CHAPTER 15

Starsky hung with his head bowed, his chin touching his chest, barely aware of his surroundings. Another beating, followed by a few slashes across his chest with a knife, had left the brunet weak and disoriented. He knew the abuse was escalating. If the killer stayed true to form, Starsky would be dead in two to three days. And he would probably wish that he was already dead long before then.

He still had no idea who his assailant was. The man was a stranger to him. Instinctively, Starsky had committed all the details about his abuser to memory. White male, approximately 40 to 50 years old, brown hair, blue eyes, stocky build. Between six feet and six feet four, around 250 pounds. No distinguishing scars or tattoos. Rough, calloused hands and a definite flair for violence. Starsky knew that he was becoming dehydrated. There wasn't anything he could do about that but it was a condition that he sensed was contributing to his weakness and confusion.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs from above arousing Starsky from his stupor. Opening his one good eye as wide as he could, Starsky struggled to focus on the approaching figure. It took him a few moments to realize that the figure was that of a woman and that he knew her. It was Cindy Lee, the oriental woman from the escort agency. Starsky and Hutch had always assumed that there had to be an inside person helping select the various victims but Cindy was the last person Starsky would have ever suspected.

Cindy stopped and stared at the battered man in front of her. He bore little resemblance to the handsome brunet she had met at the agency. His lips were swollen and split, one eye swollen shut and badly bruised. A row of four diagonal cuts across his muscular chest were still oozing blood. His hands were securely tied above his head, the fingers swollen and discolored. A large bruise discolored his left side and his breathing appeared to be shallow and labored.

Although Cindy had seen some of the other victims in a similar condition she hadn't known them as well as she knew this man. She felt a lump rise in her throat as she choked back a sob. "I'm sorry…" she whispered "I'm so sorry…"

"Help me…" Starsky said in a hoarse, raspy voice that was edged with pain.

"I can't…" Cindy said with a determined shake of her head. "He'll kill me…" The fear was heavy in her voice and showed clearly in her eyes.

"If you don't help me…he's going to kill me." Starsky gasped weakening quickly. "I'm a cop…you'll be charged as an accessory and be facing the death penalty too…"

"I didn't know you were a cop…I swear…" Cindy sobbed unable to hold back the tears any longer.

"Contact my partner…Ken Hutchinson…metro division…ninth precinct." Starsky told her breathlessly. "Detective…"

"I can't!" Cindy declared in a high pitched voice. She turned and ran back up the steps, leaving Starsky alone in his dark, lonely prison. He let his head fall forward, exhausted from the effort of trying to convince her to help him before it was too late.

At the top of the steps, Cindy shoved open the heavy trap door and stepped into the barn. As she eased the heavy trap door shut and turned towards the exit, her partner suddenly appeared in the opening, a threatening scowl on his face.

Hutch stood staring out of the window with a heavy sigh. The quietness of Starsky's empty apartment mocked him. Without the brunet's infectious personality dominating his living area, the apartment felt uninhabited despite tangible proof of Starsky all around him. A half finished model sat on the desk in the corner waiting for Starsky to finish the intricate details. The Mexican throw Starsky had bought on his first trip to Tijuana decorated the back of the sofa. Photographs of Starsky, the two friends together and some of Hutch by himself decorated the walls. Several of the pictures had been taken by Starsky who showed an amazing eye for detail.

It wasn't unusual for one partner to find his way to the other partner's home when one of them was missing. Somehow being in the missing partner's apartment, surrounded by his belongings, kept that connection between them alive. And it gave the abandoned partner hope…hope that he would find his missing soul mate before it was too late.

Starsky and Hutch had never questioned the unique bond that they had shared almost from the moment they met back in the police academy. It was a bond that served them well over the years and allowed them to work together so well. It was a bond that some of their co-workers could not understand, a bond that went much deeper than simple friendship. It was as if they were two parts of the same whole housed in two separate bodies. They were capable of functioning on their own when they had to but put them together and they were a force to be reckoned with. Even their contacts who didn't particularly like them still respected them and recognized the cohesiveness of their partnership.

"Damn it, Starsk," Hutch muttered under his breath "Where are you, buddy?" He closed his eyes and reached out for his missing partner. He could still feel Starsky's presence in his heart so he had to believe that the brunet was still alive. He just had to find him. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but he couldn't rest not until he found his partner. Little things like food and sleep became incidental when Starsky was missing.

Squaring his shoulders, Hutch left the apartment and climbed into his battered LTD. He drove back to headquarters to check in with Captain Dobey to see if anything new had developed in his absence. Distracted by his own thoughts, he barely noticed the heavy midday traffic. He never saw the truck that ran the red light and slammed into the driver's side of his car.