Comments about this story can be sent to cruellaboris@yahoo.com

Sue David and Valerie Wells
© 3/2002

   Richard took the wheel of the station wagon and drove like a man possessed, while Andrew stayed in the back with Hutch and kept him warm and covered. They arrived at the airfield just as Hutch was really waking up, but he was groggy and incoherent, scaring Richard even more than he was already. Between them, Andrew and Richard got Hutch into the plane and bedded down on a mattress loaded just for that purpose.

   "We don’t dare wait very long, Dick," Andrew said gently. "He needs to be in a hospital."

   "I can’t leave David," Richard said, pacing back and forth in the narrow aisle. "He’s in no condition to drive all that way."

   "No, but we could leave him a message and you could send the plane back for him after we get Ken taken care of," Andrew said. "He’d only have to wait a couple of hours."

   Richard stopped pacing and looked down at his son’s face for just a moment of indecision. "All right."

   Andrew took the note to the office and described Starsky to them so they could recognize him when he arrived, and hurried back to the plane. The pilot was already warming up the engine, getting ready to go.

   "Andrew, I don’t feel right about this," Richard said. "David isn’t well. I think we should wait a bit longer."

   Andrew didn’t have to argue the point. Hutch took care of that for him. He was barely conscious, but he grabbed for his father’s hand and called out for Starsky. Suddenly, his breathing became more ragged and he lost consciousness. Richard Hutchinson sat next to him and felt his thready pulse.

   "Go," he said as he looked up with anguished eyes. Andrew nodded and pulled the plane’s door closed. He went up to the cockpit to give the pilot his orders.

********

   Wet. Gray. Cold. Starsky’s return to consciousness included all three, in addition to a more severe pain in his head than he had before whatever had just happened. He shook his head and realized in a panic that the Charger was nose down and rapidly sinking in near freezing water. The water was already up to the bottom of the steering wheel he had just found himself slumped against. He fought against the weight of water on the door, but was unable to open it. Starsky reached for his gun and used the butt of it to break the window, allowing him to escape.

   The water was just above freezing and Starsky knew he had to get out quickly. He headed for the shore and reached it without too much difficulty. Climbing out onto the bank, his hands and feet were already numb. He stood and watched the car complete its fatal slide.

   Starsky looked up and saw the torn guardrail the car had broken. The embankment was too steep here for him to climb back to the road. He gave a grim chuckle at the swan song the car must have done. "Upstream or downstream?" he asked the snowy sky. Deciding it made no difference, but that moving was going to be critical if he expected to survive, he began walking upstream.

   As he walked, Starsky thought about what had happened. He couldn’t remember where the black Charger had come from and couldn’t understand why it was so cold in Southern California. Where was he exactly and where was Hutch?

   Starsky wandered for over an hour. By the time he found a place that would allow him to climb up to the road, his fever had risen to an alarming level and he was so confused he really only knew he was cold and he needed to get to help. He told himself that at least if he were up on the road, someone might find him. He still had no idea how he’d gotten in this condition, but he knew something was terribly wrong. The painful cough was sapping his strength and his ability to think.

   His hope that someone would come along and find him was beginning to dwindle. Although the snow wasn’t falling that fast, this road was remote and everyone with any sense was probably at home by a warm fireplace. With his vision starting to blur again, Starsky stumbled forward as best he could until a painful coughing spasm cost him his consciousness and left him lying on the side of the road.

********

   When the plane touched down in Duluth, a private ambulance was waiting to take the small party to a nearby hospital. Richard made the arrangements before he left. He put a hand out and laid it on Andrew’s shoulder as the medical team transferred his son to a stretcher and began treatment.

   "Go back for David."

   "I will. I’ll bring him to St. Margaret’s within a couple of hours. Don’t worry."

   The pilot quickly logged a new flight plan to Tomah. They had plenty of fuel to get back to the other airport. Andrew shut the door behind him as Richard got into the ambulance with Hutch.

   The medics knew they weren’t supposed to ask too many questions. Their injured patient was to be delivered to St. Margaret’s under an assumed name. They did ask Mr. Hutchinson how their patient had been on the plane ride and were not pleased with the answer.

   Richard was more frightened than he had ever been. He was terrified of losing his son and worried about Starsky. When they arrived at St. Margaret’s, he gave them as much information as he dared, checking his son in under the name John Price.

   The doctor tried to rouse him, using the name "John." Richard told him to call him Ken.

   "Ken? I need you to wake up for me," the doctor called. The medical team was buzzing around Hutch, cutting off his clothes and looking at his wounds. The doctor looked at Hutch’s head injuries with concern. The graze at the back of his head had stopped bleeding, but the lump looked bad. A nurse came and escorted Richard out to the waiting area. As soon as Hutch’s vitals were stable enough, he would be taken to surgery. The bullet lodged in his leg was already causing an infection, having been there for hours. Richard was left with nothing to do but wait, pray, and pace.

********

   "Are you sure you haven’t seen him?" Andrew anxiously asked the young woman at the airport.

   "Yes, sir. No one has been here. Not even anyone who doesn’t match your description. This is a small airport. I would have seen him."

   The pilot was having the plane refueled while Andrew went in to get Starsky. They’d been gone for hours. Something must have happened. Andrew wasn’t sure what he should do next. He found a phone and got through to Richard at the hospital.

   "How’s he doing?" he asked as soon as Richard was on the line.

   "Not good. They’ve taken him to surgery. Is David all right?"

   "That’s why I’m calling. He’s not here. He’s had enough time to get here."

   "Give me the number and I’ll call you back. I’m going to call their captain."

   He reached the captain in his office and could tell that Dobey was already agitated when he picked up the phone. "Captain Dobey, this is Richard Hutchinson."

   "Where are you?" Dobey growled into the phone. Then, he cleared his throat and said, "I’m sorry, Mr. Hutchinson. I’m just worried. I haven’t heard anything for hours. What’s happening?"

   "Nothing very good, I’m afraid. Ken was in such a bad way, we were forced to fly him out before David made it to the airport."

   "You what?" Dobey bellowed into the phone.

   "I sent the plane back for him, but he never showed there. I feel terrible that we had to leave him, but the doctors tell me we may lose Ken. We had no choice."

   Dobey dropped his head in one hand and rubbed his hair as he thought about what to do next. "How did David look?" he asked quietly.

   "Terrible. He had a black eye and a bruised cut on his head. He was sick, too, Captain. Anything could have happened to him. What if those men found him? He said he was going to turn the car over to the state police, in Tomah, I assume."

   "Hold on while I call and see if he’s still there."

   Captain Dobey hoped that Starsky made it to the state police. Maybe they had taken him somewhere for treatment. His phone call left him more worried. The state police had seen no sign of him or the stolen black Charger. The station commander told Dobey he would send troopers out searching for Starsky immediately. The captain was not pleased to hear it was snowing in the area. That would make it harder to find Starsky, but whatever had befallen his detective, he hoped that James Marshall Gunther had nothing to do with it. At least they had not responded to any calls on road accidents in the past few hours.

   "Richard, they haven’t seen him either."

   "Captain Dobey, I don’t know what to do. How can I help him?" Richard asked, the worry in his voice palpable even over the phone.

   "You’ve already done a lot. Just sit tight and keep me posted on Ken’s condition. I’ll let you know what I find out about Starsky."

   Richard called Andrew at the airport and told him there was nothing more they could do. He said Andrew should return to Duluth with the pilot, but the man refused. He decided he would send the plane on, but wait for news of Starsky’s whereabouts.

********

   Thomas Potter waited nervously to hear from his hit squad. They didn’t report in, but Potter was unable to find out what had happened to them. The Wisconsin State Police had put a lid on the story, before the media got wind of the two men found shot to death next to a wrecked, unmarked Illinois police car. Potter’s men had vanished. So had the two detectives. He called Detroit and found out that the two men never showed up there.

   With the sentencing coming up, he had fewer reasons to visit with his client. Since Mr. Gunther was being kept in isolation, he knew he was safe from an attack ordered by the vindictive old man. Perhaps that would buy him a day or two to find the missing cops.

   A few carefully placed phone calls later, Thomas Potter had the Gunther organization in the Midwest buzzing with the search. Everyone feared the old man’s wrath and they all got to work immediately

   In that moment, Thomas Potter made an important decision. If the two detectives weren’t found and eliminated by the day Gunther was sentenced, he would end his own life. He would be a dead man anyway, and he had no desire to wait until his turn came to be yet another tied up loose end.

********

   Although it was only three in the afternoon, the snowy, gloom made the day seem like nighttime. Dale Perlman was slowly driving on a back road when he saw what looked like something lying on the shoulder. He pulled over to take a look and found it was a man, unconscious and shivering in iced-over clothing.

   "Hey, mister?" he said as he tried to rouse the obviously sick and injured man.

   Starsky moaned and opened his eyes a little. He wanted to talk, but all he could say was "Help."

   Dale picked Starsky up and put him in the front seat of his banged up old pickup. Before he shut the door, he searched Starsky’s pockets for identification. He didn’t find a wallet – that had fallen out of Starsky’s jacket pocket back in the water. He did find the Beretta, which he quickly pocketed for himself – deciding that the man he’d just rescued wouldn’t mind him taking a little reward. Dale could hock the gun for some quick cash. Dale Perlman had a gambling habit to support.

   When he got the pickup started back on the road, he cranked up the heat in an effort to warm his frozen passenger. Dale knew the man needed a hospital. He didn’t want any trouble, but he couldn’t leave the man lying in the road. Since he was so close to the Minnesota border, he decided to take his passenger to the small hospital in Winona. That would ensure that no one would recognize Dale and would also get the stranger some help.

   Winona’s hospital wasn’t the best facility, but it would have to do. Dale pulled into their small emergency bay and went inside for help.

   "Hey," he said to the first nurse he spotted, "I’ve got a guy out in my car who’s ‘bout froze to death."

   The nurse and an orderly got a gurney and followed Dale outside. They hustled Starsky into the hospital, shooting questions at Dale on the way. "Who is he?" the nurse asked.

   "I don’t know."

   "What do you mean you don’t know?"

   "I’m telling you, I don’t know. I found him on the side of the road. Look, I’ll go move my truck and be right back. You can ask me all the questions you want, then."

   Dale ignored the nurse’s protests as he exited the Emergency Room. He climbed into the truck and took off for Wisconsin. He’d go back home and forget it ever happened. As soon as he could, he’d drive over to Madison to hock the gun.

   The medical team got to work on Starsky. One of the nurses searched the clothes they’d cut off of him and found no identification. They couldn’t be concerned with that at the moment. They started immediate efforts to warm him.

   One of the nurses tried to rouse him. "Sir? Sir, do you know where you are?"

   Starsky woke up enough to look at her and moan.

   "What? Sir, what’s your name?"

   "C-Cold...." He was so tired. What did she ask me? My name? Even in his muddled state, he knew he shouldn’t give her his real name. His concentration was slipping, so he gave her the first undercover name he could think of, and said "Larry Scanlon." Darkness quickly claimed him.

   "Geez, this one’s a mess," the doctor declared. "Where’s that guy who brought him in?"

   One of the nurses went out to look for him, but she knew the mysterious man in the pickup truck would be gone.

   "No luck, Doc," she said as she returned. "He took off."

   "Great. Wonder how he got this way?" The doctor ordered some tests and X-rays. He didn’t need a long time to realize that Starsky was in worse shape than they had the ability to treat in the small, rural hospital. As soon as Starsky was stable, they’d transfer him by ambulance to a larger, state run hospital.

********

   "I’m sorry, but your son isn’t doing well," the doctor told Mr. Hutchinson. "We’ve removed the bullet and repaired both wounds. He has an infection that we’re treating aggressively. In addition to a variety of minor injuries and contusions, his head sustained a hard blow and he has a grazing wound from another bullet." The doctor indicated where the bullet had narrowly missed penetrating Hutch’s skull.

   "Will he be all right?"

   The doctor shook his head. "I’m afraid it’s too soon to say. He’s in a coma. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be critical. Frankly, I’m not hopeful."

   "But, I don’t understand. I was told it wasn’t that serious." Richard remembered the conversation he’d had with Starsky. Banged up, nothing too serious. That conversation varied markedly from what he saw when he arrived in that hotel room, and the doctor was confirming his worst fears.

   "I don’t know about that, sir. Head injuries can be tricky. He’s definitely taken a turn for the worse here. I have to go back and check on him. He’s in recovery now, but I’ll send someone for you when we move him to the ICU."

   Richard thanked the doctor and watched as he walked away. Ordinarily, the hospital would have called the Duluth police when presented with a man suffering from gunshot wounds. That was one of the reasons Richard brought him to St. Margaret’s. His money, and a well-placed friend, guaranteed he could keep free of any law enforcement entanglements. He was sick with worry about Hutch and knew that he needed to call Captain Dobey again. That thought didn’t upset him nearly as much as the anticipation of the conversation he was going to have with his wife. He’d assured her when this nightmare began that he was going to take care of everything and their son would be all right. If Ken died, Helen Hutchinson might never forgive him.

********

   Captain Dobey was angry after he hung up the phone with Mr. Hutchinson. His rage directed his next actions. He was seated at a table, waiting for the guards to bring in James Gunther. Arranging the meeting wasn’t easy. Gunther insisted that his lawyer be present, but Mr. Potter was inexplicably unavailable. Instead, he’d sent an associate, Terrence Webster.

   "He doesn’t have to answer any of your questions, Captain Dobey," the nervous young man stated unnecessarily.

   "I just want to have a little conversation with him. All of this is off the record, as far as I’m concerned, Mr. Webster," Captain Dobey replied with as much patience as he could. He felt a little sorry for the attorney. He was obviously afraid, probably of his client. You should be afraid.

   The guards ushered in James Marshall Gunther. As usual, he had a look of superiority and supreme confidence on his face. He didn’t look defeated. Not at all like a man almost certain to receive a death sentence soon.

   "Mr. Gunther," Dobey said, "thank you for agreeing to this meeting."

   "Not at all, Captain," Gunther replied, ice dripping from every word. "Since my visitors have been limited to my attorneys, I welcome the chance for someone else’s company."

   Dobey huffed at that. "I’m sure you know why that restriction was put in place."

   "Actually, I’m sure I don’t." Gunther turned to his attorney next, "Where is Mr. Potter?"

   Terrence pulled at the knot of his tie with a slight tremor in his hand. "I’m sorry, sir, he was unavoidably detained. He asked me to sit in for him."

   James Gunther was many things, but a fool was not among them. He knew that in all likelihood, Thomas Potter had failed in his mission again. The two detectives must still be alive. No matter. I’ll deal with that... and Mr. Potter soon enough. The potential purpose for Captain Dobey’s visit did have him curious. He disguised his curiosity well. Having an unbreakable poker face was one of his greatest assets. Perhaps the good captain will have some valuable information for me.

   Captain Dobey took a deep breath and started speaking. "This meeting is off the record, Mr. Gunther. We are not being observed, this conversation is not being recorded in any way, and you have representation. I hope you will be straight with me."

   Gunther smiled, almost imperceptibly, but Dobey saw it. "I’m not sure how I can be of any assistance to the police, but please ask your questions."

   "My detectives, Starsky and Hutchinson, have run into some trouble. I suspect you are the cause."

   "I?" Gunther asked with as much incredulity as he could put into his voice.

   "Let’s not play games. You and I both know that you want my men dead. Especially Detective Starsky. I believe it eats at you that he survived your attempt on his life." Dobey paused to allow Gunther to respond, but that slight smile and silence were the only response he was getting. The message was clearly received.

   "I have reason to believe you’ve sent a series of hit squads after my men."

   "Captain Dobey...." Webster started, but he stopped at a glare from Gunther.

   Captain Dobey was struggling to maintain his composure. His rage at James Gunther showed in his eyes, even if he was too professional to let it out in words. That anger was not lost on Gunther.

   "Has something unfortunate befallen them?" The self-satisfied look on the man’s face was almost enough to break through Dobey’s carefully checked anger.

   The captain lowered his voice to a dangerous growl as he stared down the bitter old man sitting across from him. "I want you to listen to me very carefully, James Gunther. Detective Starsky is missing. When he was last seen, he was in a bad way and I have every reason to believe you are responsible for that. If he can’t be found, or he turns up dead somewhere, so help me... I’ll prove it was you if it’s the last thing I do."

   Terrence Webster sat up straighter in his chair and said, "Now, just wait a minute here, Captain. You can’t...."

   "Save it, Webster. This is off the record. My word against yours and Mr. Gunther’s. I can’t use any of it and neither can you." He turned back to Gunther. "Until you are sentenced, I can’t bar your attorneys from seeing you. God willing, you will soon find yourself sitting on death row. So help me, if anything else happens to Detective Starsky, I’m going to see to it that you serve the rest of your time before justice is carried out locked so far away from anyone and everyone, you might die from lack of contact before the gas gets you. Do you understand me?"

   "Captain Dobey, I really must protest this...."

   Another look from Gunther stopped Webster’s objection. "Mr. Webster, I think perhaps you’d better remain quiet and allow the captain and me to have this conversation. Your concern is admirable, but I really do not need your assistance. Do you understand me?"

   "Yes, sir, Mr. Gunther," Webster said, dropping his eyes and taking out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his face. He was whiter than the walls.

   "I understand you perfectly, Captain. However, I did not have anything to do with your man’s disappearance." That much was technically true. Neither Captain Dobey nor James Gunther knew where Starsky was or what had caused him to drop out of sight.

   "I just wanted to make certain you know where we stand. Don’t make me have to carry through with my promise, Mr. Gunther. Prison can be a lonely place in solitary confinement."

   With that remark, Dobey stood to leave. He had his hand on the doorknob when Gunther said something behind him. His curiosity was too great not to ask.

   "What about Detective Hutchinson? I hope nothing has happened to him," Gunther remarked with false sincerity.

   Dobey turned so he could see Gunther’s face when he delivered his final bit of information. "Detective Hutchinson is dead." As he left the room, he knew the look of utter joy in James Gunther’s eyes would stay with him for the rest of his life.

********

   Starsky floated in and out of consciousness during the ride to Olmsted County Hospital near Rochester. He heard voices occasionally. Every now and then the paramedic would check his pulse or say something like, "How are you doing, sir?" When the paramedic spoke to him, Starsky tried to answer, but he couldn’t make any sound come out. His throat was so sore that swallowing was torture and he simply couldn’t get warm.

   "He gonna make it there?" the driver asked at one point.

   "Sure, he’ll make it," the paramedic answered brightly, patting Starsky on the arm. "Won’t ya?"

   He didn’t know where he was or where he was going. He didn’t remember much before climbing out of the car, down in the water. He didn’t know how he’d gotten into that car or into the water. The next thing he remembered after that was being loaded into this ambulance.

   He didn’t know when he lost consciousness again, but the next thing he was aware of was being lifted into a bed and covered up. A couple of nurses fussed over the covers and an IV.

   "W-where am I?" he asked, his throat less sore, but his voice so hoarse it sounded like a stranger’s.

   "Rochester," one of them answered, turning to him. "I’m glad you’re awake." She smiled. "You had us worried."

   "Rochester?" Starsky searched his memory. There wasn’t a town called Rochester in California, not that he knew of, anyway.

   "Rochester, Minnesota," she said, her brow creasing. "Olmsted County Hospital. A man found you half frozen by the side of the road. You have pneumonia and several nasty bumps and bruises."

   Minnesota? How the hell did I get in Minnesota? His confusion must’ve shown on his face. The nurse came closer.

   "Don’t worry about it right now," she said soothingly. "You’re still groggy and we’ve given you something to help you sleep. Just rest. Time enough for questions later."

********

   "Have you found something?" Richard Hutchinson had come out of his son’s room long enough to get another cup of coffee and he caught sight of Andrew coming down the hall. When there was no sign of Starsky for long enough to give up hope, Andrew had returned to Duluth.

   "We’re not certain," Andrew answered. "Wisconsin State Patrol told Captain Dobey that they’d found a car in the drink near Sparta. It had gone through the guard rail and into a small lake."

   Richard closed his eyes. "Oh, God. Did they find a...."

   "No," Andrew said quickly, anticipating the question. "No body. They haven’t been able to really investigate yet. A single diver went down to check in the car, but they have to call in a cold-water dive team to be more thorough. Looks like the driver’s side window had been broken out from the inside, so he must’ve gotten out of the car, but –"

   "But what?"

   "But they can’t find him," Andrew said. "No sign of him anywhere. He had to be wet and on foot and nobody’s seen him. It’s been snowing heavily there so any footprints have been obliterated." He paused and put a hand on Richard’s arm. "They’re going to drag the lake."

   Inside the hospital room, Hutch lay listening. He had awakened just moments before the quiet conversation between his father and Andrew, and though at first he didn’t grasp what they were talking about, some instinct kicked in when Andrew said "they" were going to drag the lake.

   The conversation went on for a few more minutes, as Richard and Andrew planned to mount an all-out search of hospitals in the area for a man fitting Starsky’s description. Hutch’s mind was still fuzzy, his body too weak to call out to his father and ask for details, but inside he was screaming that somebody had to find Starsky, and that somebody ought to be him.

********

   Starsky had slept soundly, thanks to the sedative, and awoke feeling much better. His throat was hardly sore at all and it no longer hurt to breathe. Well, not much, anyway. When the nurse brought his breakfast, he ate it all, in spite of the fact that the oatmeal was runny and the custard – or whatever it was – was tasteless. The orange juice, at least, was cold and fresh and helped the lingering soreness in his throat.

   When the doctor came in to check on him, he seemed pleased. "You’re looking much better this morning, Mr. Scanlon," he said. "Do you remember what happened?"

   Starsky was puzzled for a moment by the "Mr. Scanlon" before he remembered he’d given them that name. No way Gunther or his goons would know that name, but Hutch would. That’s why Starsky chose one of Hutch’s undercover names, instead of one of his own. Hutch would know.

   "No," he answered.

   The doctor nodded and made a notation on the chart. "You didn’t have any ID on you."

   "Must’ve fallen out of my pocket," Starsky said, keeping his face as impassive as possible.

   "Is there anyone we can call for you?"

   "I’ll call," Starsky said. "There’s nobody in this area." But his mind was worrying frantically about where Hutch was and what had happened to him. Once the doctor was out of the room, he’d try calling Hutch’s folks. They could call Dobey for him and Dobey could get a search going.

   "I’m afraid we can’t let you do that," the doctor said apologetically.

   Starsky stared at him. "And why not?"

   As if on cue, a uniformed officer stepped into the room. He did not look friendly. "There’s a warrant out on you, Lambert," he said. "We’ve been looking for you for a week."

   "Lambert?" Starsky struggled into a sitting position. "My name’s not Lambert."

   The officer gave a cold smile and a shrug. "Neither is ‘Scanlon,’ is it? You’ve probably got a dozen aliases." He moved closer and now Starsky could read the patch on his sleeve that identified him as an Olmsted County deputy. Terrific. All he needed was a gung-ho small-town cop who thought he was making a big bust.

   "What am I supposed to have done?" Starsky inquired coolly.

   "Broke out of Meeker County jail," the cop said. "Like you don’t know. What kind of scum rapes a schoolteacher, huh? They’re gonna have fun with you in the pen."

   "Look, fella," Starsky said, trying to be reasonable, "you got the wrong guy."

   "Yeah, that’s what they all say." The cop turned to the doctor. "So, can he be moved?"

   The doctor gave Starsky another apologetic look. "Yes, but you have to remember to give him his medication three times a day."

   "We will," the cop said. "We’ll take him to the infirmary and let him get all better." He grinned. "Don’t want him dyin’ and missin’ his trial."

   This can’t be happening, Starsky thought wearily. "What makes you think I’m the guy you’re looking for?" he demanded.

   "Mug shot," the cop said. "You think we’re amateurs just ‘cause we ain’t big city cops? I got a mug shot of you posted down at headquarters. They told us you might be coming this way, headed back home to Milwaukee. Now, we’re gonna move your ass to the jail where we can keep a good close eye on you until the Meeker County cops can send somebody after you."

   "I get a phone call," Starsky said. "I know my rights."

   "You already had your phone call when they arrested you in Meeker County," the cop said.

********

   Richard went back into Hutch’s room and was stunned to see those blue eyes focused on him with a very determined look in them. "Ken," he said, trying to hide his surprise but not his pleasure. "You’re awake. Thank God. We were so worried –"

   "Thanks, Dad, but what I’m worried about is Starsky. Where is he?" In spite of the thready weakness in his voice, Hutch’s tone warned that he would accept no kindly meant evasiveness.

   Richard sighed. He knew his son. He sat down in the visitor’s chair so he’d be on eye level with him. "He’s missing."

   Hutch swore, a word he would normally not have used in front of his father.

   Richard let it pass. "We’re doing everything we can," he said. "Andrew’s on the phone with your captain right now, and I’ve got my secretary calling every hospital for miles around. In a couple of hours, the state police will be helping. Try not to worry."

   "Dad, you don’t understand," Hutch said, having to close his eyes because keeping them open was so tiring. "Somebody’s trying to kill us, has been trying to kill us, followed us all the way here to try to kill us –"

   "I do understand," Richard interrupted. "I’ve talked to Captain Dobey. I know what’s going on. Why do you think we’re combing two states to find him?" He gentled his tone and even laid his hand over his son’s, something he hadn’t often done. "Kenny, we’re taking care of it. I know how important it is."

   Hutch opened his eyes again and met his father’s. And nodded.

********

   Andrew and Richard stood on the shore of the small lake – normally not very deep, but there had been a lot of snow this winter, a lot of melting and freezing and melting again, and the lake was much higher than normal. The black Charger’s rear end barely stuck out of the water, the nose and most of the rest of the body under the surface.

   A wrecker was working with a winch to get the car pulled free of the water while Search and Rescue was dragging the lake. Dobey had been on the boat with them, but it was so cold that they had to change shifts often, and he climbed up the incline to join Andrew and Richard, shivering violently in spite of his heavy coat.

   "Nothing," he said to Richard. "I hope to God we don’t find him here."

   "Amen," Richard said fervently.

   As the car came slowly out of the water, Richard could see enough of the driver’s window to confirm the report that it had been broken, and he prayed that meant David had gotten out and made it to shore somehow. But if so, where the hell was he?

   Once the car was free, a couple of state police officers began searching it. They found Starsky’s badge and wallet and rescued his bag. Then one of the officers approached the three men, clutching something shiny in his fist.

   "Any of you recognize this?" the diver asked, opening his hand and holding it out toward them.

   A necklace lay there, a silver charm on a broken chain. The charm was shaped like Thor’s hammer.

   Dobey drew a deep breath. "It’s Starsky’s." He took it from the diver and examined it more closely. "Never really looked at it before," he said to Richard. "I know Hutch gave it to him after he got out of the hospital, but I don’t know what it means."

   "I do," Richard said. "Thor’s hammer is supposed to provide protection. Old Viking legend."

   "Doesn’t look like it worked," Dobey said sourly.

********

   Hutch was slightly stronger and more alert, and had been waiting, terrified, ever since Richard and the others had left for the lake. It was late in the day before they returned, and his eyes went straight to the necklace Richard held in his hand. Something deep and painful crossed his face before he could control his expression.

   Richard saw the look and gave it to him. "They found that in the car," he said. "They did NOT find a body. He must’ve gotten out."

   "Then, where is he?" Hutch demanded. His eyes went to Dobey. "Anything?"

   "We’ve already called all the hospitals anyplace close by in Wisconsin," Dobey answered. "We’ve started on the ones across the border in Minnesota. We’ve also alerted law enforcement on both sides of the state line and sent photos and descriptions, in case he’s using a false name."

   "And he would," Hutch said. "If he’s able," he added, his voice dropping.

   "He’s probably just lying low," Richard began, but Hutch shook his head.

   "He’d let me know he was safe somehow," he said. "He’d know I’d worry about him. And there’s no reason for him to hide from us. He’s either trying to get back to us or he can’t." He turned to Dobey and his captain could see the physical effort the next question cost him. "Have you checked morgues, too?"

   "Yes," Dobey said. "In every county from here to there and back again. No unidentified bodies matching his description."

   Hutch’s brows came down in a frown. "You’ve had time to check all those morgues and haven’t made it through all the hospitals yet? Sounds like you –"

   Dobey nodded and looked embarrassed. "We checked those first."

   "That’s just terrific!" Hutch spat, glaring at him.

   "It was a reasonable assumption," Richard said. "Considering the condition he must’ve been in. No need to raise your voice, son. Now we know he’s not dead, at least."

   "Or the body hasn’t been found."

   "What do you think your partner would say if he heard you talking like that?" Richard demanded. "Giving up on him?"

   Now, Hutch looked embarrassed. "Sorry, Dad. I’m just worried sick."

   "I know. And we’re doing everything humanly possible. Have faith, Ken."

********

   Starsky lay on his back in the narrow bunk, staring dispiritedly up at the gray concrete ceiling. The so-called "infirmary" in the county lock-up was just like all the other cells except a nurse showed up once a day to take his temperature and blood pressure and tell Deputy Dumbass to make sure to give him his medicine with each meal. The problem was, he wasn’t getting his medicine. The deputy had given him a single aspirin and that was it, so far.

   The mattress was thin and stank, the blanket was shabby and he froze to death at night, when they turned the heat down to what felt like sub-arctic temperatures, and the food was lousy. He’d been here three days and still nobody from Meeker County had shown up. He hoped they were more intelligent than this turkey, who had proudly pointed to the mug shot he’d used to decide Starsky was the missing Gary Lambert. Lambert looked nothing like Starsky beyond the fact that both of them had dark curly hair. Lambert’s eyes were narrow, he had a scar on his chin, and the description attached to the photo clearly stated he had a devil’s head tattooed on his right shoulder. When Starsky had pointed that out to Deputy Dumbass, the man had snapped at him to shut up and given him a shove toward the "infirmary."

   Maybe the moron couldn’t read. No, you had to be able to read to be a deputy. Didn’t you? Starsky sighed and shifted his weight and wondered how long it was until lunchtime. Not that he expected palatable food. Breakfast had been one of those tiny cereal boxes meant for kids and a pint of milk. Supper last night had been a hunk of cold meat loaf, three green beans and a stale roll. If they’d just let him make a phone call, he’d risk Gunther’s goons finding him and call Hutch’s dad. But the deputy wouldn’t hear of it.

   "If Meeker wants to let you make another call when they come for ya, they can," he’d said. "I’m not going to. You had your call."

   "I’m telling you, I’m not Lambert!" Starsky had flared. "I don’t have a tattoo, I don’t have a scar, and if you’ll let me use the goddamned phone, I can prove I’m not Lambert!"

   "Don’t you use that kinda language on me," the deputy had snarled, pulling his nightstick from his belt and holding it up.

   Starsky had shut up. So far, he’d only seen two other deputies, both of whom were young and obviously too afraid of Deputy Dumbass to even talk to Starsky, though Lord knew he’d tried. He’d begged them to listen to him, to look at the photo of Lambert and compare it to him, to call Richard Hutchinson for him.

   "Morgan’s in charge," one of them had said the first day. "He makes the decisions."

   When he’d asked to speak to the sheriff himself, Morgan had laughed shortly.

   "Sheriff’s a busy man," he’d said. "I’m not bothering him with the likes of you."

   The sheriff and this gorilla are both going to be damned sorry they didn’t listen to me, Starsky thought angrily, thumping the stinky pillow in a vain attempt to make it more comfortable. I’m gonna hang both their hides from Dick’s barn door. At least, he reasoned, he was safe from Gunther for the moment. He prayed Hutch’s father had gotten him to a safe location and that he was all right. Many of the days since he and Hutch were separated were a blur, but he finally remembered how bad his partner looked when Mr. Hutchinson and his friend carried him out of the motel. How the hell did I get from East Egypt, Wisconsin to Moose Antler, Minnesota, though? He lay awake and thought about it for hours, shivering in the cold and wondering how he was going to get out of this mess. He was still weak and troubled by a hacking cough that wasn’t improving. The cold, damp cell wasn’t helping.

   The next morning, Deputy Morgan unlocked Starsky’s cell and stepped inside with Reuben Johnson, one of the younger deputies.

   "Get up, Lambert. You’re being transferred this morning," Morgan stated.

   Starsky had just finished his latest breakfast of a tiny box of generic cereal and too warm skim milk. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; napkins were another item not much in evidence at the Olmsted County jail. He glared at the hulking man and said, "You realize that while you’re dickin’ around with me here, the real Gary Lambert, a possible rapist, is roaming around free, don’t you?"

   "Shut up, Lambert," Morgan ordered. "I said, get up!"

   Starsky moved a little too slowly for the man, who stepped closer and roughly hauled him to his feet. The sudden change in position left Starsky standing on wobbly legs. When the flashing pinpricks of light in his vision settled, Starsky said, "I want to see a lawyer."

   "Save it for Meeker," came the harsh reply. "Now put your arms behind your back."

   Starsky did as he was told, wincing as the handcuffs were snapped on, tightly enough to impair the circulation in his hands.

   "Deputy Morgan," Johnson said quietly, "isn’t he gonna need a coat? It’s 19 degrees out there." Johnson had observed Morgan’s harsh, unprofessional demeanor with this prisoner for days. He’d been afraid to say anything – Morgan was the kind of man it was best not to anger. But this prisoner was still not well and he couldn’t just stand by and say nothing while the older deputy took him out into a cold, Minnesota winter day without a coat. The fact that Morgan had already cuffed his prisoner made it look like he had no plan to take reasonable care of the man. Starsky had entered the jail in scrubs borrowed from the hospital, which had quickly been replaced by a thin orange jumpsuit that would offer no protection from the elements.

   "What, are you his mother? It ain’t that cold in the squad. ‘Sides, it’s only 4 or 5 hours to Meeker."

   "I thought they were sending someone to get me," Starsky said.

   "They’re short handed so I volunteered to drive you up there."

   Morgan turned to walk out, expecting Starsky to follow and Johnson to bring up the rear. Since he’d been so ill, Starsky hadn’t gotten any exercise and hadn’t been out of bed much. His legs were rubbery. He was busy thinking about the possibility he would be able to reason with the Meeker County Sheriff and he wasn’t paying enough attention to the ground. He tripped on the metal threshold of the door. Without his hands to stop his fall, Starsky crashed into Deputy Morgan’s back.

   The deputy spun around and, before either Starsky or Reuben Johnson knew what was happening, the angry man had shoved Starsky the rest of the way to the ground and kicked him a couple of times. He was reaching for his nightstick when Johnson intervened, stepping between the raging Morgan and Starsky, lying helpless on the floor.

   Outweighed by nearly one hundred pounds, Reuben was terrified as he put up his hands and yelled, "Stop it! What’s the matter with you, Morgan?"

   Morgan paused with his hand on the nightstick, his eyes flashing and said, "Stay out of this, Johnson! You saw it, he came after me. He was resisting."

   Starsky moaned and let out a mirthless laugh at that. He was coughing again and his voice was strained when he said, "You’re gonna regret that."

   Morgan stepped around Johnson and kicked Starsky again. "Shut up, Lambert!"

   "Morgan!" Johnson managed to get between the other two men again. "That’s enough. He wasn’t doing anything, he just tripped. I don’t know why you hate this guy so much, but let’s just get him out of here." With that, he turned and helped Starsky to his feet. Morgan began to insist that Starsky be put in leg irons, but Johnson was feeling brave and he told him that wasn’t necessary. He got Starsky into the back of the squad car. Feeling the shivers already starting to run through the prisoner, he admonished Morgan to turn up the heat in the car.

   "Why don’t you just mind your own business?" Morgan snarled. For reasons Starsky didn’t understand, the big man hated him. He was hurting and cold. Knowing he had four or five hours to be in the car with the man was motivation enough to keep his mouth shut, in the hope that he would survive long enough to get to Meeker County.

********

   Hutch’s doctor stepped outside of his room to speak with Mr. Hutchinson, who motioned Captain Dobey over from a nearby chair to join them. The doctor finished writing a few notes in the chart and turned his attention to the anxious father. "Doctors don’t mind being wrong when it’s in the patient’s favor. I had my doubts for a while, but he’s doing much better."

   "Thank God," Richard said. "And thank you, Doctor."

   "You’re welcome, but your son is responsible, too. He’s strong and he seems to have some underlying motivation to get out of here as quickly as possible."

   "Doctor, I’m sure you’re aware of the special precautions we’ve been taking with his identity and location," Richard said, in a quiet voice. The doctor nodded. The hospital was under constant surveillance, and Mr. Hutchinson had bodyguards posted in Hutch’s room and undercover as hospital workers, where they could keep an eye on the entrances, exits, and Hutch’s room. Captain Dobey was impressed with Richard’s thorough and smooth handling of the situation.

   Richard nodded toward Dobey and said, "The captain and I believe it is important to move him to a safer location as soon as possible. Can we move him safely?"

   The doctor frowned. "I said he was doing better, but I’m not sure he’s ready to be taken out of here, yet. What type of facility did you have in mind?"

   Dobey piped in and said, "Someplace the reason why we have to be so careful will never think to look."

   "I’m sorry, gentlemen. I’m afraid I never learned much about espionage. Are you certain this is necessary? Do you really think he’s in danger, even with all of the protection you’ve brought into the hospital?"

   Richard looked toward Dobey for the answer to that question. "Yes, we do, Doctor. I want him in a more private place. It’s that important."

   The doctor looked serious, glancing through the chart and nodding as he read through Hutch’s progress notes. He took his glasses off, sliding them into his lab coat and said, "Very well. His temperature has been steadily dropping and his blood pressure is coming up. I want to give it a few more hours, but go ahead and make your plans. We can move him out of here in the morning."

   The three reached agreement on what would happen. The doctor didn’t like it that they were unwilling to tell him where they were going or who would be caring for his patient, but he accepted it. He had no choice.

   "I’ll tell him," Richard said to Dobey after the doctor left.

   "You do that and I’ll go call and see if they’ve found anything new on Starsky." Dobey followed him into Hutch’s room. He had been trying to make phone calls from inside Hutch’s room. Not only was the phone being monitored to prevent bugs and taps, but more importantly, making the calls in front of Hutch was reassuring him that they were doing everything they could, and that they were keeping nothing from him. That was going a long way toward helping him rest and remain quiet.

   Hutch was still weak and staying awake was a challenge. He was asleep again when they re-entered the room. Dobey went to the phone across the room and started making his calls. The first search through hospitals where Starsky might have turned up was completely fruitless. Dobey had a notebook with the names of all the hospitals, the contacts at each, and the names of any patients checked into them since Starsky disappeared who had any resemblance to the missing officer. All of the John Does had been eliminated, so he started to scan the other names for the third time between calls.

   Next to the name of a small hospital in Winona, Minnesota, his eyes were drawn to a name. He’d read it several times, thinking that it was familiar, but not knowing why. Larry Scanlon.

   Richard sat down in the chair and took Hutch’s hand in his. He’d never been physically demonstrative with his children, but in the past few days, he’d learned a little of what he’d missed. He knew that his son was a toucher. He’d seen that in how he treated Starsky while he was healing and he’d seen how much it helped Starsky. Without his partner there to take care of him, Richard decided it was up to him to provide that comfort and Hutch responded to it... and to him.

   "Son," he said quietly as he reached with his other hand to touch Hutch’s hair, letting his fingertips gently brush the fading blackness around Hutch’s eyes, "can you wake up a little for me?"

   Hutch squeezed his father’s hand and opened his eyes. "I’m awake," he slurred. As his brain clicked into gear, he asked, "Starsky?"

   "Nothing yet, I’m afraid."

   "Dad," Hutch said wearily, "how soon can I get out of here? I need to look for him."

   "That’s what I want to talk to you about, Ken. You are getting out of here, but not to go on a search for your partner."

   "But, Dad...." The monitors attached to Hutch were showing his growing agitation.

   "Shhhh. Calm down, son. If you don’t, they’ll sedate you. The doctor says you have to be kept quiet so you can heal."

   Hutch nodded and said, "Where am I going?"

   "Do you remember Cardinal Narro?" Richard asked. Hutch nodded again. "He has arranged for you to stay with the brothers at the St. Francis Friary. You’ll be safe there. I’ve seen to it." Richard Hutchinson and his family were Lutherans, but he grew up with Bill Narro. As a favor to his old friend, the man agreed to help shield Hutch.

   "Dad, I can’t slink away and hide while Starsky is out there, God knows where."

   He heard Captain Dobey say "That’s it!" and he rose and walked toward the Hutchinson men. "I heard that, Hutchinson, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Your dad has arranged everything to keep you safe. You’re in no shape to even get out of bed. We had to convince your doctor to allow this." Hutch opened his mouth to protest, but Dobey shut him down with a glare. "Hutch, let me spell this out for you. Our resources are stretched about as thin as they’ve ever been. I can’t mount an all out search for your partner across multiple states and be worried about you going off and getting yourself killed before we can get your partner out of whatever trouble he’s found. For once, you need to let us handle things and just do what you’re told."

   Hutch stared at him in shock. He didn’t know what to say, so he settled for, "All right, for now. But if he’s not found by the time I’m able to move on my own steam, I’m going after him."

   "Maybe that won’t be necessary. I think I might have something. A man matching Starsky’s description was seen in a small hospital in Winona, Minnesota the day he went missing. This patient was registered as ‘Larry Scanlon.’ Mean anything to you?"

   Hutch smiled and heaved a sigh of relief. "Yeah, it does. That was my undercover name when we went after that scum Vic Humphries who had me pushed off into the canyon. Starsky must have been with it enough to know I’d recognize it."

   That was the first good news they’d had. Hutch closed his eyes wearily as he said, "Is he still there?"

   "I don’t know. You just rest. I’m going to go make some phone calls and see what we can find." He patted Hutch on the shoulder as he went back to the phone.

   "How’s Mom doing with all this, Dad?" Hutch asked as he opened his eyes again. His blinks were getting longer as sleep crept up on him again.

   "Funny you should ask, Ken. She’s been pretty angry that I wouldn’t let her come here. I was afraid to, for a number of reasons. Yesterday, we flew her up to Canada. Some of my people up there have doubled her back and she will be waiting for us at the Friary. We had to make sure she wasn’t followed."

   "Great. I want to see her." Hutch yawned and closed his eyes again. "Promise me you’ll wake me up if you hear anything, okay?"

   "Sleep, son. I promise. In the morning, we’re going to get out of here. Maybe we’ll know more about David by then."

   As Hutch drifted off to sleep, he stretched his thoughts and feelings out to his partner. Hoping he was well and trying to send him a message that it was going to be all right. They were going to come for him.

PART THREE