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The Sand Dollar

By

Anne S

   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. 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!"

   "Huuuuuuutch...!?"

   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 had been working on had been dragging on for weeks. There had been four killings so far, all of the victims found within the vicinity 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 where 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 in his front yard and he was wound tight as a bowstring, 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, couldn't explain the bad vibes he was feeling, so tried to put it on his partner's superstitious shoulders.

   "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 owe you, 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 anyone's ever come back from the grave and told us they died because they dreamed of falling and hit bottom? Get that out of your head! I'm sure this is just frustration and stress brought on from the case we're working. 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 you after I go over the 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 asses going. We're supposed to be at work in forty-five minutes." As much as he loved his best friend and partner, sometimes Hutch found him so naive 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 scrutinized Starsky with real concern, noticing 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. Am I going to 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. "Things have changed. He's careful now, I'm just cute."

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

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

   Starsky groaned, knowing what was coming. "Another one, Cap'n?"

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

   This one turned out to be even closer to Hutch's apartment. It was a bright summer morning and there was 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 crowd 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 lookers 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. They knew, however, that the cause of death would be poison, a lethal one that killed in seconds. All of the victims had been killed elsewhere and then transported to the beach, as if for one last fling before the coroner's wagon came to get them.

   Starsky was struck again by 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, had discovered the body. One of them had sand in her shoe, so she went off the path 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 them 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 credit cards in his wallet, but tucked into a small side pocket was a matchbox cover with a phone number on it. Hutch turned 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!"

   The detective 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 forty miles southwest in the little town of Crestview. The two detectives looked at each other. They'd found their place to start.

   The number belonged to an Ellen Marsden. They found the phone had been disconnected, so after briefing Cap'n Dobey and throwing a few things together, they headed out of town. Crestview 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 house 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 had allowed Hutch to drive his precious Torino and had been able to doze off, his head on Hutch's shoulder, so the blond gently moved him over and left him in the car while he 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?"

   He sensed a moment of hesitation, then, "No, my name's Mikey. I don't know an Ellen Marsden, but there was a lady who lived here up until I rented the place a week ago. She was elderly and I think she went into a nursing home. I guess 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 a phone number written on a scrap of 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. His partner was awake and he shared what he'd gotten from Mikey.

   "Well, that certainly looked cozy." Starsky leered at him. "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'd 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 his friend’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, Starsky, 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 car 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 was 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, babe, 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'd seen it in his nightmare.

   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 that 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'd bring us a couple of 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 make sure he stayed focused.

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

   "What are friends for, anyway?" the man 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."

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

   That put Hutch 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 partner got up close to his ear and whispered, "Boo!", making him jump and spill his 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 thinking 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. Hey, 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 madhouse. 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.

   "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 beer, so he went in. He parked himself in a booth with a window overlooking the bay and ordered his drink.

   "Would you like a little company?" a melodious voice asked. He looked up to see a stunning redhead 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, it's short for Chartreuse. It's unusual, I know, but I don't like to be ordinary. I changed it when I was younger." She glanced up at him through lashes that were long and thick. She was far from ordinary, in fact, Starsky didn't think he'd ever seen anyone quite like her before.

   "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 down just before the lights dimmed and everything faded to black.

   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 know where to bring him was if she'd been following him. That, in turn, brought up the question of why she would have drugged him. Something was going on here and it reeked like 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, too, at this point, but he wanted to confront the 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 outside door opened just then and Hutch popped his head into the room. "Are you still pissed at me, or can I come in?" he asked contritely. Seeing that his partner looked ill, his concern took over and he came over to sit on the bed. "What'd you do, go on a bender, Gordo?"

   Before Starsky 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 he'd stumbled into what must have been a gay bar and that 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 made him want to crawl under the bed.

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

   The man wasted no time collecting his things and stuffing himself back into his clothes. He practically ran out the door, leaving the partners staring at each other.

   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 it wouldn't make its way through the squad room when he got home. 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?"

   "C'mon, 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 in a mess like this?"

   "I don't know, but I'm feelin' 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 totally set Hutch off. He tackled his partner and knocked him off the bed. "If you're gay, that doesn't say much for me, does it? Why haven't you come onto me?"

   "Aw, Shit, 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 be 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 picking Mikey up. After a romantic dinner, they went back to her house for drinks. He was concerned about Starsky's nightmares, so he 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 him on the floor. The way he'd been roughed up, only Hutch and Starsky's mother could have recognized him. 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.

   "No hospitals, Hutch, promise me!"

   I've got to override you on this one, babe, you could have internal injuries, broken ribs, God knows. 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 Starsky.

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

   "Sure you can, buddy, you've been through this before. I'll take care of you."

   "You don't understand, Hutch, I've never been raped before."

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

   "Chartreuse and three 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!"

   Shudders wracked the man's body. Hutch quickly dragged the blankets around him, fearing he was going into shock.

   "Just wait until the ambulance gets here, babe. 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 that 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 would 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 said nothing about the rape, not wanting to get into it until he knew what he was dealing with. When called, Huggy immediately insisted on making the trip down the coast to wait with him, for which he was grateful. It took him about 30 minutes and Hutch didn't have 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?"

   "He's not in good shape. He's got some internal injuries that we're concerned about. It looks like someone raped him repeatedly, then shoved a large object up his rectum. It tore him up inside 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 he was hit several times in the head. There were a couple of gashes that we had to stitch. Fortunately, they weren't too deep. He has a concussion from the one on his temple. Other than multiple contusions and a few other cuts that we had to suture, that's the extent of his injuries."

   "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 his friend's shoulder.

   "Dr., do you think there will be any permanent damage?

   "I can't tell you that, Mr..."

   "Hutchinson."

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

   "Thank you, Dr."

   "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 exactly what had happened. He seemed incredulous.

   "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! I just want to kill somebody right now, Huggy!"

   "That's not going to do him any good. It'll just get you into a position where you can't help him any. And he's going to need our help, if he ever did."

   Some time later, a doctor in scrubs came to the door asking for Mr. Hutchinson. He drew the two men into a secluded area and told them how the surgery had gone.

   "We had to remove a portion of the colon, there was so much shredding. Evidently whatever they used was sharp and they certainly 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 just as perverted as they are. I'll be content to throw their asses in jail."

   "Something like this is so senseless," the doctor growled. "He's still in deep trouble. His temperature's gone up to almost 105, due to a raging peritoneal infection. We've got him on ice to try to bring that down as quickly as possible. We've stitched up the gashes in his head and he's got some cuts that have been sutured. The concussion doesn't seem to be a problem, but we're monitoring him for intracranial bleeding, because of all the blows he took to the head. 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 into ICU, mainly a precaution because of the fever and infection. Someone will come get you when you can see him."

   Hutch knew he had to call Dobey, and it was difficult. The Captain was so outraged that he wanted to come down 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 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 while. I know he's a big, strong brave cop and all, but I also 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, save a few pieces of 'em for me, will you?"

   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 gone out on Chartreuse, probably not his real name, of course. Hutch had given them a description and the name of the gay bar, but that was as far as it had gone.

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

   "You'll 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 waiting 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 needing 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, what?"

   "Well, do what 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 hooked up to every tube and wire conceivable, with machines doing his breathing for him. This time, he was lying there, pale, although bruised and beaten, with ice packs pressed against him and only an IV and oxygen cannula to indicate that his life could be hanging in the balance. But somehow Hutch felt more protective toward his friend than ever before. He looked so vulnerable. What had been done to him was the ultimate act of rage and degradation. He brushed the dark hair back up off the bruised forehead.

   "What am I going to do with you, partner? You just aren't happy unless you've found me some new kind of trouble, are you? You're going to make me old and gray before my time." He sank down in the chair beside 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 right again? Ever?

   He must have dozed off, because he jumped when a nurse came into the room to check on Starsky. She took 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. You might try getting him to respond to you."

   If it were me, I wouldn't want to wake up, Hutch thought. But he dutifully put his mouth down by his partner'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.

   "Oh, joy, send Huggy in then."

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

   "Appears I've had some lessons lately. I don't think my mentors missed a spot." He tried to move and groaned. "Care to fill me in on what body parts have been rearranged this time while I napped, partner?"

   "How much do you remember, Starsk?"

   "Four against one, not my idea of a fair fight. They kicked the door open 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. At the motel, he'd been fully aware that he'd been violated. Now he wasn't mentioning it at all. Denial, maybe, 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 to make this headache go away, if I can get it. I hurt in places I didn't know I had. I'm not ready to see anybody yet. I just want to rest."

   "You got it, buddy. I'll see if I can get a nurse in here."

   The fever remained as stubborn as the man whose body it ravaged. There was talk of exploratory surgery to see if there were other injuries, when it finally started its slow downward slide. The doctor wanted to wait and see if the patient would broach the subject of what happened to him on his own, but Starsky kept up the facade. Hutch was reasonably sure the man was taking a chapter from his own book, "101 Ways To Fake Amnesia", but he played along, hoping every day 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 were stymied. Dobey had gone back to L.A., 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 than he could handle. The detective was only allowed a liquid diet, and wasn't having any part of that until the hospital threatened him with tube feedings. Huggy finally lost patience 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 in a semi reclining position now 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 yards of your colon because of it. I know that hasn't escaped your attention, even though you've been trying to do a fair job of making us believe it has. 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 eyes and ducked just in time to avoid being brained by a urinal. "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. Whatever happened, happened to me, not you! Let sleeping dogs lie, Blondie. I'll face this on my own."

   Hutch sighed deeply. "I'm fighting a losing battle here. I'm going to 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."

   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 little in common and they seemed to be settling into a friendship role. He thought Mikey wanted more, but she wasn't pushing the issue. His explanation for the job was that he and Starsky were free spirits, moving 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 3:30 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 Crestview Heights 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 been trying to get a hold of you since then. We've searched the hospital and haven't found him. Our hope was that he was with you."

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

   "Now, Mr. Hutchinson, you know we 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, he thought. Why do you keep doing this? If someone else has trouble, you throw yourself into it headfirst, but if it's your burden, no one's allowed in. I should have stayed with you. I really thought you'd come to me with it if I just gave you some space. You're going after them on your own, aren't you? I've got to get to them before you do!

~~~~~~~~~~    

   Starsky was beginning to wish he hadn't left the hospital. It really hurt to walk and he was feeling a little light-headed and nauseous, but he was sick of everyone looking at him with that pitying expression. He knew sooner or later Hutch would break down his resistance and force him to talk about things he just couldn't face.

   His only salvation would be in getting Chartreuse and his merry band of perverts and putting them away. Even then, that was too good for them. If they had a smart lawyer, they would end up serving little or no time. He got himself a room and soaked in the bathtub for a while. He'd gotten used to the Sitz baths in the hospital and found that they helped a lot with the soreness. His other injuries were healing nicely, although one disadvantage to "checking himself" out of the hospital was that he had nothing to help with the pain. But the physical paled in comparison to the psychological torment he was in. They'd tried to get him to talk about it in the hospital countless times, but he'd told them, none too nicely, to get the hell out! I guess he'd done that to Hutch, too, when he thought about it. He regretted that.

   Since he was the only one who could identify the men who'd victimized him, he figured he had the best chance to find them. Working without someone watching his back was dangerous, but he couldn't be around Hutch right now. He knew he'd done nothing wrong, but his emotions were muddled and he felt shame, as if it were somehow his fault.

   His first step was to go back to the bar where he'd met Chartreuse.

   Evidently, the grapevine ran deep, because everyone turned and stared at him when he walked in. He took a booth, but no one made a move to wait on him, so he moved up to the bar and eased himself onto a stool. Still no one came near him.

   "Hey, can I get some service down here?' he raised his voice.

   "Depends on what you want serviced, man," the bartender said sarcastically.

   "I'd like a beer and open it right here where I can see you," Starsky snarled.

   He took a long swallow of the cold beer and enjoyed the feeling of it on his parched throat. It had seemed like he couldn't get enough to drink in the hospital.

   "Give me one more." The bartender popped open another bottle and set it in front of him.

   He threw down some cash, took them both and went back to the booth to sit and watch what was going on around him.

   He became aware of a presence a few minutes later and looked up to see Hutch looking down at him.

   "How'd you find me?" he demanded.

   "Aw, c'mon, Starsk, where else would you go? If you think I'm going to let you take on four loonies by yourself, in your condition, you belong in Cabrillo State."

   "Back off, Hutch, this is something I've got to do for myself! I don't want your help. Damn!" he tensed up.

   "What's wrong?"

   "That's one of them, right there, that guy in the green silk shirt." The detective started to get up and Hutch pulled him down.

   "Wait a minute! He sees you, he'll be gone in a minute and then we'll never get the rest of them. Hang on here a second and maybe we'll get lucky."

   Just then the man turned and started to walk over toward their booth. Hutch made a lunge for his partner, wrapping his arms around him and planting a lingering kiss on his lips. The man kept on going toward the restroom.

   Starsky came up swinging. "If that's what you mean by 'getting lucky', you can forget it." He rubbed his hand over his mouth. "Was that really necessary?"

   "What was I supposed to do? I didn't want him to see you and it is a gay bar, after all. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Hell, it worked, didn't it? Now let's go corner your little friend in the john, shall we? You stay cool, though!"

   He was washing his hands and his eyes went wide when he saw who they were. There was nobody else in the room. The detectives flanked him, so he couldn't run.

   "Hey, asshole," Starsky grabbed the man by the shirt and brought him up close to his face. "Rape anybody else lately? How about telling us who all your buddies were, or don't you even remember me?"

   "What's your problem, pal, I haven't done anything to you." The man squirmed in Starsky's grasp, obviously frightened, but not willing to admit anything. "You must have me mixed up with somebody else."

   "Look, you can tell me now or you can talk from a hospital bed; I particularly lean toward the last one. I remember you vividly, I know what everyone of you look like and it's just a matter of time before I hunt you down. So save yourself a lot of pain and tell me names and addresses now!" Starsky's fists tightened around the man's shirt collar and his face started to turn red. He began to cough.

   "Starsk! He can't talk if he's dead. Ease up a little, man. Let's turn him over to the police and let them deal with him."

   "How long do you think they'd hold him, Hutch? He'd have some hotshot lawyer bail him out in a couple hours and the rats would all scurry away in different directions. It's not murder one or anything, you know." He turned his attention back to the man who was trying very hard to hold on to consciousness. "Look, one more chance, at least tell us where we can find Chartreuse and I'll turn you over to the cops without hurting you."

   "Okay, okay, the Sand Dollar, his grandmother owns it. She's in some nursing home now, but I think they're close, she'll know where he is, probably. I'll give the rest of the names, too, if the cops will give me a deal. I didn't really want to go along with it. I just didn't want to look like a coward. I guess it would have been a lot braver to say no, huh?"

   "His grandmother's name wouldn't be Ellen Marsden, would it?" Hutch asked.

   "Yes, that's it."

   Starsky let go of the man and he slid down the wall to the floor. He turned away and Hutch walked over and grabbed the cowering man by the chin, forcing him to look in his eyes.

   "You messed with my partner, pervert, and I'd like nothing better than to make you feel as violated as you did him, but then, I'm a man, not an animal. If that information you promised doesn't find it's way to the police, I'll personally hunt you down when you get out and make sure you won't be forcing yourself on anyone ever again!" Hutch left the room to call the police. He realized he was shaking all over.

   When the police had left with the suspect, whose name turned out to be Thomas Harrow, a two-time loser who'd moved to California recently because he was in big trouble in Tennessee, Hutch went over to his partner, who'd been forced to relive the whole incident as the police questioned him. Harrow had repeated his willingness to give up his partners in crime for a reduction of charges and was promised his request would be given due consideration.

   Hutch put his arms around his friend and hugged him. Starsky drew back, and for a minute the blond thought he was going to be rejected. His friend looked him in the eye and smiled.

   "You're not going to kiss me again, are you?"

   "No, I'm not going to kiss you, moron."

   "Good, 'cuz this is the men's room and I think it'd look a little..."

   "I'm just glad for you that we're getting these guys! Doesn't it make you feel a little better at least?"

   "Just getting one of them helps, but I want them all. Does it seem funny to you that all roads in this God-forsaken town lead to the Sand Dollar?"

   I didn't get a chance to tell you I took a job there, did I?" I'm doing my best to learn the fine art of bartending."

   "Hutch, you went in there without me? You know that place is dangerous."

   "I know you say it's dangerous. We've been through this before. The only evil force there is this Chartreuse. and we're going to neutralize him. What do you say we go see his grandmother?"

   "I'm with you, partner."

   "No more going off on your own, Detective Starsky?"

   "Okay, it was stupid, male pride. I should have known you'd understand."

   "So do Dobey and Huggy, Starsk, and everybody else that knows about it. There were four of them, for cripe's sake. Even Charles Bronson would have had trouble with that challenge. Cut yourself some slack, babe."

   Ellen Marsden's new home was an old building, somewhat run-down, in need of attention to both it's structure and it's residents. The urine smell hit them and threatened to overpower them as soon as they entered the building.

   "Seem's like the owner of a place like the Sand Dollar could do better for herself, doesn't it?" Starsky whispered.

   "That was my thought, too, Starsk. Something just doesn't add up."

   The aide they asked directions from told them that Miss Marsden had suffered a massive stroke that had left her partially paralyzed and that she'd lost the ability to communicate, whether by speech, hand gestures or writing.

   "That kinda makes things more difficult, doesn't it?" the dark-haired detective growled.

   They visited the nurse's station and Hutch pressed for the name of Miss Marsden's next-of-kin. After flashing his badge, he was given the name of her only two known relatives, her grandson, Wendell Garson II, and her niece, Michaela Browning. That just about floored them. The only other information they got was that Wendell's grandmother had raised him, after his mother deserted him at the age of six.

   They visited the elderly Miss Marsden, anyway, but they could see that just talking about her grandson was causing an abnormally frightening reaction for her and they were asked by the staff to leave.

   They stopped at the police station and checked on the status of Starsky's case. Thoms Harrow had indeed come through for them, giving the names of all the men involved in the case, including one Wendell Garson II. They had all been brought in for questioning except Garson, who was proving to be elusive.

   It was time for Hutch to go to work, but there was nothing he could do to convince Starsky not to accompany him.

   "I just don't feel safe with you there alone, Hutch. I'll sit in a corner booth and suck on a beer, wander around, make passes at the waitresses, whatever, but I'm not leaving you there by yourself. Anyway, four eyes are better than two. My grandma always used to say that when she was looking for one of her needles. Although, I usually ended up sitting on it, in which case, my eyes didn't really help, but you know what I mean. When I was a kid, I was always way better at losing things than finding them, anyway. I remember one time..."

   "Enough, already," the blond detective chuckled. He knew this was one tactic his partner used to get his way, and that he would just drone on and on until he won. "If you see Garson, though, you keep your cool and melt into the woodwork. Give me some kind of signal and I'll call the police."

   "Our best bet to get some information where he might be hiding out would be to get into the office. I know where it is. Maybe I'll get an opening. I can probably breeze in and out of there without anyone noticing."

   "Just be careful, this guy seems like a real psycho. God only knows what he'll do if he's cornered. Don't try anything cute, okay?"

   "I'll be all right, Blondie." I lied to Dobey. "You're cute, I'm careful." Starsky gave him a lop-sided grin.

   Hutch went to work behind the bar and Starsky planted himself in a dark, corner booth. The place got busy and Hutch was having trouble keeping up with the drink orders from the waitresses. He looked over at one point and noticed that a couple occupied the booth Starsky had been in, but had to rely on his partner's common sense, an oxymoron, if there ever was one, to keep him out of trouble.

   Starsky, having gotten bored with people watching, was prowling the grounds. he knew there was a back door close to the office and his intent was to find out if it was locked or not. It wasn't. He drew his gun and quietly entered, flattening himself against the wall. It was dark and he didn't think there was anyone in the area. It was set apart from the main bar, allowing for maximum privacy. He continued to the office door. That was locked. Fortunately, the detective knew a lot about picking locks. This one was tough, but he managed to open it. He entered the office, which consisted of one large room, garishly decorated with red velvet drapes, a chaise lounge and spindly French provincial furnishings. The only other room was a small washroom. There was a massive set of file cabinets along the face of one wall. Considering the size and volume of business the Sand Dollar did, the vast amount of paperwork that had to be contained there seemed totally out of proportion. He opened one of the file drawers and was about to turn around when he heard a sound behind him. He felt a needle jab him in the neck and just barely registered Mikey's face before falling to his knees and then flat on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~

   Hutch was starting to get worried. He knew his partner and was sure that Starsky would show himself regularly if he was able to, just so his Hutch wouldn't "get spooked", as he put it. But he hadn't seen the dark-haired detective for at least three hours and the bar would be closing soon. He hadn't taken his break, so he asked for one and got it. He first visited the restroom, then the other parts of the place that he couldn't have seen from the main bar. No Starsky. He walked around the building, finding no one on the grounds. That left him at the back door. It was locked. He came back around and walked through the bar like he knew where he was supposed to be going and got to the office door without anyone stopping him. There was a light on in the office, so he knocked on the door, getting no response. He turned the doorknob and was surprised to feel it give. Just as he opened it, he felt a hand on his shoulder and what he presumed was the barrel of a gun in his back. He was pushed into the room so hard that he fell onto the floor. He looked up to see Garson glaring down at him, with Mikey nervously looking over his shoulder.

   "Well, look who decided to join us, Mikey, your little friend. Now we have two playmates. And they're both so delectable. Maybe we'll keep the two of them around for a while. I haven't had a chance to enjoy the blond's company yet. Let's have the gun, Detective. I've already gotten your partner's" He made a gesture with his hand and Hutch could see Starsky lying behind the desk, unmoving.

   "What have you done to him, you low-life scum?" He turned his fury on the man, only to have him put the gun to his head and demand that he hand his weapon to Mikey. He gave it to her.

   "He's all right, just gave him a sample of some of the goodies we deal in here. He's out now, but he'll be going on a trip soon. One he won't come back from, I'm afraid. You, on the other hand, I'm keeping around for a little while. You've made sure that all my "boy toys" are in jail or scared to be around me, so you can fill in for them."

   "Mikey, how are you involved in this?" Hutch asked. She seemed to be scared to death of Garson, ashamed to look Hutch in the face.

   "She's family, pig, and she does whatever she's told, don't you, Mikey? She sure reeled you in, didn't she?" Garson sneered.

   Hutch looked over at Starsky, who was beginning to moan. "Can I see if my friend's all right?" he asked.

   "Go ahead, you two look so sweet together. If we had more time..."

   Hutch crawled over and lifted his partner's head into his lap. "Starsk, Starsky! Come on, you've got to wake up!" No response.

   "I gotta make an appearance out there before the bar closes. You hold that gun on them, Mikey, and make sure they don't move a muscle, okay?" Garson left the room.

   "Can I get some cold water for his face, Mikey? Maybe that'll wake him up."

   "Why should I let you do anything? Char told me not to let you move around. I don't care about you anymore, anyway, all you wanted to do was hurt my family."

   Hutch could see she was in a very fragile state right now and if there was any way for them to get out of this mess, it would be by using her. That wasn't his style, but right now, she was a criminal, and his obligation was to his friend and partner.

   "Mikey, that's not true. I liked you a lot, I still do. Even before I knew anything about the Sand Dollar. Remember how surprised I was to see you working here? I didn't know you had anything to do with Garson. You're such a nice girl and he's really mean. How could I think you were even related?' He let Starsky's head roll back onto the carpet and started inching toward the girl, who looked like she was wavering.

   "He hurt my aunt, you know, she raised us like brother and sister and then he started being mean to her. Now she's in a nursing home and he won't let me go see her. I saw him get her really upset, then she fell and they came and took her away and I haven't seen her since."

   "I could take you to see her, Mikey, we could go right now. You have to get away from Chartreuse before he hurts you, too. You haven't done anything wrong yet, stop all this before it's too late."

   "Honest, Ken, could I do that?"

   "Just drop the gun and let me take care of everything, Mikey. You don't want to see my friend die, do you? He hasn't done anything to hurt you."

   "No, he was nice to me that day at the bar. He made me feel like I shouldn't be embarrassed by the way I was dressed. Char already made me give him the "stuff", though. He'll really be in bad trouble."

   "What stuff did he give him, do you know? How's it going to affect him?"

   "I don't know exactly. Char sells all kinds of drugs. He has a lot of customers and they all want something different. I can't tell you what he gave him. I'll put down the gun if you take me to see my aunt, though, she'll fix everything, Ken, I know she will!" Mikey set the gun down in front of her on the desk.

   Hutch wasted no time snatching it up. Seconds after he did, Garson burst into the room. Seeing the situation, he grabbed Mikey and held her in front of him, training his gun on her.

   "Nice try, pal, now drop the gun or I'll shoot her. She means nothing to me, just dead weight. I'll get rid of her like I did my grandma, if I get the chance."

   Garson had said the wrong thing. When she heard that, Mikey started fighting him, grabbing for the gun. It went off during the struggle and she slumped to the floor. The gun flew into a corner of the room. Garson turned and started after it, and Hutch shot him. He saw blood spread across his chest and was bending down to feel for a pulse when he heard a noise behind him. Starsky was awake and careening around the room, breaking everything in his path. He headed for the door and was out of the room before Hutch could respond. Fear for his friend ignited him and he rushed after, trying to reach him before he got outside, but he heard a crash and the glass back door was broken into pieces by the time he got there. The building had bright spotlights all around, and he could see Starsky, a bloody mess from the glass, rushing around the corner of the building. Whatever they'd injected him with had given him superhuman strength and there was no way Hutch was going to catch up with him. They got around to the front and he could see that his partner was going straight for the cliff, just like in his dream. He couldn't stop what was going to happen, so he halted and called his name.

   Starsky seemed to slow, then turned to see him standing there.

   "Hey, Hutch!" he yelled happily, "I'm gonna fly!" Then he turned back to the drop off, which was only yards away.

   God, please! You've brought us through so many near tragedies. Please, please, don't let it end this way, Hutch prayed.

   He was so engrossed in his partner, he didn't hear anything until Garson spoke from somewhere behind him.

   "Hey, pig, looks like your friend's going to take a dive. Don't feel bad, you're going with him!" Garson was staggering, but definitely on his feet. He and Hutch shot at the same time. Garson went down, but Hutch was shocked to discover that he wasn't hit. He quickly turned around and saw Starsky just as he fell backward over the cliff, off the edge of the world, just like he'd dreamed it.    

   "Oh, God, no!" Hutch ran up to the edge and looked down. At first he didn't see his partner, but as he searched, he discovered a shelf about half -way down and saw his body lying on it, his leg bent at an angle that could only mean it was broken.

   He ran for the building, checking to make sure Garson was really dead this time, and called for help. He went into the office and discovered that Mikey was also dead. He held her for a short time, until he heard the sirens. She hadn't been bad, just as scared of the psycho in Garson as his aunt probably had been. She had saved his life, at the last, and hadn't deserved to lose hers in the bargain.

   Once the paramedics were there, they found there was no way to get down to where Starsky was, so they had to call for a helicopter to air-lift him out. They indicated they would be taking him to L.A., so Hutch called Dobey and Huggy and told them to meet him there. He pushed the Torino beyond it's limits, swearing he'd never tell his partner, and got there just after the helicopter. He found Dobey and Huggy in the waiting room. He had a lot to tell them, so the time went faster than at other times the three of them had gathered.

   The doctor came out of the ER with a puzzled look on his face. He recognized Hutch from previous visits and came toward him.

   "How's he doing, Doc?"

   "He's in surgery. We'll know more when he comes out. He's been shot up with PCP, cut with some other drug we haven't identified yet. Do you have any idea what it was?"

   "I tried to get that information, but couldn't. Whatever it was, it made him think he could fly. He jumped off that cliff."

   "His rescue crew says no, he may have been ready to jump, but he was shot in the shoulder and he fell. If he'd jumped, he would have propelled himself out further and missed the shelf. Getting shot saved his life."

   "The bullet was meant for me and Garson missed. That's unbelievable! How about his other injuries?"

   "He hit his head a pretty good one, but he's definitely the most hardheaded individual I've ever met. I don't expect problems, but I can't rule them out. He has a broken clavicle and his right leg is fractured in two places. There's a lot of work to do, but all in all, I'd say your partner is pretty damn lucky. When he's out of surgery, we'll come find you."

   Hours later, Hutch found himself by another hospital bed, thanking God for another reprieve. It was as if God himself couldn't bear to break them up, but he wasn't going to test that theory.

   The drugs in Starsky's system kept him under for a long time. Dobey and Huggy had been there to visit several times before the first signs of stirring came from the bed. Hutch sat up straight in the chair where he'd been reclining, half-dozing.

   "Starsk?"

   His partner opened his eyes, wincing as a sharp pain sliced through the back of his head. He gingerly looked around, then got the most disgusted look on his face.

   "Back here again? How much of my life do you think I've spent in hospitals, Hutch? Maybe I could qualify for the Guinness Book of Records."

   Hutch chuckled. "I doubt that, buddy, but you've seen more than your fair share of them."

   "What am I doing here this time? I don't remember anything besides a needle in my neck."

   "You know that nightmare you had? Every bit of it happened, just like you said," Hutch waited for the inevitable.

   "Ha, I told you so! I knew it! But then why ain't I flying with the angels, instead of lying in this miserable hospital bed?"

   "Flying's the word, babe. You were going to try and fly off that cliff when Garson shot you in the shoulder. You fell and hit on a shelf about halfway down. If you'd jumped, you'd be dead now. The thing is that he was aiming for me."

   "Garson?"

   "He's dead, partner, can't molest anybody ever again."

   "Mikey? I remember her being there."

   "She's gone, too Saved both our sorry lives in the process. And that's all you need to know right now. You've got two very anxious black brothers ready to break the door down to see if you're really all right."

   Starsky grinned around a yawn. "Send them in, then.

   "How's it going, my man," Huggy brought the traditional bag of burgers concealed under his coat.

   Dobey was more conservative, bringing a big bowl of fruit. "Starsky, next time you want to fly, let me know and I'll sign you up for the parachute maneuvers. And with all this hospital time you're getting, I got it figured out that I own your sorry butt without sick pay for about the next two years."

   "Gee, thanks, Cap'n, you really know how to cheer up a wounded officer." Starsky heaved a big sigh.

   "Well, I've got something that'll make you feel a lot better," Dobey hastened to say.

   "Yeah, what?"

   The Captain went to the door and held it open for a tall, dark, distinguished man.

   "This is James Clark, police Commissioner for the Oceanside area. When they were going through Garson's files and papers in his home, they discovered something I think you'll be interested in. He had a lover from the Venice Beach area who was killed by a bunch of gay-bashers about six months ago. We discovered a journal, in which he wrote about each of the sand dollar murders, admitting to being the killer. It seems his lover was tall, blond, good-looking. From the journals, it appears by killing them humanely and laying their bodies to rest on the beach, he felt he was protecting men who fit that description from those who wanted to hurt them. Some of the men were closet gays and one was openly gay, something we all missed in our investigation." He looked at Starsky. "He felt you rejected him, labeled you as homophobic, which precipitated the attack on you."

   Commissioner Clark shook both detectives’ hands and thanked them for their courage and bravery in solving these cases.

   When Starsky began to tire, Huggy ruffled his hair.

   "You need your rest, curly, we'll be around. Glad you're okay!"

   "We'll talk later," Dobey said, taking a couple of oranges with him.

   "Just me and thee, together again, huh, partner?" Hutch whispered as they left.

   "Yup, me and thee, forever together. Along with a lot of PAIN! Can you see if they can do something about that, Hutch?"

   Hutch called for a nurse.

   "Starsky, if I told you I was beginning to believe in God, what would you say?"

   "I'd say you're on the right track. He's up there and He's watchin' over us. He cares, Hutch, and He wants us to be together. When I get out of here, want to go to the synagogue with me?"

   "Yeah, I think I would. I need to thank somebody for what we've got here."

   Starsky was beginning to drift off. There was no time for a theological discussion. There would be time to talk later. He hoped the child-like faith his partner had was contagious.

   The nurse came in and injected some medication into Starsky's IV line. Seeing that he seemed to be asleep, when she left, Hutch bent down and placed the lightest of kisses on his friend's forehead. He whispered, "I love you, partner."

   Without opening his eyes, the reply came," I love you, too, pal, but this kissing's got to stop. People are gonna start talkin'." He began to snore softly.

   Hutch smiled and sat back down in the chair to watch over his friend.

THE END