Comments on this story (good or bad) can be sent to Anne at Lrs4147@AOL.com

THE SAND DOLLAR

by

Anne S.

PART ONE

He found himself on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the ocean. On the rocky outcroppings along the way down, jagged edges looked razor sharp in the darkness. The water below was black and inky and the spray from the sea jetted high into the air and came crashing back down onto the rocks hidden under the water. He looked down, experienced vertigo and almost fell, catching himself at the last moment. He turned and saw his partner coming out of a building behind him, his hands outstretched as if to plead with him or warn him, he wasn't sure which. Suddenly a shape materialized behind his friend and a thunderous boom assaulted his ears. Indescribable pain erupted in his shoulder and immediately he was falling backwards, falling over the edge of the world, staring up at the sight of his partner screaming his name over and over again...

"Starsky! Starsk! Wake up, buddy, you're having another nightmare. Starsk!"

"Huuuuuutch...!?"

Hutch grabbed onto him and held tight, knowing this was the same dream that had been recurring in his partner's sleep for the last few weeks. Starsky was becoming so traumatized by it that Hutch had been staying with him, trying to keep him grounded and helping him cope with the fact that he wasn't getting much sleep. The doctor had prescribed sleeping pills, but they seemed to make the dreams come even more often, and his superstitious partner was losing his grip on reality, thinking this was some kind of omen. His waking hours were now occupied with thoughts of how to prevent the horrible nightmare from happening. This left little concentration to spare for his job and Hutch was becoming very concerned for his friend.

The case they were working on had been dragging on for weeks. There had been four killings so far, all of the victims found within 500 feet of Venice Beach, all young men in their twenties, athletic with fair-complexions. In each of their pockets was found one sand dollar. The last man, even though there was an age difference, had resembled Hutch to the point that Starsky had retreated down the beach to quietly lose his lunch. This was intensifying the nightmare problem considerably and every night the dream came more often.

It angered Hutch that the murders were occurring practically in his front yard and he was wound tight as a bowstring, just waiting for the right amount of pressure to snap. They both were on edge and there was a current that passed between them, something unspoken, incomprehensible, a feeling of something on the wind, something evil. Even Hutch, who normally was the very voice of reason, could feel the bad vibes, but tried to explain it away by blaming his partner.

"You all right, Starsk?" Hutch questioned his friend, once he was fully awake.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just don't know how long this can go on, for either of us. You've got a life of your own. You can't stay here with me all the time. I really appreciate it, though." Starsky smiled wanly.

"Hey, man, I wouldn't be anywhere else. We're going to have to buy you a new couch, though, if this is going to be a long-term commitment."

"Don't even talk like that, Hutch. I'm scared enough as it is. They say if you dream of falling and you ever hit bottom, you're dead. What if...?"

"That's a myth, Gordo, do you think anybody's ever come back from the dead and told us they died because they dreamed they were falling and hit bottom? Get that out of your head! I'm sure this is just frustration and stress from the case we're working on. It'll resolve itself, just wait and see."

"But this started even before the case, and I can't help but think there's something more, Hutch, I worry about what happens to you after I go over that cliff. There's danger to you and I'm not going to be there to help you!"

"It's not real, Starsky, it's just a dream, why can't you see that? It has nothing to do with real life. You're going to find yourself in a rubber room if you don't let this go. There's no danger to either of us, unless it's from Dobey if we don't get our butts going. We're supposed to be at work in 45 minutes." As much as he loved his best friend and partner, sometimes Hutch found him so naïve and child-like that he wanted to shake him. "Now get your backside out of that bed and in the shower, or I'll really lose my cool."

That brought a grin to the exhausted man's face. "Yes, sir. For a minute there, you sounded just like Cap'n Dobey."

The pair dragged themselves into the station with five minutes to spare. Of course, Dobey was waiting for them, wanting to know if they'd made any progress on the case and they had to tell him there were no new leads. He glanced at Starsky with real concern, noticing that the detective resembled a walking zombie.

"Starsky, are you letting your nightlife get out of hand again? You need all your wits about you right now! Do I have to put you on a curfew?" he bellowed

"Cap, that's not the problem," Hutch was quick to defend his partner. "He's been having a lot of trouble sleeping and it's wearing him down. I've been staying with him, so if you need to get in touch, we'll be together."

"What else is new? You two have always been joined at the hip. Just be careful out there!"

Starsky stuck his thumb in Hutch's direction. "He's careful now, I'm just cute."

"That's not the way I heard it," Hutch objected.

The phone interrupted the bantering. Dobey answered, listened for a few minutes and said, "I'll get them down there right away."

Starsky groaned, he knew what was coming. "Another killing, Cap'n?"

"Same general area as the last one, same MO; get your butts out there right away!"

This one turned out to be even closer to Hutch's apartment. It was a bright summer morning and there were more than the usual crowd of gawkers, making it hard to get the car in close. Starsky started throwing his weight around and some of the group dissipated, leaving them alone with a dead man who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The other officers joining them on the scene held what was left of the crowd at bay. The body, like the others, was partially buried in the sand, not so much to hide it, but more to pose it, just the upper torso reclining on a sloping "pillow" of sand. The man had been in his mid twenties, very fit, from what they could see, and was bronzed from the sun and his hair streaked with gold. He looked like he'd been merely sleeping and some wayward child had crept up and covered him with sand for a prank, but they knew the cause of death would be poison, a lethal one which was able to strike a person dead in a matter of seconds. All of the victims had been killed elsewhere and then transported to the beach, as if for their last fling before the coroner's wagon came to get them. Starsky was struck again with how much Hutch fit the profile, except for age. He decided this was one occasion you could be thankful for a few extra laugh-lines.

Two thirty-something ladies out for a walk on the bike path, as they did every morning, and discovered the body. One of them had sand in her shoe, so she went off the path to sit on a bench and found him there. Questioning the two women didn't yield any leads; they'd simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, too. No one at the scene professed to know the victim, giving nothing there to go on. When the crime scene crew was done with their pictures and preliminaries, Hutch scooped the sand away enough to go through the man's pockets. His name was Robert Jordan, age 23. He had the usual pictures and credits cards in his wallet, but tucked into a small side pocket was a matchbook cover with a phone number on it. Hutch flipped the cover over and found a tan-colored circle portrayed on a background of vivid red and beneath the small sphere, the name of a bar, the Sand Dollar.

"He got sloppy, Starsk, look at this!"

Starsky took one look at what Hutch was holding and his adrenaline started pumping like it always did when they found a hot lead. The address was out of town, around 40miles southwest in the little town of Crestwood. The two detectives looked at each other. They'd found their place to start.

The number on the matchbook cover had belonged to an Ellen Marsden. It had been disconnected, so they headed out of town. Crestwood was a pleasant small town on the coast, nothing special to make it stand out. They drove to the address listed to that phone number and found a small cottage with a U Haul trailer standing outside. From the way it looked, someone was moving in rather than out, which wasn't a good sign. Starsky stayed in the car and Hutch went to the door. An extremely attractive brunette answered it.

"Hello," she said, pleasantly.

"Hi, I'm Ken Hutchinson, are you just moving in?" he asked.

"Yes, are you one of my new neighbors?" she looked around, as if trying to guess which house he'd come from.

"You're not Ellen Marsden, by any chance, are you?"

"No, my name's Mikey. I don't know an Ellen Marsden, but there was a lady who lived here alone up until I rented the place a week ago. She was an elderly woman and I think they put her in a nursing home. You could find out about her from the realty company that handles this place. I'll get you their number." She left and came back with the phone number written on a sheet of scrap paper.

"Thank you, this means a lot," Hutch smiled at her. "Mikey?"

She grinned. "It's really Michaela. My dad wanted a boy and it was as close to Michael as he could get."

"I think it's beautiful. Hey, I'm in town with a friend. We may be here for a couple days. I wonder if we could meet for coffee or something?"

"I already put my number on the other side of the paper. I was hoping you'd ask," she blushed. Hutch set a time to meet and came back to the car whistling. He shared the information he'd gotten from Mikey.

"Well, that certainly looked cozy," Starsky leered at him when he got back in the car. "Does this mean we're getting a motel room?"

"We're driving up to take a look at the Sand Dollar, so we might as well just stay in town, wouldn't you say?" Hutch grinned in anticipation.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to rain on your parade, buddy, even though it looks like I'll be spending the evening getting caught up on the latest issues of Redbook, or Good Housekeeping or whatever else they have in the motel lobby."

"I really feel for you, Starsk, I just can't quite reach you."

"Some friend you are. Maybe I'll go out and do some exploring of my own. By the way, I've got a hunch about this Sand Dollar. Instead of going in as cops, throwing a lot of questions around, let's look around a little first, get a feel for the place, I'm getting that 'hair standing up on the back of my neck' feeling about this joint."

They had been driving uphill for some time and finally rounded a curve, which gave them their first sight of the Sand Dollar. Starsky tensed up and grabbed Hutch's arm in a vise grip.

"My God, Hutch," he gasped. "This is it, the place I've been having the dream about!"

"That's impossible, Starsk, there's probably just a resemblance. You've never been here before, have you? Maybe when you were a kid?"

"No, I'm sure I haven't, but I can describe it to you inside and out. How do you explain that, Hutch?" Starsky sounded frightened, and there was very little that the tough, street-smart cop came across that scared him. Right now Hutch could see the sheen of perspiration on his face and knew it was taking all the self-control he had not to turn the Torino around and head back down the hill.

Hutch opted for telling him the truth. "I can't explain it, buddy. Do you want to find a motel and let me come back up here by myself?"

"You think I'd let you walk in there by yourself? My job is watching your back, do you really think I'm going to hide out somewhere and let this go down without me?" Starsky had his fist balled up and Hutch knew he'd said the wrong thing. For one long minute their eyes locked and he thought his volatile partner might be going to deck him, but the dark-haired man looked away. "Don't ever suggest anything like that again, so help me."

"I'm sorry, partner, I was just trying to spare you, I know you wouldn't let me walk into trouble by myself. I just wasn't thinking."

Starsky parked close in, avoiding the sharp drop off and, together, they climbed the steps and pushed open the door. It was dimly lit and it took a while for their eyes to adjust, but the dark-haired detective could see that this place was as familiar to him as Huggy's. It was exactly as he had seen it in his dreams.

A spacious building, sunlight brought inside with an abundance of glass, there was the usual seaside motif, huge aquariums with all kinds of marine life. It could have been one of a number of places strung along the coast, except for the hundreds of sand dollars; hanging from the ceiling, fastened to the walls, clinking together in wind chimes near the open windows.

The bar was just opening, so they slipped into a booth and Hutch looked up into a pair of turquoise eyes, shocked to see it was Mikey, waiting to take their order. She was wearing a very revealing uniform that enhanced her flawless body. Hutch was caught speechless, with his mouth hanging open.

An amused Starsky took over, introducing himself. "What my buddy here wants to say is how gorgeous you look. If you'll bring us a couple beers, I think he'll be talking again by the time you get back."

"It's nice to meet you, Dave." She smiled at Hutch. "And so good to see you again, Ken."

She turned to go, giving them an even more tantalizing view. Starsky reached over, touched the bottom of his friend's chin and applied a little pressure. Hutch's mouth shut with a plop.

"Geez, man, I thought you were going to swallow a fly. What happened to Mr. Suave and Debonair?"

"I-I don't know. I just went 'bye-bye' there for a minute." he stammered.

"Well, get a grip, 'cause she's coming back with our drinks." Starsky pinched him on the arm to be sure he stayed focused.

"Ouch," he whined. "You didn't have to do that!"

"What are friends for, anyway?" Starsky smirked.

When she reached the table with their drinks, Hutch tried hard to explain away his behavior.

"I'm sorry, Mikey, I was just so surprised to see you here, I had a brain lapse. How long have you worked here?"

"That's okay, it took me a little while to get used to the uniform, too," she smiled. "It doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Starsky chimed in and got a murderous look from his partner.

"Uh, I think I'll take a look around, maybe visit the little boy's room." He scooted out of the booth and strolled off.

"I really am sorry, Mikey, I was just so shocked to see you here."

"And to see so much of me, so soon, too." She giggled.

That put Hutch more at ease and he laughed. "Well, it's certainly not an unpleasant surprise."

"I've got to get back to work, but I have a break coming up. I'll come back and sit with you, if you'd like," she offered.

"Sure, I'd love that. Could you introduce my lecherous friend to one of the other waitresses so we could have some space?" He chuckled.

"You bet. I know just who he'd like. Jessie'll be coming in soon; she'd love to meet Dave. I'll be back in a little while."

He was still ogling her retreating form and hadn't realized that Starsky had slid back into the booth. His friend got up close to his ear and whispered "Boo!" making him jump and spill beer all over the front of his shirt.

"Dammit, Starsky! When are you going to act like an adult? Now look at me. One of these days...!

"It's your own fault. If you hadn't been having those kinds of thoughts, it wouldn't have happened. You got it bad, don't you?"

"She's got something special about her. I'd really like to get to know her. She's got a friend she wants to introduce you to."

"Oh, no, I've been on the receiving end of too many of your girlfriend's introductions. Anyway, everything to do with this place gives me the creeps. Even the bathroom is right out of my nightmare. When are we going to start asking questions so we can get out of here?"

"I thought you wanted to take it slow?"

"That was before I stepped into this place. Every part of it tells me to run like hell."

"You're being ridiculous, Starsk, it's just an ordinary bar, with ordinary people in it. It's all a coincidence, can't you see that?" Hutch shook his head. Sometimes his partner's superstitious nature got on his nerves.

"Well, speaking of coincidences, how do you explain that the person living at the address we visited today just happens to work here, out of all the many workplaces in this town, huh?"

"I can't, but it doesn't really worry me too much. This is a big place; they probably employ a fair share of the natives around here. You can't read something into every little detail."

"And here I thought that was what made us good detectives. You got something clouding your judgment, pal, and she could be trouble. We're on a case here, Hutch."

"What about your moronic psychic nightmare? You think that isn't clouding your judgment just a bit, buddy?" Hutch realized he was raising his voice and quieted down. "Do me a favor and just butt out of this. Tomorrow's soon enough to be asking questions."

Starsky put his hands up in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay, since we're not getting anywhere tonight, I'm going to take a cab and find us a motel. I'll call and leave a message where we're going to be and you can bring the car. You seem to feel you're not in any danger here, and I'm getting the distinct impression my presence is unwanted. Later!" Starsky turned and stalked off without another word.

After locating a motel and securing their room for the night, he called the Sand Dollar and left a message for Hutch. The dark-haired detective felt claustrophobic and decided to get out and walk around a little. It was a beautiful night and the sunset was worth seeing.

He thought how well it would photograph and wished his camera wasn't sitting on the top shelf of his closet. He came across a picturesque little tavern and that triggered the craving for a cold beer, so he went in. He parked himself in a booth with a window overlooking the sea and ordered his drink.

"Would you like a little company?" a melodious voice asked. He looked up to see a stunning redheaded creature with jade green eyes and a beautiful smile. As tempting as she looked, he almost said no. He was on a major bummer because of Hutch's attitude and wasn't in the mood for company. Thinking of going back to the motel and trying to find something on TV worth watching seemed like a virtual impossibility, though, so he scooted over and invited her to join him.

"My name's Dave, and I can't promise you I'll be great company," he said by way of warning.

"May I call you David? I really like that name."

"Sure, if it makes you happy. But you haven't told me your name yet, pretty lady."

"Char, short for Chartreuse. It's unusual, I know, but I don't like to be ordinary, so I changed it when I was younger." She glanced up at him through lashes that were thick and long. She was far from ordinary, in fact, Starsky didn't think he'd ever met anyone quite like her.

"Can I buy you a drink?" she asked him.

"Hey, I thought that was my line. You must be one of those women's libbers who won't let a man do anything for them." He was kind of uncomfortable with the feeling.

"Just let me buy this one and you can get the next one, I promise."

"Okay, schweetheart, I guess I can live with 'Dutch treat.'"

The first beer hit him with an uncharacteristic jolt and the second one flattened him. Char seemed to be operating just fine and he spent a few moments wondering what the heck was going on before the lights dimmed and he passed out.

He woke up in the motel room. It took a few minutes to get himself oriented, but he realized that Char must have gotten him here, how he didn't know, and the only way she would have known where to bring him was if she'd been following him. That, in turn, brought up the question of whether she'd drugged him. Something was going on here and it had the reek of a month-old Halibut. He next realized he'd been undressed down to his underwear and that was enough to cause real panic!

The shower was running and Starsky wondered if he should just get dressed and run at this point, but he wanted to confront this woman and tell her he didn't appreciate her seduction methods. He started to get up, but his head was throbbing so badly, he fell back against the headboard.

The door opened just then and Hutch popped his head into the room. "Are you still mad at me or can I come in?" he asked, contritely. Seeing that Starsky looked ill, his concern took over and he came over to sit on the bed. "What'd you do, go on a bender, buddy?"

Before his partner could answer, the bathroom door opened and a young man, naked except for a towel around his waist, came into the room. All three men stared at each other, and then both Hutch and the other man looked at Starsky for an explanation. Realizing that the bar he'd stumbled into must have been a gay bar and this young man was the lovely Chartreuse, he didn't have the slightest idea what to do. The man was obviously very angry and the look on Hutch's face would have made him double up with laughter under any other circumstances.

"I guess there's been a mistake here," Starsky said lamely. "I really thought you were a woman. I don't swing both ways. I-I'm really so sorry."

The man wasted no time collecting his things and stuffing himself back into his clothes. He practically ran out the door.

Starsky groaned and rolled over, hiding his head in the pillow, waiting for the explosion he knew would come. This was something he'd never hear the end of. He just hoped Hutch would keep it to himself and not let the whole precinct in on it. When nothing happened, he turned back over to see Hutch chewing on his lower lip.

"You just can't stay out of trouble without me, can you, Gordo?"

"Come on, Hutch, get it over with. I can't stand it when you prolong the agony like this."

"This is absolutely the most bizarre situation I've ever been in with you, and there have been many. I've got to decide how to react to this one." He started to giggle. "How'd you get yourself into a mess like this?"

"I don't know, but I'm feeling a little worried about my manhood, here, partner. How could I miss the signs that she was a he, or is there something bigger to worry about? Maybe I'm turning gay in my old age." Starsky really sounded anxious.

That really set Hutch off. He tackled his partner and knocked him off the bed. "If you're gay, that doesn't say very much for me, does it? Why haven't you come on to me yet?"

"Hot-tempered Viking warriors are a pain in the ass! They always want to be on top!"

They both dissolved into gales of laughter and it was a while before they could catch their breath. Every time they looked at each other, they ended up rolling on the floor, just trying to inhale.

Hutch had to get ready for his date with Mikey, and it took both he and Starsky to get him dressed because they kept thinking about Chartreuse and that set them off again.

As he was leaving, he turned to his partner. "You're grounded, mister, that'll keep you out of trouble!"

He thought he heard Starsky mumble, "jive chump," but when he turned and asked "What was that?", the man just smiled and indicated the mattress he was lying on. "Big lump, I said."

~~~

As it turned out, he ended up 15 minutes late in picking Mikey up. Starsky had begged him not to tell her, but it was just too tempting to keep to himself. They had a good laugh over what had happened. After a romantic dinner, they went back to her cottage for drinks. He was concerned about Starsky's nightmares; so cut the evening short, much to the dismay of his date.

"I'll come over in the morning, Mikey, and we can have some time alone together." They were both aware that was a promise rich with fulfillment.

He arrived back at the motel, knowing something was wrong when he found the door wide open and no Starsky in sight. He heard a groan from the bathroom and saw a human being on the floor. Only he and Starsky's mother could have identified the detective. He'd been beaten to within an inch of his life. Hutch was worried about internal bleeding and was about to call an ambulance, when his partner grabbed him by the wrist in a vice grip.

"No hospitals, Hutch. Promise me!"

"I've got to override you on this one, Starsk, you could have internal injuries, broken ribs. You need to go." He extracted himself from his friend's grasp and headed for the telephone. He called for an ambulance and then came back to his partner.

"Hutch, I can't face this," he moaned.

"Starsk, you've been through this before. You'll be fine."

"You don't understand, partner, I've never been r-raped before."

Rage surged through Hutch's body. He pounded the floor. "Was it Chartreuse? Did he do this to you?"

"Well, it was Chartreuse and four of his little friends. And I use the term loosely. I think they all took a turn, but I lost track somewhere along the line. I passed out a couple times. Hutch, we've got to get out of this town! I'm telling you! Please."

"Just wait till the ambulance gets here, buddy. You're in bad shape; you'll be safe in the hospital. Just let them take care of you. I'm not leaving this town until I get the bastards who did this to you."

The ambulance arrived and the paramedics did what they could and then loaded the detective into the back. Hutch wanted to ride with him, but decided to follow, so he could have the car at his disposal, since they had no friends in town. All the way there, his blood boiled, trying to put himself in Starsky's place, unable to imagine what must be going through his head.

By the time he got the Torino parked, Starsky had already been taken into emergency, so Hutch had nothing to do but wait. He called Dobey and was given strict instructions to report his partner's condition as soon as Hutch was informed. He didn't say anything about the rape, not wanting to get into it on the telephone. When called, Huggy insisted on making the trip down the coast to wait with Hutch, for which he was grateful. It took him about 40 minutes and Hutch didn't have enough time to talk to him before the doctor came out.

"Who's with David Starsky?" the tired-looking, middle-aged man asked.

Hutch and Huggy got up and went over to him.

"How is he, Doctor?" Hutch asked.

"He's not in good shape. He's got some internal injuries that we're concerned about. It looks like someone raped him repeatedly and then shoved a large object up his rectum. It tore him up inside very badly and there was a lot of bleeding. He's in surgery now to repair that. He has a broken rib on the right side and it looks like someone hit him a couple times in the head. We'll have to stitch those gashes when we get him stabilized. Fortunately, they're not too deep, so there's little bleeding. He has a concussion from the one on his temple. Other than about a hundred or so contusions and cuts, that's the extent of his injuries. Psychologically, he could be even worse off when he recovers."

"Hutch?" Huggy was looking at him with a shell-shocked expression.

"I'm sorry, Hug, I didn't have time to tell you. I wish you hadn't had to hear it this way. I'll explain everything in a minute." Hutch put his hand on Huggy's shoulder.

"Doctor, do you think there'll be any permanent damage?"

"I can't tell you that, Mr...."

"Hutchinson."

"Mr. Hutchinson, they may have to remove a portion of the intestine or even create a temporary colostomy to allow healing. There's very often infection. It's extremely serious, in any case."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"They'll come and tell you when the surgery's over."

"Hutch?" That seemed to be all Huggy could say.

Hutch drew him over in the corner and told him the story that had ceased to be so hilarious. Huggy seemed incredulous and Hutch got the feeling he was finding it hard to accept.

"This is going to be impossible for our boy in there to accept, Blondie. You know how macho he is."

"I know, man, of all people. Damn! I'm going to kill those freaks, Huggy!"

"That's not going to do him any good. It'll just get you into a position where you can't help him none. And he's going to need your help, if he ever did."

Sometime later a doctor in scrubs came to the door, asking for Hutch. He drew the detective and Huggy into a secluded area and told them how the surgery had gone.

"We had to remove a section of the lower intestine, there was so much shredding.

Evidently whatever they used was sharp and they weren't gentle." He put a hand on Hutch's shoulder. "How are you dealing with all this?" His look included Huggy as well.

"I just want to find them and do the same thing to them, but that would make me as perverted as they are. I'll be thrilled to throw their asses in jail, though."

"Something like this is just so senseless," the doctor snarled. "Anyway, he's still in deep trouble. His temperature's gone up to 105, due to a raging peritoneal infection. We've got him on ice to try to bring that down as quickly as we can. We've stitched up the gashes in his head and he's got some cuts that have been sutured. He was conscious until we put him out for surgery, so the concussion doesn't concern me too much, unless he develops intracranial bleeding. From the looks of him, he's been through worse than this. It's the psychological ramifications that worry me. He really needs your support. We'll be speaking again. He should be out of recovery soon and in ICU, mainly a precaution because of the fever and infection."

Hutch knew he had to call Dobey, and it was difficult. The Captain was so outraged that he wanted to come down there immediately. Hutch knew the last thing his friend would want was to face a lot of people after what had happened and was just as glad that they were somewhere other than home.

"Cap'n, just let me see how he's dealing with this first, okay. I don't think he's going to want to see anyone for a while. I know he's a big, strong, brave cop and all, but I know how I'd feel and it wouldn't be pleasant."

Dobey sputtered for a while, then calmed down a little. "I'm coming down anyway, Hutch. I don't have to see him, but I want to make sure those 'local boys' get on this and nail the creeps that did it. Maybe having a pissed-off police captain from the big city will spur them into action."

Hutch allowed himself a twisted grin. "You may be right, Cap'n. If you catch them before I do, just leave a few pieces of 'em for me!"

The "local boys," as Dobey called them, had already been called and had questioned Hutch and now were waiting to talk to Starsky when he was able to see them. An APB had been put out on Chartreuse, probably not his real name. Hutch had given them a description and the name of the bar he hung out in, but that was as far as it had gone.

He was torn between getting out there and finding those sickos before they got away, and staying with his partner, but if ever he needed to be there when Starsky woke up, it was now. He was relieved when a nurse came to take him to ICU.

"You be okay for awhile, Huggy? If he can see you, I'll come back and get you."

"I'll sit tight and wait for 'The Man,' Hutch. Tell Starsky I'll be waitin' with a cold brew."

Hutch smiled. "I'll do that, but I don't think they'll let him have it anytime soon."

"I know that, it's for me. I think I'm going to be needin' it or something a whole lot stronger before the night's out!" Huggy spoke in a menacing undertone.

"I read you, Hug. Try to keep Dobey from hurting anybody, will you?"

Huggy chuckled. "Like maybe I could sit on him, or what?"

"Well, do whatever you can."

Hutch found himself standing by his partner's bedside as he had on numerous occasions, but this seemed different somehow. He'd seen him with machines doing his breathing for him and hooked up to every kind of tube possible. Starsky was lying there pale, although bruised and beaten, with ice packs pressed against him and only an IV and an oxygen tube to indicate that his life could be hanging in the balance. Somehow, Hutch felt more protective toward him than ever before. He looked so vulnerable. He brushed the dark hair back up off of the bruised forehead.

"What am I going to do with you, partner? You aren't happy unless you've found some kind of trouble, are you? You're going to make me old and gray long before my time."

He sat down in the chair by his friend's bed and tried to think what he could say to him when he woke up. How in hell do you make something like this all right again? Ever?

***

He must have dozed off, because he jumped when a nurse entered the room to check on Starsky. She checked his vital signs, and looked at his dressings.

"Is his fever coming down?" Hutch asked.

"No, in fact, it's up a notch. It's a worry, but I'm sure it'll start coming down soon. If he shows any signs of coming around, call us. The longer he's out, the worse things look."

If it were me, I wouldn't want to wake up, Hutch thought. But he dutifully put his mouth down by his friend's ear and whispered, "Come on, Sleeping Beauty, you gotta wake up sometime. Your Prince Charming's here."

One of the deep-blue eyes opened, the other was swollen shut. Starsky gamely tried for a little comic relief. "Send Huggy in, then."

"Oh, that hurt, Starsk. You really know where to hit a guy."

"It appears I've had some lessons lately. I don't think my mentors missed a spot."

He tried to move and groaned. "Want to fill me in on what parts of my body have been rearranged this time while I napped?"

"How much do you remember, Starsk?"

"Five against one, not a fair fight. They broke the door down and jumped me before I could get to my gun. Then they took turns holding me down and beating on me. At the end, I just passed out, I guess."

Hutch was surprised. Starsky had been fully aware that he's been violated at the motel. Now he wasn't mentioning it at all. Denial, probably, that would make it hard to get the healing process started, but it wasn't totally abnormal after a trauma of this caliber. Hutch needed to talk to the doctor about how much to tell the man about his condition.

"Huggy is here, you know, and Dobey's on his way, babe, we're all here for you. You just let us know what you need."

"Right now I need something for pain, if I can get it. I hurt in places I didn't know I had places. I'm not ready to see anybody yet. I just want to rest."

"Your choice, Starsk, I'll see if I can get a nurse in here."

After Hutch left the room, the dark-haired man curled up in a fetal position and turned his face to the wall. He remembered exactly what had happened in vivid detail. He sobbed as if his heart would break. This time there would be no Hutch to comfort him. He couldn't allow that. He had to go through this alone.

The fever remained as stubborn as the man whose body it ravaged. There was talk of exploratory surgery to see if there were some other injuries, when it finally started its slow downward slide. The doctor wanted to wait and see if the patient remembered what had happened to him before explaining to him, but Starsky kept up the façade. Hutch wondered if the man was taking a chapter from his "101 ways to gracefully fake amnesia," but played along, hoping every day that his partner would open up and bring it out on the table, so they could deal with it. No such luck. Without Starsky's statement, the police there were stymied. Dobey had gone back to work, fit to be tied. Huggy was still hanging in there, trying to be supportive, encouraging him to eat, attempting to keep his spirits up, but meeting more resistance that he could handle. The detective was only allowed a liquid diet, and wasn't having any part of that until the hospital staff threatened him with tube feedings. Huggy finally lost patience with him and headed back home.

Eventually the doctor gave Hutch the go ahead to talk to his friend about what had happened. Starsky was able to sit up now without much discomfort, and Hutch got right up in his face.

"I know you remember exactly what went down, buddy, even though you've been giving us a snow job that might even fool some Eskimos, but you're going to have to face this sooner or later and it might as well be now. You got raped and brutalized and you lost a couple of yards of your colon because of it. I know that hasn't escaped your attention, even though you've done a pretty good job of making us believe it did. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" his partner exploded. "It just didn't happen!"

"Oh, yes, it did. I was there, remember? You were raped and viciously. You need to talk to me about it, buddy." Hutch read the signal in his partner's eye and ducked just in time to miss being brained by a bedpan. "Cripes, Starsky, if you were a kid, I'd take you over my knee. How do I get through to you?"

"I want to be left alone. Can't you get that through your thick skull? Just let sleeping dogs lie, Blondie. I'll face this on my own."

Hutch sighed deeply. "I'm fighting a losing battle here. I'll be out looking for the freaks that did this thing to you, that didn't happen. If you need me, send out the smoke signals, 'Kemo sabe.' Otherwise, I won't be back."

Before Dobey had left, he'd gone to the Sand Dollar and asked some preliminary questions. He'd come away empty. If anyone had seen or heard anything unusual, they weren't talking. Since no one, even Mikey, knew Hutch was a cop, he conned her into getting him a job as a bartender there and tonight was his first shift. He'd seen her a few times, but was beginning to see that all they had was a lot in common and they seemed to be becoming friends, not lovers. He thought Mikey wanted more, but she wasn't pushing it. His explanation for the job was that he and Starsky were free spirits, moving around from place to place, staying wherever they felt the urge. She seemed to buy that.

After spending a miserable night trying to remember what went into which drink, Hutch fell into bed around 3 A.M., only to have the phone ring, just as he was drifting off.

"H'lo," he mumbled.

"Is this Ken Hutchinson?" a feminine voice asked.

"Yes, it is."

This is Crestwood Memorial Hospital. Is Mr. Starsky with you?"

Hutch sat bolt upright. "What do you mean, 'is he with me?' Isn't he there?"

"Well, he seems to have left sometime between 11 and 12. We've searched the whole hospital and we haven't found him. We thought he might have come there."

"How do you just let someone walk out of your hospital, lady? Don't you have security guards?"

"Now, Mr. Hutchinson, you know they can't be everywhere at once. If someone wants to leave, there are ways."

"Are his things there? His clothes, duffel bag, shaving gear?"

"No, all his things are gone, too." She spent a few more seconds trying to apologize. "I'm sure we'll locate him."

"I hope we do before it's too late," Hutch snarled.

Damn you, Starsky! Why do you keep doing this? If someone else has trouble, you throw yourself into it head first, but if it's your burden, no one's allowed in. I should have stayed with you. I really thought you'd let me help you this time. You're going after them on your own, aren't you? I've got to get to them before you do!

PART 2