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 6 . . .
She walked along the sidewalk, keeping to the shadows, hearing her heartbeat accelerating as she quickened her steps. He was here . . . somewhere in the neighborhood, searching for her . . . she was sure of it. Somehow he had found her again and she would not be the one to lead him to David's home. Once again, an image of the dark haired detective's beautiful blue eyes etched in pain and widened with horror, flitted across her mind's eye. She clutched her sweater tighter against her small frame, as the wind continued to pick up and blow through her thin clothes. After the warmth of being in a home, the night air seemed extra cold and bitter.
She had forgotten how wonderful it was to sit on a couch in a brightly lit house, surrounded by people who actually listened and spoke with her. Little things like drinking coffee with cream from a mug, instead of a Styrofoam cup was a privilege and a blessing that she had forgotten. So many things about his place reminded her of home . . . the blanket on the back of the couch, the curtains at the window, the aromatic smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen . . . even his bathroom resembled her home . . .
She quickly ducked behind a hedge as the lights of several cars drove past. She crouched down low, peeking out through the leaves until the last car went by. Mari breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes wearily, as her she remembered the 'episode' she just had in the detective's bathroom . . . the vision that prompted her to hastily leave . . .
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She held the soft bath towels against her face, as she stood in the bathroom, smelling the fabric softener that the detective obviously put into his wash. It smelled clean and fresh, reminding her of her own home. Memories of times long past, flitted through her mind's eye …
She remembered how her mother used to put fabric softener into their laundry too . . . that was her despised chore at home . . . to fold the clothes and towels for the family. God, what she would give to have that simple, mindless job again . . . what she would give to have her parents and older sister alive and well again.
The day that her life was forever changed, she had been folding the towels. She was just seventeen at the time . . . a teenager who thought she knew all about life. Yet, nothing in her young world would have ever prepared her for the horror of what followed.
She remembered humming to herself in the laundry room, taking the time to make the creases in the right places as her mother had taught her, when she sensed something wrong. Her hands stopped over the white collared shirt she had been working on and she tilted her head to listen, hearing her mother gasp loudly, a soft thud hitting the floor, followed immediately by another muffled thud, as her sister began to sob loudly.
Frightened, Mari crept down the hallway to peek into the living room, holding in her cry of horror as she spied her mother and father dead on the floor . . . neat little bullet holes in their foreheads. Her eyes widened as she heard a muffled scream, seeing the large man on top of her sister, his pants dropped around his ankles, his hips moving erratically as he thrust savagely into her. Mari saw him lift the butcher knife in the air; the downward thrust of the blade buried the knife hilt-deep into her sister's breast. Mari crept back into the laundry room and silently crawled into the hamper, throwing towels over herself to hide.
She didn't know how long she stayed in there with the dirty laundry, buried under towels and linens, silent tears running down her cheeks. Her mind had left her for a while due to the shock, but she dazedly remembered strong arms lifting her out, a warm blanket being placed over her shoulders, feeling disoriented and woozy as they guided her out of the bloody living room. She vaguely remembered the soft, whispered words and pitiful stares of neighbors and policemen as they led her to the awaiting ambulance.
"Poor thing . . . looks like she's in shock."
"That bastard used a silencer on the gun . . . overheard the cop say that . . ."
"Naomi was stabbed with a butcher knife . . . I wonder why the killer didn't just shoot her like he did her parents . . ."
"Wasn't Naomi going to the community college? Poor thing . . . her life was just beginning."
"Rape and murder right in our neighborhood . . . what is this world coming to?"
Mari's safe and sheltered world had suddenly been turned upside down. She had been placed in a foster home soon after that, another tragic ward of the state, when the 'episodes' started. Visions of people she didn't even know began to creep into her dreams . . . visions of seeing things and knowing what would occur before it happened.
When she became of age, she left her foster home, enrolling in some night classes as she worked during the day. She later did some research at the library on extra sensory perception and found out that sometimes, latent abilities came to the forefront after a tragic or horrific experience. Pondering this new gleaning of information, Mari carried on with her life, working at a local eatery, renting a comfortable apartment as she put herself through school and tried to piece her life back together again.
On her twenty-fifth birthday, the 'episodes' became more intense and Mari began to 'tune-in' to someone, seeing things from that person's eyes. At first it was hazy and unclear . . . visualizing hands setting kittens on fire . . . seeing the blade of a knife carving into the flank of a dog . . . the visions were getting progressively more and more clear, as the deeds of this individual became darker, vicious and intensely cruel.
She knew he was a male by his large hands. When he killed his first woman, Mari went to the police who remembered the poor Asian girl and the tragic murder of her family. They patronized her and dismissed her frantic pleas as stressed induced fears. She knew they shook their heads at her when they ushered her out of the station, the whole small community in which she lived, thought she was a nutcase with her many attempts to warn others of the things that were shown to her through her 'episodes'.
She knew many people feared her and they tended to stay far away from her, thinking she was mentally unstable. It was because of this, that she was eventually fired from her job. She was after all, 'bad for business' as her boss had told her before he let her go.
Isolated and alone, Mari grew more withdrawn and shied away from others, from their whispered stares and accusing pointing fingers. And after all of trouble she went through to inform the police, they had never found the murdered woman's body, just as they had never caught the man who had murdered her whole family.
It was shortly after that, when Mari realized the killer could sense her watching him. Somehow this person had 'abilities' too, and he seemed to follow the psychic link or connection back to her. Her life as a fugitive began the night she felt her senses screaming out to her to run. He had found her, in her little sleepy town of skeptics and non-believers, and she had been running ever since, narrowly escaping with her life.
Mari sighed pressing the soft fabric into her face, feeling her eyes begin to burn with the unshed tears that she held within for so long. "Knock it off Mari," she fiercely whispered to herself, "No time for crying!"
The woman in her, longed to be held and comforted by someone; a ruggedly handsome face, framed with dark curls and ocean-blue eyes twinkling over a lopsided grin flashed in her mind, but she quickly shoved that image away. There had been many nights on the run, when she had wondered if she would ever have the opportunity to just live a normal life with a husband, maybe some kids, in a nice little house on a quiet little cul-de-sac somewhere . . . anywhere, but life on the streets soon convinced her like nothing else did, that fairytales did not exist . . . the only thing that did exist in her world, were knife-wielding monsters who never gave up the chase.
The small woman sighed, leaving the towel rack to walk to the basin. Mari washed her face with the warm water running from the tap, wiping it with the soft cloth that she took with her. Throwing the towel over her shoulder, she lifted her eyes to the mirror above the sink and stared at herself. So pale . . . her eyes looked almost sunken in, making her cheekbones look even higher than they were. She self-consciously tucked long, dark strands of her hair behind her ears and sighed again. Those detectives must think she looked like a pathetic wraith.
Suddenly the room grew cold, hazy images filled her mind of a street lined with houses. A quiet street, a neighborhood, large hands tightly gripping a steering wheel as the car's engine hummed quietly. She could tell he was searching . . . searching for her . . . he was so near . . . she could feel it. Her sense of self-preservation kicked in, forcing her to move. Mari shut off the tap water, looking towards the shut door as she heard the soft murmurings of the detectives deep in conversation.
She bit her lip, waffling in indecision, but she determinedly turned her back to the door … damn if she would lead him here into another home. Spying the window, Mari quietly opened it up, feeling the cold draft that immediately entered the room. Before she could change her mind, she quickly crawled through window into the quiet chilly night.
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Mari quickly stood, her legs felt stiff from crouching behind the hedge for so long. She perused the dark street, making sure she was alone. Her senses were screaming by this time, as she quickly made her way down to the small grocery store she saw a couple of blocks away from David's house. If her guess were right, there would be a phone there for her to use.
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"Dammit, she's gone Hutch . . . she took off through the window!" Starsky said, "Better call it in . . . Dobey'll have our hides if we lose her again . . . Shit!"
After glancing at the open window in the bathroom, Hutch quickly picked up the phone, calling in for back-up. The blond had just placed the receiver down when it immediately rang again.
"H'lo?" Hutch said brusquely.
"David? This is Mari . . ." a small, quiet voice whispered on the other end.
"Mari? It's Hutch . . ." the blond gentled his voice, "Where are you?"
"Hutch . . . I'm sorry I ran. I'm at the corner store . . . I had another 'episode' in the bathroom. I saw him Hutch, he's somewhere near . . . I didn't want him to hurt David . . . oh god, I might have led the killer to him . . . it's all my fault" she sobbed.
"Listen Mari . . . calm down," Hutch said, as he quickly looked around the empty apartment for his hotheaded partner, "Look . . .y-you stay in that store okay? I think Starsk might be outside looking for you . . . you stay there and we'll come and get you alright?" Hutch quickly hung up the phone, his heart falling when he spied Starsky's gun and holster still hanging from the closet door.
To be continued . . .