Chapter Ten

Detective Johansen was reviewing the background reports on Maas when his partner returned to the 55th. He looked up. "Where'd you disappear to?"

"Stopped by the Ninth to see Hutchinson," Marcello replied.

"Oh? Anything more on his missing partner?"

"No. He's still missing."

Marcello then changed the subject, his tone gruff, slightly impatient. "What more did you get from the janitor at the Stardust who found the hooker's body?"

"Nothing. He skipped town. Went back to Mexico."

Marcello grunted. "Just our luck."

"But it wasn't a totally wasted trip," Johansen informed his partner, the younger detective eager to redeem himself. "You were right about Maas and the hooker. They knew each other. Also found out a couple of days before she was killed, her place had been busted into and ransacked. Just like we found Maas' apartment. My guess was it was done by the same person or persons maybe looking for something so I did a little more checking. I found an eight year old kid who remembers seeing three men hanging around Maas place a few days ago."

"Kid able to ID them?"

"No. He doesn't remember much about them beyond the fact that two were white, the third Latino."

Johansen waited for some kind of comment. Instead the older detective just poured a cup of coffee, then sat tiredly down at his desk and started rooting through a stack of files.

When it appeared Marcello had become engrossed in his task, Johansen inwardly sighed. Eight months and the young detective still didn't know if this was going to be a permanent partnership with Marcello or not. The man was just so hard to read sometimes and seemed to have a natural reserve to getting close to anyone. He had heard talk of course, that Marcello tended to be a loner, preferred to keep to himself, but in all honesty, Johansen really liked the guy and wanted to prove himself to him.

But it appeared that wasn't going to happen today. So with slight shrug, he went back to his report.

He'd gotten most of the way through when he frowned, perplexed.

"What is it?" Marcello asked.

"One of the names on Maas background check. Its sounds familiar but I can think where I've heard it before."

"Who?"

"Tony Luciana."

With his face buried in the report he didn't see Marcello's head suddenly snapped up.

~S/H~

Starsky sat up on the edge of the bed, his arm propped out for support as he took several slow deep breaths trying to quell the dizziness that threatened to send him over and onto the floor. Beyond the fact that every muscle and bone in his entire body hurt, his mind remained a muddle of thoughts: barred windows, linoleum floors and the blond intern in particular that had chased him. His face kept coming to him in a confusing mixture of fear and strangely…need? He didn't understand why though and the more he tried to sift out the answer, the more his head hurt.

"Y-you feeling any better, Rudy?" the female voiced asked.

For a moment he just stared at the girl who sat next to him.

Rudy?...That's right…His name was Rudy, Rudy Skyler. And the girl, he remembered. She had found him, brought him inside…tried to help him?

"Feels like I gotta jackhammer inside me," he mumbled.

"I'm not surprised."

He went to stand, and then let out a sudden hiss as his bruised ribs protested. Blotchy spots appeared before his eyes, followed by a ringing in his ears. His body tipped to one side.

Immediately the girl was by his side, steadying him, easing him back down on the bed. Sweat broke out on his forehead from the small exertion and for several minutes all he could do was sit and wait for his head to clear again.

"You don't look so good, Rudy," the girl said worriedly.

"M'okay…be al'right."

"I think you should really get that bump check out. It could be something bad."

He shook his head, which turned out to be a mistake, and winced. "Don't like hospital, doctors."

He could feel the girl's eyes on him, curious, perplexed.

"Okay," she finally said. "But is there someone then? I…I mean someone maybe I can call or let know you're okay?"

Was there?

In his mind there was only Switek, Matwick, nurses, injections, the straight jacket and the dark, followed by pain and fear. Beyond that, everything was a grey soupy mixed up fog. He put his hands to his head, threading them through the dark curls as he tried to concentrate passed the ever constant drum of pain.

The flash of sky blue eyes and blond hair came to him again. But it only confused him more because he couldn't understand why he was seeing the intern in a bar, laughing, playing pool, the same intern who had put ankle restraints on him, helped strap him down on the bed, who had placed the gag over his mouth and left him in the dark.

He inwardly withdrew. "I don't know…"

For a long time he just sat huddled miserably on the bed with the thin blanket draped around his shoulders.

He was scared, nervous and nothing made sense anymore beyond Cabrillo, beyond being locked up, his freedom taken away and forced to comply.

Then just beyond the grey foggy veil something tried to emerge. He concentrated deeply, trying to grasp onto the floating memory, but it kept evading him and made his head pound even harder.

Then he frowned suddenly.

The girl must have noticed something in his expression change as she asked, "What is it, Rudy?"

He shook his head not sure himself, but felt driving by something. He shifted in the bed, struggling to get to his feet again.

"Hey, you shouldn't be doing that."

He grunted, holding his bruised ribs, the blanket falling off his shoulders onto the floor as he put his hand to his head and tried to concentrate. He felt the shaky tremor through his own body but tried to ignore it…it was there…so close, an inner instinct.

He turned to her. "Need ta find a phone."

"You remember something?"

"I-I'm not sure."

"I don't have a phone here, but there's a pay phone by the liquor store a few blocks down."

He moved towards the door. When he reached for the knob though, he had grip the handle for support as his head spun.

The girl was instantly by his side, trying to draw him back.

"'M'okay," he insisted.

The short trip down the block, around the corner and down the few streets to the liquor store seemed endless and by the time they'd arrived sweat was dripping down his back, his face pinched, clearly showing the strain from the effort.

As they rounded the last corner, a police cruiser passed by. Instinctively he pulled back into the alley, suddenly afraid.

They're looking for you. They're going to take you back – back there. The thought made him shudder. He couldn't, wouldn't go back, not ever, not ever again.

"Hey. Hey. Rudy? You okay?"

For a moment he just stared at her dazed before swallowing and nodded, trying to control the anxiety within him to want to flee, to hide. He waited, watched the streets for a few more moments before venturing cautiously out into the open.

The payphone was located just outside the liquor store near the alley's entrance. Leaning against the wall for support, he dug into the pockets of his jeans searching for change only to discover they were empty. He sagged against the wall in frustration.

Seeing his distress, the girl produced the necessary coins. After inserted them into the payphone, his fingers hovered momentarily over the keypad, then with concentrated effort, shakily depressed the sequence of numbers that had come to him through the fog of his mind. Dragging the receiver to his ear he listened for the connection. It rang four times before it was picked up.

~S/H~

Hutch nearly spilled his coffee all over the files as he reached across the desk to grab the phone. "Hutchinson here."

There was a pause.

"Hello," he repeated.

"Um Hutch? It's me Fifi."

Hutch frowned, taken off guard. It was of all people, his housekeeper? "Yeah, uh, Fifi. What's up?"

"Well, I know you're probably kinda busy and I hate to bother you at work but I came by to pick up the money but it wasn't on the counter."

Hutch groaned suddenly remembering he'd forgotten to pay his housekeeper, again. "Oh, jeez. I'm sorry. I forgot."

"It's okay. I figured you got busy again, but uh, I kinda needed it to pay for my mom's medicine."

"I'm sorry, Fifi. Look. I think there's some cash in the cookie jar on top of the fridge. Take what you need out of there."

"Okay, Hutch. Thanks. Oh, and while I was here I went ahead and watered your plants, gave your fichus some extra nutrients and did your laundry."

"Fifi. You didn't have to do that."

"Oh, it was no problem. I noticed last week your fichus was looking a little sickly so I brewed up a special batch of nutrients just for him."

He let out an exacerbated sigh. "I meant the laundry, Fifi. I told you before, I'm only paying you to clean my apartment once a week, not wash my dirty clothes."

This wasn't the first time he'd had this argument with his housekeeper who took her domestic duties a little too enthusiastically at times.

Fifi was a genuinely nice person, if a bit odd, who took care of her invalid mother. She lived only six blocks away and he'd hired her to come over once a week to clean his apartment, something Starsky had been nagging him to do for years. But he drew the line at letting her do his laundry. It was just one of his fussy quirks about letting someone else fold his underwear he had issues about. Not that she ever listened to him, though.

Fifi was also a passionate plant lover and whenever Hutch was gone for extended periods of time on assignment she was always happy to stop by and make sure his plants were well cared for or nurse back to health the ones his partner had managed to get a hold of.

It was just that Fifi could be a little too helpful at times and Hutch suspected part of that was because she had a slight crush on him and part of it was for some odd reason she found it amusing to see him blush.

"Oh. It wasn't any extra trouble, Hutch. I mean, I was here anyway," she said. "But if you want my opinion, you really could use some new shorts. Your other ones are…uh…kinda looking a little raggedy. I could um…pick some new ones up for you if you don't have the time?"

Hutch's face reddened. "That's not necessary."

"Really, it's no trouble. I was going to go shopping for my mom tomorrow anyway."

"Fifi, NO! Absolutely not!" he said firmly.

"Okay, sure. Whatever you say," she replied. "While I was here, though, you got a couple of calls I thought I should pass onto you. One was from Ashley. She sounded very nice until I told her you weren't home, but I'd let you know she had called just as soon as I finished folding your underwear."

"Fifi!"

There was amusement in her voice. "It was only a joke, Hutch. Lighten up."

Hutch groaned and dragged his hand across his face. He really didn't have time for this. "And the other call?"

"Oh, um, some guy named Rudy."

"Rudy?"

"Yeah. But I'm pretty sure it was just a crank call. I mean he wouldn't even tell me who he was trying to reach and sounded kinda weird, like he was spaced out."

Hutch's brow drew down in a frown as he thought. He didn't know anyone named Rudy nor any snitches and certainly none that would have his home phone number.

"Funny thing is," Fifi continued. "He almost sounded like David."

Hutch became rigid in his seat and gripped the receiver. His tone became clipped, demanding. "Starsky? Are you sure?"

The sudden change of tone in Hutch's voice made the housekeeper's reply hesitant. "Well, no, not really."

"Did he leave any kind of message, a number?"

"No, sorry, Hutch. He just kinda hung up after he asked whose number he had called and I told him."

Hutch raked his hand through his hair.

"Did…did I do something wrong?"

"No, Fifi. I'm sorry. It's just that Starsky is missing and I think he may have been trying to contact me."

"Oh no!"

Despite the fact that Starsky had run away from him earlier, had he been trying to contact him now? But if it had been Starsky, why would he have said his name was Rudy? Then something suddenly clicked. Rudy had been Starsky's cover name at Cabrillo. Could it be Starsky was using the name because he was in some other kind of trouble?

"Listen, Fifi. I need a huge favor from you. Can you stay at my place for a while, in case this Rudy calls again?"

"Well, I have to take Mom to her doctor's appointment at one. But I can stay until then. But I don't understand. Who's Rudy?"

"I'm not sure, but if he calls again try and find out where he is and call the dispatch operator. Where ever I am, they'll be able to get a hold of me right away."

"Okay, Hutch."

"Thanks, Fifi."

Hutch hung up, his worry only increasing.

~S/H~

Starsky stared at the receiver a long time after hanging up.

"Who's this?" the woman had asked.

He had hesitated. "It's Rudy."

From the sound of her voice, she didn't seem to know him. "Who are you looking for?"

"I'm not really sure…whose number is this?" he'd asked.

"It's the residence of Detective Hutchinson."

"Detective?"

"Yes, with the Bay City Police Department. He's not at home right now, but would you like to leave a message?"

"Message? Uh…No." He had hung up abruptly.

Officer Hutchinson of the Bay City Police? Why did he have a police officer's number in his head?

"Rudy? Rudy?"

He looked up to find the girl staring at him. "Huh?"

"I said was that your friend?" she asked.

He stared at the receiver. "No. It was a wrong number."

"I'm sorry."

His body sagged against the wall, even more confused than before.

A few people milling about the liquor store briefly turned their way. He barely noticed their odd glances to his doped out appearance as he slumped against the wall staring off into space.

Suddenly he felt cold and sweaty at the same time.

The girl touched his cheek. "You feel clammy. I don't think that's so good."

"'M'okay."

"Come on, Rudy. We better go back to my place."

He nodded dejectedly as he allowed the girl led him away.

Once back in her little room, Starsky practically collapsed back onto the bed.

Tracee offered him some water, but he refused. He just needed to rest, just for a little bit so he could think, figure things out. But thinking hurt and only caused the same fearful images to roll through his mind…the straight jacket, Matwick hovering over him, voices in the dark...and the pale blue eyes which looked angry now, but he couldn't tell if they were angry at him or someone else?

The sudden knock on the door startled both of them.

His eyes flew up to the door, remembering the police car. Had they seen him after all?

"You expecting someone?" he asked.

She shook her head, frowning.

The second knock came a little more impatiently.

Tracee moved to the door. "Who's there?" she asked timidly.

"It's me, Crissy."

Glancing back at him, Tracee cracked the door open.

"Hey. Let me in will ya?" the voice said impatiently.

Tracee hesitated. "It's really not a good time."

But apparently the visitor had different ideas and pushed her way inside anyway.

"Hey, why so jumpy?"

She stopped short when she saw Tracee wasn't alone.

The girl was slightly taller than Tracee with mid-length dirty-blonde hair dressed in tight black satin pants and a leopard print wrap-around top. "Who the hell are you?" she asked him.

Tracee stepped between them, as if wanting to protect him. "This is Rudy."

"Sorry, I didn't realize you had a customer," the girl sneered at him.

Immediately his eyes became hooded as he regarded the visitor warily.

She frowned apparently not liking the way he looked back at her.

Tracee blushed. "It's not like that. He's just a friend."

She other girl eventually dragged her attention away from him and back to Tracee who stood fidgeting nearby. In a hard voice, she said. "Look. I need to talk to you. Alone."

Tracee glanced back at him a little uncertainly. "All right. I'll be right back."

The two stepped outside and Tracee closed the door closed behind them.

~S/H~

The girl grabbed Tracee by the wrist.

"Who the hell is that guy?"

Tracee winced as the other girl's nails cut into her flesh.

"I told you. He's a friend. His name's Rudy."

"Rudy, huh? What cheap sleazy bar did you find him in?"

Tracee jerked her hand free. "It's not like that! Someone beat him up."

"And what? You found him and brought him home like a stray dog?" she laughed sarcastically.

Tracee blushed.

Crissy's eyes widened in disbelief. "You did, didn't you?" She snorted. "Are you crazy? You don't know anything about him."

"I know enough."

Crissy crossed her arms. "Like what?"

Tracee glanced down at her feet. "Enough to know he's not like…like the others."

The other girl rolled her eyes. "They're all like that, you idiot. When are you ever going to learn!"

Tracee crossed her arms. "W-what do you what, Crissy?"

The other girl raked her fingers through her dirty-blonde hair. "Look, you got any money?"

"No, I'm tapped out. Why?"

"I'm into Vinny for two hundred."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

Crissy looked to the door. "What about him? He got anything on him you can steal."

Tracee's eyes widened. "I couldn't do that!"

"What? You suddenly have high standards now?"

Tracee face filled with hurt.

"Aw. Shit. I didn't mean it like that. It's just, well, you know how Vinny is. I don't pay him soon, he's going to get nasty."

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you. I think you should just go now."

Crissy sighed. "Look…"

"Please, just go."

The girl looked at her. "All right. No need to get bent out of shape." She turned to walk away, then stopped. "If I were you, Tracee I'd get rid of that guy, though, and quick."

"Why?"

Again she looked towards the door, frowning. "I don't know…There's just something familiar about him. I don't know what it is, but I don't trust him. I think he's trouble."

Tracee bit her lip.

~S/H~

Starsky immediately sensed the change in her when the girl returned alone. She seemed upset, more nervous than usual.

"Somethin' the matter?"

Tracee stared at him a long time, almost as if she were indecisive about something, then shook her head.

"No. It's okay."

He shivered and dragged the blanket back over his shoulders, wincing from his sore ribs. He huddled beneath it again, but still felt cold.

"Your friend didn't seem ta like me very much."

"She not really a friend." Tracee replied. "We used to…uh… work together." She blushed and turned her head away, clearly wanting to change the subject.

She went to the little kitchen area where a couple of cans were stacked on the counter. "Think maybe you could eat something? I've got a little soup."

He shook his head. The thought of food made him sick, which sounded a bit odd, even to himself. Instead he curled up in the corner on the bed, letting his body sag against the wall. The drumming pain in his head drained his body of energy. His eyes dropped tiredly.

At some point he knew the girl had left, and had returned sometime later. He didn't know where she'd gone and was too tired to ask.

TBC...