Anniversary

By Monika

Chapter six

Thursday morning Hutch awoke and immediately felt the tiredness of an almost sleepless night. He reached out his hand to check the other side of the bed – Starsky wasn't there. He felt desperate and lonely. Clutching Starsky's pillow he tried to catch a breath of Starsky's scent. Where are you, Starsk? He repeated the question over and over.

Should he call Dobey, informing him that Starsky was missing? If Starsky was enjoying himself with a beautiful lady it would sound ridiculous if Hutch was worrying. On the other hand, Starsky would have informed him if he decided to stay out for the night.

Hutch sat up sorting his thoughts. He would scour the surroundings first. Then he had to call the police of Sonoma and inform the hotel manager of Starsky' absence.

Hutch got up, showered and shaved, and took two aspirins to fight an upcoming migraine. Half an hour later he was ready to look for his friend again.

He followed the way to the winery up to the fork where they had parted the day before. Starsky had turned to the left. Hutch did the same, looking for any signs or traces of Starsky's presence.

He had walked until the winery was out of sight when the landscape became a little rougher. Hedges, on both sides of the path, hid the view of the area behind.

Hutch slowed down and looked carefully. Something was moving behind a bush and Hutch bent down to examine the spot. It was a hedgehog making noises.

"Have you seen my partner?" Hutch asked jokingly, when he saw something colored and half-torn in the next bush..

It was a map like that one he had given Starsky to find his way the day before.

Hutch got the wet map; obviously it had rained recently. They could take fingerprints anyway and prove that Starsky had lost it – maybe in a fight.

Hutch struggled through the hedges and brushwood. He didn't see anything fishy.

Starsky had disappeared and he had to know what had happened to his partner. For another hour Hutch checked the area without finding anything that could help him to get to Starsky.

Hutch returned to the hotel and asked the desk clerk if Mr. Starsky had left a note. The clerk answered in the negative and Hutch turned to go when he heard a voice behind him.

"Can I help you, sir?"

George DuPont, owner of the winery and the hotel, smiled at him.

Hutch told him that his partner was missing since the evening before.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. What's his name, by the way?" Mr DuPont was all friendliness, and Hutch told him that they were cops and were on a short vacation.

"Sure, we have to find him. How long have you known each other?" he looked curiously at Hutch and got the answer: "We've been friends for more than three years. Why do you ask?"

"Well," Mr. DuPont's voice became sharp, "Sometimes you don't know everything about a man's secrets…"

Hutch shook his head. "I know Starsky. He would never leave without telling me what he's up to. Something must have gone terribly wrong and if you help me to find him I would appreciate it."

"Of course, that's no question," said Mr. DuPont, appearing to think hard. Then he said; "Let me phone all the resorts in Sonoma and its surroundings. "If he has decided to stay overnight somewhere, we'll find out. And I'll ask my friends, in the other wineries, if they have seen anything suspect. Let's have dinner tonight, Mr. …"

"Hutchinson," Hutch replied, grateful that the owner of the winery agreed to help him.

Hutch felt a little better after this conversation. With DuPont's help it should be possible to find Starsky.

Starsky had spent a terrible night. He woke up a lot of times from the pain in his limbs and called for help, but there was no one who heard him. His thirst had become unbearable. He had the feeling he'd go nuts if he was left alone for a longer time without drinking and seeing. He had no idea if it was night- or daytime, but it had become quite cold and he needed to pee again. He moaned and tried to distract himself from his condition by thinking of Hutch who would look for him and would find him.

Starsky pulled at the ropes but found out it was useless. His wrists were hurting and his legs had become numb.

He tried to turn onto the other side when he heard a sound. Someone was coming into the room.

"Hey, I need to use the facilities and I need a drink." Starsky made an effort to sound light-hearted but he didn't get an answer.

"Who are you?" he asked trying to sit up.

"You don't recognize my voice? I'm really disappointed," he heard the man say, and his voice was full of bitterness and hatred. Then he went on breaking the silence. "I've been waiting for this day more than four years, and I promised myself to let you suffer the way you had made me suffer. I knew you would eventually sneak off to this place where it all began. I hope you had a restless night. Have much more fun today. I have better things to do."

The voice trailed off and Starsky shouted:

"No! Stay here! I'm sorry what I did before. I need to talk with you!"

Starsky had said these words without thinking. He was led by instinct. He had to keep the guy nearby, otherwise he feared about his sanity.

There was a long pause before the man said:

"Is there anything you want to tell me before I leave?"

"Sure. First help me to get my hands untied. 'Ya know, have to take a leak. And then I need something to drink and to eat. I'm too weak to speak in this condition. And when you take the blindfold off my eyes maybe I'll remember you," Starsky tried to convince his kidnapper to allow him some more freedom.

Starsky's heart began to race when hands fumbled with the cloth that hid his eyes. It was drawn away and at first it was hard for Starsky to open his eyes. When he did, very slowly, he caught sight of a man crouching in front of him, a gun in his hands. He was young, not as old as Starsky. The light brown hair hung over his eyes down to his collar.

Nervously he looked at Starsky examining his features.

"My hands, please," Starsky smiled tiredly turning his back to the man.

"No wrong moves, I tell you!" The young man composed himself, and his voice became insensitive again. Then he worked on the ropes round Starsky's wrists.

"What about my feet?" Starsky asked and while he was rubbing his wrists to get the blood circulation back the man untied his feet.

He didn't stop watching Starsky carefully. When Starsky hobbled to the primitive latrine, a glance followed him. Starsky knew it, but he couldn't bother about it right now. He felt sweaty and dirty and needed a shave, though a wash up had to wait.

Slowly he walked back to the mattress to sit down.

"Why was I brought here, and who are you?" Starsky looked at his kidnapper and couldn't interpret the glance that was thrown at him.

"You know exactly who I am, and I remember you well enough that I recognized you, when you dared to show up with your new lover. Now the revenge is mine. You'll never see him again!"

The man spat on the floor. Starsky was at a loss what was going on, but he had to play along for a while.

"My new lover? I don't understand…"

"Shut up! You're making fun of me, Brian? You'll pay for it! I've seen you both walking around like two lovebirds. Don't fool me or I'll make short work of you."

"You mean Hutch? He's my best friend and we care for each other a lot, but we aren't lovers… And what did you call me? Brian? That isn't my name. I'm David Starsky. You should admit that you've mistaken me for somebody else. Now let me go, please. My partner is waiting for me."

Starsky felt better all of a sudden. He had been mixed up, and this unlucky guy would soon find his lover again.

"No way. I won't let you go. Prove to me that you aren't Brian. Look at me!" The man approached Starsky till he was only inches away from his face. Starsky brought himself to return the gaze. The man frowned.

"Brian has brown eyes, so do you wear contact lenses to irritate me, Brian?"

The man looked confused, but suddenly a sly expression crossed his face. "Brian has a tattoo on his right hip. Show it to me and I'll know if you're Brian."

Starsky sighed and was feeling uncomfortable again. What was this guy going to do?

"What's your name?" Starsky asked.

The other one hesitated, but Starsky looked blank-faced.

"You're making fun of me again. I don't like it. You know very well that I'm Jules, and you called me DJ. And now pull your pants down!"

"Jules, if you don't mind I need something to drink first." Starsky coughed and cleared his throat. He felt sore and dizzy.

Jules looked at him pensively. "You had your hair shorter when we were together. And your clothes were more… exclusive. But your jeans aren't so bad either. Get them off and let me check on the tattoo."

Starsky made a defensive movement and Jules only smiled. "You want your hands to be tied again? My pleasure, then I can strip you." He licked his lips and Starsk shuddered. He had the feeling of getting sick again.

"Jules, I told you to bring me something to drink and to eat. Hurry or I'll faint. Then you won't have any fun with me!" Starsky hissed forgetting all caution. This guy was somewhat unpredictable. He had to gain some time first to think his situation over.

"Hands on the back!"

Starsky hands were tied again. Then Jules left the dark room. Starsky wondered what time it was. Maybe Hutch was already looking for him. They had taken him away in a car, so the arch he was in could belong to another winery. That would make it much harder to find him, he mused. Obviously Jules thought they had been lovers four years ago. What had happened that Jules had kidnapped him? Maybe that Brian had left him for another lover.

Starsky had to get out of this room. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness. In one corner there was a little oil lamp. In the background he could see old barrels and next to them empty shelves.

The door opened again and Jules appeared with a bottle of water and something wrapped in paper.

Wordlessly, he held it out to Starsky, realizing that Starsky's hands were again tied. He loosened the ropes and watched Starsky drink greedily. Taking small bites of the dry sandwich Jules had brought, Starsky focused on the young man in front of him.

"You wanted to tell me about Brian. Shoot!"

Sceptically Jules looked at the dark-haired man in front of him.

"I could've sworn that you're Brian though… Wanna check the tattoo. Get out of your jeans!"

Starsky cursed inwardly. This guy was somewhat persistent. Starsky put the bottle and the sandwich on the mattress by his side.

"I told you before, I don't have any tattoos. You must believe me that I'm telling the truth. Can't we…"

Roughly Starsky was pushed back into the mattress a gun directed at his temple. "Get stripped or I'll do it!" That voice didn't contain any gentleness and Starsky, grinding his teeth, unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans always hoping that Hutch would rush through the door any moment to get him out of this situation.

A lascivious gaze followed the movement of his dropping jeans.

"Can't see anything. Do it this way," and Starsky felt a hand on the waistband of his briefs, tugging at them.

"Don't!" Starsky hissed, but his capturer couldn't be discouraged.

With one hand, he pulled Starsky's underwear down over his hips. Starsky used this moment to grab Jules' other hand that pointed the gun at him and tried to remove it. Jules lost his balance and fell over Starsky, both men wrestling on the mattress.

With his feet tied, Starsky wasn't an equal partner. Soon he found himself pinned on the mattress, Jules' weight pressing against his body.

"You wanna have it this way? That's fine with me!"

Jules was straddling him and Starsky felt the arousal of his opponent pressing into his groin.

Hutch, help! Was his only thought and then he got sick.

He vomited and heard a disgusted "Shit!" He felt the weight lift off his body and he turned his head to the side gagging.

"Are ya nuts?" Jules looked down at the mess. Nauseated, he turned away.

"When I'm back you have yourself cleaned off. Then I'll show you who you belong to. No matter if you're Brian or not – you turn me on. On Friday we'll leave together like we planned it four years ago."

Heading for the door, Jules added: "And be happy that you're with me and hidden here. If my father finds you he's going to kill you. That's what he told me yesterday evening."

"Who's your father?" Starsky asked pulling up his pants and reaching out for the cloth he had been blindfolded with before to clean himself.

"George DuPont."

Hutch had canvassed the hotels and motels of the region asking for Starsky. He had even called the hospital in Sonoma giving a sigh of relief when no one had been brought in the last 24 hours that fit Starsky's description.

On his way back to the hotel, Hutch saw a sign that led to the "Camp of the future," the facility for young people that George DuPont had mentioned the day before. Starsky had loved the idea of such a camp. It would go with him visiting it.

Hutch followed the way until he saw a one level building surrounded by trees and a sports field to the right.

He entered the building, heard the buzzing of many voices and went forward. The door to a large dining room was ajar and Hutch stepped in, looking around searchingly. Maybe Starsky was here having a late lunch with these people.

"It's lunch time. We don't want to be disturbed." A young man had gotten up from his chair. Light brown hair hung half over his face. When he looked at Hutch he stretched and straightened.

Suddenly a little smile crept over his face.

"Sir, how can I help you? Let me invite you to have lunch with us. It's a bit later than normal because our helpers here have been busy with the vintage. Harry, fetch a plate and some silverware for Mr. …?" Expectantly, the man waited for an answer. Hutch wondered about the changing of the mood.

"Ken Hutchinson. I've heard of this camp Mr. DuPont had founded and I thought maybe I'd find a friend here."

"You can make friends with all of these great guys. They're worth it. Nice to meet you, Mr. Hutchinson. I'm Jules DuPont." Hutch shook hands with him, looking surprised.

"Very interesting. I would have never assumed that the junior of such an enterprise doesn't work in the management of the enterprise." Hutch smiled.

"Personal reasons," the young man said smugly and motioned Hutch to sit down.

In the next hour, Hutch got a full statement of the camp's activities. At last he said:

"Mr. DuPont, I told you that I'm looking for a friend of mine. He has dark curly hair and has been missing since yesterday evening. I thought maybe he had shown up here and you've seen him."

Jules DuPont shook his head.

"I'm so sorry. We don't have a lot of visitors. The guys here are busy every day. I don't think they've met your friend. Excuse me now. I have some paperwork to do."

Jules got up and reached out his hand to say goodbye.

Hutch couldn't explain it, but suddenly he had the impression that Starsky wasn't far away from him.

"Let me ask the people here. I need all help I can get." Hutch's smile had faded. Confronted with the fact that his partner was still missing made Hutch restless.

"Sure. Feel free to look around and get your information. Harry, I need you in my office!" A big guy stood up immediately and brushed past Hutch to follow Jules.

On the spur of the moment, Hutch tugged on the sleeve of the big guy.

"May I ask you a question before you disappear?" Hutch smiled encouragingly and noticed the nervousness of the guy.

"Don't be afraid, I don't bite," Hutch joked and decided not to tell anyone that he was a police detective.

"Then please come into my office. Then you won't be disturbed." Jules touched Harry's arm and dug his fingers in the cotton fabric of Harry' shirt.

Harry looked insecure and Hutch supposed that he didn't like to be questioned. Jules positioned himself near the window, looking out at the parking lot, as if he was waiting for something.

"Would you leave us alone, please?" Hutch asked and slowly Jules moved to the door, throwing back a glance at Harry. Then he was gone and Hutch turned to the guy who had sweat on his forehead.

"You feeling uncomfortable, Harry? It's just that I'm looking for a friend of mine. He has dark curly hair and since yesterday I haven't seen him. He was very interested in this camp. Maybe you've seen him walking around here…"

Harry rolled his eyes and sank from his chair, hitting the ground hard.

"My god," Hutch whispered noticing white foam on Harry's lips.

TBC

9