Chapter 21

The ride back to the small wooden building that Freiberger and son used as a local lockup took less than fifteen minutes, which was as well as both Hutch and Starsky were handcuffed and in the back of the truck, open to the elements, the sun and the insects. By the time the truck pulled up outside the Sheriff's office, both men were sweating and had swallowed more flies than they cared to count. Freiberger junior let down the tailgate of the truck and stood back as Hutch jumped down from the vehicle and waited for his partner to follow. For a moment Starsky did not move.

For the past five minutes or so Starsky had been lost in a world of his own, thinking about everything that had gone on since he'd gone to the island with Dr Isaac. The huge final dose of testosterone that Isaac had given him was beginning to wear off. Hutch's smaller dose had gone from his system hours earlier leaving the blond clear headed and now the natural hormone was leaving Starsky's bloodstream too. Far from leaving the brunet clear headed though, the smaller man was just plain tired, exhausted as never before and craving rest. His thoughts were still a shambles. For Starsky there was no slow beginning of memories returning. Whatever quirk of fate had allowed Hutch's mind to resist the brainwashing techniques and default back to its original settings was not shared by the brunet. Starsky was still adrift on a sea of black emptiness, his mind remembering only the hospital, his friend Dr Isaac and the pretty nurses who had cared for him so solicitously.

With his weariness also came another strange feeling and one that left him more confused than ever. So far, whenever he had looked at Hutch all he had seen had been a target – a man to kill as soon as he could. That in itself had been sufficient motive to get himself back together and despite his injuries, Starsky had made himself continue working through his pain so that he could get the job done. Now, he was suddenly unsure. For some reason, now that he was exhausted, hurting and lost, the brunet felt as though he should lean on Hutch emotionally. It was an almost indescribable feeling of knowing that Hutch would take care of him, no matter what. It was a comforting feeling and yet at the same time it made the skin on Starsky's belly crawl, to think that he would allow himself to be cared for by the man he'd spent so long trying to kill.

Insane. That was it! He was finally going insane. Flashes of that pretty girl's face flitted through his head. She was smiling at him, her big brown eyes twinkling with humour. She was saying something to him, but Starsky couldn't hear her and she was too far away for him to be able to read her lips. It seemed important that he listen to her and yet so much more was going on around him. Another face came into his head. In the brunet's mind, Hutch stood beside Starsky, dressed in a black suit and (stupidly) holding a teddy bear. Hutch looked sad and as Starsky turned back to the girl with the huge eyes, she faded away, pointing at Hutch. The feeling of loss was so strong that Starsky swallowed down a sob and shook himself just in time to hear Freiberger senior ordering him out of the truck. With his arms pinned behind him by the cuffs and the centre of his body on fire, Starsky gritted his teeth and jumped down from the tailgate, landing hard on the ground and doubling himself over as he tried to deal with the shooting pains lancing through the family jewels.

Hutch moved over to his buddy. 'Breathe Starsk. We're gonna be ok. Just breathe past it huh?'

In shock, Hutch watched as Starsky, still doubled over, rested the top of his curly head against Hutch's stomach for just a moment. The touch was like a jolt of electricity through the blond and for a second the power of speech left him. Finally, after leaning into the brunet, he managed to form words. 'Starsk, is that you? Do you remember?'

Starsky straightened, suddenly embarrassed and angry at himself for being weak, although the touch had somehow felt so right, as though he'd done the same thing before. The feeling rocked him and shocked him. He took a deep breath and took a step backwards as if distancing himself from the blond.

'No to both' he muttered. 'I don't know what you've done to me, but it won't work. As soon as we're out of this place I'm putting as much distance as I can between me and you. I don't trust you.' The lie made him feel better and Starsky straightened himself up and followed the two Freibergers inside the wooden building and around the front desk to a small office at the back. Hutch watched as Starsky limped slowly to the side of the desk and stood impassively, his head down and his eyes staring at the ground. The blond came to stand by his partner and together they waited for Freiberger senior and junior to come into the room.

The younger of the two officers stood at the back of, and between Starsky and Hutch, his hand resting on the stick he'd used so readily on the brunet out on the deserted road. Both men tried to keep their eye on the youngster whilst also watching Freiberger senior. The older man swaggered around to the chair at the back of the desk and lowered himself into it with an exaggerated sigh. The Sheriff took time to take his gun out of its holster and lay it down on the polished top of the desk, remove his tie and unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing a mess of greying hair sprouting from his chest. Finally satisfied that he was as comfortable as he could get, Freiberger looked up as though seeing the two prisoners for the first time.

Hutch cleared his throat. He'd had dealings with guys like Frieberger before and knew he should watch what he said. The papers were full of stories of these jumped up Sheriffs who liked to take the law into their own hands. They were cops who couldn't cut it in the real world and so found the quietest little town around and built their own empire based on greed, threats and bribes. The blond took a deep breath.

'If you'd let me make a phone call….' Hutch started.

'I know, I know. All this'll be explained if you can just talk to your fancy pants lawyer back in the city' Freiberger snapped. God how he despised these soft, city types and their fancy ways.

'I was going to ask you to…' Hutch tried again.

'Shudup!' the Sheriff snarled. 'When I ask you to talk you can talk. Up until that moment you shut your pie hole and listen. Do you have that boy?'

'Loud and clear. Sir.' Hutch put as much sarcasm he could into the last word but the sentiment seemed lost on Freiberger who grinned and seemed pleased with the title.

'I'm in charge here, and don't you forget it' he snapped.

'Yes Sir' the blond cast a sideways look at Starsky and prayed that for once the brunet wouldn't open his mouth. It was usually at times like this that his partner's patience snapped and he started mouthing off. This time, however, the curly haired man remained uncharacteristically silent. In fact, Starsky seemed to be lost in a world of his own and was swaying on his feet, blood leaving a sticky trickle down the inside of his left thigh.

Freiberger paused for a moment, expecting an argument where none came. Finally he picked up a pen and reached for a pad of forms from the drawer of his desk. He licked the tip of the pen thoughtfully.

'We'll start with you blondie. What's your name?'

'Hutchinson. Ken Hutchinson. I'm a cop with the….'

Freiberger fixed him with a stare. 'I only want your name' he interrupted and bent over the form, scribbling down Hutch's name on the requisite line, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. Eventually he looked up again and focused on Starsky.

'And you? What's your name boy?'

Starsky jumped slightly as though he'd been lost in his thoughts. 'Ethan Quade' he mumbled automatically.

Hutch shook his head. 'He isn't well. His name is Starsky. David Starsky.'

Freiberger senior looked up from his form and scowled. 'I don't take kindly to punks who play games with me boy. I'll ask again. What's your name?'

At his back, Freiberger junior grinned and licked his lips excitedly. Slowly, like a predatory animal circling its prey, the younger officer moved to stand almost in front of the handcuffed brunet. 'My Pop asked you your name' he said.

'An' I told him. He aint deaf is he?' Starsky grunted.

The young officer slapped Starsky across the face. It was a stinging blow and it rocked the brunet on his heels and yet the pain cleared Starsky's mind of his confusion of thoughts and he fixed the Sheriff with defiant eyes.

'What's your name boy?' Freiberger senior asked again.

'Ethan Quade, and I aint your boy.'

Again the younger officer slapped Starsky's face, this time catching the brunet with his nail and opening a small cut below Starsky's cheek bone. Hutch took a step closer until he was almost touching shoulders with his partner and glared at the older man.

'His name is Dave Starsky. I'm Ken Hutchinson. We're both cops with the 9th precinct in Bay City. Phone Captain Harold Dobey and he'll confirm what I've said' the blond said in a rush.

Freiberger senior looked confused. 'Then why is he sayin' he's this Quade guy?'

Hutch shook his head. 'It's a long story and you wouldn't believe it.'

'Try me.'

'I don't' have time to explain, even if I could.'

'You messin' with me boy? Coz if you are….'

Hutch sighed and tried to keep a hold on his temper. 'Look, just ring Dobey and he'll confirm who we are.'

Freiberger senior turned his attention back to Starsky. 'You want me to ring this Dobey?'

Starsky returned the look without blinking. The name meant nothing to him and although he still had the sickening feeling that he was living a lie, his survival instincts told him to trust no-one until he had answers. For all he knew, Hutch/Hunt could be leading him into a trap. He shook his head. 'I dunno.'

'Are you Quade or Starsky?' the Sheriff asked.

'I dunno. Quade…..Starsky…..it don't matter. Just get these fuckin' cuffs off of me an' I'll be outa your hair.'

This time Freiberger junior rabbit punched Starsky across his back over his kidneys. 'Don't you mess with my Pop' the younger man snarled, catching the sagging brunet by the shoulders. Starsky's patience finally snapped and he fixed the younger man with a defiant glare.

'I bet he can mess with himself just fine. He don't need me to help' the brunet muttered just as the young Sheriff's officer brought his knee up hard until it connected with Starsky's bleeding and bruised core The brunet gave a muffled scream and fell heavily to the ground as Hutch came to stand over him.

'Lay one more finger on him an' I'll have your badge and your little empire quicker than you can say LAPD' he snarled. 'You listen to me and you listen good. We're cops. We're partners and we've been undercover.' Hutch searched for a story that would seem plausible. 'The job turned sour and now we need to get back to the city to report back to our Captain. My partner was brainwashed. He's sick and now he's injured too. So here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna unfasten these handcuffs so that I can tend to my partner, you're gonna get a doctor here to check him over and you're gonna phone Harold Dobey and tell him to send a car to pick us up. You got that?'

Freiberger senior scowled, uneasy at the way this blond prisoner seemed so at home at issuing orders. 'Now just a cotton pickin'…..'

Hutch interrupted him, his temper finally lost. 'I said have you got that? Huh?'

Reluctantly the Sheriff reached for the telephone.