to get involved with him.'

'Well maybe that's coz he aint done nunthin. Have you thought about that, huh?' the brunet said, rubbing at his temples slowly.

'Yeah, perhaps. Want an aspirin, there's some in the glove box.'

'Why?'

'Coz you're rubbin' your head like you do when you have a headache' Hutch said and reached over to get the box from the cubby hole. He dropped it into Starsky's lap and the brunet took two white pills and dry swallowed them, grimacing at the taste.

The day was much the same as the others in the case. They trawled the streets, they ploughed through countless more files from kids who'd been through the Children's home and then left to go on to other jobs, crime, families….. you name it. Each and every time they came up with one name. Edgar Fisher and each and every time, for some reason, Starsky was adamant that he had nothing at all to do with anything. Each and every time the name was mentioned he became quite insistent that Edgar was the wrong person to be interviewing. By the end of the day, Hutch was left wondering about what was going on, and as he dropped his partner back at his apartment, he took his life in his hands and asked once again.

'Are you sure you're ok, Gordo. I mean, you gotta admit, you've been on edge today.'

Starsky looked at his finger nails, considering his reply. 'M'sorry. I guess I haven't been very good company. It's just. I feel so damned tired and I can't get rid of this headache. It's lookin' at all those files. Maybe I need glasses. D'ya think they'd make me look intellectual?'

'I think it'd take more'n glasses buddy. Go an' have a rest huh? An early night maybe. Take a whiskey and get some shut eye. See ya tomorrow.'

'Yeah, I'll see ya. If the damned phone would stop ringin' I'd be better. See ya.'

Starsky got out of the car and Hutch watched him walk wearily up the steps. There was no strut in the step. The brunet looked weary beyond words and Hutch resolved that with or without the brunet he was going to investigate the teacher.

Hutch's thoughts were interrupted by the doctor coming back into the room. The medic walked to the end of the bed and took the chart from the hanger. He read the numbers then smiled at the blond and checked pulse, BP and temperature.

'You've got good recuperative powers' he muttered as he wrote the numbers down on the chart and re-hung it.

'When can I get out of here?' Hutch asked, surprised that his voice sounded strong. He pushed himself further up on the bed and propped a pillow up behind him.

'How do you feel…… honestly? I know your kind. You'll tell me anything to make a great escape and then you'll be back in here within a few days making even more work for us.'

Hutch smiled. He liked the medic's straight forward attitude. 'I feel better than I did, but there again, I guess it's tough to feel much worse. I just….there's stuff I have to do out there Doc and I need to be out of this bed and workin'. So….'

The Doctor snorted. 'I guess the fact that you're feelin' well enough to actually be concerned with work is an indication that you're getting better. But you don't need me to tell you that you had major surgery a month ago and were only discharged from the hospital a few days ago. I'm sure then that you were given instructions to rest, which you blatantly ignored which is why you're back here now.' The man looked at the consternation written all over the blond's face and sighed. 'If you promise to stay put for the rest of today, resting, then maybe I can see about discharging you tomorrow. But this time, you need to rest, otherwise you'll do even more damage to yourself, ok?'

'Message received, loud and clear. I promise I'll be good' Hutch said with a grin as he settled himself back down on the bed. 'Not goin' anywhere, not doin' anything.'

'And see that it stays that way' the medic grinned as he went out of the room.

Hutch settled back on the bed and must have drifted off to sleep because the next time he opened his eyes, he was staggered to find that the sun was once more going down and his private room was bathed in a warm amber glow from the lamp on the table opposite the bottom of the bed. The blond stretched lazily and opened his eyes, miffed that the needle from the drip feed was still in the back of his hand, but surprised at just how well and rested he felt. He rolled his head sideways on the pillow and smiled as he saw Traff asleep in the easy chair next to his bed.

The soldier must have been dozing lightly as the noises from the bed awoke him and his emerald green eyes focused on his friend.

'Well don't you look better?' he said as he sat up straighter in the chair and brushed his hands though his short curly hair.

'I might do, but what the hell happened to you buddy? Who did you argue with huh?'

Traff ran his fingers lightly down the side of his face. The four furrows on his cheek were beginning to heal although they still stung viciously despite him having cleaned them thoroughly and plastered them with antiseptic ointment.

'This is nothin'. You should've seen the other guy!'

'I'm glad I didn't. What did you do? Or more to the point what did he do?'

A shadow fell across Traff's face. He knew he had to come clean and tell Hutch about Rafferty, but the blond cop seemed to be doing so well, he didn't want to make him feel worse. Damn!

'I did some phoning after I left you' he started cautiously. 'Your visit with your Mom and Dad got me to thinking that if I had parents I'd probably want them to know what was going on, so I um…..I phoned Rachel.'

'Oh shit!'

'S'ok, she wasn't in. She's sick. She's upstate visiting with her cousin. But um….Nicky was there.'

'Fuck! He'd love the fact that Starsky's behind bars.'

Traff chuckled 'Didn't he just! He um….. he got on a plane and came right down here. He saw his brother last night.'

'Last night? Hold on….. just how long have I been in here? How long was I out?' Hutch asked.

'I brought you in two days ago. I kept phoning, but they said you were sleepin'. Don't sweat it, you needed the rest.'

'Yeah, but still…. I haven't slept the clock around since my college days and that was only after some pretty heavy partying. I had no idea!'

'Well you look better for it' Traff said, honestly.

'Yeah, I feel it. Or at least I did till you told me about Nick. Where is he?'

'Well, you were right about him. He saw Curly but didn't stick around. He's gone back up north.'

'So you argued with him?' Hutch asked, pointing at the wounds on the soldier's face.

'Huh? Oh, no. These were um…... I had a visit with the shrink that Mallozzi put onto Starsky's case. She seems to think there's some kinda outside force at work here. She's looking into it and she says she'll get back to me.'

'That's great news, but you're changing the subject.'

'Who, me?' Traff sighed. 'Promise me you won't get riled up buddy.'

The blond grimaced. 'Well I will if you don't tell me what's goin' on.'

'Well after Nicky saw him, I had a visit with Curly too.'

'You mean he actually saw ya? Oh well that's just peachy!' Hutch started.

Traff held up his hand. 'I said I wouldn't tell you if ya start getting' bent over. Yeah, he saw me, although he didn't want to, to begin with. But he did, and he's scared. I mean real scared. I've never seen him like that. I could tell he was hurt so finally he opened up an' told me that one of the guards has um…… look buddy, it's dealt with. You don't need to know nothin' more. I handled it, ok?'

Hutch snorted. 'No, not ok buddy. Tell me what happened. Who hurt him? How?' is he ok?'

'He's taken a few beatings and to be honest he was askin' for a couple of 'em. But um…. this guard… turns out he likes some of his prisoners more'n others. He um….' The soldier's voice tailed off lamely.

'He's assaulted him? Sexually?' Hutch asked softly.

Traff nodded. 'That's about the size of it. He described the guy to me and I just happened to see him clocking off his shift so I um….. I followed him and warned him off. I don't think he'll be worryin' Curly again any time soon.'

Hutch rested his head on the pillow feeling suddenly tired once again. He pictured his partner alone in that jail at he mercy of the guards and a feeling of impending doom washed over him.

'Oh Starsk….. be careful huh buddy?'