I am so sorry that I haven't updated more regularly but real life has been extremely busy. I feel like I have done nothing but apologise since I started posting this story but here (at last!) is the latest chapter. Thank you for your patience and I hope you all enjoy it.

Chapter 9

Rosie ran to the window, all the while listening to the heavy footsteps retreating down the stairs. She shrank back behind the grubby curtain as Milton looked up towards the window as though he sensed her scrutiny.

She watched the blue car drive away and wondered again if she would be able to attract someone's attention. However the few passers-by all scurried past with downcast eyes. No one even glanced up as she pounded on the glass.

Should she break the window? Rosie was scared that Milton would return before she had made her escape so she reluctantly gave up on that idea.

Crossing the room she tried the door, twisting and rattling the handle. She pulled on it with all her strength, and thumped and kicked it. But the door was stronger than it looked and after battering it for several minutes Rosie had to concede defeat.

She wandered back to the window. Pressing her cheek against the glass she closed her eyes and began to say her prayers like her mommy had taught her.

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As Starsky and Hutch entered the squad room the phone on their desk was ringing. Hutch made a grab for it while Starsky flopped into his chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He watched Hutch scribbling notes, looking increasingly animated.

Starsky slid down in his seat. He felt his eyes closing and fought a brief battle to keep them open before succumbing to the call of sleep. A hand on his shoulder startled him awake and he was surprised to see Hutch crouching in front of him, his face inches from his own, wearing a sympathetic smile.

"Tired, buddy?"

Starsky smiled self consciously and lowered his gaze, enjoying the fleeting moment of closeness with his partner in the midst of this terrible case. He felt a light squeeze at the back of his neck and then Hutch's hand ruffled his hair as he stood.

"That was Children's Services. They're going to send the files across but here's the condensed version. Crosby's children were taken into care after his death as the mother had abandoned the family and no one knew her whereabouts.

"The boy, Milton, was quite a handful by all accounts, running away several times and setting fires for fun. He started to get in trouble with the law and eventually dropped out of sight..."

"And they just let him go? Without looking for him?"

"C'mon, Starsk, you know what it's like. Too many kids, not enough social workers. He slipped through the net. He's not the first, he won't be the last. At least we have a name to check."

"What about the girl?"

He saw a shadow of sadness cross Hutch's face.

"She and Milton were placed in different foster homes. Emily was put up for adoption and it seems they were near to finding a family for her. But there was a fire and everyone died."

Starsky felt the sadness wash over him too at the thought of a young life cut short. Then his brain began buzzing as his thought processes clicked up a gear. Looking up, he realised Hutch was looking at him intently, eyebrows raised as though he had solved the case already and was waiting for Starsky to catch him up.

"Do you think Milton is replacing Emily with Rosie?"

"Do you?"

Starsky nodded emphatically, feeling excitement coursing through his veins. "I do."

"Yeah, me too," said Hutch, eyes glittering dangerously. "Let's go see Ollie and run all this by him. We need to get a team tracking him down asap."

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Milton drove past the cop's house as slowly as he dared without raising suspicion. There was no police car parked out front, no sign of a guard on the door. Parking carefully he adjusted the mirror so he could observe the house. After waiting fifteen minutes, he slid out and closed the door quietly. Pushing his hands into the pockets of his blue windcheater he sauntered down the road past the cop's house.

No. Definitely no cops on guard.

What could that mean? He hoped the family was home...there was no point setting a fire in an empty house. But then again an empty house would enable him to look around and formulate a plan for eliminating Emily's other family.

Milton fingered the matches in his pocket feeling the desire begin to wash over him like waves in the ocean. Just small waves for now but he knew that they would grow bigger until he was engulfed, unable to stop himself.

His knife rested beside the matches, still enclosed in the bloodied towel from the other day. He had not been able to bring himself to look at it let alone clean it. But he needed the reassurance of knowing it was there, his defence against who knows what demons that occasionally beset him.

He turned and began to retrace his steps, attempting to see if anyone was looking out of their window, or sitting in a car, and could see him.

Satisfied he was unnoticed, Milton walked casually up to the Dobey's house and with a final quick look, he slipped through the side gate and into the back yard.

His fingers fumbled with the matches as he fought the impulse to set a fire there and then. He was smart enough to know that starting something now would prevent him from doing something in the future. But sometimes he was overcome by the desire.

Pulling the matches from his pocket he lit one, watching mesmerised as the tiny flame danced. As it neared his fingertips he dropped it and struck another and another. In no time they were all spent.

The craving had receded slightly allowing Milton to look around more carefully. The garden was well-tended with tall trees at its borders and a patch of grass in the middle. There was a paved area near the house on which stood a wooden table and chairs. Milton felt a streak of jealousy go through him and it hardened his resolve to destroy the house and its occupants.

He decided to keep it simple...a trash can fire would serve his purpose. He would fill it with oily rags and set it alight by the back door. Oil soaked rags at the front door would complete his revenge. He didn't concern himself with being caught, having already decided that he and Emily would be moving away from Bay City to start a new life far away where nobody could find them.

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Starsky drove the Torino swiftly across town feeling reinvigorated. Lt. Thomas had agreed with their opinion that Milton Crosby was now the prime suspect and every available officer was actively seeking him. There had been a hum of renewed hope throughout the department.

Charlie Collins' team unearthed information on Crosby's criminal background. They knew what car was registered in his name and most importantly of all, they now had an address.

With Lt. Thomas following behind, Starsky and Hutch were heading for the small print shop above which was the apartment which was listed as Crosby's last known address. Several blocks away they killed their lights and sirens and coasted gently to a halt behind a patrol car that was already at the scene.

One of the uniforms approached. "The shop is closed and his car isn't here," he reported.

Lt. Thomas sent the uniforms to check round the back. "Keep in touch," he said, indicating the walkie-talkie in his hand. The street was almost deserted as Starsky, Hutch and the lieutenant walked towards the print shop.

"We've got to do this by the book, guys; no entry without a warrant," Lt. Thomas was saying, as a loud banging attracted their attention.

Starsky was the first to spot Rosie at a window above the shop, pounding frantically on the glass. "But we can enter if we have just cause," he growled, breaking into a run, Hutch and Ollie at his heels.

The door easily gave under their combined assault as did the door which led to the living quarters above.

Starsky pounded up the narrow stairs behind Hutch. As he came through the battered door he saw Hutch scoop Rosie up in his arms, crushing her in an embrace that the little girl returned fiercely.

He heard Rosie's cries and saw the tears glistening in his partner's eyes as their gaze locked across the room.

Clearing his throat to try to disguise his own emotions, Starsky called down to Lt. Thomas. "Ollie! We've got her!"

After a quick check with Hutch he added, "She seems fine."

"Let's go then," Ollie called back. "The uniforms will get him when he comes back. We need to get Rosie back to her family."

Starsky and Hutch clattered down the stairs, Rosie holding onto Hutch tightly. She refused to let go when they reached the Torino, so Hutch clambered awkwardly into the back with his precious cargo.

After a quick word with the officers who had responded to his call for back-up, Lt Thomas climbed into his own car and led the way to the safe house.

Starsky followed the lieutenant's black Ford across town listening to his partner soothing the distressed child in the back seat. "Hutch'll make a great dad one day," he thought.

Rosie's tears dried as she was reassured that she would soon be back with her mommy and daddy, and Uncle Ken was not hurt too bad.

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The blue car drove down the street and pulled into the alley between a small mom-and-pop store and a laundromat. Milton could scarcely believe it when he'd seen the red and white car parked down the road from his home. It must be the same one...surely there couldn't be two cars with that fancy paint job?

Twisting in his seat to look out the rear window, he wondered what to do. Was it just coincidence the car was parked there? Or had they found out where he lived? Maybe they had already taken Emily away and were lying in wait for him?

As he debated what to do, he saw three men walking by, two looking all around vigilantly, the third carrying Emily in his arms. He immediately recognised the blond and his curly-haired friend.

In that instant he knew what he had to do. If he couldn't have Emily then no one would.

Turning to the front he drove down the alley and took three quick right turns which brought him up behind the red car just as it pulled away. Milton hung back, grateful the car was so distinctive.

It looked like they were following a black Ford across town and sure enough both cars indicated and pulled up behind each other. Milton stopped too and watched intently as the curly man helped the blond out of the car, Emily still clinging to him like a limpet. The third man, whom he recognised from the TV appeal, was standing close by, looking all around. All three men approached one of the nondescript houses and disappeared inside. Milton just caught a glimpse of a uniformed police officer before the door closed.

Milton alighted from his car and scanned the neighbourhood. He jogged to a small convenience store and emerged minutes later with a bottle of soda and a box of matches.

Taking a quick gulp of the soda, he poured the rest onto the ground. Siphoning some fuel out of his car and into the bottle was easy, something he'd done several times in the past. He carefully pushed an old rag from the trunk of his car into the mouth of the bottle.

Creeping up to the house he set light to the rag and with his heart pounding, he took aim at one of the windows and threw the flaming bottle as hard as he could.