Dear Readers,
I have been away overseas again travelling, some of it in fact Starsky and Hutch related :) . While on the road - the foreign road at that, writing becomes too difficult for me to manage. I find it hard to get the time and space to write and so would prefer to leave it until I am back in normal routine again. This is especially so given that I write very long chapters and need a lot of time to create and edit. I am well aware it has been a long time since the last chapter was posted and I apologize for this. It is just as frustrating for me as a writer to deal with the delay as it might be for those following the story.
Kerrys2Boys
Chapter 10
"And you say it was like this when you found it?" Dobey straightened up from his inspection of the dusty bag of potting mix, peeling off latex gloves and looking back up at his Starsky and Hutch as they all stood now on Hutch's balcony.
"Vanessa had layered over about a two-inch blanket of the mix; as I dug in for a handful I felt it." Hutch nodded as he faced his captain in the last of the fading light of early evening.
Dobey grunted in the way he so often did and eyed the offending article with a pained expression, scowling as though the bag of potting mix's very presence was a major irritation – which it was.
What the hell did his two detectives expect him to do now? He didn't want to think about it. They had summoned him to Hutchinson's Venice Beach apartment to not only view this tangible piece of evidence but to drop on him like a ticking bomb their unspoken expectations of how he would proceed now that it had been discovered. And he knew with absolute certainty that they had expectations – as yet undeclared and weighing heavily among the three of them.
"I'll have to run it for prints." He looked at both men as he said it, already steeling himself for their resistance. He knew what they wanted of him, what they hoped he would agree to do for them as soon as they had presented him with the meth's discovery.
"You know as soon as you release it to forensics we'll both be implicated – Simonetti will have Hutch as well as me dragged into the station and the Santa Monica boys will be right behind them," Starsky said, delivering the very statement Dobey expected.
"Of course I know that Starsky," Dobey growled, "but that's not what you're asking me, is it?"
"Cap'n, Hutch and I thought about it before we decided to call you about this…" Starsky began.
"What the hell does that mean? 'Before you decided' to call me about it?" Dobey fixed them both with a frustrated look. "You had no option but to call me and you damn well know it," he clipped.
But of course they did; he knew it and they knew it. He couldn't begin to count the times these two had played by their own rules. He supposed he ought to be grateful they had chosen to declare their find to him and to hand over the parcel of meth. Still he knew that was only half of the equation, and he was quite sure he wasn't about to feel grateful that he was going to be implicated in the proposal they were about to present. These two men – the very best of his team of detectives, possibly the very best of any officers he had ever commanded - came with a heavy price tag.
Worry. They provided him with unlimited doses of the stuff. Worry and acid-churning stress attacks. The familiar gnawing pain of his recalcitrant heartburn was already clawing behind his sternum as he watched two pairs of blue eyes turn to him. Dobey was more than familiar with their pre-ambush look and was ready for the attack as they closed in.
"Look, you have the meth now," Hutch started.
"Its safe and it ain't goin' anywhere," Starsky followed. "We need time."
"Just give us a little time," said Hutch.
"It's not as though it will change the course of things," Starsky said.
"The investigation won't be compromised in the end – just the timing, –" said Hutch. "Will be slowed down a little…."
"Now that we know there's this parcel of stolen meth –" said Starsky.
"We've got some leverage –" Hutch added.
"…. to use to our advantage…" Starsky said.
"But we can't do a thing if –" Hutch said.
"…you put the meth on the table to homicide," Starsky finished.
His head reeling from switching from one to the other as Starsky and Hutch lobbed half finished sentences back and forth between them, Dobey cut them both off. "Enough with the damn verbal ping pong; lay it on the line, will you!" His anxiety levels were rising even higher as the two men bombarded him with their usual strategy of trying to confound him with their own brand of rationale. "I knew it as soon as you phoned me to tell me what you'd found." He waved his hand, indicating the bag of potting mix. "You want me to lock this haul away and pretend I don't know about it, so you two can run your own show," he blustered.
"Come on Cap'n –" Starsky said, not managing to cover his irritated frustration. "You've got to give us some damn breathing room here, let us do our jobs –"
"Don't you 'come on, Captain' me, Starsky!" Dobey gave him a sharp jab of his finger. "This evidence is not part of any job either of you are connected to, and you well know it. Not only that, but can I remind you, Starsky, that you're officially on suspension?"
"You think I'm likely to forget that? Of course I'm on suspension but -" Starsky said, struggling to remain calm but barely. "- but that don't mean I can't talk to people."
"And what people might that be, Starsky?" Dobey's eyebrows went high. "You two can't muddy up the waters of the investigation. You know full well this is a Santa Monica case – one, you have no jurisdiction and two, you have no right to withhold evidence or knowledge of the case, if you have any. So – what people?"
Starsky closed his mouth, a mouth with a sullen pull to it, and gave his partner a long-suffering look. Hutchinson returned a small a shake of his head.
Dobey groaned inwardly. He knew these two were manipulating him –yet again –. "And don't looking at each other like that! Look at me!" Dobey was getting seriously pissed off now. They were cutting him out. He could feel the brush off even before it fell from Hutch's lips.
"Starsky's brother is in from New York," Hutch said, and something in the way he said it and the way that Starsky looked at the floor when he did told Dobey that this was something contentious between them. That at least did not appear to be part of their charade. "We think there might be a chance he can give us inside information on the two men who were looking for the meth and killed Van."
Dobey felt certain that Hutchinson was being evasive in throwing this fact to him, like it was some small offering designed to distract him from the bigger issue he wasn't getting from them. Wasn't likely to get from them until they were ready.
Altogether too weary for any of this, Dobey made a grunting sound and looked again at the hefty bag of potting mix. It had been a long and particularly hard day. He was overdue for dinner by more than an hour. He looked at his watch, paced a few steps, and exhaled.
"You've asked me to do this sort of thing for the two of you before, but not like this time. Never before have you asked me to withhold evidence in a crime where one of you is the major suspect. The only damn suspect!" He raised his voice to convey his uneasiness at what he was about to.
"We need forty-eight hours, Captain." Hutch said quietly.
"You know I can't give you that long. My ass would be in a sling. Twenty-four hours, and that's my best offer," Dobey said. "Especially since you're not going to tell me what you intend to do in that time frame to help Starsky's position."
"Captain, it's best if you don't ask," Hutch said.
Dobey watched the two partners exchanged heavy looks again, and wondered if they even knew what they planned to achieve with the time.
"Twenty-four hours?" Starsky winced, looking at Hutch again.
"We'll take it," Hutch said hurriedly.
"I'll get this evidence locked up. I've got back-to-back meetings with the chief and commissioner in the morning. In fact, most of my day is shot tomorrow." He knew it sounded as though he were thinking out loud, attempting to justify his decision to agree to keep the uncovered stash of meth on hold for the agreed period. "I can't stop you from talking to people; you're right about that, Starsky – but I won't be happy to learn that you've put yourselves in danger –"
"Hutch and me will cover each other like always," Starsky said evenly, cutting Dobey off, his curt sullenness there again.
"And have you thought about the danger of jeopardizing this investigation?" Dobey asked.
"I'm already the prime suspect in a murder investigation. Doesn't get a lot worse than that." Starsky said.
"What about your partner's career then?" Dobey knew he might be pushing Starsky a little too hard as he said it.
"I think more about that than I do my own, so don't try and put that between us," Starsky said, his temper flaring.
"Starsk-"
The one short utterance from Hutch was enough to pull the simmering Starsky back. Dobey was well used to how effective Hutchinson was in curbing his partner.
"Vanessa was my family, Captain," Hutch said, his voice one of quiet reason. "Don't you think I deserve a shot at finding the men responsible for killing her, and a chance to clear my partner of suspicion?"
Dobey grunted grudgingly and nodded. "You've handed over the meth like you said. You could have held it back from me.I'll give you the twenty-four hours, but that's it. After that, I'll have to reveal this evidence. I'll be sweating my ass off on this one, and you both know it."
"We realize that, and we appreciate it," Hutch said, somber and just a little too grave for Dobey's liking. Hutch was playing him like he so often did. He fixed Dobey with his blue serious blue eyes radiating just the right level of concern. Maybe it was for real, or maybe it was just more of the duo's tactical crafts.
It wasn't lost on Dobey that tonight Hutchinson was in the role of good cop, while Starsky came across as heated and just a little dangerous. Whether or not it was all-real he couldn't be sure. Even as their Captain and having known them for a considerable time,
with these two he couldn't be sure how much was smoke and mirrors.
"I want to be kept abreast of everything you might uncover – is that clear? It all needs to go on record – just like the meth does."
"Of course," Hutchinson said equitably, and far too quickly for Dobey to believe he agreed at all.
"By the way," Dobey added, "I got a phone call from the Santa Monica detectives just before you two called me. The New York PD managed to find and interview your ex-wife's friend in New York," he looked down quickly at a note he'd written before leaving the office, "Jake Webster."
"That's great. At least the men who killed Vanessa didn't get to him first." Starsky appeared to be waiting for Dobey to continue. "And?" For the briefest moment his face showed some relief.
Dobey was reluctant to take the look away from him. "And nothing. Turned out to be a dead end." Dobey watched the two of them, seeing Hutchinson's shoulders visibly slump at the news. "He claims he had no connection to her activities – was a friend and nothing else. There's nothing else to link him to her murder."
"And that's it? For Christ sake, they can't leave it at that!" Starsky insisted, heatedly. "Vanessa implicated him! It was in my statement. There has to be more that they can get out of him – before the two men get to him –"
"It's not up to us to tell other detectives how to run their investigation," Dobey pointed out gruffly but then added before Starsky could jump in again. "But I've already begun to run a more extensive background check on him and to follow him up after the New York cops questioned him. I'm waiting to hear back something on that by tonight. I'll keep you both posted. Now," he looked down at the bag of potting mix at his feet, "help me pack this bag up in something to protect it from contamination, will you? And some new gloves if you've got them here?"
"I'll get a heavy duty garbage bag and gloves," Starsky said, and disappeared inside the apartment, snapping on the lights as he went.
Dobey watched him as he walked away. "You going to be able to rein him in if he gets too hotheaded?" Dobey turned to Hutch. "One of you has to keep a cool head."
"I'll watch him. He'll watch me. We're both jumpy on this one." Hutch answered just a little too briskly and Dobey sighed again.
"I'm not your enemy, Hutch, " he said, lapsing into informality with his detective. "I might be your captain but you know I stand by you two as I always do, so - don't close ranks on me and shut me out. No one knows more than I do how you two can do that to everyone else – but don't do it to me, understand? It's not going to help Starsky's position one bit if you close me out."
Hutch gave him a considered look before he nodded with a warmer expression. "You got it, Captain. Thanks."
With the evidence bagged up safely, Dobey allowed Hutch to carry it down the stairs to the exterior doorway, Starsky bringing up the rear. He turned to them both before exiting. "You've got precious little time to talk to your brother Starsky or whoever else it is you want to talk to, so get going. Stay on your cells."
Then Hutch transferred the bag to his arms and Starsky opened the door to let him out. He walked to his car and placed the bag in his trunk.
Alone again Dobey sat in his car for a moment and pressed hard at the burning pressure in his chest. He'd wanted to rub at the internal burning for minutes but would never have let his men see how much they'd stressed him.
"Damn those two!" he muttered as he scrabbled in his car's console, his fingers closing over the trusty packet of antacids. Popping two out of the pack, he crunched down hard on the tablets. He'd give himself a few minutes for the pain to fade before drove back to the station to take care of the bag in his trunk.
He closed his eyes and tried not to think about what he'd agreed to do for his two detectives. The burning was already easing and he relaxed a little into the car seat. One of these days those two would stress him to the point where no amount of antacids would resolve the pain. One of these days… he thought, as he rubbed again at the lessening pain behind his breastplate, his two favorite detectives would end up giving him a heart attack for real.
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
Carlson wondered if Starsky and Hutchinson were both a little off their game. He watched them as they got out of Hutchinson's car and entered the bar, neither of them showing any sign they'd noticed him parked across the street half a block away.
It had been a spur of the moment decision to follow Dobey when he had taken off out of the precinct in a great rush – a hunch more than anything that something was going on between him and his two detectives. Dobey certainly didn't look like he was heading home for the evening, and his hasty departure had preceded a phone call that Carlson had seen him pick up at one of the squad room desks.
Carlson had given Dobey a wide berth while following him. After all, the captain was a veteran cop and would be alert to anyone trying to tail him. Half way into the trip Carlson was certain Dobey was heading to Venice Beach and more than likely to Hutchinson's place. He lagged behind a few more cars, no longer so intent to keep the tail. It wouldn't do for Dobey to spot him.
Dobey turned onto Hutchinson's street and parked his car near the Venice Place entrance. Carlson pulled his car into an empty slot a full block away from the apartment building. In the distance, he could see Dobey's car near the entrance as the captain left it and entered Hutchinson's building. A half an hour passed and restlessness was setting in when Dobey came out, hefting a large bag in his arms, which he transferred to his trunk. His interest piqued, Carlson decided to bide his time.
He didn't have to wait long before Starsky and Hutchinson also appeared and got into Hutchinson's car.
Once again, he pulled his car out slowly and followed them until they arrived at what appeared to be a restaurant and bar. Carefully parking a few car lengths from the restaurant, he watched as they left the car and walked toward the entrance.
Were they meeting someone? Was Dobey going to turn up here, too?
Just because Carlson was officially off the case didn't mean he couldn't keep his ears and eyes open for any leads he might be able to give Simonetti. After all, it was his civil duty to uphold the interests of the Los Angeles Police Department in any way he could. He wasn't ready to admit that his actions were influenced by his resentment of not just his girlfriend's ex-lover, but also Starsky's arrogant partner, Hutchinson. He settled in for a good old-fashioned stake out.
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
Hutch looked at his partner and the half-eaten steak that Starsky labored over. "Seems your missing appetite might still be missing."
Starsky's head came up, his eyes tracking to the entrance yet again. "Huh? Yeah – well – no. Thought I could eat but - " Distractedly he cut another bite of the steak before looking at it as though not sure what to do with it – the disinterest in his food a clear sign to Hutch that his partner was well and truly off balance. Hutch knew he was preoccupied with his brother's failure to appear at the arranged meeting place.
Hutch pushed his own meal aside and picked up his beer. "He might not show, Starsky. It's been nearly an hour since you spoke to him, and he hasn't answered any of your calls since then."
Starsky's mouth tightened in concern.. He too abandoned his meal, pushing it toward the edge of the table. "Startin' to look like that, ain't it? Damn Nicky! I need him to spill something to us about what he knows. He's got to be connected to Durniak…and maybe even to those guys who were tailing me this afternoon."
"Seems they've gone under," Hutch said. "I was hoping we could draw them out again when we left my place."
"So if he doesn't show, how the hell are we goin' to track him down? He never told me where he was stayin'," Starsky wondered out loud, tracing his finger through the condensation on his beer glass.
Hutch tried not to think about the finger trailing through the moisture, the heat of it as it contrasted against the cool wetness of the glass…
.
Oh God….What was Starsky saying?
Hutch forced himself to come back to the thread of the conversation rather than the memories of those same fingers trailing across a different surface - his own skin,, scorching him with sensual stimuli. He fought against the hot images and focused with deliberate effort on Starsky's voice.
"...Made sure not to mention where his hotel was – but nothin' we can't find out with a bit of tech input…"
Hutch looked again at his watch and then at Starsky. More than anything he wanted to be back in his apartment, back in his bed, where the two of them had left off late that afternoon, but he knew his brand new lover's mind was weighed down with matters other than hungers of the flesh. Maybe if he could get Starsky home and relaxed…
Hutch sighed, seeing the worry etched in Starsky's brow and chided himself inwardly. He ought to be repentant for thinking of his own physical desires and not focusing on the situation in front of them; or rather the situation not in front of them – namely one missing Nick Starsky.
Damn that man to hell!
"Try his cell one more time. If he doesn't answer again, then I think it's safe to say he won't show up," Hutch said, pointing out the obvious.
Starsky hit the redial button again, waited a moment, and then kicked the table leg hard. "Useless piece of shit!" He tossed the slim-line phone across the table and Hutch barely managed to catch it as it skidded toward the table edge. He was tempted to ask whether the piece of shit in question was Starsky's reference to the phone or to Nick, but didn't. Not with the mood that was quickly overtaking Starsky.
"What's he think he's playin' at?" Starsky demanded. "He must have gotten the calls. What's he trying to prove by not answerin' me?"
Despite Starsky's vent of angry frustration Hutch could easily discern an underlying element of fear and concern that something might have happened to his brother.
"Starsky, he's more than likely opted out because he doesn't want to face me and is probably pissed off that you didn't back him up this afternoon," Hutch rationalized, trying to allay the tight look of worry on Starsky's face.
Huggy appeared at their table and looked down his long thin nose at the largely untouched meal on Starsky's plate. "Something wrong with my prize cut of sirloin?" Huggy asked, looking with disapproval at the unfinished meal.
"Huh? No it's fine, Hug," Starsky answered, still distracted.
"Well if it's so damn fine, why is it still on the plate and not in your stomach?"
"Look Huggy – I'm just not hungry alright?" Starsky's clipped tone was close to a snap.
"For you my friend, a lack of hunger is not a good sign," he told Starsky, not at all put out by Starsky's offhandedness. "I could count the times on one hand that you've failed to demolish a meal in record time." Huggy motioned to the wait staff to come and clear the table as he looked from Starsky to Hutch with his thin eyebrows raised high on his brow.
"Huggy," Hutch interceded, "he's got things on his mind. You know the stuff that's going down with Van's investigation…"
Huggy caught Hutch's eye and held his gaze for a second. "I get it, man. Some tough corner you're in, Starsky."
"Got that right, Huggy," Starsky said, and looked once more at the doorway, and then at Hutch. "Let's make a move, Hutch. I'm gettin' antsy just sitting here and waitin' for him." He stood up, pocketing his cell phone. "I've gotta get some air. Sorry 'bout the dinner, Huggy – next time, okay? Catch you outside Hutch."
Huggy watched him walk off. "He's worried about that loser brother of his, isn't he?"
Hutch stood and shrugged into his jacket. "He didn't turn up here as planned. Starsky probably worried that something's happened to him – something to do with the guys behind Vanessa's murder."
"Can't see why he bothers with that ignorant piece of shit." Huggy shook his head. "I was ready to deck him today when he was in here with our curly haired friend. "
Hutch couldn't manage to suppress a small smile as he confessed, "Oh don't worry about that,, I decked him enough for both of us – which is more than likely the reason he chose not to grace us with his presence here tonight."
"No shit?" Huggy's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't pursue why Hutch had done what he'd done further. "Well, I'm sure he had it coming to him."
"Trouble is, Huggy, he's still Starsk's brother, and what he has coming to him isn't what Starsky wants to believe," Hutch said as he made to leave. "If Nick turns up, can you phone us and let us know? It's important now that we talk to him again. Whether we like him or not, he could be the only chance we've got to help free Starsky."
"Sure, my man." Huggy nodded and then picked up the untouched dinner bill. "And this evening's consumptions are -?" Starsky drew out the open ended question as he flicked the paper chit with his middle finger.
"Put them on our running tab, will you, Huggy?" Hutch gave a quick smile before pulling out some tip money to leave on the table for the wait staff.
" 'Running' being the operative word when it comes to you and your partner's tab – " Huggy raised one fine eyebrow in sarcastic style.
"We'll catch it one day, we promise." Hutch's dry smile earned him an elaborate rolling of dark brown eyes.
Outside, Hutch found Starsky lounging up against the car, looking more short-fused than when he'd walked out, his fingers tapping restlessly against the side of the car as though they needed some sort of tactile input.
"Fresh air not helping?" Hutch asked. "Or isn't this the sort of air you were thinking of getting out here?"
Starsky scowled at him. "Don't start."
"Don't tell me," Hutch grinned, "you only just realized you don't have any on you anymore?"
"Oh, shut the hell up will you and get outta my head," Starsky snapped. "So I stepped out for a cigarette – one very needed cigarette, before I realized…." He looked around the darkened street as though a packet of them might suddenly materialize. "Jesus, I might hav'ta rethink the idea of givin' up…"
The comment buoyed Hutch. "You're giving it up? That's great news, Starsk – I'm proud of you." Hutch smiled, genuinely pleased by Starsky's oblique declaration to stop the habit.
"Said it was an idea; haven't done it yet," Starsky muttered, toeing his foot moodlily at something on the ground as he did so.
"Then I'll just have to keep you on the straight and narrow, won't I?" Hutch grinned. "Come on. I'll take you home and we can find something else for you to do." He moved around to the driver's side of the car, pleased when the small smile he threw Starsky across the roof of the car got him one back in return.
"Alright, you hot stud - you win this round," Starsky tossed back at him. "Take me home and make me forget about how badly I want a smoke right now."
However, once inside the car Hutch could feel the hesitation in his partner, the brief interlude of lightness quickly lost as Starsky seemed to tense beside him. Starsky's hand coming out to catch Hutch's right arm as he leaned forward to push the keys into the ignition.
"Hutch – uh - you know that right about now I'd like nothin' better than what I just joked about," he said uneasily. "Umm…for you to take me home continue where we left off this afternoon – but…." Starsky faltered and stopped. He looked across at Hutch with a mix of apology and disappointment.
"Hey," Hutch cut in soft but quick, wanting to spare his partner's troubled thoughts. "It's okay babe. We both know what's happening with us has to have the all time record for bad timing. It's okay Starsk – we can put all the – the," he labored a little with the wording, suddenly unsure of his footing in this new, unchartered territory
"It's just that –" Starsky tried again as equally tongue tied with articulating the changed status in their relationship and Hutch could hear the remorse in his voice, layered over frustration. " – I think we need to keep our heads clear and our energies focused so I can get out of this mess, otherwise we might have no chance at taking what we've got any - ". He stopped suddenly his eyes suddenly riveted on the car's passenger side mirror, his intention pulled away from the two of them.
"Is it Nicky?" Hutch asked, but something in Starsky's narrowed eyed gaze and pressed lips told him it wasn't.
"Not Nicky – but someone that has no business being here," Starsky answered through tight lips. "Fuckin' hell, Hutch, it's Carlson. That's the first time I've noticed him parked down the street. How long has he been there?"
"Carlson?" Hutch was genuinely surprised, remaining still in his seat and not turning to look. . "He alone?" Bad enough that it was Carlson; Hutch only hoped for Starsky's sake that Clare wasn't with him.
"Yeah, just him. Can hardly see him inside the car but it's definitely him, and he's by himself." Starsky watched, his eyes piercing beneath the shadowed street lights. "Bastard must have followed us here."
"What the hell is he hoping to do by shadowing us? If he's tracked us to here that means he must have been waiting for us outside my place." An alarming thought came to Hutch. "Christ – he might've seen Dobey leaving with the bag."
Starsky pursed his lips, considering Hutch's question. "So what's he tryin' to get by doin' this? Is he out to piss us off? Intimidation? Goading us? Fuckin' asshole…"
"Starsky, if he's following us, we can report him for harassment."
"Report him? Yeah sure – that'll achieve a lot with Simonetti covering his ass. Why's he riding me like this? Jesus, is this all to do with Clare or is there more goin' on here?"
"Not sure but I'd say we've well and truly upset the good Lieutenant. There was the garage incident and now this. We can file an official complaint –"
"Complaint? Right now I'd like nothin' better than to climb outta this car, go over there and ram my version of a complaint down his throat. Pretentious prick!" Starsky fumed.
Hutch could see Starsky's determination. Nick's no-show and now Carlson popping up out of nowhere were too much for him to leave alone. "You and me both buddy but right now it's to our advantage to have him tailing us. If he did see Dobey with the bag of meth we need something to use as leverage against him." Hutch started the car before his volatile partner could let loose with his anger against Carlson and do something stupid.
Starsky smashed at the dashboard with his hand. "I don't want to walk away from this Hutch… "
"Come on Starsky, you know to ball him out now is stupid." Hutch reasoned, as he put the car into drive and slowly pulled out onto the street, "Let's see how far he's gonna play this with us. If we can catch him in the act of following us you might get your chance to get in his face a little."
Hutch drove at a normal pace, changing lanes in the light evening traffic as he normally would, slowing at the lights and idling while Starsky kept his sights set on the rear vision and side mirrors.
"He's still with us – a ways back – lights on." Starsky murmured.
"You want us to test him out some?" Hutch asked, moving already into a turning lane in anticipation to take the corner and double around the block.
"Yep. If he stays with us, you wanna test him out some?" Starsky's fingers flicked on his passenger window as he kept his gaze on the mirror.
"Sure." Hutch concentrated on negotiating the turn. When Carlson's car followed suit, a few car lengths back and then again on a subsequent turn, Hutch gave a small smirk of triumph.
"Persistent fucker ain't he? Time to flush him out?" Starsky asked his partner.
"Might as well let him know we've got the advantage over him knowing he's been tailing us…" Hutch took the car a fair way along the intersecting road before picking up speed and pulling away from Carlson's tail. Once there was another distance between their car and Carlson's Hutch made a sudden sharp turn into a narrower side street. "I trust he isn't familiar with the territory like we are." Hutch said as he sped faster to take another corner to complete the circuit of the block.
When they re-remerged onto the same wider street they had just turned off from, Hutch moved fast through the light traffic until the back of Carlson's car came into view. His car had obviously been slowed, as though he was looking for sight of Hutch's car ahead.
"Get up right behind him Hutch and ride up his ass till he gets the message we're wanting him to pull over." Starsky was sitting forward in his seat in anticipation. "Look up ahead – there's that parking shoulder near that Thai joint we went once – nose him into it if you can."
"Maybe you should be driving with all the orders you're giving me." Hutch complained but did as Starsky had advised anyway.
"If I was driving I would've side swiped him by now, the prick – the prized prick," Starsky added for good measure and Hutch didn't doubt he might have carried out his threat for sure.
"Okay – here we go. He's got the message we're behind him and, " Now abreast with Carlson's car Hutch was indicating to him with his head, " – he's pulling over."
Starsky was opening the door, ready to confront Carlson barely before Hutch had brought his car to an idling stop.
"Starsky?" Hutch's warning tone had Starsky turning to him. "Remember, what you said to me this morning in the garage? We both have to be cool about this."
It was enough to put the brakes on his partner and Starsky nodded as he alighted the car with calmness that Hutch knew he wasn't feeling. Hutch could tell the moment when Starsky traded his burning aggression with restrained control.
Hutch could make out Carlson's pensive stare through the car window as he watched Starsky's movements and he knew that Starsky would be returning the intensity. Letting Starsky take the lead ahead of him, Hutch climbed out of the car to follow.
Starsky made a show of walking slowly toward Carlson's car his pace unhurried, almost lazy – all designed to make the one he was advancing toward uneasy. Hutch knew this tactic of Starsky's well. He frequently employed it with suspects and interviewees when he wanted to rattle them with his cool, controlled approach – and it was dangerously deceptive. For that reason Hutch made sure to catch up with his partner as he came up close to Carlson's car.
Carlson was looking decidedly uncomfortable and seemed to stiffen in his seat as he took in Starsky's demeanor and hovering presence. He turned to look up at him through the wound down window, trying for nonchalance Hutch could see, but not pulling him off.
The lieutenant seemed rattled by the turn of events and looked obviously surprised that the tables had been turned on him and he'd been caught out.
He remained silent as Starsky, his hand on the roof of his car, his hip leaning into the side of the door with casual sureness, leaned in through the open window.
"Is this the time I get to use the line about 'of all the gin joints in town', Carlson?" Starsky asked him, his face set like rock in contrast to his loose body stance. His smile was almost predatory as he waited for Carlson to say something. " 'Cause…you see this area 'round here is Hutch's and my stomping ground. Didn't know you hung out here too."
"Why did you signal for me to pull over?" Carlson asked, looking at Hutch now and ignoring Starsky as though he couldn't face his fixed glare for another second.
"Well you see –" Starsky answered nonetheless and Hutch allowed him to do so, knowing this was how they would most unsettle Carlson. "I said to Hutch, didn't I Hutch?" he said lightly as he turned back quickly to Hutch for a moment before squaring off with Carlson once more, "Look ain't that Lieutenant Carlson – our Lieutenant Carlson from IA? Now what would he be doin' out and about in this part of town at this time of night? Now because this is our part of town and we saw you looking a little lost and all… Hutch agreed we should be neighborly and say hello."
This time Carlson reacted. "Save it Starsky. Save your smart mouthed comments and your damn threatening act."
Hutch didn't miss how Starsky's hands gripped the edge of the car's roof even tightly and how his loose posture coiled into readiness.
"Threatening? No. Like I said, we just want to say hello to a fellow officer. Nothin' threatening about it.. In fact, Hutch has almost forgotten that little spat the two of you had today in the garage, haven't ya' Hutch?" But Starsky didn't look at Hutch when he said it, his eyes instead remaining fixed on Carlson's face. The anger radiating off his body in such tense waves that Hutch feared for what might happen next.
"Starsk – " Hutch warned quietly from behind him, laying his hand lightly on Starsky's hip.
"It's alright Hutch. I'm only here to talk to the lieutenant," he said as he leaned inside the open window even further, brushing his hands over the steering wheel, running his fingers along the dash in front of Carlson's driver's seat.. "See, I don't intend to give you the satisfaction of letting Hutch or myself lay a hand on you."
"That's just as well Sergeant because I consider that you're already in enough trouble without facing new charges of professional misconduct," Carlson retaliated.
"That so? The way I see it Lieutenant you're the one who's skirting close to misconduct by following police officers in their off duty hours."
"Think what you will Starsky," Carlson said. " but that's absurd." Carlson said, but the unease in his voice was blatantly evident.
"Bullshit!" Starsky smacked the steering wheel hard. Hutch could see Carlson jump with the sudden violent thump. "You've been taken off the case but just can't keep your nose out of our business," Starsky.
"How I spend my private off duty time has got nothing to do with the two of you. I can drive when and where I choose in this city."
"Now I'm pretty sure that's a double dose of bullshit," Starsky's smile was mean "You wanna' cut outta here partner? " he said, turning to Hutch. Then smirking at Carlson, "Let's see how long you stay here and practice your choice to drive around here when your floor show has just driven off."
With that, Starsky turned back to Hutch and their car.
As he climbed into his car, Hutch contemplated Carlson's intentions.
Why had Carlson been following them? Obviously he was deeper into his resentment of Starsky than he had first realized. Was he really trying to build a worse case against his partner, put him in an even more dangerous position as a suspect than he already was or was he simply out to provoke and needle Starsky? Had he seen Dobey with the stuff and if he did than what did this mean for Starsky – hell for Dobey?
Hutch put it aside to concentrate on something Starsky was saying to him. He would chew on it later. He didn't want to say anything to flare Starsky up anymore until they got well clear of Carlson. Right now their focus was on Nick and why he had failed to front at Huggy's after he'd agreed to meet with Starsky.
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Starsky remained tense on the trip home, quiet while Hutch drove, besieged by worry about Nick, the surprise of finding the meth, Van's murder investigation – but also by what had so recently happened between the two of them.
How the hell did fate intervene to make this the time for such a monumental shift in their relationship? Or, was it that because all of this had happened, they had been brought together like they had? Was their relationship's shift a reaction to what they might both lose? Afterall, Starsky had to admit that there was nothing like the fear of being thrown in prison to make someone reach out to grab blindly at what he might never get again?
Either way, there was no going back, only forward - whether it was the right way or not. Inevitable and irreversible. Not that the irreversible part worried him, at least not yet, but then he hadn't had time to take a breath after what they'd shared, let alone mull over how it might change things for them both – professionally and personally. There was a hell of a big difference from being best pals and watching each other's backs on the streets to being lovers and trying to do the same. A difference that he just wasn't ready to measure – at least not yet. A difference that could be dangerous for them on so many levels.
Beside him Hutch remained as quiet as he did. Starsky knew he was paying close attention to whether they were being tailed again, this time on the lookout for the men that had followed Starsky that afternoon. But he also knew that Hutch was leaving him be; letting him wallow in his own mire of introspection. At least, he let him wallow until they were nearly home. Then it was Hutch who broke the thick silence in the car.
"So which is it?" Hutch asked
"What?" Starsky was jostled by Hutch's quiet probing and momentarily confused by the question. "Which is what?" he tried again to clarify his response.
He could see a slight flicker of exasperation in Hutch's profile.
"Starsky…answering a question with a question still leaves us with a question."
"Fine. Then maybe if you gave me a proper question you might get a proper answer."
"Okay. Point taken," Hutch threw back at him. " I meant - are you thinking about Nick's no-show or why Carlson was following us?" Hutch clarified.
"Both of those things," Starsky's answer came out too curt and hearing it, he tagged on a bit more to his answer. "That – and …. other stuff."
"Other stuff?" Hutch's question was tentative and thick with expression. So heavy that Starsky could almost imagine Hutch walking around the two words in his head as though he was circling two big billboards with one word on each, assessing them like he would evidence at a crime scene. He knew it meant that Hutch wanted those two words to tell him more than they had so far.
"Just – just other stuff that I really shouldn't be thinking about – not now." Starsky really hoped Hutch would leave it be, but Hutch was not giving up easily.
"Is the 'other stuff' you and me? Us? Together?" Hutch's face was shadowed in the semi darkness of the car's interior, but not so shadowed that Starsky could miss how pinched it looked.
"Look – not now Hutch alright? I just don't want to talk about it. I've got enough to deal with at the moment don't you think?" Starsky willed the words back into his mouth as soon as they were out. It had sounded too hard and sharp, as though he was angry with Hutch. As much as he would have preferred to deny that his words might have hurt his partner he could hardly mistake Hutch's quick emotional response. The evidence was clear in the increased tension he applied to the steering wheel and in the way the long column of his throat was working hard to choke down – what? Disappointment? Fear that Starsky was rejecting him, regretting what they'd shared that afternoon?
The recognition of his pain brought Starsky an immediate wash of remorse. God, I can be such a heel to him… Why? Am I really angry with him? With what has happened between us? Am I somehow blaming him for what has suddenly changed between us?
He vetoed that thought as soon as it came into his head. He wasn't feeling anything toward Hutch but closeness.
He stole a glance at Hutch's profile. Such a perfect profile. Beautiful. Even more beautiful for what they had had together.
Powerless to hold back, and needing to convey to Hutch what he couldn't seem to say at the moment, Starsky reached out to nestle his hand on the nape of Hutch's neck, just below his baby soft hair. His touch seemed to achieve what it always did. Some of the rigidity in Hutch's neck lessened under the light caress of his fingers. His touch alone was enough to take away the bite that he knew his rough tone had left on his too sensitive partner.
How could he tell Hutch that what was chewing him up inside right then was not what had changed between them, but his fears that they might never get the chance to take it further? The near future for him was too frightening and too precarious for him to allow him the freedom to enjoy more of what he and Hutch had only just begun. Not just now.
Not when this investigation surrounding him was like the entire weight of the world on his shoulders and the black uncertainty of what tomorrow or the next day might bring for him was stopping him from taking more than what he so greedily wanted to take from his and Hutch's newly claimed intimacy.
What if it was all so quickly swept away from him? Ripped from him, like he would be ripped away from Hutch if he was convicted of Vanessa's murder or convicted of being involved with the discovered haul of meth?
Even more than these fears were the creeping doubt of what finally being with Hutch on a sexual level meant for them both. Since the initial euphoria, wonderment and pure bodily satisfaction of what they had shared in bed earlier had been replaced by some time to mull it all over, Starsky was nolonger so sure of what their sexual mating meant to each of them and their friendship. Sifting his hand through the softness of Hutch's fine hair he gave thought to this familiar habit he so often was drawn to act out. It was a simple act, but one that gave him deep, gut wrenching pleasure and a closeness to his partner that words could not convey. But never had there been any agenda to this simple action other then a way to transmit support and friendship.
Touch – touching Hutch. Touching him without forethought, without constraint or without mixed messages. Their way of bringing and keeping them close, closer than anything they might share with other friends or even family.
How many times over the years had he sat in the car and touched Hutch just like this? Too many to remember. But never like this. Never with the sorts of thoughts that the skin-to-skin contact with his partner was provoking in him at that very moment as he ran his fingers over the warmth of Hutch's neck, his skin a light smooth gold in the car's darkened interior.
What would this familiar touch and so many like them mean from here on?
Starsky didn't want to think about how everything between them would never be quite the same again. How could he begin to try to put into words all the mixed up shit that was in his head and his heart, when words, the really tough words that came with emotion and feelings, were not easy for him to put together?
And why in God's name was he spending so much energy on all of this when he should be putting his thoughts to his own survival, his quest to clear his name as a murder suspect?
He didn't have time for these psychological head-trips with himself. Dobey had given them a small time frame to sort something out and with Nick not showing, it seemed as though the time would be wasted anyway.
And so as they pulled up outside Venice Place Starsky tried to pull himself back into gear and push the heaviness of his internal musings to one side. Hutch certainly didn't deserve any of it.
"Hutch – I'm sorry 'bout the moodiness. I know I've been black since Dobey took off with the meth and gave us this damn time frame." Hutch nodded, accepting Starsky's explanation as Starsky went on. "I just don't know what we're even gonna do to change my position here. Dobey gave us twenty four hours – hell I asked for twenty four hours – but for what? What? Apart from Nicky, am some goons I saw tagging me this afternoon, I got nothin' to open up. Now the meth is out, it's only gonna complicate my case more."
Hutch pulled the keys from the ignition and tapped Starsky on the leg.
"Nick knows something – a lot actually. We need to get onto him. Let's go inside, get some coffee and use our considerable skills as detectives to locate his whereabouts."
"What if he's been nabbed by the men following me?" Starsky asked.
"Starsky, I still think he's lying low to keep away from me."
"Maybe you're right and he just needs some time to get it together," Starsky answered and allowed himself the diversion of a small teasing grin despite his worried state. "You did scare the shit outta him with that Hutch the Viking act of yours."
"Well, we'll find out soon enough – or at least we'll find out something more than we know now. Nick wants the meth. If we let him know we've got it, we might well bust this thing right open Starsk. Come on - "
Starsky followed Hutch out of the car, both of them wary and alert as they locked up and stood on the sidewalk. Like the cops that they were they each took some time to unobtrusively scan the street as they walked toward the entrance. Beside him, Starsky could feel Hutch's vigilance. He could feel something else too, a quiet vibration in Hutch of a new sort of tension. Hutch was primed for defensive action if need be, but also he was primed with something else – the changed quality in their relationship to each other. Starsky felt it too, deep inside of himself. The change that would never allow them to go back to what they had been for so many years.
At the top of the stairs Hutch took out his keys. Starsky watched as the big broad hands moved as they managed the locks – dwarfing the lock mechanism just as the long fingers so easily wrapped around the heavy metal of his gun. The basic movement was irrationally stirring for Starsky. Would he have even noticed it a week ago? Now it seemed as though watching Hutch move through space and time was a constant energy source for his libido.
As though sensing the hungry stare, Hutch lifted his head and looked directly at him and Starsky could almost touch what was passing between them – at the very moment that it was happening. Something tangible. A force that was alive and beating with a bounding pulse of its own. Starsky knew that of course his partner was feeling it just as strongly as he – this fission of sexual current that charged the small space between their bodies and heated their mutually attentive gazes. A little in awe of this new power house of sensual interplay that they had now tapped into, Starsky settled his hand on Hutch's lower middle back as he moved into the open doorway behind him.
He was brought up abruptly when after a couple of steps into the apartment Hutch came to a jarring halt.
"No fucking way!" Hutch cried out.
Immediately galvanized, Starsky sought to see what had caused Hutch's anguished reaction. Something was outside on the balcony. Something was wrong. In the shadowed darkness outside, it was obvious that Hutch could see something he couldn't.
Hutch strode across to the balcony door. As he came to a standstill in front of it, he cursed again, patting his jacket pocket. "Jesus! Gloves – where are my gloves?" He ran back to the bookshelf where he kept a box of disposable gloves and roughly pulled out two pair, pulling his own on after he tossed the other pair to Starsky. "The place has been trashed. Better not touch anything in here 'til we see…." He threw the internal locks on the reinforced glass panels and flipped open the security screen door. Reaching around, he found the external balcony light.
As Hutch snapped it on, Starsky could now see what Hutch reacted to.
"I'll kill the little bastard!" Hutch roared. " Your brother or not, Starsky, I'll kill him." He whirled around to Starsky, holding his arms aloft, the balcony a backdrop behind him.
Had Nick been there at that moment, Starsky very much doubted he would have escaped becoming a homicide statistic.
"Look at what he's done to my plants!" Hutch thundered.
Starsky did – and he cringed at the specter.
Hutch's balcony greenhouse had been ripped apart.
The damage done was carnage – at least it would be in his partner's eyes, for Hutch's apartment garden was his baby. The destruction was cruel, ruthless, and heartbreaking. The concrete floor of the balcony was covered in potting dirt, garden sand, and fertilizer, topped with crushed flowers and the branches of plants. Many of the small potted plants were turned over and broken as though victims of haste and desperation rather than ruthless destruction. The bigger urns and pots however, were overturned, cracked, and disemboweled. The roots of bushes, small trees, and flowering shrubs, were exposed and eerily white against the dark potting mix scattered over the balcony's surface.
Dumbstruck by the senseless ruin, Starsky tried to pull his thoughts into gear.
Nicky, did you do this? Did you?
He walked over to where Hutch had crouched down to survey the mess at a different angle. In his hands he held what Starsky suspected was the same potted flower which Hutch had tended only hours before with such infinite care; the same one that Starsky had joked about taking Hutch's attention away from him. Now it was so broken that no amount of tending would fix it.
Starsky looked over his shoulder, surveying the apartment through the open door. Nothing inside appeared to have been damaged or even disturbed. The trashing had been localized to Hutch's balcony garden, the precious oasis he cultivated in his spare time. Only Starsky knew how much this haven meant to Hutch. He felt his partner's pain.
"I'm sorry, Hutch. Really. If Nicky did do this then - " He crouched alongside Hutch and felt tempted to begin righting the overturned and damaged pots, but knew better than to contaminate the field anymore than they already had by walking across the debris. "We'll salvage a lot of it, babe, I'm sure we can."
Hutch exhaled, placed the already wilting plant carefully on the bench, and stood up. Starsky could see him donning his cop persona, putting his personal feelings aside. "We've got to call this in, Starsky, right now before more time passes." He said it in a matter-of-fact tone "The intruder might've left prints and evidence – although with all this dirt and mess we'd be lucky." Starsky looked at him sharply, surprised that he had made any mention of the chance of the guilty party being anyone but Nicky.
Hutch signaled for them to leave. "Come on, we'll go downstairs and call Dobey again. We can't do this alone Starsky – there's too much riding on it for you if this is connected with the stolen meth – and you and I both know it must be. Maybe there's a chance Forensics can turn up something."
Starsky followed him out, walking carefully across the balcony so as not to disturb anything further, his mind as messed up as Hutch's greenhouse.
It was clear to him that Hutch really believed this was Nicky's handiwork but either way they needed to bring Dobey in on it in. If a crime team did collect evidence that Nicky had done it, what would that mean for Starsky?
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Down on the street outside of the restaurant beneath Hutch's apartment they stood waiting for Dobey and the forensic team to arrive.
Starsky had made the call to Dobey and as expected he was far from impressed with the new turn of events.
More than ever Starsky wanted that damn cigarette – even if it was unlit, he had a desperate need to manipulate it in his hands. As soon as the arrangements had been made with Dobey, Hutch turned to him, both of their backs pressed against the outside of the restaurant.
Hutch had said nothing else till they themselves settled against the exterior wall of the restaurant, Hutch having notified the staff inside of what had transpired upstairs and to expect the arrival of some cop cars. "So now we know why Nick didn't meet us at Huggy's. He was here, tearing my garden apart." Hutch shook his head in frustration, his mouth tight with bitterness. "Your little brother acts before he thinks. What was he thinking anyway? Did he think that because you're his brother I wouldn't involve the police?"
"Listen? While you were inside the restaurant talking to the staff I've been thinking it through." Starsky began carefully. It was clear that Hutch had already pinned the destruction of his balcony on Nicky. "Whoever it was who did that upstairs had to have come in over the edge of the balcony – he must have. Nothing seems touched inside, and the balcony door was still intact." Starsky was hesitant to say what he was thinking, knowing that Hutch wouldn't be receptive.
"What do you mean– 'whoever' it was?" Hutch's tone was sharp as he looked at Starsky. "I think it's pretty damn obvious who did this."
Starsky sighed. "I know you don't want to hear this, Hutch, but let me finish here. Could this really have been Nicky's work?" He stood eye level with Hutch.
"Oh Jesus, Starsky! Don't try to protect him – or defend him," Hutch said in a clipped voice. "Most of all stop denying to yourself what sort of person Nick really is."
"Of course it seems logical to assume its Nicky. But think about it for a minute will ya?" Starsky pulled insistently at Hutch's arm as Hutch tried to move away as though he couldn't stand to listen to him trying to absolve Nicky of the blame. "Van put the meth out on your balcony. Did Durniak's men find that out? Told Nicky? How though? Who would have told them when Van is dead? They were looking for the stuff at my place, not here. How would Nick know about where she stashed the stuff? Did Nicky know Van or talk to her? I don't think so. She would have told me otherwise – used it in some way to reel me in to helping her."
Hutch shook his head, but at least stayed still to answer him. "None of that clears Nick. It just opens up a hell of a lot more questions about him." Hutch looked along the darkened street and then back at Starsky. "Nick didn't show up tonight, Starsky – he didn't show because he was busy ripping my balcony apart for the meth! He sized the place up this afternoon and then when we gave him the perfect window of opportunity by telling him we were at Huggy's and waiting for him, he came back…"
Starsky listened but was already shaking his head. "If Nicky had come looking for the meth when he knew the coast was clear…it wouldn't have gone down like this. He would have found a way to get through the front security door – easy enough for him, he'd have used his flirtation skills to do that like he did this morning. Once in, it would have been a breeze for him to pick your locks. He's a deft hand at that."
"Why do all that when he could have just done what he did upstairs?" Hutch asked him, "Come up the fire escape out the back of the restaurant and over the roof?"
"Because if it was Nicky he would have needed to search your whole apartment, not just the balcony. He wouldn't have known about the spot where the meth was hidden. How could he?" Starsky asked. "Nicky didn't know Vanessa – barely knew of her – so he would not isolate the search for the meth to just out here on the balcony."
What Starsky had said seemed to be sinking in to Hutch. His forehead was creased in concentration. "What he did today – when he came up with me…. " Hutch's voice trailed off as he looked into the distance, obviously thinking back on his discussion with Nick earlier in the day. "He told me today – he said something about him knowing a lot more about her than I realized." Hutch said, his face intent with remembering.
"Yeah, but that could mean about what she'd been up to, not what she knew and had done with the meth." Starsky argued.
Hutch paced away a few feet as he so often did when he was thinking and pinched the bridge of his nose. He paced back. "When he came up to the apartment with me this afternoon, I found him looking through your stuff and opening drawers in the bedroom alcove. Said he was looking for your phone charger…."
Starsky nodded, seeing Hutch's resistance gradually subsiding. "So, you see? Why would he be looking in the bedroom or inside at all if he had knowledge that the meth was out there on the balcony? He had no real idea of where the meth might be – or if it was even at your place for certain. Whoever did this knew specifically that Van had hidden the meth in potting soil and whoever did this ripped into everything when they couldn't find it. To me, that suggests it's not likely to be the two men who were following me today, either. The person who did this must have had a direct line of communication with Vanessa."
"That's assuming that my greenhouse was trashed because someone was looking for something – like the meth. It could, I guess, turn out to be a simple case of reckless vandalism." Hutch surmised.
"Bit of a coincidence for that don't ya' think?" Starsky said firmly. "Nah. Had to be something to do with the case, with Van or the meth." A thought hit him and he cursed.
"God! You don't think it could have been Carlson do you? What if he'd come up here after we left? But – no – why in hell's name would he do something like tear your garden apart?"
"Can't discount it I guess. Pure, spiteful revenge." Hutch paused for a moment before going on. "But, no, I can't really buy that one," he said, his face still heavy in concentration. "Like you said – more likely it was someone Van had told – like that guy she was linked to in New York, that Jake guy?" Hutch mused.
Starsky nodded. "Unless Van was in contact with someone else about the meth, then he's the obvious choice. We know after what Dobey told us that he's still alive."
"That's if Van's killers haven't tracked him down since the cops spoke to him…" Hutch added. "God…we're stumbling around in the dark here Starsky. Stumbling and getting no where fast."
Starsky heard the catch of worried weariness in his partner's voice. Hutch looked wiped – emotionally and mentally, the destruction of his prized garden just another blow.
Hutch looked back at him, very intently and very obviously on the same wavelength. Clearly he was all too aware himself of how the cumulative effects of the last couple of days were swamping them both. "What a fucking tangled mess this all is," he muttered quietly. "A tangled mess at the worst possible time for us both."
As he spoke Hutch turned and pressed his forehead hard into the rough stucco wall causing Starsky to wince. "Hey cut it out will ya? That's my partner's head and although I know it's hard it ain't that hard," he said, trying to make the moment a little lighter. It didn't work.
Hutch stepped back and looked at him. "Starsk, I don't want that we end up like my broken plants upstairs; crushed and beaten down by life before we even get a chance to grow and flourish." Hutch spoke softly as he fixed Starsky with loving but sad eyes. "There's always something in our way it seems; something trying to cut us down. I don't want what we've just begun to create together to be ripped apart."
It was no surprise to Starsky to hear his bookish, skillfully articulate partner come out with such an expressive declaration – he was well used to Hutch's way with words. Still he was ridiculously touched by Hutch's metaphor of their newly budding phase of their relationship.
Determined to give Hutch some reassurance Starsky spoke with more confidence than he actually felt. "We'll get through this Hutch – like we get through everything. Something will turn for us – for me. I'll get clear of this. I don't intend to sit in a cell for the next twenty or so years." Starsky declared, hoping that his voice carried more surety than he felt in his gut.
"Just as well buddy because I won't stand to let anything or anyone put you there –" Hutch choked back what sounded like a knot of rope in his throat and Starsky's protective instincts for his partner sprung to the fore. He wished that they weren't on the street waiting for the cops to arrive, waiting for reality to close in on them again. He wished that at that moment he could wrap his arms around the big blond form of his dejected looking partner and reassure him – and be reassured right back.
"Hey, you." Starsky reached out in the semi darkened sidewalk shadows to touch his thumb briefly to the deep furrow of Hutch's forehead, noting as he did the light redness where he had abraded his forehead on the wall. "Tonight, right now, you're just feelin' extra vulnerable and that's natural. So much has gone down in the last coupla days."
"And it's far from over," Hutch said softly. "I want it all over. I want you in the clear. More than anything, I want us to be free to be together."
"I'm not goin' to deny that I'm worried about where all this is headin'. I'm still the only viable suspect the cops have for Van's murder. But," Starsky said, as he dared one final stroke over the ever present furrow in Hutch's forehead, "I knew that before we did what we did this afternoon. And I know it now and I still can't stop myself from wanting more of it with you – even at the risk that something might happen to take it all away."
Hutch let out a shuddering breath. His hand came up to cover Starsky's, folding over it and squeezing it hard and maintaining the hold for longer than they should both dare in the open street. "Nothing will take you away from me Starsky. Nothing. No matter what happens, now or in the future, I don't aim to lose you."
Almost overwhelmed Starsky was saved from emotional meltdown by the sound of approaching cars.
He looked up to see that Dobey's car was nearing the apartment block as it came down the street toward them, a second patrol car bringing up the rear.
His eyes met Hutch's. "That's good babe because I damn well don't have any plans to get lost. I'm planning on sticking as close to you as that close beard you've been forgetting to shave off every morning for the past few months."
Hutch let out a strangled splutter. "Has anyone ever told you, you have a way with words? Besides the point, how many times do I have to tell you the beard is on my face on purpose?" Hutch chuckled again before pulling away from the wall and straightening up, visibly preparing to deal with what awaited them.
"So you keep sayin' Blondie, but if it was a purposeful beard, why not have a beard and not an overgrown shadow?" Starsky grinned as he delivered the final word and turned to greet their captain. "Let's talk to Dobey and see what he's got to say. He's sure gonna be pissed making a second trip out here tonight."
Letting go mentally of what was between him and Hutch, Starsky's mind turned once again to Nicky and why his little brother had failed to materialize. Whatever might happen with the crime team's assessment of Hutch's apartment, Starsky was determined to find out why Nicky hadn't - and to do so before the night was out.
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