She's Not There

By M. Willow

Warning, this chapter contains a scene that is suitable for adults only.

Chapter Twelve

The fingerprint results came back shortly before they left the station. There was no connection to any crime, but that only meant that Susan Shepard hadn't left any fingerprints.

Now, Starsky, Hutch and Huggy Bear sat in the tiny apartment above the Pitts making plans. Starsky was leaning against the wall, seemingly lost in thought, while Hutch straddled the chair, looking down at Huggy who was lying on the bed.

"Okay, Huggy," Hutch said. "One more time. How are we doing this?"

Huggy sighed, sitting up, and pushing his legs over the side of the bed. "Man, we've been over this fifty times at least."

"So we're doing it fifty-one times," Hutch said sharply."

"Easy, Blondie," Starsky said. "You gotta excuse, Hutch. He's getting a little skittish."

"Sorry, Hugs." Hutch leaned forward, rubbing the line between his eyes. "Just that. If she finds out…"

They had told Huggy about Susan being a hitwoman. Huggy had heard about the Medusa, knew her reputation, knew that his life could be in jeopardy because he'd also seen her face.

Huggy raised a hand. "Don't have to say it, my blond brother. Here's the plan. There are ten people. One will be a lawn maintenance worker outside your apartment, Starsky. He's the one who will watch where she goes. Depending on her destination, one of ten people will follow her to a point before the next one takes over. Everybody been told about the green eyes. If she changes her appearance in any way, we'll know it and continue to follow her."

"And it's important to never lose contact," Starsky added. "Remember Kira tried to follow her and she was one of the best."

"Man I got everybody except the president watching for her. She can't take two steps before somebody ID's the chick."

"You got the telephone number for all of the booths?" Hutch asked.

The point of contact for the group was the many telephone booths that lined Bay City. If they lost Susan, they were instructed to call the next person along the route. Hopefully that person would be able to find her.

"Yeah, we lose sight, which ain't gonna happen, and somebody calls the next one on the route."

Hutch locked eyes with Starsky. "And we stay out of the way."

"Yeah, and when I go home, I act like nothin' happened."

Hutch nodded his head. "I'll be the one to talk to whomever she meets."

The look in Starsky's eyes didn't need words.

Huggy stood up. "Hey, I'm going downstairs. Need anything else?" He looked from one to the other. Both men shook their heads, then watched as Huggy left the room.

"You okay, Starsk?" Hutch asked once they were alone.

"Not really. It's gonna be hard…being with her, if you know what I mean." Starsky blushed.

"It's going to be over soon."

"Yeah." Was all Starsky managed.

"I still think we should put a bug in your apartment."

"And take the chance she finds it?" Starsky straightened and walked over, taking a seat on the bed. "She's a professional. If she finds the bugs we can forget it. She'll be out of town before we know what hit us."

Hutch nodded his head. "You're right. I don't have to like it, though."

Starsky grabbed his jacket. "Let's get out of here. Soon as this things over, the better. I don't know how long I can keep pretending."

Starsky left Huggy's with the knowledge that they had a plan in motion. Everything was set for morning. He would leave for work and someone would be stationed outside his apartment waiting for her to leave. This person would follow her until someone else took over.

Tonight, he'd been the consummate actor, leaving no clue that he was onto her. They'd had a delicious meal and had gone to bed right away.

Susan had wanted to make love, but Starsky had insisted on talking instead. What happened with Hutch was serious and they needed to figure out what to do next. Susan had listened as Starsky lied.

"He's my best friend, Susan, but I love you more. Let's give him one more try. If it doesn't work, he's out of our lives. We'll go someplace else."

He'd watched her features soften, the edges of doubt easing from her body. But he knew it was all a trick. As long as the blond lived, Susan would feel threatened. He was pushing her to make a move and afraid at the same time.

"I want to invite him over for dinner," she'd said. "Maybe we can make this work."

And Starsky had listened as she enthusiastically made plans for dinner in one week. All the while he hoped it wouldn't come to that. He was setting his best friend up to be murdered. It was a plan hatched by both men, but it was a dangerous plan. Still, it was better than waiting for her to make the next move. The blond would be guarded. It would be near impossible for her to get away with it this time. But then Susan had done the impossible before.

Now, Starsky stared down at the sleeping woman. She slept like an innocent child, her hands curled around his, her face upturned. For a moment she moved and cuddled closer to him. Now her head rested on his chest and he felt the silky locks of her hair. And he remembered Jenny.

They were possibly sisters—so alike, yet different. Both women had killed, but Susan killed for money. Huggy had said that the woman was rich beyond imagination. So Starsky was left with why. Why would a woman with nothing to gain by killing continue to do it as a career? And he found only one answer: she did it for the power. She did it because she loved the reputation she'd acquired. She was the Medusa—a trained killer. The mere name struck horror in people. The killings were legend, but none so much as those victims who'd seen her face.

There were five men, Huggy had said. All of them had wanted to know what she looked like. They had stolen into the Medusa's apartment one night, but none emerged the next day. Instead, they were all found dead, their eyes removed, their faces frozen in unimaginable horror.

No one lived who saw the Medusa.

Susan moved against him and frowned as if she were reading his mind. For an instant, he thought he saw the real woman peeking through. The woman who'd taken lives, who'd done it as if it were a sport, something to practice and be proud of. He wondered if she dreamed of the people she killed. Did it make her smile? Feel powerful? He wondered what it must have been like for those who looked into the golden eyes of death.

--

Huggy stood at the window of his favorite barbershop watching the woman with long red hair walk by. He signaled a woman further up the street. She was a woman who'd fallen on hard times. This woman ambled along the sidewalk, clutching a bottle of whisky to her chest. She asked for money as the red-head disappeared into a restaurant, but the woman shook her head as the door closed behind her.

Twenty minutes later, a woman with two children finished her meal of pancakes and sausage, paid the waitress, and walked out as a blond lady breezed past her. The young mother had to shield her eyes against the sun as she signaled the postman across the street. This man walked slowly behind the blond lady, delivering mail, whistling as he did so. He spoke to the woman with the spectacular green eyes and the blond hair before stopping at a restaurant for cold water. It was a hot day.

And old woman picked up her mail, and cursed because she had received her neighbors' mail two days in a row. She hurried up to the beautiful blond lady who scarcely noticed the old woman. On the way to her neighbor's house, the old woman told the blond lady all about the mail and how she had taken to saving and delivering it herself. The blond lady ignored her, but the old woman was lonely and needed someone to talk to. She kept talking till she reached her destination five blocks down. She scarcely looked up at the window washer who hung haphazardly from the third floor.

The blond lady continued on, passing people who washed cars. She looked back a few times, but never looked up. She didn't see the window washer who looked down on her from the third floor. Nor did she see the signal he gave the cab driver who immediately took off.

The cab driver picked up a middle-aged man wearing a cheap plaid suit and grey shirt. His slick patent leather shoes reflected the sun. This man man jumped out of the cab just as the blond lady headed into another restaurant. He didn't bother to talk to her as he passed the drunk man who sat begging in front of the restaurant.

A brunette with dark skin emerged from the restaurant five minutes later. This woman looked as if she were of Latin origin. The green eyes made her exotic. She wore a sedate brown skirt with a high-button collar. She walked past the drunk man just as the restaurant owner was shoeing him away.

"Drunkards have no business in front my store," the owner shouted.

The woman never looked back as the drunk man followed her for a few blocks, then turned her over to the man in the silver Cadillac.

--

Starsky had only a partial report by the time he arrived home later that night: Susan had gone to a nursing home. Tomorrow morning Hutch had arranged to interview the staff, but for now, Starsky had to pretend that he was happy to be home.

He found her lying in bed, body covered with a thin sheet, but it did nothing to hide her impressive figure. She sat up when she heard him enter, the sheet falling to reveal her naked breast.

"Hi, baby. I'm so glad you're home. I didn't hear you come in," she said.

"Didn't want to wake you." Starsky threw his jacket on the chair. Then he took off his shoulder holster and gun, placing them in the bedside table. Susan had no way of knowing that this was a new habit.

"I couldn't sleep. I worry when you come in late," she pouted.

Starsky wanted to scream. It was just after midnight. Pretty normal hours for a cop, but Susan got nervous if he didn't get home by ten. She was already pushing him to quit the force.

"It's the life of a cop," he said, glancing at her with what he hoped was an affectionate expression. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and removed his shoes.

"I know. Can't wait for you to give all that up. That way you can stay home in bed with me all day long." Susan made her voice sound seductive and she uncovered her body. She wore nothing beneath the sheets.

"Tell me about your day." Susan came up behind him and started to massage his shoulders.

"We caught the robber," He said tiredly. With any luck, she would believe he was tired and leave him alone tonight. And it was true that the robber had been caught. If Susan checked, she would discover that he and Hutch had caught the man coming out of a bedroom window.

Susan unbuttoned his shirt. "I got an idea of how we can celebrate," Susan said, pushing her body against him, her hands sliding over his chest.

Starsky turned around. In the subdued light of the bedroom, Susan's eyes seemed completely golden, her hair a halo of fire. He recalled the myth of Medusa and her head of snakes. And he saw in Susan this ancient monster.

"I'm tired, baby," he said, hoping that would let him off for the night. If anyone had told him he would turn down sex, he would have laughed. She was a beautiful killer, he gave her that, but he didn't want her anywhere near him.

"I can wake you up, lover." She wasn't even pretending to be shy now. She wrapped her arms around his neck and proceeded to nibble on his ear.

"Lie next to me," she whispered. "I promise not to take advantage of you."

Starsky would rather have slept on the sofa or anywhere else. He didn't want to sleep with her ever again. It sickened him to think that he'd once wanted nothing else.

"I'm so tired. Maybe I should sleep on the sofa tonight. Don't think I will make very good company."

Susan stiffened. "Is there a reason you don't want to sleep with me?"

And Starsky knew he had no choice. "Of course not. Just didn't think I would make good company."

"Get in bed, David." Susan demanded her voice low and deadly serious.

Starsky stood up and removed his shirt and then his pants. He climbed into bed and Susan snuggled close in his arms, her head on his chest. The only thing separating them where his shorts, but she made quick use of her hand, removing them, then grasping his flaccid cock.

Starsky's mind shut down. He was repulsed by her and what she was doing to his body was nothing short of rape. But he couldn't stop her. Four women were dead because of him. If he'd listened to Jenny and got help for her, they would still be alive. He hated everything Susan represented, but failure to stop her this time could result in countless loss of lives. Kira was already dead and Hutch was her next intended victim. He had to stop her. He couldn't live with more blood on his hands.

Starsky rested his hand on her arm, felt the strength there and pictured Susan toning her

body to create the killing machine that she was. He shut the idea out of his mind and brought her lips to his for a passionate kiss.

She purred, "Told you I can wake you up."

"Well, you were right." Starsky rolled on top of her, pinning Susan beneath him. He stroked her body with his hands, suckling her breast and continuing down to her center. Susan moaned with pleasure as he made use of his tongue.

"Oh, god," she shouted, bucking her body up to meet him."

Starsky moved back up her body, splattering her with kisses. He reached her lips and slid his tongue inside, deepening the kiss with urgency. The whole time he pictured himself kissing Jenny. It was Jenny's breast he sucked. It was Jenny's sweet nectar on his tongue.

Their lovemaking intensified until they were both bathed in sweat. She was a responsive lover, shouting his name, begging him to take her. And he was lost in Jenny, completely absorbed by her presence. He wanted her so badly that when she took him in her mouth, it was all he could do not to come there and then.

Susan straddled him, and he stared up into the golden depths of hell. "I have something for you, lover," she said breathlessly.

"What is it?" he asked, but he didn't really care. She could have done anything now and he would have allowed it.

"Let's do something naughty," she said, producing a red scarf which she held taut between her hands.

Starsky realized what she meant to do. He imagined Hutch finding him dead, still tied to the bed. His mind raced, seeking a way out of his present predicament. But there was no way out, so he lifted his arms and felt the silken fabric as it surrounded his hands.

TBC