Thanks for the comments and the continued interest!

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Chapter 7

"There ain't no way that I can hold it down
Falling to pieces
Forever in doubt" Ron Thomas

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Bree sat at the interview table, thumbing through the last book of mug shots. When she reached the final page, she wearily closed the book, leaving her gaze stuck on the back cover. Minnie could see the look of exhaustion in the woman's face. She moved her arm over and took hold of Bree's hand, squeezing it gently. The search had proven fruitless, and Minnie could only guess at the disappointment the kidnap victim must be feeling.

"It's okay, honey. We'll get those bastards," Minnie said, squeezing Bree's hand again.

Bree acknowledged her gesture with a tired smile, then lowered her eyes and stared vacantly at the table. Minnie stood up and walked over to the phone hanging by the door. She dialed the number for the squad room, and got a hold of Hutch.

"Yeah, she's all done here…no, no luck. Okay, I'll tell her."

Minnie hung up the phone. Turning to Bree, she said, "Sergeant Hutchinson will be right down. Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, thank you," Bree replied. "You've been great. Thanks for staying here with me."

"It was my pleasure, hon. Try to get some rest soon, will ya?"

Bree nodded. As she checked the clock up on the wall, she was amazed to see it was almost noon.

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Vinetti finished reading his magazine and tossed it on the desk. Looking at his watch, he expelled a heavy sigh. He was hungry and Suko should have returned half an hour ago to relieve him. His tardiness was probably payback for interrupting the antics with the cop, but all Vinetti could do now was wait. He got up to stretch his stiff muscles, and decided to check on their prisoner.

Starsky was lying in the same position he'd been in for the last few hours, his breathing labored, but steady. With an unpredictable Suko due back at any time, Vinetti softly kicked Starsky's butt.

"Hey, time to get up." Vinetti saw a few muscles stir, but the curly head remained still. He kicked again, and Starsky's eyes opened a fraction. "You awake? C'mon, nap time's over."

After a third and harder kick, Starsky drew back at the invasive prod, letting out an acknowledging groan so Vinetti would stop. His bruised back and the knife wound hurt like hell, but he couldn't let his watchdog see how bad it felt. As Starsky propped himself up on an elbow, he felt unexpectedly lightheaded. He buried his forehead in his hand and tried to drain the spinning sensations from his head.

"Gotta cuff you up again," Vinetti said, preparing to kneel down. "You need to take a leak first?"

Starsky wasn't sure if he could, but any time spent off of the cold floor and out of the claustrophobic room would be worth the effort. "Yeah, give me a sec," he said hoarsely. He began pulling his jeans up, but the soreness in his side wasn't making it an easy process. Finally managing to get the denims zippered around his hips, he shifted over onto his knees and paused, trying to regain some of his spent energy. As he got up, a massive back spasm hit, instantly stopping him cold. Unable to finish standing, Starsky collapsed and landed hard on his bottom. The impact was unforgiving, and caused a fresh rupture of pain from his injuries. Starsky bent over and cradled his midsection, frustrated at the inability to conceal his weakness.

Vinetti extended a hand. "Here, grab on," he said, feeling sure the cop wasn't faking.

Starsky grasped the arm and was pulled back up. Trying to shake off the incident, he stretched out his stiff muscles, but kept one arm around his waist to nurse the aching cut. As he walked out of the room, he still had to downplay the limp caused by his sore back.

Vinetti opened the restroom door, but remained outside in the hall while Starsky went inside. Left alone in the small room, Starsky staggered over to the urinal. He leaned against the tiled wall, resting his head on an outstretched arm. The other hand traveled to the small of his back, and began massaging the tender muscles there. Eventually, he opened his jeans, and started to relieve himself. While watching to make sure the dangling handcuff was kept out of the escaping stream, Starsky noticed his urine had a reddish tinge. He'd had a sinking suspicion something was screwed up internally, and now this seemed to confirm it. Refusing to let it add to his growing despair, Starsky zipped his pants up and strode over to the sink, careful not to look in the mirror hanging above it. He was afraid of seeing a reflection of someone that appeared sick and alone, without any hope of rescue. He turned on the faucet and splashed some water on his face. Using his shirt sleeve, he wiped off the dripping moisture and then swallowed a few handfuls of water before rejoining Vinetti in the hall.

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The door to the interview room opened, and Hutch stepped inside, followed by Dobey. Minnie got up from sitting on the desk and walked towards the detective. Giving her a grateful smile, he said, "Thanks, Minnie. I owe you one."

"This one's free Hutch, but tell that partner of yours he owes me for quite a few favors now," she purred before leaving the room.

Hutch went over and stood beside Bree, who was still seated, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Bree, this is Captain Dobey. He's our boss and has some things he'd like to tell you."

Bree turned her attention to the large man, looking at him with tired eyes.

"Miss Starsky, I just want to let you know that Dave is one of my best detectives. Not only do I consider him to be a fine officer, but a good friend as well. So please know that this department will do everything humanly possible to make sure we get him back safe and sound."

Grateful for his words, Bree doubted whether the captain could guarantee such a promise. Nonetheless, she said, "Thank you, that means a lot to me."

Continuing, Dobey said, "I've arranged for a safe house, someplace you can go and stay until we're able to catch the people responsible."

Bree looked anxiously at Hutch, then back to Dobey, saying, "Captain, I appreciate your offer, but I don't want to stay at a safe house—I'm not afraid to go back to David's. In fact, I think being close to his things will actually help me…deal with this."

Hutch pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. "Bree, it's just not safe for you to stay at Starsky's. Whoever did this will probably be watching his apartment. If it would make you feel better, I could stay at the safe house with you."

"Hutch, you need to be out looking for David, not babysitting me. I know what you're saying, but please, I can't go and stay in a strange place."

"Breanna," Dobey said, "we're only trying to look out for your welfare, and considering the people we're dealing with, you really should consider our offer."

"Sir, I understand. I really do. But I can't. If there's something I need to sign, I'll do it…"

"Captain," Hutch said, interrupting, "could we put a black and white out at Starsky's? That way she'll have someone there—for protection."

Dobey looked at Bree, who seemed to be okay with the idea, then at his detective. "Okay, Hutchinson. I'll arrange for it immediately. But," he said to Bree, raising both eyebrows, "I'd still feel better if I had you someplace less conspicuous."

"Thank you, Captain." Bree was satisfied. She couldn't think about staying anywhere except Dave's apartment. Terri's spirit was there, and trying to contact her again was the only means Bree had left of trying to save her brother. "Can I go home now?" she asked.

Hutch got out of his chair and extended a hand to Bree. "Here, I'll drive you over. I'm sure you need some rest."

"I'll go make a phone call," Dobey said. "If there's not a patrol unit when you get there, Hutchinson, you let me know." Turning to Bree, he added, "If there's anything you need, just ask, okay?"

"I will, and thank you again. I'm sure it would mean a lot to David to know you're doing all that you can."

With that, Bree left the room with Hutch, holding onto his hand tightly as they walked down the hall.

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Cuffed again, Starsky stared up at the ceiling. Sitting tucked in a corner, he had grown bored of studying every intricate detail along the walls and floor. The ceiling was one part of the room he hadn't looked at since returning, and the only source of entertainment at the moment. He hadn't seen his babysitter for a long time. Before the gorilla disappeared, Starsky had heard him talking to himself, cussing at someone called 'Frankie.' He wondered if that was the name of his groper.

As he shifted slightly, another muscle spasm in his back caused him to flinch. Starsky had discovered the longer he stayed still, the less everything hurt. But remaining motionless eventually allowed numbness to set in, which ironically became just as uncomfortable as trying to move stiffened muscles again. It was a vicious cycle that showed no signs of ending anytime soon. His energy was running low, and he had no idea of how long these goons still wanted to play with him. He leaned his head back against the cool wall and tried to picture himself in a better place—on the beach, lying on the warm sand and letting the sun soak into his body. The sound of voices, and then footsteps coming down the hall signaled an end to his vacation. Here we go for round two.

The metal door creaked and then flew open. Vinetti and Suko came in, followed by Rothman. Starsky's stomach muscles tensed, instantly pulling on the tender stab wound. Mentally, he struggled to put himself into a fighting mood, knowing that whatever these scum had planned, he wasn't going to like it.

"Well, detective," Rothman said, "enjoying your surroundings?"

"Can't say I like the service…but you've done a great job keeping the amenities down to a minimum."

Rothman's mouth curved into a grin as he folded both hands together. "My mother always did say a sense of humor was a great asset…"

"You had a mother?" Starsky asked cockily. "Could've fooled me."

Rothman froze, giving Starsky a cold stare. "Not really a good idea, Sergeant, treating your hosts so contemptuously. Maybe your mother should have raised you better."

"I'd put my mother against yours any day Rothman," Starsky said, returning the look.

"I'm not one to play games, detective—verbal or otherwise—so you'll have to excuse my impropriety." He extended a hand to Suko as an invitation. "He's all yours."

Suko plastered on a smile and walked over to Starsky. He swung his leg back, and kicked the cop hard, just below the ribcage. "Get up!" he ordered.

The strike nearly knocked Starsky over. Hiding the pain, he folded his legs underneath him, keeping his eyes glued on Suko. The pain in his side and back shot warning signals to his brain, but he ignored them and concentrated on getting up. Discreetly leaning against the wall, he used it to support himself, not wanting to repeat his earlier performance. Once standing, he gave Suko a defiant look, hoping he'd get a chance to land more than one good hit into the thug this time.

Suko grabbed a handful of curly hair, and shoved his face into the cop's. "You think I'm scared of you?" He cocked his hand back and drove a hard punch into Starsky's abdomen, narrowly missing the stab wound.

Starsky felt his stomach lurch upwards, and let out a strangled cough, trying to release the spasm caught deep in his gut. He glared back at Suko. "That really get you off? Beatin' a guy with his hands behind his back!?"

"I tried to show you what got me off, but you didn't want it! Too bad, asshole, it would've felt better than this." Suko reared back and landed another violent punch in Starsky's gut.

Quickly catching his breath, Starsky seized his chance. Thrusting his knee up, he caught the goon firmly in the groin, sending him back a few steps. With Suko right where he wanted, Starsky took a running leap forward, and launched two cocked legs up in the air, landing a blue Adidas solidly into Suko's rib cage. The impact sent the thug flying backwards, but left Starsky landing harshly on his back.

Suko lost his footing and stumbled backwards until he slipped and smacked his head into the cement wall. Temporarily stunned, he slumped ungraciously to the floor. Astonished, Vinetti immediately rushed over to check on him. He'd never seen anyone land a bombshell like that on the hit man before.

Writhing on his back, Starsky knew he was done. The handcuffs had jabbed directly into his sore flank, and he was struggling to breathe against the stranglehold encircling his deflated lungs. The pain in his back quickly made its way to his stomach, prompting the meager contents inside to revolt. Starsky found himself fighting to keep from retching while sucking in as much air as he could. If Suko came at him again, he'd be in no shape to defend himself. Starsky could hear Vinetti talking to Suko and wished he could see his opponent's condition—hopefully the pervert was in as much pain as possible. Deciding to attack him was foolish, but Starsky was sick of getting beaten. As he lost the fight for control of his stomach, Starsky rolled over on his side, catching a quick glimpse of Suko looking as white as a sheet.

Rothman let out a deep sigh and strode over to the two hit men, somewhat embarrassed that a handcuffed cop had managed to land such a devastating blow against one of his best. Suko mumbled a few unintelligible words as he started to regain his senses, then slowly raised a hand and draped it over the back of his head.

After taking in a few deep breaths, Suko blurted out, "Son-of-a-bitch! That hurts!" Looking at Rothman, he said, "You gotta let me kill 'im. No one gets away with doing that to me!"

Rothman glanced contemptuously at Suko. "Why don't you just concern yourself with getting back on your feet, and finishing your job?" he muttered.

Suko shook his head at Rothman, disappointed he hadn't gotten more sympathy. Aided by Vinetti, he pulled himself back up, swaying unsteadily. Still winded from Starsky's kick, he placed both hands on his hips, keeping his chest cavity stretched out as far as possible. Walking back over to the prone detective, Suko paused—wanting to do so much, but not knowing which was going to satisfy him the most.

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Hutch still wasn't comfortable with Bree's insistence on staying at Starsky's apartment, but while driving there he decided against citing stories of syndicate depravity to try and change her mind. Bree already had a taste of it and any further discussion wouldn't make her feel better about her brother's welfare. As she sat slumbering in the passenger seat, her head resting on his chest, Hutch gently braced her body with his draped arm as he turned the last corner. Arriving at the apartment, Hutch took note of the patrol car parked nearby, and pulled into the driveway.

Hutch squeezed Bree firmly and said, "Hey, sleeping beauty. We're here."

Bree slowly opened her eyes. Not quite sure of her bearings, she looked blearily out the window. When she realized they were at the apartment, she looked over at Hutch. "Gosh, I can't believe I fell asleep so fast."

Opening the car door, Hutch said, "C'mon, I'll help you out."

Once inside the apartment, Hutch walked around, checking all the rooms and closets. He was glad to see the crime scene team had cleaned up well and left very little indication they'd been there, knowing it would only have served as a reminder of the horror from the night before. Finishing his inspection in the bathroom, Hutch came out to the living room, sad to see Bree still standing by the couch, looking completely heartbroken. He walked closer and stopped, understanding her pain, and frustrated at not being able to take it away. As a compromise, he reached out and folded his arms around her in a comforting hug.

"You still want to stay here?" he softly asked.

"Yes. I do." Looking at the bedroom, she asked, "Could you just stay until I change out of these clothes?"

"Sure. I could hang around long enough for you to take a shower, if you want."

"No, that's okay," she said, utterly exhausted. "I just want to crash on the couch."

"Go ahead then. I'll wait." Hutch watched as she shuffled into the bedroom, and emerged a few minutes later dressed in a clean t-shirt and baggy sweat pants. Still feeling uneasy with leaving her alone, he resigned himself and said, "I'll stop by later on—sometime this evening?"

"Yeah, that would be fine." She walked up to him, and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks for doing this. Don't worry about me; just go find my brother, okay?"

"I'll find him. I promise, I'll find him." Hutch brushed the side of her face with his hand, then walked to the front door and opened it. Turning around, he said, "Make sure you lock it, okay?" He then headed out the door.

Bree looked around the empty apartment, stopping her gaze briefly at the kitchen table. She could still picture David there, totally defenseless with a gun stuck in his face, being obscenely manhandled. As she shoved the painful memory out of her head, she climbed onto the couch, and covered herself with the afghan. Her mind needed to rest, along with her body, before she could do anything to help David. Fluffing the pillow, she buried her head in its softness, and allowed the exhaustion to take over.

As Hutch got back to his car, he could hear the dispatcher trying to contact him.

"This is Zebra 3, go ahead," he said. Hutch felt suddenly alone, wishing the other half of their radio call name was there beside him.

"I have Captain Dobey for you on Tack two."

Switching radio frequencies, Hutch replied, "Go ahead, Captain."

"Hutch, I wanted to let you know Starsky's car arrived here a little while ago. The crime lab is just finishing up with it."

"I'm on my way back right now." Hutch turned over the ignition, and put the LTD in gear.

"Hutch, is Breanna with you?" Dobey asked.

Hutch stopped the car, curious about the captain's question. "No, I just dropped her off."

"I need you back here as soon as possible…there's something you need to see."

The tone of Dobey's voice shot through Hutch like a bullet. Whatever Dobey had, it wasn't good. "I'll be right there, Captain," he said, jamming the accelerator and backing out into the street. He waved at the officers in the patrol car, then sped off down the hill.

Hutch pulled into the police garage and parked haphazardly alongside the maintenance building. As he got out, a bright red object at the far end of the lot caught his eye. He stopped his march into the precinct, and slowly walked over to the Torino parked underneath a sheltering span of the roof awning.

Seeing the car from the rear, Hutch initially thought he had overestimated its damage, but when he looked down the driver's side towards the front end, his heart sank. The Ford looked like it had been dropped straight on its nose. Both front tires were flat, most likely from being punctured by the grossly crushed front end. The hood was bent across the middle, forming gaps between it and the fenders, revealing glimpses of the engine inside. The front grill and bumper were pushed off towards the passenger side and mashed, as if the car had taken a hard right hook from a boxing eighteen-wheeler. The windshield was covered in spider web cracks, and still visible near the passenger side, two bullet holes pierced the glass. On any other day, Hutch would have been happy to see the Torino in such bad shape, but now the thought of losing the car and the buddy who owned it was too devastating.

Hutch turned away and walked back to the precinct building, entering through the rear door. Before he reached Dobey's office, Minnie intercepted him in the hallway.

"Hey, Hutch, what happened to Starsky's car? Word's out that he's missing. Is it true?" The worry in Minnie's voice sounded foreign to Hutch. She was always composed, rarely showing any anxiety.

Briefly taking hold of her arm, he said, "Sorry Minnie, gotta see the Captain…but yes, Starsky's missing."

Leaving her stunned, Hutch continued on to Dobey's office, deliberately avoiding eye contact with a few other detectives poised to ask him the same questions. Hutch heard the baritone voice acknowledge his knock and stepped inside the office. He had never seen Dobey look so troubled.

"Come on in and close the door," Dobey said gruffly, holding a manila envelope on his desk.

Hutch complied and approached the desk.

"You'd better sit down," Dobey said, in a much gentler tone.

"Captain, I don't need to sit down. Whatever you've got to show me…"

"I said, sit down!" Dobey fired out, but with a look of compassion in his eyes.

Hutch raised both hands, surrendering, then took a seat. Dobey flipped the envelope around, letting Hutch see the evidence tag stuck on the front. He tossed it over to him. "That was delivered here about an hour ago."

Hutch shot a concerned look at the captain, then leaned forward and picked up the envelope. He lifted the top flap, took a look inside, then turned it upside down, spilling a smaller envelope onto the desk. The words "For Detective Hutchinson – From Your Partner, Starsky" were handwritten on the front. Opening it, Hutch peeked inside. Not really sure of what he was seeing, he stared questioningly at Dobey, then dumped the items out on the desk. A folded piece of paper along with a leather billfold fell out. Hutch didn't need to open the wallet; he knew Starsky's badge and ID were inside, but the dark staining caught his eye. Suddenly he realized what it was.

Seeing the look of disgust on Hutch's face, Dobey said, "The lab just called before you arrived. They said it matches Starsky's blood type. You should also read the note."

Hutch unfolded the piece of paper. The printed message on it read,

"Detective Hutchinson, you seem to be missing a partner.

Why haven't you found him yet?

He doesn't have very long to live, you know.

Maybe you're not as good of a cop as you think you are."

Hutch stared at the note then, frustrated, tossed it back on Dobey's desk. With both elbows resting on his thighs, he planted his face into opened palms. His emotions ranged back and forth between utter disgust at the note's cruelty, to the anger of knowing someone with a sadistic mind had control of his partner. Internally, Hutch let the angry side take over. He wiped his face, and glancing at the note one last time, got up and headed for the door.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Dobey asked, placing the items back inside the envelope.

With his hand on the door knob, Hutch paused, then turned and said, "Well, I'm not gonna find him sitting in here." Opening the door, he started to leave.

"Hutchinson! I'm not done." Dobey got Hutch's attention enough to make him stop. "I've got a detective's meeting scheduled in ten minutes. I want you there while I update everyone on this case."

"Captain, I don't…"

"Can it, Hutch! This isn't a private vendetta!" Dobey paused for a moment. "Look, I gave my word to Breanna this department would do everything it could to get her brother back, and that's what I'm doing. I know how you feel about Starsky, but you can't do this by yourself. That's why we call it a police force." Dobey got up from his desk, and picked up a stuffed folder. With Hutch still standing frozen by the doorway, he muttered, "Care to join me next door, Sergeant?"

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Suko paused as he stood over the cop. With hands on his hips, taking in deeper breaths, he could finally feel his chest expanding normally again. Having had time to reflect, he was glad Rothman didn't let him kill the bastard immediately. He would've had instant gratification, but not at his victim's expense and Starsky wasn't finished paying yet.

He stared greedily at his wounded prey, knowing the cop was his for the taking. As Suko looked through the opened shirt, he could see ribs bulging out with each inhalation, along with contractions of stomach muscles that seemed to coincide with pain-filled grimaces. Starsky might be savoring his lucky shot, but judging his injured state now, he couldn't hurt a flea if he tried.

Suko's gaze met with Starsky's—the paled face showed suffering, but the eyes were still full of fight. Suko loathed that look. It represented a futile, but tenacious will to survive in his stronger victims, those who kept fighting until the last drop of life left their bodies. Suko enjoyed dealing with a little defiance, but Starsky was probably going to be more stubborn than most, unshakable until the bitter end. Suko would just have to use harder tactics until Starsky's breaking point could be found.

Suko elbowed Vinetti and said, "Help me get him up." Each grabbed an arm and together they hauled Starsky over to one of the walls. While keeping the cop upright, Suko asked, "Ya got that blindfold with you somewhere?"

Vinetti reached into a pocket. "Yeah, right here," he said, and pulled out the folded cloth, handing it to Suko.

"Hold on to him for a sec." Suko let go of his grip and tied the cloth around Starsky's eyes. He then grabbed hold of the shirt and pulled it back over both shoulders, fully exposing Starsky's chest and abdomen. Seeing the cop tense up delighted Suko. He was probably going to enjoy this even more than Rothman.

Grinning at Vinetti, Suko said, "Remember that loan shark we did a few months ago?" Seeing an affirmative response, he added, "I'm gonna do the same thing, just so you know."

Vinetti gave him an unconcerned nod. He wouldn't have to change his position much, but he turned slightly away from Starsky and more towards the wall.

Rothman took a few steps toward Suko, wanting to get his attention. When the hit man acknowledged him, he said, "I'm not sure what you've got planned, but I'm assuming he'll still be alive when you're done?"

"Oh yeah, he'll be alive, just hurtin' a lot," Suko replied, anxious to get started.

Not entirely convinced, Rothman stepped back. Suko did love his work, probably a little too much at times. The man had a cold heart and a sadistic mind, perfect for an enforcer. But the special interest he had in the detective concerned Rothman. Perhaps Suko needed to be on a tighter leash until they were done with Starsky and his partner.

Suko eyed Vinetti, and the big man tightened his grip.

Seeing Starsky draw back, Suko inflicted a verbal stab. "Scared, huh? Don't know what's gonna happen, do ya?"

"I only know you're nothin' but a coward. Someone who couldn't last two seconds in a fair fight!" Starsky growled, the tension in his stomach growing increasingly tight.

"Sorry your momma never told you the world ain't fair. Guess that's up to people like me to show ya," droned Suko.

"Yeah, just remember—I got you good with and withoutmy hands cuffed, so chew on that, you bastard!"

Suko reached into his jacket, and drew out his automatic, jamming the barrel straight into Starsky's muscled flank. "Yeah, well you can chew on this!" Cocking the hammer back, Suko hesitated just long enough so Starsky would know what was coming.

The echo of the shot reverberated throughout the small room. Suko reached up and jerked the blindfold off, wanting to see the expression on Starsky's face.

"How'd ya like the taste of that, you son-of-a-bitch?" he said, lapping up the look of shock on his victim's face. Starsky tried to say something, but the attempt was cut short as he sucked in a quivering gasp, nearly smothering the gurgle erupting from his throat. Starsky's belly suddenly convulsed and his face twisted into a grimace. He swallowed hard, and drew in another shaky breath. As his eyes fixed on Suko, the look of crushing defeat almost sent the shooter into ecstasy. This was priceless, and it had come without having to wait days to see.

"Suko!" Rothman came at the hit man as if possessed by demons. "Have you lost your mind? I told you I needed him alive!"

Irritated at Rothman for interrupting his moment of pleasure, he said, "He'll survive, Mr. Rothman—just been shot through the muscle." Turning to Vinetti, he said, "Let 'im go, Lou."

Vinetti released his hold on Starsky, letting him collapse to the floor. Suko stepped over and knelt down behind the injured cop. He scanned Starsky's bloodied back, and stuck a finger through the serrated hole torn in his shirt tail. "See?" he said, lifting the shirt up. "Bullet goes straight through." As he looked around on the floor, Suko located the slug, shaped like a mushroom after striking the concrete wall. He handed it to Rothman, stating, "Here—a little something else for you to send to his partner."

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Bree suddenly sat up on the couch, her heart racing and utterly terrified. Scanning the apartment, she quickly gained her bearings, relieved somewhat to find herself in a familiar setting. She had been awakened by something she could only describe as a solid wave of fear, but it wasn't a dream. This sensation was bitterly real, and its thick essence hung menacingly in the air, smothering her senses with its overwhelming weight.

She threw the afghan off and got up, heading to the phone in the kitchen. As she picked up the receiver, she stopped, wondering what she was going to tell Hutch. Certain he would think she was crazy, she hung up and walked back to the couch. A quick glance at the clock on the living room wall showed it was almost seven o'clock. She was still tired, but not enough to go back to sleep. The icy sense of fear was still there, and she sensed it had something to do with David.

She picked up the afghan and wrapped it around her, trying to seek comfort in its warmth, but the anguish was too much. She crumpled onto the couch, and emptied her pain into the pillow. There were so many questions with no answers. Why did this happen? How was she going to tell Rachel? If Terri was trying to warn David, had Bree screwed up somehow? That question hurt the most. What good was it to have this gift, if she couldn't save her own brother?

Rubbing the tears away, she got up and went over to where Terri's picture sat. She looked at the young woman, and stared into her eyes, trying to form a connection. Bree wanted to blame her for all that had happened, but knew she couldn't. Terri was the messenger, and just because you didn't like the message…

A sharp knock at the front door made Bree jump, but as soon as she heard Hutch's voice, her heart settled back into her chest. She used a corner of the afghan to erase the last remaining wet streaks from her face, and then answered the door.

Hutch was standing on the landing, with two uniformed officers behind him. Bree could only assume they had been too late in finding David and were here to give her the bad news. She looked into Hutch's eyes and felt her own start filling again.

"Bree! Are you okay? What happened?" Hutch asked. It was obvious from her reddened eyes that she was upset.

"I'm fine…I guess you found David…" she said, dabbing a burgeoning tear from her eye.

Confused, Hutch fearfully asked, "Bree, did you hear something about Starsky?"

"No. Nobody called. I thought that's why you were here, to tell me you found him."

"I'm here because I tried to call and you didn't answer the phone. I thought something might have happened."

"I…you tried to call? Oh God…" The realization hit Bree that Hutch didn't have bad news. "Hutch, I'm sorry, I didn't hear the phone ring. I must have been really wiped out."

Hutch let out a deep breath then turned to the officers behind him, and said, "Thanks, guys. We'll be okay." The officers acknowledged him and headed back down the stairs. Hutch came inside and took a hold of Bree, giving her a tight hug. Separating after a few moments, he said, "I didn't mean to scare you, but I woke you up though, huh?"

"No. I was awake."

Her melancholic tone prompted him to ask, "Did you get any rest?"

"Yeah, I did," she said, stretching the afghan more tightly around her shoulders. "Have you found out anything?"

Hutch felt his expression change, and hoped Bree didn't notice. There was no way he could tell her about the envelope Dobey had received, but she deserved to be told something.

"We heard from the people who took him—" Hutch saw Bree's face light up, "—but we're not sure who they are, or…where he might be." He silently congratulated himself for not saying 'if he's still alive.'

Bree felt a twinge of hope, but sensed he was hiding something.

"You heard from them…but you're not sure who they are." She studied Hutch's eyes for any sign of disclosure, but they were steady and bright. Continuing, she said, "Hutch, I know you're holding something back. I'm not a child, or an idiot! David's my brother; I was here last night with him! I even shot someone…" She closed her eyes, and turned away. "You think that whatever you're not telling me is going to be worse than what I've already been through?"

Hutch braced himself against the sharpness of her voice. "Bree, as much as I think you have a right to know certain things, this is still a police matter."

Bree spun around, furious at his patronizing response. "Bull shit! How dare you use that excuse!?" She saw the shocked look on his face, and tried to compose herself. "You don't have a monopoly on involvement here, Hutch. I may not have been around in David's life for the past several years, but that doesn't make me some second-rate cousin. 'Police matter' my ass!"

She walked over to the couch and sat down. As Hutch walked over to her, she held up her hand.

"Don't! Don't say anything. You obviously don't know me, and that's okay. But if that's all you think you can say, then get back out there and find him, Hutch. I told you before; I don't need to be baby sat." Speaking more to herself, she continued, "I wish I could do something…but, no Bree, 'cause you know what? It's a police matter. Maybe if you were a guy, someone would take you seriously."

"Bree! That's enough! You want to know everything, then you're gonna hear it!" Hutch said. "But don't hold me responsible if you don't like what I'm about to tell you."

TBC