Disclaimer: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of Starsky and Hutch.

Warning: "Episodes" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. This story also revolves around a paranormal/metaphysical genre; if this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

--oo Episodes oo-

By: Shawne 'til dawn

. . . CHAPTER 5 . . .

Mari sipped her creamed coffee, her eyes downcast as she lowered the heavy mug to the table. The few bites she'd taken from the pizza, took away the gnawing hunger in her belly and the hot coffee seemed to draw the chill that was perpetually within her, leaving her feeling almost peaceful and lethargic . . .

She smiled, two small dimples appearing under her high cheekbones, as she listened to the comfortable, playful bantering between the detectives. For the first time, in a long time, she felt relatively safe. It was nice to be in a home, and that thought made her ache for her family.

"You okay?"

She raised her eyes to dark, blue orbs filled with compassion, and she silently nodded at the curly haired detective who sat before her, touched that a virtual stranger would be worried about her.

"How ya feelin'" Starsky gently probed, seeing the dark, tired lines under her haunted, brown eyes. He glanced over at his partner who understood his silent concern.

"Better." Mari lied, lifting the mug to take another sip of the sweetened coffee. "I have to leave soon . . . I don't want him to find you . . . in your home."

"What makes you think he'll come here?" Hutch asked gently, noting the tired lines under the girl's eyes, "I mean . . . you didn't "see" anything did you?"

Dark images flashed in the young woman's mind . . . the sharp knife glinting brightly, as it caught the light while making its downward arc, bright blue eyes filled with horror and pain...

The young Asian woman lifted the mug once again to her lips and swallowed down her fear. She turned to look at the fair-haired man, "No, but if he is looking for me, I don't want him to find me here," she said softly, turning to look at the brunet.

"This creep . . . how do you know he's the Interstate Killer?" Starsky asked.

"How could I not know?" Mari said sadly, "I see what he does before it comes out in the papers. No one can identify who he is and the nickname the newspapers have given him has stuck. The FBI and the police have consistently failed to apprehend him, always one step behind him as he travels from state to state, and that fact alone fills this killer with glee, as he continues to outsmart everyone. He loves knives. He has so many, although he only uses the same large one in every murder that he's committed. That knife is cherished by him and he always uses it for his special victims," Mari's voice was but a whisper, her eyes focusing inward, as she clearly visualized the serrated edge of the butcher knife, dripping with blood, "It is stained with the blood of his prey . . . a memento that he treasures. He means to use it on you. " Mari said, her voice trembling as she turned her dark gaze to stare into the turbulent ocean blue depths of the dark haired detective, "For some reason, he means to kill you . . . and me."

The blond cop looked over to his partner and their eyes met briefly before the brunet turned away to look again at Mari, as the girl continued in her soft, frightened voice . . .

"One of girls he killed had hair the color of flames, and eyes as green as emeralds. When he abducted her, he raped her many times, and then stabbed her repeatedly until she was dead. He thinks about her a lot . . . and he's growing more and more confident, as each of his crimes go undetected and unpunished." Her hands shook slightly, and she carefully put the mug she held back down on the tabletop.

"Where was this woman, this red-head at the time of death?" Starsky asked, glancing down at the Mari's hands, as she clasped them tightly together. He remembered how cold they felt as she dug her slim fingers into his at Huggy's the other night. He glanced up at his blond counterpart, reading compassion in the pale blue eyes of his friend, as the blond stared at the young woman who sat beside him.

"Oregon . . . they haven't found her body yet . . . they will though in a few days. He buried her in a shallow grave, but the elements and animals have already had their way with her remains."

"Mari," Hutch said gently, as she turned to look at him, "Do you know where she's buried?"

"No . . ." the small woman's voice quavered, "I just saw the hole that he dug and she was lying in it. Her eyes were open . . . staring up at the sky . . . there was a full moon on the night he buried her . . . I-I could see it's reflection in her green vacant gaze, before the first shovel of dirt fell on her face." Mari shuddered at the memory that flashed before her eyes. "It was probably in the mountains somewhere . . . I could almost smell the pine trees and the damp smell of the forest."

For a minute, it was quiet in Starsky's apartment, as the detectives silently digested what the young woman had just shared. Hutch was the first to speak, making sure his voice was soft when he asked her another question, "D-did you ever see this bastard's face in any of your visions Mari?" the blond stammered, the vivid image of the young redhead lying dead in the shallow grave disturbed the sensitive blond.

Mari shook her head sadly, her long, dark hair swaying with that slight movement, "I am sorry," she said, her dark almond shaped eyes rose hesitantly to meet the pale blue ones of the blond, "You see, I can only see what he sees . . . I can see all of the horrible things he's done to these women, but from his perspective alone . . . I . . . I know this sounds strange, but it's like I am looking out with his eyes. I can sometimes feel what he is thinking, but I have never been able to see the evil one's face. I can only see his hands . . . and they are very large hands. S-sometimes . . . sometimes I used to get the feeling that he knew I could see him, that I was watching him, watching what he did, and now I know for sure that he knows about me. He is very careful about not looking into mirrors or into anything that might reflect his image. He doesn't want me to see what he looks like."

"You mean he knows you can see him?" Starsky asked, his eyes shifting to meet the gaze of his quiet partner.

"Yes," Mari said softly, "I am sure of it now . . . we are connected somehow and he has been able to follow the psychic link or vibrations back to me. It is a game to him. He is powerful, clever and elusive and he knows I fear him greatly."

"Well you're safe now," Starsky said reassuringly, "We're here and we'll protect you . . . I promise."

Mari smiled hesitantly, wanting so much to believe the confident promise of the ruggedly handsome brunet, yet over the years, she had grown to understand and believe in the accuracy of her 'episodes' and this time, she knew without a doubt that Starsky's promise, though sincere and heartfelt, were merely words. Fate had a way of dictating events that were meant to occur and Mari knew that this nightmare was far from being over.

"Thank you. I know you and Hutch will do everything within your power to help me," Mari whispered, lowering her eyes to the cup before lifting it to take another sip of coffee. She looked up then and asked quietly, "Would you mind if I used your restroom?"

"Sure," Starsky said, getting to his feet, "It's right through there," he said indicating the bathroom door that was shut at the moment.

"Thanks," Mari said shyly, rising from the edge of the couch, "I guess the coffee is going right through me." Hutch got to his feet too, taking the mug from the small woman as she passed in front of him. Both men listened to the soft "click" of the bathroom door being locked behind her.

"Geez," Starsky said, shuddering, "The stuff that poor kid has to see . . . the way she described the killer burying that girl in the moonlight. . ."

"Yeah," Hutch said softly, returning the coffee mug to the table. The tall detective ran his fingers tiredly through his fine, blond hair, then stretched his back, "I'll run a check on that as soon as we get into the station tonight . . . and I'll get in touch with the Oregon State Police Department tomorrow sometime, to check out her story . . . what?" Hutch asked as he saw his partner's expression change. "Starsk, I know what you're gonna ask me . . ."

"I don't think we should bring her in tonight Hutch," Starsky interjected, "It's late and Dobey's long gone by now . . . why don't we wait . . . let her get some rest. Tomorrow will be soon enough . . ."

"Starsk . . . if she's right and this is the Interstate Killer, the Feds will have to be notified as soon as possible. If we let her leave, we might never get the chance of bringing her down for questioning . . . she's a pro at disappearing remember?" Hutch reminded softly.

"Yeah . . . I know," Starsky said, "But what are we gonna do . . . lock her up until tomorrow morning? I was thinkin' she could just stay here . . . she's exhausted . . . you saw the dark circles under her eyes . . . I could keep an eye on her . . ."

"Starsky," Hutch said, "If what she says is true, then there's a killer after the both of you. . . you'd be sitting ducks in here! It would be safer for her if we took her down to the station."

Starsky sighed, knowing his friend's reasoning was right, but hearing all that Mari had been through brought out compassion in the brunet. There was something about that girl, and her fragile vulnerability that got to him.

The dark haired detective walked over to the window to peer out at the darkened streets below; he turned to his partner, "Look Hutch, she's been through a lot . . . I mean, we don't even know half of her story yet . . . and a part of me doesn't want to even hear it . . . she's been through hell and back . . . you saw her when I mentioned the word 'home', it's obvious this is the first one she's been in for a very long time . . . she's probably been runnin' so long, she's forgotten what it's like to even have a home."

"Starsk, listen to me buddy," Hutch said gently, his sky blue eyes softening with affection for his kind-hearted partner, " I know you're hurting for her, I am too, but we're cops first, there's a procedure we follow . . . we had an APB out on her . . . Dobey is expecting us to bring her in . . .we'll get her statement, put her into protective custody if we need to . . ." Hutch stopped in mid-sentence, when Starsky raised his hand to silence him.

"Now what?" Hutch whispered.

"Didjya hear it?" Starsky asked, his ear cocked towards the bathroom, obviously listening intently to something.

"Hear what?" Hutch asked.

"The toilet flushing? She's been in there an awful long time." Starsky said, walking over to the bathroom. He leaned his ear against the wooden door.

"Oh god Starsk . . . don't do that," Hutch said, closing his eyes disgustedly, "She could be doing something . . . private . . .in there. I don't think she'd appreciate you listening through the door!" the blond whispered.

"I don' hear nuthin'" Starsky murmured, pressing his ear firmly against the door.

"What?" Hutch asked, his voice still low in a whisper.

"I said I don' hear nuthin'" Starsky said in a louder voice. He rapped his knuckles against the door, "Mari? Hey . . .you okay in there?" The brunet turned to look at his partner, then knocked once more, "Hey . . . if you don't answer me, I'm comin' in . . ."

Starsky looked once again to his blond counterpart who nodded. Grabbing the doorknob, the brunet slammed his shoulder several times against the door until it gave way. The small, tidy bathroom was blatantly empty and still, except for the curtain blowing eerily from the wind coming through the opened window . . .

To be continued . . .