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Tam K

   "It’s already 91 degrees here at WBCY on this sultry Thursday morning. Yes, it’s going to be another hot one folks. We should see that mercury top out at about 98 degrees under a sweltering midday sun. Not a cloud in the sky and no relief in sight. So grab that suntan lotion and head for the beach. On a day like today, it’s the only place to be. And if you’re one of the unlucky ones who has to be at work by nine, well you better put the pedal to the medal, ‘cause the time is now 8:53."

   Hutch reached over and abruptly turned off the radio. "Yeah, yeah, I know what time it is." The battered LTD had been parked in front of Starsky’s apartment now for five minutes. The blond detective felt the sweat rolling down his back as he honked his horn for the second time. "C’mon, Starsk! We’re going to be late!" he shouted. Taking an old shirt from the back seat of the car, he wiped the perspiration beading on his forehead. "Dobey’s going to have our hide," he muttered to himself.

   Starsky appeared from his doorway, hopping on one foot as he struggled to put his Adidas tennis shoe on. A donut was perched precariously between his teeth. From behind the detective’s chocolate frosted breakfast came a muffled voice. "I’m comin’. I’m comin’." His voice became clearer as the donut crumbled and fell to the ground. Starsky stopped and looked at his partner with disgust. "Now, see what you made me do?"

   "Starsky, I’m not worried about your breakfast. I’m worried about what Dobey is going to say if we’re late again. Now c’mon. It’s already 8:55." He continued to wipe the sweat from his face as his dark haired partner slid into the front seat. Hutch put the LTD in gear and headed out of the driveway.

   "Looks like another scorcher, huh?" Starsky commented as he wiped the remaining chocolate crumbs from his mouth.

   "You’re not kidding. They said 98 today and no relief in sight. This is one time when I wish we were in that parade float you call a car. At least it has air. When did Merle say he’d have it ready?"

   "Should be ready by noon," Starsky answered. "Just giving it a tune up and oil change. He’s dropping it off at the station when he’s through."

   "You would have to pick the hottest day of the week to have that done," Hutch grumbled while pulling his already sweat soaked t-shirt away from his skin.

   "Grouch," Starsky muttered under his breath.

   Hutch glanced at his partner with a snide look on his face. "Did you say something, Starsk?" He was well aware of what he had said.

   "No, nothin." Starsky knew it was time to change the subject. "So, you have plans for the weekend?"

   "Yeah, sitting in front of the AC with a six-pack and a gorgeous brunette." Hutch grinned as he pictured it in his mind.

   "What time did you want me to come over, shweetheart?" Starsky kidded, trying to lighten his partner’s bad mood.

   Rolling his eyes, Hutch replied, "You weren’t exactly the brunette I had in mind." He realized Starsky was trying to cheer him up. His mood lightened, and he smiled at his friend. "Hey, I’m sorry Starsk. It’s just this damn heat and being rushed. There’s never enough hours in the day. Never enough time. We’re going to be late again."

   "Maybe we’ll get lucky and Dobey will be in the cafeteria stocking up on those cream cheese croissants he likes so well." Starsky was trying to be optimistic.

   "Yeah, we can hope," Hutch replied with doubt in his voice.

   The LTD continued down the busy city street towards Metro. Suddenly, steam started escaping from under the rusted hood. Hutch glanced in his rear view mirror and noticed the steady trail of fluid being left on the pavement behind the car. He pulled over as close as he could to the side of the two-lane road, though not completely clearing the line of traffic.

   "Shit! This is all I need." Hutch jerked the door open with frustration and went to the front of the disabled vehicle. Starsky came around from the other side. The disgusted blond raised the hood and saw immediately what the problem was. "Busted radiator hose. That’s just great."

   Starsky took out a dime. "Don’t worry, I’ll give Merle a call. He’ll be here in no time."

   Not having much choice in the matter, Hutch reluctantly agreed. Starsky strolled over to the phone booth, which fortunately, was close by.

   The traffic was beginning to back up, unable to get around Hutch’s car without crossing into oncoming traffic.

   "C’mon, buddy! Get that piece of junk out of the road! I’ve got to get to work!" an irate motorist yelled.

   "Alright! Alright!" Hutch yelled, staring at his car’s engine with disgust. "I’m working on it!" Sweat was now streaming from his golden locks down the side of his face.

   "Well, hurry up! I ain’t got all day!" the motorist shouted back.

   Glancing out from the phone booth, Starsky could see his partner was on the verge of letting the impatient driver have an earful. Knowing the situation could get ugly real fast between the two incensed men, he quickly ended his call and walked out into the street. He stopped the oncoming traffic and allowed the angry man and the other vehicles to get by.

   After removing the radiator cap to allow the steam to freely escape, Hutch went around to the passenger door. Reaching through the window, he grabbed the radio mic and called dispatch. "Zebra 3 to control."

   "Go ahead Zebra 3"

   "I seem to be having a little car trouble on this fine morning," Hutch said with sarcasm. "Could you please let Captain Dobey know we’ll be a little late?"

   "10-4, Zebra 3."

   Hutch threw the mic on the passenger’s seat. Walking back to the front of the steaming car, he sat down on the curb, rubbing his temples as he tried to ward off the tension headache he felt coming on.

   "You okay, Hutch?" Starsky called from the middle of the street as he continued to wave the traffic on.

   "Yeah, just dandy."

   "What did you tell dispatch?"

   "I told them to let Dobey know we’re going to be late." Hutch continued to rub his temples, as he closed his eyes for relief from the bright sun.

   "Merle said he’d be here in fifteen minutes. That’s not so bad. We won’t be that late," Starsky said reassuringly as the sweat rolled from his thick, dark curls.

   "No, just an hour. We’ll never get everything done today." Hutch thought of the pile of paperwork waiting for them on their desks. "Never enough time," he muttered.

********

    Merle’s tow truck arrived fifteen minutes later. It was unlike any other tow truck that Hutch had ever seen. Purple angel fur lined the dashboard, clashing with the zebra striped seat covers. A bright pair of pink fuzzy dice swayed from the rear view mirror. The mellow sound of soul music streamed from the radio.

   "Thanks for coming so soon, Merle," Starsky called to his trusted mechanic.

   "Anything for you, Starsky." Merle looked at Hutch out of the corner of his eye but made no comment to him. He began to hitch up the LTD to the tow truck.

   "How long do you need to get my car going again, Merle?" Hutch asked.

   "To get it running right? Oh, about six months," Merle replied sarcastically.

   "Merle, I’m in no mood today," Hutch warned while pointing his finger at the mechanic.

   Starsky was still directing traffic around the vehicle. He called over to Merle, "I’d listen to him today, Merle. He’s having a bad one."

   "Alright, Hutch. How’s two this afternoon?" Merle hoisted the car’s front end up.

   "Two’s fine. Thank you." Hutch was trying to cool his temper down.

   Merle commented, "A new radiator hose might add some value to this hunk of junk. Now Starsky’s car on the other hand, that’s a dream mo-chine." Starsky was beaming from ear to ear.

   Hutch started towards the smaller man. "Alright, Merle, that’s it! I’m going to…."

   Merle threw his hands up. "Okay! Okay! Enough said. We’re ready to roll."

   Starsky abandoned his job as traffic cop and joined Merle and Hutch in the tow truck.

   Hutch looked at his watch and grumbled, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his t-shirt.

   Starsky tried to ease the tension, "Hey, Merle. Do you think you could drop us off at Metro first? We’re really running late."

   "Sure, Starsky. Like I said, anything for you." He glanced at the blond sitting next to him, giving him the evil eye, "Hmmph."

   The tow truck drove up in front of Metro pulling Hutch’s all too familiar vehicle. Several policemen were standing outside complaining about the heat. Starsky was the first to step out of the tow truck. Hutch followed, bumping his head on the fuzzy dice as he got out.

   "I’m never going to live this down," Hutch mumbled to himself as he walked towards the entrance to Metro.

   "Thanks again, Merle." Starsky waved to his friend.

   "Sure, Starsky. I’ll have your car over here before noon." Merle pulled away with the LTD in tow.

   Starsky and Hutch heard the muffled giggles of their colleagues as they made their way past them.

   Starsky tried to play the scene down. "Morning fellas," he said cheerfully, nodding to the snickering group as he hurried through the door with his stone-faced partner.

   As they peeked through the glass on the squad room door, Starsky saw that there was no chance of avoiding Dobey. Their burly Captain was standing right by their desks, putting another stack of files on the pile that was already several inches thick. The heat was evident even indoors as sweat trickled down the side of the big man’s face.

   Starsky and Hutch both looked as if they had taken their showers with their clothes on. Their faces were beet red and their clothes were soaked with sweat. They opened the door and slowly walked in.

   Dobey glanced up and quickly looked the two detectives over, noticing their state of disarray. The unrelenting heat was fraying his nerves too. He dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief and, without asking for a reason for their tardiness, grumbled, "You’re late!"

   "I know that, Cap." Starsky tried to smooth things over. "You see, we ran into a little trouble with Hutch’s car again." He leaned toward Dobey and put his hand to the side of his mouth, blocking Hutch’s view. "I think it’s dying a slow death," he whispered, trying to joke with his irritated captain.

   "I heard that, Starsk," Hutch said smugly.

   "Hutchinson, when are you going to put that car out of its misery?" Dobey asked. Not waiting for an answer, he continued, "You two better get started on those reports unless you want to find yourself in here this weekend." He turned from his detectives and went into his office, closing the door behind him.

   Starsky and Hutch sat down at their desks and each grabbed a file folder. "Well, so much for the cream cheese croissants," Hutch said with resignation.

   From across the room a tall, impeccably dressed, uniformed officer had been watching the confrontation between Dobey and the two detectives. John Anderson was a self-serving, egotistical hothead. Always wanting to be in control of a crime scene, his impulsive and careless actions had been the subject of more than one internal affairs investigation. He was the third generation in his family to serve in law enforcement. Although both his father and grandfather had served in different branches of police work, his goal was to become a detective. He was jealous of the rank that Starsky and Hutch had worked so hard to obtain. Hutch had had a verbal run-in with the know-it-all on more than one occasion and clearly did not think he had the temperament or compassion to make a good cop. Anderson took pleasure in seeing the detectives reprimanded by their superior. He leaned towards his partner sitting next to him and said in a not so quiet voice, "You’d think with a rank as high as sergeant, he’d at least be able to afford a decent car."

   The pencil that Hutch was holding in his hand snapped as he heard the comment made by the smart-mouthed cop. He pushed his chair back and went over to Anderson. Starsky knew that his partner was nearing the end of his already short fuse. "Hutch? C’mon, now." He followed him, positioning himself next to the two men, ready to act as referee.

   Hutch ignored his partner and leaned over the officer’s desk. "You have something you want to say to me, Anderson?" His eyes were ablaze with anger.

   Anderson immediately stood up from his desk, confidently positioning his face only inches from the blond’s. "I was just telling Monroe here, how much I hated to hear about your car trouble this morning." A smirk appeared across his face.

   Hutch lightly tapped his finger on Anderson’s chest. "You know, Anderson, if you had half as much backbone as you do starch in that shirt of yours, you might just be able to make rookie of the year." Hutch then calmly turned and walked away.

   Anderson called back to him, "Yeah, you just better make that detective of the year, because I’m up for promotion next week!"

   Hutch didn’t acknowledge his reply as he nonchalantly sat back down at his desk and resumed his work. This infuriated Anderson even further.

   Starsky, grinning from ear to ear, tilted his head and looked to the fuming cop. He pointed to a place on Anderson’s uniform. "You’ve gotta little piece of fuzz right there." Leaving Anderson seething with anger, he quickly returned to his desk, giving Hutch an attaboy pat on his back as he went by.

********

   Two hours into their paperwork, Starsky’s phone rang. It was Merle, telling him that his car had been safely deposited in the Metro garage.

   "Thanks, Merle. Just send me the bill." Starsky hung up the phone and looked over to his partner. "Well, at least we can hit the streets in the cool comfort of my car. He left my keys at the front desk."

   "Great," Hutch said as he closed a file on his desk. "Speaking of hitting the streets, you ready to head out for a while? We’re supposed to keep our eyes open for Vincent Garrison. They think he’s the one responsible for the murder of Ricky Jenson during that bad drug deal over on Monroe Street."

   "Vincent Garrison?" Starsky asked curiously. "That pyro freak wanted for settin’ off the pipe bomb in that abandoned warehouse? I thought he only liked to torch things. What’s he doing making drug deals now? That never was his bag before."

   "Ah, who knows? Maybe he just got tired of playing with matches." Hutch stood up and took his jacket from the back of his chair. "You ready?"

   "Right behind you." Starsky followed his partner out of the squad room.

********

   Starsky and Hutch settled into the cool comfort of the striped tomato and began their patrol on the streets. With the temperature pushing 98 degrees, things were relatively quiet on their beat. It was too hot even for the criminals to be out.

   The two detectives were engrossed in casual conversation about the heat and the odds of Hutch getting his car back without any extra detailing compliments of Merle The Earl.

   Hutch suddenly took notice of two men walking down the street. "Hey, that was him! That was Vince Garrison."

   "You sure?" Starsky turned the corner, ready to come back for another pass.

   "Yeah, I’m sure. That guy has a face only a mother could love. I didn’t recognize the guy with him though." Hutch took out his Magnum, checked the cylinder, and then replaced it in its holster. He knew if the murder suspect was strung out on drugs, a shootout was a good possibility.

   Starsky came back around the corner where the two men were last seen. Spotting the suspect, he pulled the Torino to the side of the road. Vincent Garrison noticed the bright red car and immediately knew it was the cops. He and his companion ran down the street and into an abandoned apartment building. Hutch had already notified dispatch of their location and requested backup.

   The two detectives barreled out of the Torino and began their pursuit of both men. Standing outside the door, Starsky and Hutch prepared to enter. With weapon drawn, Starsky kicked the door open and glanced around the doorframe. Seeing that it was clear, both detectives dashed in and immediately took cover behind an old couch until they could survey the situation better. The sound of footsteps running up the stairs could be heard towards the rear of the building. At the same time a door slammed off to their right.

   "I’ll take the one upstairs," Starsky whispered. "The other one must be heading for the alley."

   Hutch nodded in agreement, "Right, I’ll get him." He darted towards the side exit.

   The sound of a siren could be heard outside as their backup arrived. John Anderson saw the blond detective bolt from the side door and down an alleyway. He immediately ran to assist him. His partner, Eric Monroe cautiously entered the apartment building to back up Starsky.

   Hutch had seen the suspect dart down a long alley one street over. The blond proceeded down a shortcut between two buildings in order to cut him off. Successful in his attempt, Hutch startled the man as he appeared before him. The suspect was wielding a gun and was taken quite by surprise.

   "Freeze! Police!" Hutch yelled as he targeted the man with his Magnum. "Drop your weapon!"

   The suspect, a young man of no more than 21 years of age, immediately threw his hands up. In his state of panic, the man still gripped his weapon, though it was not aimed at the detective.

   Suddenly from the other end of the alley another voice screamed, "Freeze! Police!"

   The startled suspect whirled around at the voice screaming at him, bringing his hands down as he did so. His gun was aimed at John Anderson. Anderson fired off two shots, one striking the youth in the leg, the other whizzing by Hutch’s head. If the blond detective hadn’t dove to the ground he would have been hit. Anderson then took cover behind a dumpster. The suspect, who was still standing, was in a state of shock. He turned back around towards Hutch who was now lying on the ground and aimed his weapon at the detective.

   "Drop it!" Hutch warned, as he once again aimed his gun at the terrified man.

   The suspect did not obey and raised his gun towards Hutch to fire.

   Hutch was given no other choice but to shoot. One perfectly aimed shot to the chest brought the suspect down. He did not move again. Hutch ran up to the suspect and kicked his gun away. Feeling for a pulse, he found there was none. This was the man that had been walking with Vincent Garrison.

   Hutch was replacing his gun in his holster just as Anderson walked up.

   "No need for an ambulance, huh? Just a coroner’s wagon," Anderson said smugly.

   Hutch was livid. "What the hell is the matter with you, Anderson? I was in control of the situation. The suspect had already surrendered. Not only did you cause him to react to your shouting, but you also carelessly fired your weapon without assessing your surroundings for any bystanders or another officer. You almost killed me!"

   "He was going to shoot me," Anderson said in defense.

   "You just don’t get it do you?" Hutch said while shaking his head in disbelief at this cop’s ignorance.

   Just then, Starsky approached, out of breath.

   "Garrison jumped from a second story window," Starsky explained. "He had a car around the corner, dark blue 71 Oldsmobile. Monroe went in pursuit. I heard the gunfire back here." Starsky motioned towards the dead man. "What happened?"

   Hutch gave Anderson a look that could kill as he brushed by him. Taking Starsky with him, he commented, "C’mon I’ve got to call the coroner’s wagon. I’ll explain it to you then." His voice was trembling with anger.

   Starsky glanced back over his shoulder at Anderson, wondering what had transpired between the two to make his partner so angry.

********

   The next hour was spent securing the area and assisting the crime team with their investigation. Monroe had returned to the scene notifying Starsky and Hutch that he had lost Vincent Garrison on the busy side streets. He had been able to get close enough for a partial read on the license plate, which he turned over to the two detectives.

   After the body was removed, things were wrapped up, and Starsky and Hutch headed back to Metro.

   Hutch was still fuming. "I just can’t believe that guy, Starsk. I already had the man with his hands up. Anderson scared the shit out of him coming up behind him like that. If he hadn’t yelled at him, he never would have aimed his gun in that direction. That man would be sitting in lock up right now, not on a slab at the morgue. And he almost nailed me in the process."

   "He’s just an arrogant, smart aleck cop, Hutch. There’s always going to be a few wise crackers in the bunch. I just can’t believe he’s got a chance at being promoted to detective."

   "Well, from what I hear, he’s treading on thin ice as far as his promotion goes. He’ll be lucky if he gets it," Hutch commented. "Let’s grab a few sandwiches at the cafeteria for lunch. I’d like to go ahead and get the report done on this shooting and get it turned in to Dobey. That way we won’t have to deal with it tomorrow."

   "Yeah," Starsky agreed. "I’d like to have everything caught up by tomorrow, too. I wanna be able to enjoy my weekend off."

********

   After eating their lunch at Metro’s cafeteria, Starsky and Hutch returned to the squad room to complete their report on the incident with Vincent Garrison. Anderson was already seated at his desk when the two detectives walked in. Neither one acknowledged the other.

   Starsky and Hutch were busy with their report when Dobey came out of his office. He was already aware of the shooting that had taken place. Approaching his two detectives, he announced, "We already have an ID on the man in the alley. It was Tommy Garrison, Vincent Garrison’s brother. He had a warrant out for his arrest for burglary. That’s why he ran." He motioned to the detective’s paperwork. "You two about finished with your reports? Internal Affairs is already breathing down my neck about the circumstances surrounding the shooting."

   Anderson, who was listening to the conversation, quickly looked down at his paperwork.

   "Yeah, Cap," Hutch answered. "Give us ten more minutes and we’ll have them ready."

   Dobey returned to his desk.

   After completing their reports and turning them in to Dobey, Starsky and Hutch continued working, tying up loose ends on their other case reports.

   Dobey appeared from his office once again. "Anderson! I need to see you in my office. Now!"

   Anderson took a deep breath and entered his captain’s office.

   Starsky and Hutch looked to one another knowing that Anderson was about to experience the wrath of Captain Dobey.

********

   Thirty minutes later, Anderson emerged from Dobey’s office red faced and humbled. He adjusted his tie and quickly left the squad room. Dobey appeared a moment later.

   "What happened with Anderson, Cap?" Hutch asked curiously.

   "Based on your report, Hutchinson, Internal Affairs is going to be conducting a full investigation into this shooting incident. They're backlogged on several other cases right now so Anderson will remain on the job until at least Monday morning when they start their inquisition. I sent him home for the rest of the day so he can cool his heels a bit. I think it’s safe to say, any chance he had at a promotion just went out the window. His father retired from law enforcement a few years ago. He was really pushing Anderson to make it to detective status. I’m sure we’ll hear from him about this."

   Starsky looked to his partner. "What about Hutch, Cap?" he asked with concern. "He’s not going to be dragged down with him, is he?"

   "No, I think there’s little doubt that Anderson was in the wrong here." Dobey reassured his blond detective. "I’m sure IA will want to ask you a few questions, but I think it’s obvious you had no choice but to shoot Garrison."

   "Thanks, Cap." Hutch said gratefully.

   Dobey started to walk away, then stopped and took a piece of paper from his pocket, "Oh, Hutchinson, there was a message left for you while you were out. Merle called. He said your car is ready, but he had to go on another run and probably wouldn’t be there when you came to pick it up. He’s going to mail you the bill."

   "Did he leave my keys under the floor mat?" Hutch asked.

   "No." Dobey smiled as he handed Hutch the note.

   Hutch’s faced turned red with anger as he read the note to himself.

   "Well, what did he do with your keys?" Starsky asked. Curiosity was getting the best of him.

   Hutch hesitated before he read the note aloud, "I left your keys in the ignition. I didn’t think there was much chance of anyone stealing it. Merle"

   Dobey and Starsky both burst out laughing.

   "Oh, yeah go ahead and laugh. Everyone’s a comedian," Hutch sneered, as he crumbled the paper and threw it in the trash.

   Dobey headed back to his office, emitting a few more snickers along the way.

   Starsky too, was still chuckling.

   "Well?" Hutch said with irritation.

   "Well what?" Starsky replied, trying to contain his smile.

   "Are you going to take me to get my car or should I call a taxi?"

   Starsky stood up and waved his hand towards the door, "Your limo is waiting, sir."

   Hutch darted his partner a glare, grabbed his jacket and trudged out.

********

   En route to Merle’s, the detectives were stopped twice. Once by a motorist who’s car had succumbed to the heat in the middle of the freeway and again by a hysterical old lady who, by accident, had locked her poodle in the blistering heat of her car. By the time they finally reached the mechanic’s garage, it was the end of their shift.

   Starsky couldn’t resist one last remark to his partner as he pulled up next to the LTD. "Well, it’s still there."

   Hutch ignored the snide comment as he got out of the Torino. "I’m going to go work out for a little while and unwind a bit. You wanna go?"

   "No, thanks. I’ve sweated enough today." Starsky pulled at the sweat soaked t-shirt clinging to his chest.

   "Okay. Oh, I might go in a little early tomorrow and work on a statement for IA. I’ll just meet you there." Hutch slid behind the wheel of his car. "You’re driving again, right?"

   "In this heat? You better believe it, partner." Starsky waved goodbye to his friend and drove off.

********

   Hutch arrived at Vinnie’s Gym and went through his usual workout routine. After downing a can of carrot juice from the vending machine, the blond headed for the showers. By the time he dressed and left through the back door, it was well after sundown. The evening air was still sticky and sultry. There wouldn’t be much relief from the oppressive heat tonight. Hutch retrieved his keys from his gym bag and crossed the alley to the dimly lit parking lot where his car was parked. Only one of the two lights in the lot was working, the other having been shot out by kids playing with BB guns. Preoccupied with thoughts of the tofu and mushroom stir-fry that he had planned on cooking for dinner, Hutch never saw the figure approaching behind him. An explosion of pain on the back of his head was all the blond felt before everything went black.

********

   When Hutch came to several hours later, his head was throbbing. The tight, sticky sensation of dried blood could be felt along his neckline. He realized instantly that he was blindfolded, handcuffed and bound at the ankles. Lying on his stomach, he felt the unmistakable texture of a wooden floor beneath him. Unable to move, Hutch listened for any sounds that might give him a clue as to where he was or who had him. There was silence. The blond laid there for what seemed like hours, but in reality were only minutes, before a door opened and the sound of footsteps entered the room.

   Hutch waited, expecting his captor to speak, but he started whistling instead. The detective thought he recognized the tune, but with his head fiercely pounding, couldn’t concentrate on the melody. Hutch decided to try and communicate with his captor over the whistling. "I don’t know what you want from me, but if you’re using me as a hostage, it won’t do you any good. They won’t deal with you."

   His captor continued to whistle merrily. Hutch could hear him moving in the room. There was the rattling of what sounded like a toolbox and the Clip! Clip! of wire cutters, then the sound of a page in a book being turned.

   "Who are you?" Hutch demanded an answer.

   More whistling.

   Hutch tried to roll to his side and sit up, but it only intensified the pain in his head. He gave up and rolled back on his belly.

   The sound of tape being pulled from its roll and torn off could be heard, then the tinkering of more tools and more pages being turned. His captor was obviously building something.

   The continued whistling was maddening to Hutch. He was becoming infuriated. "Dammit! Will you stop that insane whistling and tell me what the hell you want?"

   Still no answer.

   The tune continued off and on for the next hour. Hutch thought he would go crazy as his continued attempts at communicating were only answered with more whistling.

   Then suddenly the whistling stopped. The sounds of building stopped. The book snapped shut. Hutch heard a cabinet door open and the clink of glass tapping against glass. The footsteps approached him. Hutch raised his head from the floor, listening intently. Suddenly, the detective felt pain rip through his side as his captor delivered a forceful kick to his ribs. Hutch was flipped on his back from the intensity of the blow. Reeling from the pain, the blond tried to catch his breath. Hutch’s head was jerked up from the floor by his hair. The distinct smell of ether permeated the room. The detective put up a fierce but brief struggle as the rag soaked with chloroform was placed over his nose and mouth. He sank into unconsciousness once again.

********

   Starsky arrived at Metro by 9:00 am, eager to get through the day in anticipation of his weekend off. Captain Dobey was getting a drink from the water cooler, when Starsky came into the squad room.

   "Morning, Starsky." Dobey greeted his detective.

   "Morning, Cap. Man, it’s already like an oven out there."

   "Yeah, I pity the people who are out in this all day," Dobey replied.

   Starsky took his jacket off and draped it over the back of his chair. Noticing his partner’s unoccupied desk, he asked, "Hutch go down to the cafeteria?"

   "I haven’t seen him this morning. Why? Didn’t he ride with you?" Dobey knew it was unusual for the two to drive separately.

   "Nah, he said he was going to come in early and work on a statement for IA on that Garrison shooting." Starsky was concerned but not alarmed. "Maybe he decided not to and just slept in. He really did have a rotten day yesterday."

   "Well, let me know when he comes in." Dobey started towards his office. "IA has already called this morning wanting to talk to him before they question Anderson on Monday."

   "Will do, Cap." Starsky sat at his desk and busied himself with paperwork. He waited fifteen minutes and decided to call Hutch’s apartment. No answer. Good, he must be on his way in, Starsky thought. As 10:00 approached, the dark-haired detective became increasingly worried about his always time conscious partner. No longer being able to concentrate on his work, Starsky nervously bounced his pencil eraser on his desk. Hutch’s phone rang.

   Starsky pushed the button to transfer his partner’s call. Not wanting to deal with anyone right now, he answered abruptly, "Yeah?"

   "May I speak to Hutch?" the familiar voice on the other end asked.

   "He’s not here right now. Can I give him a message?" Starsky knew the voice but couldn’t quite put a face with it.

   "Yeah, this is Vinnie over at Vinnie’s Gym."

   Starsky’s attitude mellowed, "Hey, Vinnie. It’s Starsky. What’s up?"

   "When Hutch comes in, could you tell him he needs to get over here and move his car ASAP? The men who are fixing my parking lot light will be here at noon. Hutch’s car is in the way and they can’t get in here with their truck."

   Starsky felt a wave of fear rush over him. "Wait a minute. You mean Hutch’s car is there?"

   "Yeah," Vinnie said nonchalantly. "He came in and worked out last night. When I saw his car here this morning, I just figured you must’ve picked him up."

   "Then you did see him?" Starsky asked with concern.

   "Sure, he was here for about an hour. Did his usual work out, hit the showers and went out the back door."

   Starsky did not have a good feeling about this. "Did you see him leave with anybody?"

   "No, no it was just him. I saw him as he left." Vinnie could sense the urgency in Starsky’s voice. "Why? Is something wrong, Starsky?"

   "I’m not sure, Vinnie." Starsky was already slipping on his jacket. "I’ll be right over to move his car."

   "Thanks, Starsky." Vinnie ended the call.

   Starsky knocked on Dobey’s door. "Come in," Dobey called. He saw the dark haired detective enter his office. "What is it, Starsky?"

   "Cap, Hutch never showed up. I just got a call from Vinnie over at the gym. He said Hutch’s car was out in the lot all night. Hutch went there to work out after work yesterday. Vinnie didn’t see him leave with anybody. So why would his car still be there? I’ve got a bad feeling about this."

   Dobey knew that each of his two detectives had a keen insight when it concerned the other’s well being, but he tried to allay his fears. "Now, Starsky, you know he was having trouble with his car yesterday. Maybe it wouldn’t start when he came out of the gym last night. He probably just called a taxi."

   "Why wouldn’t he have called me?" Starsky asked, hurt at the thought of his partner not calling him if he was stranded.

   "Well, you know we were giving him a hard time about his car. Maybe he wasn’t in the mood for anymore of our wisecracks." Dobey tried to reassure his detective.

   Thinking back on yesterday, Starsky regretted the remarks he had made to Hutch concerning his car. "It still doesn’t explain why he’s not here this morning. I’m headin’ over to the gym right now."

   "Alright, let me know what you find out. If he comes in, I’ll have dispatch let you know."

   "Thanks, Cap." Starsky left the office and headed towards the garage to his Torino.

   Preoccupied with concern for his partner’s safety, Starsky wasn’t watching where he was going as he went out the door leading to the garage. He bumped squarely into Anderson who was coming in for duty. Starsky gave him an unconvincing "Sorry" and continued to his car.

********

   Starsky arrived at Vinnie’s gym. He saw Hutch’s car in the parking lot and approached it with caution. If something had happened to Hutch here, he didn’t want to chance disturbing any evidence. Nothing seemed out of place when Starsky peered through the window. The usual junk was strewn in the back and across the dashboard. Having a set of keys to Hutch’s vehicle, Starsky opened the door to try the ignition. As he stepped in with his right foot, his left foot stepped on something hard under the edge of the car. Starsky leaned over and looked to see what it was. In a small patch of grass growing through the cracked pavement were Hutch’s keys. Starsky’s heart sank. He picked the keys up and gripped them in his hand. Looking closer on the ground, a few drops of what looked to be dried blood were evident on the pieces of concrete. His worst fear was being realized.

   Not wanting to disturb anything else, Starsky returned to his car and called dispatch to request a crime team.

   After going over the area thoroughly, the crime scene investigators determined that it was indeed blood on the ground. Whatever had happened to Hutch had taken place on the outside of the vehicle, but there were no signs of a struggle. They towed the LTD to Metro to have it examined further.

   After leaving the gym, Starsky stopped by Hutch’s apartment. It was obvious that his partner had not slept or showered there. The morning paper was still outside the door and his mail had not been picked up.

   Starsky returned to Metro to fill his captain in on what had transpired. Dobey was by Starsky’s desk retrieving a folder from the file cabinet.

   Dobey looked up as the dark haired detective entered the squad room. "So, what did you find out?"

   "Cap, I think Hutch has been kidnapped." The distraught detective started to detail the events surrounding Hutch’s disappearance when he looked over and caught sight of John Anderson listening intently to the conversation. "Uh, Cap? Can we continue this in your office?"

   "Sure." Dobey glanced at Anderson and realized why Starsky was apprehensive about continuing his conversation. He took Starsky into his office.

   Anderson looked down and resumed his work.

   Starsky filled Dobey in on the circumstances surrounding Hutch’s disappearance. Without having any idea who took him or why, their only choice was to wait. There had to be a reason why he was kidnapped, and they were hoping there would be a phone call from the abductor with his demands. Starsky called Huggy to have him put the word out with his snitches to see if any of them knew who might have taken him. A phone call from the men inspecting Hutch’s car gave them no other clues in the blond detective’s disappearance.

   Word of Hutch missing traveled fast through the department and several officers consoled Starsky with words of encouragement. Anderson, surprisingly, was one of them.

   Approaching Starsky’s desk, he said, "Look Starsky, I know Hutchinson and I definitely had our differences, but I do hope you find him and he’s okay."

   Distracted with worry, Starsky barely looked up. "Yeah, thanks Anderson."

   As 2:00 approached, Starsky abruptly stood from his chair and grabbed his jacket. He could no longer sit still and do nothing. If he just drove up and down the streets, he felt at least he was doing something. Before he had the chance to leave the squad room, Dobey came barreling out of his office.

   "Starsky! They found Hutchinson! Two boys were riding their bikes down on Libbert Road and found him. I just got the call." Dobey handed a piece of paper to Starsky. "Here are the directions."

   "Is he…?" Starsky couldn’t finish the sentence.

   "He’s alive. That’s all I know. There are two units on the scene already."

********

   The roar of the Torino's engine and the screeching of tires echoed through the garage as Starsky raced away from Metro. The location where they had found Hutch was down an old logging road on the outskirts of town. With siren blaring, Starsky made it to the scene in a matter of minutes. Two black and whites were already there. The officers were standing next to their vehicles.

   Starsky bolted from his car, not even bothering to close the door and ran towards the men.

   "Where? Where is he?" Starsky asked with desperation.

   One of the officers pointed at a utility pole about 75 yards away. Hutch was sitting on the ground in a small field, blindfolded. His arms were bound to the pole and his legs tied with rope. He appeared to be unconscious.

   "Why the hell aren’t you helping him?" Starsky was livid. "What are you waiting for?" He started towards his partner.

   A young officer quickly spoke up, "We’re waiting for the bomb squad, sir."

   Starsky stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at the man who just spoke. "What did you say?"

   The officer replied, "I think you’d better take a look at this." He handed a pair of binoculars to Starsky.

   Starsky peered through the binoculars, focusing in on his partner. Under his half-buttoned shirt, there was a maze of wires encompassing several sticks of dynamite. The face of a clock could also be seen. "Oh my, god," Starsky whispered.

   He threw the binoculars down and started towards Hutch. Two of the officers grabbed him. Starsky struggled to get away. "Let…go of me!" he shouted.

   "You can’t go over there, Detective Starsky," the young officer stated. "You might set the bomb off. We have to wait until the bomb squad gets here and analyzes the situation."

   Starsky calmed down, realizing he was right. "How long has he been out there?"

   "There were two boys who found him about an hour ago while they were riding their bikes. When they saw the dynamite they got scared and didn’t tell their mom right away, because she had told them not to ride in this area. They finally decided they should tell somebody and so they made the call themselves. That’s when we arrived. From the looks of his sunburned skin, I’d say he’s been out there for several hours."

   Starsky looked up at the relentless sun.

   "He’s moved his head a couple of times," the officer continued, "but so far he hasn’t regained consciousness."

   The bomb squad finally arrived. Jerry Samuels, the captain, emerged from the truck in full protective gear. One of the best in his field, he had worked on several cases with the two detectives in the past. Starsky immediately approached him.

   "What’s the situation, Starsky?" Jerry asked while double-checking his protective gear.

   "It’s Hutch, Jerry. Someone kidnapped him last night. When we found him, he was bound to that utility pole over there." Starsky pointed in Hutch’s direction. "From what I can see, it looks like he’s got several sticks of dynamite strapped to his chest. I saw a timing device, too. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet. Please, you have to help him."

   Jerry called to his men, "Okay men, be ready to move in if I need you. I don’t know what we’re dealing with yet."

   "I’m going with you, Jerry," the detective said firmly.

   "I can’t allow that Starsky." Jerry shook his head.

   "Look, if he wakes up, he’s going to be scared. I can keep him calm until you can disarm that thing." Starsky stood his ground.

   Jerry took one of the helmets and chest protectors from the truck and handed them to Starsky. "Alright, but on one condition, you wear these, and if I tell you to clear out, you clear out. Okay?"

   Starsky nodded his head in agreement. They both cautiously started towards Hutch. As they came closer they could hear the bomb softly ticking, second by second. Six sticks of dynamite, held together by duct tape, were visible beneath his shirt. Red, blue, green and yellow wires intertwined the device. Hutch’s face was red and dripping with sweat. He moaned slightly as Starsky and Jerry slowly approached.

   As the two knelt beside Hutch, Jerry put his finger to his lips, wanting Starsky to remain quiet. He didn’t want to startle Hutch and take a chance on detonating the bomb. The dark-haired detective waited patiently for Jerry to work his expertise on the explosive.

   Jerry carefully unbuttoned Hutch’s shirt to inspect the bomb further. He looked from side to side and top to bottom. Looking behind the blond, he saw a maze of wires coming from the left sleeve of his shirt, wrapping around the handcuffs that bound his wrists, and then reentering his right shirtsleeve.

   Hutch moaned again and began to move his head back and forth. He was waking up. He began to struggle against his restraints.

   "Keep him calm!" Jerry said nervously.

   "Hutch? Hutch? It’s me partner. You have to sit still." Starsky started to touch him but Jerry moved his hand away.

   "Don’t touch him. I don’t know where all the wires are, yet."

   Not fully conscious yet, Hutch continued to move. He was extremely confused and, unable to see what was happening, began to panic.

   "Hutch! You have to stay calm buddy. I’m right here." Starsky was biting his lip. It took everything he had not to grab him and hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay.

   "Starsk? What’s going on?" Hutch’s voice was pained and raspy. "Take this blindfold off." He coughed and grimaced in pain as the weight of the bomb pressured his cracked ribs. "What’s that on my chest? C’mon, take this blindfold off!"

   "I will in just a minute, Hutch. Just hang in there." Starsky could tell he was in pain. "Where you hurtin’ at?"

   "My, my ribs. I think a couple of them are busted." Hutch tried to shift his position. "And my head feels like it’s going to explode."

   Starsky cringed at his partner’s unintentional pun.

   Jerry continued to inspect the bomb.

   Just then, Hutch focused on the ticking sound and quit moving. "Starsk?"

   "Yeah, babe."

   "What’s that ticking sound? Please tell me you got me a new watch for my birthday." Hutch really didn’t want to know.

   Starsky rubbed his hand down the length of his face. He didn’t know what to say. He looked to Jerry for an answer.

   "You have to tell him, Starsky." Jerry knew the truth was inevitable.

   Before Starsky could answer, Hutch asked, "Who’s there with you?" He flinched as another wave of pain traveled through his ribs.

   "It’s Jerry Samuels, Hutch," Starsky answered hesitantly.

   "Hey, Hutch." Jerry remained engrossed in his work.

   Hutch knew who Jerry Samuels was and that confirmed what he feared was the ticking weight on his chest. He began to breathe rapidly as the terrifying reality of the situation soaked in. "Oh, god! Please get this off of me!"

   Jerry tried to calm him. "C’mon Hutch, I’m working on it. Just stay calm. I can remove your blindfold now. There are no wires connected to it."

   This seemed to relax Hutch. Jerry cautiously reached up and removed the blindfold. Hutch squinted as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. He looked to Starsky first.

   "Hey, partner. I’m right here," Starsky said soothingly.

   Hutch then looked down at the contraption strapped to his chest. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth in disbelief, he tried to keep his composure. He then opened them again and looked at Jerry.

   "You can disarm it can’t you?" Hutch asked hopefully.

   Jerry didn’t answer right away.

   "C’mon, Jerry. I want the truth. Tell me." Hutch was insistent.

   Jerry took a deep breath before answering. "There are four different colors of wires running from the dynamite, through the left sleeve of your shirt, around your handcuffs, back through the right sleeve of your shirt and into the timing device. This bomb has what’s called a pressure sensitive detonator that can be triggered by cutting one certain color of wire. If I cut the wrong wire, it will detonate it. Without knowing which color of wire will trigger the detonator, I cannot safely disarm it."

   "So what your saying is we need to find the guy who did this to me and persuade him to tell you which color of wire will set this thing off. I was blindfolded. I don’t know who it was." Hutch leaned his head back against the pole in resignation "How long do I have?"

   "About sixteen hours and eight minutes. That’s a lot of time, Hutch. The guy may turn himself in before then." Jerry didn’t know of anything else encouraging to say. He started loosening the rope around Hutch’s legs. "I can untie your legs, but I’m afraid I can’t take the handcuffs off. All of the wires are wrapped around them." He stood up and moved behind Hutch out of the blond’s view. He looked at Starsky and motioned with his head to follow him.

   Starsky gently laid his hand on Hutch’s leg. "Hey, buddy, how would you like something cold to drink?"

   "That sounds good," Hutch responded gratefully. "I’m so h-hot." He winced again in pain.

   "I’ll be right back." Starsky followed Jerry back to the truck. By now, the place was crawling with fire trucks, an ambulance and several more black and whites. Starsky threw his helmet and chest protector on the ground in anger. "What else is wrong?"

   "I didn’t think it was necessary to upset Hutch any further, but I think you should know." Jerry had a grim look on his face. "The dynamite appears to be of an older formula that is rarely used anymore due to its nitroglycerin content. If this dynamite has been stored in less than ideal conditions for a long period of time, the nitroglycerin may have crystallized making it extremely volatile. Any sudden movement or even a simple three-degree temperature change could set it off. We need to keep him as calm and still as possible. I’m going to have my men set up a canopy over him to get him out of that sun."

   "Thanks, Jerry. I’ll keep him calm." A look of determination spread across Starsky’s face. "I’m gonna find out who did this to him, Jerry. And they’re gonna tell me which wire is the trigger wire. I won’t sit back and watch him die." Starsky retrieved a first aid kit, several sterile cloths, and two bottles of saline solution from the ambulance. He filled a cup with ice water and headed back towards Hutch with a confident gait.

   "Wait! You forgot your protective gear," Jerry called to Starsky.

   Starsky looked back at the bomb squad captain, "Screw the protective gear."

PART TWO