Thanks so much for the encouraging reviews! My bio is also up now.
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Chapter 9
"And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?" Keane
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Dobey stuck his head out of the office, looking for a certain detective. "Hutch," he said, almost disappointed to find the blond sitting at his desk, "I need to see you for a moment."
Hutch caught a glimpse of the captain's face before he disappeared back into the room. The intense look in his eyes and stiff appearance could only mean one thing—more bad news. As Hutch reluctantly got up, his empty stomach tightened a bit, sending a ripple of nausea through his body.
"Close the door," Dobey mumbled, sounding like the simple act of talking was too difficult.
Hutch reached back and grabbed the doorknob, but not before seeing another manila envelope clutched in Dobey's hands. After shutting the door, he sat down in one of the vinyl chairs, not waiting to be asked this time.
"We've heard from our friends again." Dobey flipped the envelope in his hands, but before handing it over, gave Hutch an empathetic look. "Before you read this, there was another item inside—a hollow point bullet fired from a 9mm automatic. The lab doesn't know yet if it came from Starsky's gun, but his blood type was on it."
Hutch heard the last sentence, but couldn't let it sink in. He reached out and grabbed the envelope from Dobey, who seemed surprised at the action. How do you expect me to react to that, Captain? He opened the packet and pulled out a handwritten note, encased securely within a plastic evidence bag. Holding the paper so he could see it clearly, Hutch read each word carefully.
"Detective Hutchinson, Your partner is running out of time.
But before he goes, he wants to tell you what a bang up job you're doing.
Expect his call sometime this afternoon, when he wakes up from his nap."
Hutch looked at Dobey, relief spilling from his eyes. "He's alive, Capt'n…Starsky's still alive!"
Dobey stared back at him, a worried expression on his face. Hutch glanced back at the note, wondering if he had misread something. As he examined it again, the smile that had been there a minute ago faded away.
"He's being kept alive—long enough for Rothman to get his drug shipment in. And it's coming, just like the note says, 'sometime this afternoon.'"
With a puzzled look, Dobey asked, "What are you talking about? What drug shipment?"
"Huggy heard about some more dope coming in. Apparently, Rothman's a fast operator. That's why he grabbed Starsky, so we'd be too busy looking for him instead of trying to nail Rothman with another bust."
"Hell of a way to do business, even for scum like him."
"Captain, I think I've got a good lead on one of Starsky's kidnappers, but we need to spring a junkie from a felony burglary charge up in Malibu."
"Felony? And what's this about 'we'?!"
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Bree heard a knock at the front door. When she answered, Huggy was there along with a woman she thought she recognized, but couldn't remember from where.
"Hi! Thanks for coming." She stepped back and invited them in. "Did you get by the watchdogs okay?"
"Yeah, no sweat. They just looked at us and waved. Good thing we're not here to rob the place." Huggy was wondering if Bree was really safe or not.
Bree smiled and said, "I went out and spoke to them after I called so they'd be expecting you."
"Well, I guess I'll hold back callin' them the Keystone Cops then." Huggy held an introductory hand out to his accomplice. "Breanna Starsky, this is Diane Sills. She's one of my best waitresses."
"I'm your only waitress." she said, shoving an elbow in his side, "It's good to meet you. I'm sorry to hear about Starsky… I mean, your brother. He's really a cool guy."
"Thank you." Bree fell silent for a moment, afraid of letting her suppressed feelings surface. "Could I get either of you something to drink?"
"No," answered both. Then Huggy said, "So, what's this grand scheme of yours?"
"I think what I've got to say, you're gonna want to hear sitting down," Bree said, motioning towards the couch.
After the trio sat, Bree explained her experiences since coming to Bay City. It came as no surprise, when she got to the part about talking to Terri, that her audience was looking a bit overwhelmed.
"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" she asked, feeling dejected yet again.
"I guess what matters is that you believe it," Huggy said, trying to be understanding.
"But you don't believe me." Bree could tell Huggy's answer just by looking at him.
Compelled by an unknown reason, she got up and went over to sit down beside him. Bree took his hand into hers and closed her eyes. After a few moments, she opened them back up. "You were very close to someone, when you were young. A male…someone you were related to. Both of you were about the same age…when he passed."
Surprised, Huggy lifted his eyebrows and glanced over to Diane. She gave him a bewildered look, then both focused back on Bree. "Yeah, there was someone like that," he said, not wanting to reveal too much.
Bree kept her eyes glued to Huggy's. She could sense the presence of another person in the room now, and the feeling kept intensifying along with the strength of the voice she was hearing. "He had a nickname…Jay, Jacob…no, Jace. Jace Brown." Stunned, Huggy's eyes lit up and he pulled his hand away. There was no way Bree couldn't have known about his teenaged cousin or the circumstances surrounding his death nearly twenty years ago. He'd never mentioned it to anyone, not even Starsky, and he had no idea how Bree could even know he had a cousin, let alone his name.
Seeing Huggy's reaction, Bree wasn't sure if her revelation would convince him to trust her or not. But wherever this spirit had come from, he was insisting on being heard. "Huggy, there's something this person wants you to know—," Bree could sense the boy's desperation becoming stronger. "He…okay! Jace says that item you left…the bracelet? No, sorry…the necklace. I don't understand him, but he keeps saying it wouldn't have made a difference if you had gone with him…but the necklace, that was yours…his gift to you." Suddenly, that was it. All Bree could hear was silence. "I think he's gone now, Huggy. I can't hear him anymore."
Huggy sat quietly, taking in what Bree had said. He and Jace had been very close, more like brothers than cousins, but both were no strangers to trouble. Often the boys would have to steal, mostly for food, and on a particular day twenty years ago, the two were trying to make their escape after raiding a local bodega. With the store owner right on their tails, Huggy told Jace to split up. Unfortunately, Jace ran across two beat cops and didn't stop for their warnings. He died on the street long before any medical help arrived.
When Jace was buried, Huggy left a necklace—a simple, leather strap threaded through a buffalo nickel with a hole in it—on the grave. Jace had given it to him a week earlier as a birthday present. Huggy left it with his cousin, the only possession he had to give.
As Huggy drifted back from his memories, he shook off the past and rose from the couch. He slowly walked over to the window, still wondering what to make of Bree's story. Huggy shoved his hands into his pants pockets, then turned to Bree. "I've got to say, that's one mind blowing gift, little sister. But tell me this—what's it got to do with finding your brother? I mean, how's it going to help?"
"Huggy, I'd be lying if I told you I knew for sure. But I can't just sit here and wait for something to happen. Every ounce of me is saying I need to help him, and that this gift is the key. I've got to follow my instincts, or I'm never gonna be able to live with myself."
"Bree…if you get hurt, how am I gonna live with myself? And what about Hutch? You don't think he's going to come unglued when he finds out?" Despite the way he sounded, Huggy was torn. Something deep inside was telling him this was Starsky's only chance, but he didn't want to help Bree on some suicide mission either.
"Huggy, I'm just asking for you to trust me. Whatever happens, I'd never blame you, but I can't do this alone." Bree glanced over at the clock, then softly said, "And we're running out of time."
Huggy let out a loud sigh. He was fighting a losing battle and he'd be damned either way things went. Looking over at Diane, he asked, "So what's your opinion? You'd be part of this too."
She looked at Bree, then over to Huggy. "I don't think I have one. But Starsky's her brother, and she's gotta do what her heart is telling her. I know you well enough to say if this was your blood you wouldn't even think twice. I don't think she's asking you to risk your life…just help her risk hers." Diane looked back at Bree, smiling. The expression was returned.
Huggy gave Diane a frustrated frown. Two women against one guy—no man could win against those odds. "Okay…just let me say it was nice knowin' you two, 'cause when Hutch finds out about this, I'm as good as dead."
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Dobey let out a massive rush of air. "Well, if you can't authorize it, find me someone to talk to who can! Yes, I'll hold!"
The angry glance he threw over at Hutch spoke volumes. The captain had been on the phone for the last half hour, getting bounced from one department to another and having no luck in locating the right person who could authorize dismissing felony charges against Charlie's cousin. All Hutch could think about was, if he had gone ahead and driven down to Malibu, he'd be there by now.
"Yes? This is Captain Dobey, who am I speaking to? Oh, yes, Assistant District Attorney Marshall. Sorry to drag you away from your lunch, but I've got a situation…" Dobey glanced at Hutch—the expression on the captain's face getting steadily grimmer by the second. "I can see your point, sir, but you're not understanding mine. I've got a detective's life at stake here! You and I both know that kicking this turkey back out on the street isn't going to blemish your fine record. Chances are he's going to be caught stealing again and be back in jail within a month—and probably sooner than that!"
Hutch was on the edge of his chair, waiting for the slightest hint of concession in Dobey to leap up, grab the phone and give the person on the other end a big chunk of his mind.
"I assure you, Mr. Marshall, nothing will be released to the press on our end. What? I see. And how long do you think that will take? Uh-huh. Well, time is of the essence here. I understand. And you'll call me right back? Fine. Yes, and thank you."
Dobey slammed the receiver down. Hutch nervously asked, "Well, what'd he say?"
"Mainly he's worried about covering his butt. He wants to contact the detectives who worked the case—see if they're okay with dropping the charges."
"What! Captain, I…"
"Just hold your horses." Dobey stuck his palm out towards Hutch. "He's not expecting a problem other than just trying to get a hold of them. Both are on days off, but he's going to call back within a half hour and let me know either way."
Hutch slumped back in his chair. Every minute that passed meant less time left to find who had kidnapped his partner, and not knowing when Starsky's phone call was due only added to his anxiety. One thing was certain, Dobey's office was becoming extremely claustrophobic and Hutch had to get some fresh air.
"Captain, I'll be right back." As Hutch got up, he thought of one more thing. "Charlie's cousin needs to call him as soon as he's released. Can you make sure the jail doesn't let him out the front gate until he makes that call?"
"Yeah, sure; just don't be gone too long." Dobey watched Hutch walk out. "I hope you're right on this, Hutchinson," he said to himself as he picked up the phone. "Otherwise, all our asses are going to be on the line."
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Starsky woke again, only to be greeted by inky darkness. He'd been immersed in a cyclic haze of unconsciousness and awareness, the pattern only sporadically broken by unwelcomed pain coming from any number of places on his body. It seemed like hours had gone by since his kidnappers had left. Someone should have returned by now, but considering the kind of attention he was getting from his nursemaids, especially one in particular, being left alone was probably just as well.
A low rumble escaped from his stomach, trying to convince his brain it wanted food. He wasn't real hungry, but thirst was another issue altogether. His mouth and throat felt like sandpaper, and with each breath that scraped along the rough pathway, the dryness inside of him only intensified.
Starsky closed his eyes. Somehow it made the darkness seem less intimidating. He started to think about things he knew he had to. Dying. That was a big one. Never had put a lot of thought into it…
Who am I kidding?
Ever since the day Pop died, he'd thought about it plenty, just never accepted the fact it was going to happen to him. Even getting shot two years ago, he'd been more afraid of Hutch dying in that restaurant than him.
I'm invincible, that's why.
He had to think like that. Without a strong sense of survival, he would be vulnerable and weak, an easy target for anyone wanting to take him out.
So how'd I end up on Rothman's serving platter then?
A spasm of pain suddenly spiked from the bullet wound, causing him to curl up and press his head against the wall beside him until the hurt rode itself out. Okay, dammit, so I'm not invincible, but I'm not weak either.
As the agony subsided, Starsky eased his back against the wall again. He wondered if the pain would ever stop, or if it'd be there right up until…the end. Part of him wanted to go out fighting, another part wished that sick pervert would just put a bullet into his brain. What was he thinking? He'd never wanted to give up before, even when Bellamy's poison had almost sucked the life out of him.
Yeah, I came close that time. Hutch was there, though…I had him to hang on to…not like now.
So what was he saying? That he couldn't be strong unless Hutch was there?
Shit. All I know right now is that I'm tired of hurting and tired of being scared. Maybe I was never strong…just lucky enough so I never had to be.
His reflections were interrupted as a series of convulsive tremors hit his stomach, making him feel sicker than before. Struggling against the gag, Starsky managed to force down a dry swallow, trying to avert the urge to vomit. After several minutes, he was able to control the impulses, but sweat now coated his skin, cooling him off in the already chilly air. Pitch blackness still enveloped the room, but in its midst, movement of obscure shadows caught his attention. As he blinked his eyes trying to clear his vision, misty figures began to emerge, hazily outlined against the dark walls. The apparitions seemed to resemble human forms, although very crudely, and began drifting towards him. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, the entities suddenly vanished. An icy chill shot through him, and he drew his legs up closer to his body, trying to seek comfort as best as he could. I guess you'll never know this, Hutch, but I tried to hang on, for you and Bree, I really did…just couldn't anymore. Starsky closed his eyes and shuddered as the despair, suffocatingly strong, grabbed hold, pulling him into an inescapable void. As the emptiness seeped in and began to take over his soul, he let go.
Oblivion, long overdue, had finally arrived.
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Bree and Huggy had made it to his car and were driving towards downtown, leaving the officers parked outside of Starsky's apartment unaware of the passenger switch. As she stared blankly out the window, Bree struggled with the ongoing turmoil in her head. She was flying by the seat of her pants, with no plan, just an instinctual drive pushing her into actions any sane person would have avoided like the plague. She was glad Huggy had decided to involve himself, but knew he wasn't comfortable with his decision. While she would have felt braver having him by her side after they got to their destination, she couldn't endanger his life past that point. Huggy would be the key if things didn't work out, but that was something he wouldn't know until the last moment. Bree hoped he would understand.
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Dobey came out of his office in a hurry. He looked in the squad room then went out in the hall, still not seeing the blond-haired detective anywhere in the vicinity. As he turned to head back into his office, he sighted Hutch coming out of the elevator. Dobey caught his attention and nodded towards his office.
Hutch trotted in right after Dobey and quickly closed the door. The captain seemed at ease, and for the first time in two days, Hutch felt hopeful.
"Just got off the phone with the jail supervisor in Malibu. He says the guy called his cousin, even dialed the phone number himself so he'd be sure he didn't call someone else."
"That's great. Thanks, Captain." Hutch didn't wait for a response as he opened the door and flew out into the hall.
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Suko pulled up in front of the warehouse, surprised to see that Vinetti's car wasn't there. As he got out and headed to the door, he heard a vehicle approaching. Although he was relieved to see the familiar sedan, Suko couldn't wait to tear into its driver.
Vinetti saw Suko standing by the front door, and wondered why he was outside. After parking his car, he had just barely stepped out when Suko came charging up.
"Where the hell have you been? Did you just get here!?" he said, thrusting up against the open car door and nearly slamming it into Vinetti.
"Me!? Of course I'm just getting here. You were covering the morning, right? I told you I had that doctor's appointment today." Vinetti finished getting out of the car, but not before having to shove the door back against Suko.
"Aw fuck! I thought you said that was tomorrow!" Suko felt the blood drain from his face.
Vinetti looked at his watch, then back at Suko. Each gave the other the same disgusted sneer then bolted towards the warehouse.
Suko reached up and turned on the light switch, then clumsily jabbed the key into the lock, finally opening the door. Both men crowded into the doorway, then stood frozen looking at the still figure slumped in the corner. Suko looked at Vinetti, panic clearly etched on his face. He stiffly walked over to Starsky, hoping to see some sign of breathing, but the cop seemed entirely too still. Suko squatted down and checked Starsky's neck for a pulse. After a few seconds, Suko dropped his head down to his chest.
Vinetti's heart sank. "Oh shit," he said.
Suko's head turned back slightly. "He's not dead, but he's barely breathing." He rose back up, and placed both hands on his hips. "I doubt if he's gonna make it until three o'clock."
Vinetti walked into the room and stood at Suko's side. "Should we call Rothman…let him know?"
"And then what? Tell 'im we screwed up?"
"We? This ain't you and me, this is you! You're the one who fucked up here. Don't even think about…"
"Oh, shut up!" Suko yelled. He knew if Starsky died, it'd be his fault, but right now he didn't need Vinetti's lip. He bent down and untied the gag from Starsky's face, then laid him out on the floor. Speaking in a gentler tone to Vinetti, he said, "Go get me some water and a towel, will ya?"
Vinetti let out a small huff, then left to find the items. What's he think he's going to do? Throw some water on him and bring him back to life?
After returning to the room, Vinetti handed the towel to Suko and placed the cup of water on the floor. Suko wetted part of the towel and wiped Starsky's face.
"Think maybe he'd get better if we could get some water down him?" Vinetti asked.
"So now it's we—" Suko caught himself and looked up apologetically. "Yeah, he probably would. His face feels awful warm though." Suko lifted Starsky's shirt open and examined the bandages. Nothing looked terribly bad, but it didn't take graduating from medical school to know the cop needed a doctor.
"Let's sit him back up and see if he'll swallow some." Vinetti hunched over and with Suko's help, hoisted the unresponsive cop up against the wall.
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Hutch pulled up in front of the Wild Pony Tavern and went inside. A few more customers had arrived since the morning and were spread out through the bar. Hutch planted himself at the end of the counter, waiting as patiently as he could while Charlie finished serving a pair of very drunk females. Finally freeing himself, the bar owner walked over to Hutch, a stupid grin plastered across his face.
"Yeah, he called," Charlie said, wiping his hands on a towel. "Couldn't thank me enough. Swore on his dead mother's grave he'd repay me this time—"
"Charlie," Hutch broke in, exasperated, "I hate to break up the family reunion, but I'm a little pressed for time, so start making good on your end of things—now!"
The smile on Charlie's face faded away. He leaned forward and, in a quieter voice, said, "Man's name is Frankie Suko. Like I said, he spent a lot of time on the east coast."
Hutch grabbed hold of the towel, ready to tell Charlie exactly what would happen if the name turned out to be bogus, but thought better of it and let go. He threw Charlie an insincere smile and left as quickly as he had come in.
Once back inside the LTD, Hutch asked dispatch to patch him through to Dobey. He gave him the name and asked the captain to try to locate a mug shot of Suko. After ending the call, Hutch leaned back in the car seat and tried to stretch out the tension in his stiff muscles. Hang on buddy, I'm getting closer.
Back at the precinct, Hutch took the staircase, two steps at a time, to the fifth floor and plowed into Dobey's office barely knocking and almost out of breath. Without a word, Dobey handed him a file folder. Hutch snatched it out of his hands and began to pore over its contents while settling blindly into a chair.
"R&I is trying to get a hold of a picture from the NYPD," Dobey said. "Seems the last time he was arrested and sent to jail was about ten years ago." Hutch kept his eyes focused on the file. Dobey went on, "What's interesting is the number of times he's been charged with something since then and it's been dismissed—including two charges of manslaughter."
Hutch raised his head. He closed the file and let it sit on his lap. "Guess Charlie's in-law knew what he was talking about." Dobey gave him a confused look. Answering as if the captain had asked him a question, Hutch said, "Apparently this guy is the highest paid hit man on the west coast. He's so valuable to his employers they'll do God-only-knows-what to keep him from going to jail."
Someone knocked on the door. Sergeant Collins entered the office, holding a fax sheet with a picture of Frankie Suko. Hutch took the paper and looked at it with Dobey.
"Captain—," Hutch began.
"I'm already ahead of you." Picking up the phone, Dobey called dispatch, advising them of an APB on Suko.
After Dobey hung up the phone, Hutch said, "I'm going over to see Bree and show her the picture. If she can identify him, we can change that APB from 'wanted for questioning' to 'wanted for kidnapping.'"
"Okay, in the meantime we'll have copies of his picture issued to all the patrol units." Dobey glanced over at Collins.
"No need to say any more. Consider it done." Collins turned and left out the door.
"And you—"
Before Dobey had a chance to continue, Hutch said, "I'll let you know what she says as soon as I find out." With that, Hutch followed the sergeant out of the office.
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Huggy pulled up along the curb in front of the Metro Plaza Complex. Built just two years before, the fifty story office building was one of the tallest in Bay City, and charged the highest lease rates to its occupants. Its prime location and stylish suites commanded the steep fees, and rumor had it there was a list of companies willing to wait at least five years to sign new leases.
"I'm not sure what floor his office is on, but the name of the company is Excel Corporation," Huggy told Bree, while looking over the top of his sunglasses at the tall building. "Just wait for me by the front entrance and I'll go park in the underground garage."
Bree swallowed hard. "Huggy…I can't thank you enough for helping me, but I plan to take it from here."
Huggy pulled down his glasses and looked at Bree. "What'd you just say?"
"I wasn't completely honest with you. I needed to find Rothman, and you were the only person I knew who could show me." Bree glanced down at her lap, not wanting to see Huggy's reaction. "I didn't mean to use you, but Hutch would have never told me. I know he's going to be mad—at both of us." She pulled out a piece of paper from her jacket pocket and handed it to Huggy.
"This your last will and testament?" Huggy's voice was tight.
"No. If you don't see me again, I need you to call that number. Only one person will ever answer it. His name is Renzo. Tell him everything you know and that I gave that number to you."
Huggy opened up the note and saw the out of state area code on it. "I take it 'Renzo' doesn't live in the neighborhood?"
"Not unless you consider Jersey City, New Jersey, next door." Bree combed her hand through her hair, and looked out the passenger window. "Just between us, I spent a good deal of my early twenties involved with people who, well, didn't go to church on Sundays. Luckily, I was able to get out before I had to sacrifice all of my integrity."
She took another quick look at Huggy and cracked open the car door, but then stopped. "The people who killed our Pop had some powerful enemies—not all of them wore blue uniforms. If you have to call that number, Huggy…just know that whoever was responsible for David and me…" Bree stopped. She couldn't say anymore, but as she got out of the car and closed the door, she peered back in through the window. The look on Huggy's face told her he had understood perfectly.
"Hey!" Huggy said, just as Bree turned to leave.
"Yeah?"
"Was there anything else that, huh, Jace might have told you?"
Bree smiled. "He's at peace, Huggy. He cared a lot about you, and he never blamed you in any way for what went down." With that, she turned around and headed towards the building.
"Yeah, take care little sis," Huggy said to himself as he watched Bree disappear inside the front entrance. He then pulled back into traffic, wondering how he was ever going to explain to Hutch what he'd done.
Bree looked at the directory plaque on the wall by the main set of elevators. Excel Corporation was located on the forty-ninth floor. After riding up, she got off the elevator and walked through a small foyer to a set of enormous frosted glass doors, embossed with the name of the company in large, polished brass letters that glistened even under the indirect lighting. She pushed the doors open and walked in from the foyer. The suite that greeted her was enormous and essentially devoid of many things that would indicate the company made its money the old fashion way. There were no cubicles or individual offices, and no employees for that matter, except for one, sitting behind a gigantic reception desk.
Bree walked over and stood in front of the receptionist. The woman appeared to be in her early-forties, and from the way she was dressed and wore her makeup, looked like an over-aged Barbie doll trying to recapture her youth. She was involved in a lengthy and clearly personal phone call and gave no sign of wanting to end it early. Bree had caught the woman's head-to-toe inspection from the moment she stepped into the suite, and knew she'd been judged as someone who could be made to wait.
Finally, the woman told her caller she'd get back to them and directed her attention to Bree. "Can I help you?" she asked, her tone plainly condescending.
"Yes. I'm here to see Benjamin Rothman."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No, I don't have an appointment, but I'm sure he'll want to see me." Bree returned the woman's arrogant glare.
"Your name?"
"Just tell him 'Starsky.'"
The woman rolled her eyes slightly, but nonetheless picked up the phone and briefly spoke to another party. Within a minute, a well-dressed man appeared in the lobby, looking a bit surprised when he caught sight of Bree. While she had no idea what Rothman looked like, Bree was sure this man wasn't him. He was too mousy-looking, and gave her the impression he would jump three feet into the air if she yelled 'boo' loud enough.
"Hello," he said, offering a handshake. "My name is Peter Jenkins. I'm Mr. Rothman's assistant. May I ask what business you have to discuss with him?"
Bree shook Jenkin's hand, then politely replied, "Of course. Tell him I'm the one who shot his employee the other night."
Bree had heard about shocked people having their face turn deathly pale, but until now she'd never seen it happen before. She stole a glance at the receptionist, who obviously had been close enough to hear their conversation, and could have sworn the same thing just happened to her.
Jenkins glanced nervously at the receptionist then turned quickly back to Bree. "If you'd care to follow me, I'll make sure Mr. Rothman sees you directly."
"Thank you." Before following Jenkins, Bree gave the receptionist a dirty look, pleased to see she was sitting petrified in her plush leather seat.
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Hutch drove into Starsky's driveway and parked the car. He got out and gave a quick wave to the officers parked across the street. He climbed the stairs and knocked on the front door. When a female voice answered, Hutch thought it was odd that Bree didn't open the door right away.
"Bree, it's me, Hutch." He heard the lock slide back and the door slowly opened. Nothing could have prepared him for the shock that followed. "Diane? What are you doing here? Where's Bree!?"
Diane opened the door all the way. Giving him a sheepish grin, she said, "Um, Bree's not here Hutch."
When she didn't offer any further explanation, he asked, "And just where the hell is she?"
"She left with Huggy."
Hutch gave a disgusted sigh. He shoved himself through the doorway, pushing Diane backwards with his intimidating presence, then slammed the door behind him. Her frightened look calmed him down for a moment, but his building anger was hard to contain. "Diane," he said tersely, "I don't have the time or patience to play twenty questions here. Tell me why you're here, and where Bree and Huggy went."
"I'm here because Huggy asked me to come with him. Where he and Bree are, I honestly don't know."
Hutch raised a hand and massaged the back of his neck. Still angry, he said, "Diane, this isn't a game. Tell me where they're at or so help me…" Hutch pointed a warning finger at the waitress.
"Look, all I know is Bree called Huggy. Asked him to come over and bring a gal that was about her same size. Once we got here, they talked and Huggy agreed to drive her over to some office downtown."
Hutch scooped her arm up in his hand. "What office?"
"I don't know! Some guy she thought was responsible for kidnapping Starsky!"
"Oh my God…was the name Rothman?"
"Yeah, that's it. You want to let go of me now?" Diane was hoping that was the worst she'd have to experience of Hutch's anger.
He let her arm fall free. His gaze dropped to the floor, and he appeared to be deeply involved in thought. When he lifted his head back up he said, "I want you to stay right here. If Huggy or Bree comes back before I do, you'd better make sure they stay here and someone calls me quick. Got it?"
"Yeah, sure Hutch."
Hutch stormed out of the apartment and ran down the staircase. The two officers sitting in the patrol car had no idea of what was coming their way.
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Bree was led to another reception area situated outside of what appeared to be a large office. Jenkins had her take a seat on a velour couch as he opened the dark-stained wooden door and slipped inside the adjoining room. A few moments later, he reappeared and invited her in.
Walking through the door, Bree felt she had stepped into a miniature art gallery. The walls were literally covered in paintings, and scattered around the perimeter were various kinds and sizes of bronze sculptures, modern art statues and pieces of Victorian furniture. The carpeting was soft and plush, and at the end of the room, a distinguished-looking man sat behind a desk large enough to double as a banquet table. As she strolled closer, he got up and walked around to meet her.
"Hello," he said, stopping as he got around the desk. "I'm told you have a very interesting reason to be here today." Before Bree could say anything, the man motioned to Jenkins, who was still standing by the doorway. He closed the door and walked over to Bree. He reached inside of his jacket and pulled out a handgun, but kept the barrel pointed down as he crossed both hands together in front of his stomach. Bree turned her attention back to the man at the desk.
"If you could remove your jacket, miss, so that I can be assured our conversation won't be heard by anyone else?"
Bree hesitated a moment, then pulled the sweatshirt off.
"Fine. You can hand it to my assistant. Now, please lift your shirt up and turn slowly around."
The calculated manner in which Bree was instructed reminded her of the way she and Dave were taken hostage. Nothing was assumed, and every move planned so that the kidnappers always had the advantage. After performing the turn, Bree gratefully let her shirt back down.
"I hope you'll forgive my unusual requests, but one must always be careful when dealing with the unknown. Now that the formalities are done, introductions are in order. My name is Benjamin Rothman, but I don't think I've gotten your full name."
"My name is Starsky, Breanna Starsky, and I believe you're holding my brother against his will."
Rothman leaned back on the desk, and crossed his arms. "I'm not sure I appreciate being accused of kidnapping. Tell me, Miss Starsky, who is your brother and what prompts you to think I would be responsible for such a horrendous crime?"
Bree was amazed by Rothman's wariness. He wasn't implicating himself in the least, even with the assurance no one else was listening in on their conversation. "My brother is David Starsky. He's a police detective here in Bay City. I was with him the other night, when we were kidnapped. Fortunately, I was able to get away."
Rothman turned a deadly stare past Bree and toward Jenkins. She would have sworn by the look on Rothman's face that this was the first time he was hearing about this particular version of events. Rothman eyed her with a look only the Devil could master. "If…what you are saying is true, whatever makes you think you could do a damned thing about it?"
His sudden openness surprised Bree.
"Because I can identify your three goons, especially the one I shot. Maybe they'd be willing to go to jail for you, but what if just one of them isn't?"
"And if I was this ruthless person that you claim I am, what would keep me from making sure you couldn't succeed with your plan? Or are you just trying to bluff me?"
"Do you really think I would show up here without one? And then be stupid enough to share it with you?"
Rothman looked at his watch, then up at Bree. "Very well, Miss Starsky. I'll play your game, for now." He glanced over at Jenkins, who stepped up quickly behind Bree and grabbed her arms, holding them until each was secured behind her back with handcuffs.
Bree wasn't surprised by Rothman's move, but his quickness at grabbing her, without concern for what she might have planned, did. Being cuffed again brought back memories of the other night, but if there really was such a thing, what Bree was feeling this time was more of a controlled panic. As she breathed in deeply, trying to slow her racing heart, Bree concentrated on what lay ahead. There was no doubt her life and David's were resting on a miracle.
TBC