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PART ONE
What Did I Miss? - Part Two

By

Valerie Wells & Sue David

   Roberta Langley was well past worry over where her son was. Her interview with the policemen who came to take her report had given her no peace and she'd had no word of her son all weekend. She decided to try going through his room again. The first three times she'd searched it turned up nothing, but at least it gave her something to do. This time, she pulled the mattress off the bed and took everything out of the drawers. Her son was paranoid, so she was looking for anything he might be concealing. The drawers revealed nothing, so she turned to the closet.

   After removing everything from the floor of the closet, Roberta noticed a framed picture she hadn't seen before, leaning against the back wall. Randy's closet shared a wall with the stairs in the entryway. Behind the picture, Randy had cut away the drywall and Roberta could see a stash of papers and items in the dark recess under the stairs. Mrs. Langley pulled everything out into the center of the room and sat on the floor looking through what she'd found.

   The first thing she looked at was a scrapbook. Every item in it concerned Detective David Starsky. She recognized him immediately. The story of Starsky's shooting was big news in Bay City. The book contained what looked like every article printed about the incident.

   In addition to the newspaper photos of the officer's shot up car and his distraught friends at the hospital, she found candid photos of Starsky. They appeared to have been taken without the man's knowledge and they included pictures of him in the ICU, during physical therapy sessions, and in the park with the blond man Roberta recognized as his partner. Randy worked at the hospital and she knew he was interested in the injured detective. When he switched his work location to the ambulatory center next to the hospital, Roberta hadn't given it much thought. Now, she realized what all of this might mean. She knew Starsky worked for the Metro division, and she decided she'd better give them a call.

   Captain Dobey hadn't told anyone at Metro about Starsky. That was the kind of news he preferred to give in person. He hadn't counted on all of the problems they were having claiming Starsky's body. He had left word that he was out of town for the day and that both Starsky and Hutch were off of the roster. That was all Detective Jack Hill knew when he picked up the call in the squad room that morning. A woman had called looking for Dobey and the secretary asked him if he would be willing to speak with her.

   "She's pretty insistent, Jack."

   "Who'd she ask for?" Hill asked.

   "She started off with Starsky. When I told her he was not in today, she asked if his partner was here. Then, she asked to speak with Cap. She says it has something to do with a missing person report she filed on her son the other day and that it might involve Starsky."

   Jack sighed. "All right, I'll take it."

   "This is Mrs. Roberta Langley," the worried sounding woman said. "Thank you for talking to me."

   "Yes, ma'am," Jack said. "This is the homicide division, so I'm not sure what I can do for you. Do you have some information regarding Detective Starsky?"

   Roberta sighed and said, "I really hope I don't, but I'm afraid I do. You see, my son is missing."

   "Yes, ma'am. Do you think Detective Starsky has something to do with his disappearance?" Jack was having a hard time figuring out where this might lead.

   "No. I'm afraid it's just the opposite. My son is a paranoid schizophrenic. A long time ago, in high school, he became obsessed with a classmate. He actually started to believe he was the other boy. That's when he was diagnosed. He had a breakdown and tried to kill himself after he hurt the other boy. I... I'm concerned for your detective. My son can be dangerous when his medications are off and, well, he is missing. Do you know how to get in touch with your officer?"

   "No, ma'am, I don't. I'm afraid I don't understand why you're concerned about Detective Starsky."

   Mrs. Langley told him about the items in the closet.

   Jack let out a low whistle. "I understand. Where can we reach you?"

   She gave him a phone number and promised to stay close to the phone. Hill told her he'd send a uniform unit over to pick up a photo of her son and they'd get started looking for him. After he hung up, he dropped his forehead into his hand. Starsky didn't need this now. Not after all he'd already been through. He tried calling both Starsky and Hutch, but there was no answer at either place. Then he dialed the Dobey residence. Home from school for lunch, Cal answered.

   "Hi, it's Jack Hill," he said. "Is your dad or mom around?"

   "Dad's out of town," Cal said. "Mom's upstairs. Hold on."

   Hill waited.

   "Hello?"

   "Mrs. Dobey, it's Jack Hill at Metro."

   "Hello, Jack. How are you?"

   Jack frowned. Her voice sounded as if she'd been crying. "I'm okay," he said. "Are you? You sound like you have a cold or something."

   Edith hesitated. She didn't want to lie, but Harold had made her promise to let him break the news to the other officers. Finally, she said, "I'm fine. What can I do for you?"

   He didn't like the hesitation, but whatever was going on was probably none of his business. "I need to get a message to the captain," he said. "It's urgent or I wouldn't bother you with it. It concerns Starsky."

   She gasped. "What about him?"

   Hill explained about Langley's call. "We need to find Starsk right away and let him know what's going on so he and Hutch can be on their guard. But I don't know where he is. Does the cap?"

   "Dear God," she said, sounding dazed. "I'll call him. Thank you, Jack." She hung up without another word, and now Jack was really worried. Something was definitely up and he was going to find out what.

********

   Dave got off the bus and stretched. He hated buses. He remembered that much about his life. Too many stops, too crowded, too many noisy kids....

   He looked around. Downtown Bay City did look familiar. That made him feel both better and worse. Better, because he thought he'd done the right thing by coming here. Worse, because it might mean his next stop would be jail, if he was right about being on the wrong side of the law. He started walking.

   A few blocks away, something made him want to turn right. He followed the instinct and started down that street and every building was familiar. His memory was hovering right on the edge of coming back. He could feel it. As he passed a seedy residential hotel, he stopped and looked up at it. He remembered it. Someone he cared about had lived there, but he couldn't remember who or even if the somebody had been a man or a woman. A prostitute stumbled past him and went in, her hair badly in need of a shampoo, her clothes rumpled and filthy.

   Sharman.

   Dave frowned. He followed the woman and caught another glimpse of her as she started up the stairs. No, he didn't know her. But he knew somehow that "Sharman" was the person he'd known who had lived here. She hadn't belonged here, but he couldn't remember why.

   He went back out to the street and continued walking, letting that faint instinct drive his feet. Two blocks further, he turned again. Now he walked faster. He knew where he was going. There was a restaurant or a bar or something just a little further on, and he knew the place. He'd spent a lot of time there. Maybe someone there knew him. He was so tired of not knowing who he was, he would almost welcome the police at this point.

   Nevertheless, when he caught sight of a black-and-white, he ducked into an alley and waited until it passed before continuing.

   Finally, he saw it. "The Pits." That was it. He knew that place. He knew it well. He hurried to get inside.

********

   Dobey sat on the bench for over an hour before he saw a dejected blond figure coming toward him. Hutch's hair was mussed and his shirt was half-untucked and he moved as slowly as an arthritic old man. Dobey's heart ached for him. Hutch reached the bench and sat down heavily, without speaking. He folded his hands in his lap - the bandage on the right one was dirty and bloodstained - and looked down at them.

   Dobey waited. He was a patient man when he had to be.

   Finally, after many minutes had passed, Hutch very softly said, "God, Cap'n, I'm sorry I hit you."

   The pain in his voice was almost tangible. Dobey laid his hand on Hutch's shoulder. "I forgive you."

   Hutch took a shuddering deep breath and a tear fell from his eye on onto his cheek. He didn't wipe it away; Dobey didn't think he even realized it was there. Starsky, did you spare a thought for the pain you were inflicting on this man when you pulled that trigger? Did you even think about him?

   "What should we do now?" Hutch asked, still in that low voice. He sounded like a lost child.

   Dobey cleared his throat. He hadn't been trying to make Hutch feel better when he'd told him that he and Starsky were like sons to him. They were. And hearing that helplessness in Hutch's voice brought out Dobey's paternal instinct. His hand was still on Hutch's shoulder and he squeezed gently. "We're going to go get him, son."

   Before they left, Dobey used the phone in the funeral home to call Goldwyn in Santa Marta. Goldwyn confirmed that the body had arrived there and promised not to let it out of his sight until Dobey and Hutch arrived. "And your wife called," Goldwyn said. "She said it was urgent that you call her right away."

   "Thank you," Dobey said. He broke the connection and dialed his home number.

   Edith must have been sitting on the phone. She answered before the first ring was complete. "Harold?"

   "What's wrong? Are the kids okay?"

   "The kids are fine. It's about Starsky." She told him about Langley's call to Jack Hill.

   "Damn," Dobey said, glancing at Hutch. "Any word on where the boy is now?"

   "No. I haven't heard back from Jack."

   "Can you call him and tell him to give that top priority? Hutch and I are on our way back to Santa Marta now."

   "Be careful, Harold."

********

   Dave entered the dark and noisy bar. The after-work rush was in full swing, people eating and drinking and playing pool. The place was packed. Dave squeezed through the crowd and managed to get as far as the corner of the bar. A harried woman took his order for a beer and gave it to him without even looking at him. She just took his money and stuffed his change into his hand. Dave took his beer and looked for a place to sit. There weren't any.

   But there was a lot of action going on near the pool table, so he worked his way over there and leaned against a wall to watch. Neither of the two men now playing were familiar to him, but he noticed a very slender black man across the barroom who did look familiar. Very much so. The man didn't see him; he was too busy waiting on customers. But Dave heard someone yell, "Hey, Huggy, bring me a beer, dammit!" and the man waved a hand back at him in reply.

   Huggy. Yeah, that was right. He knew Huggy, sure he did. Huggy ... Huggy ... what? His head began to hurt and he stopped trying. He'd wait until things calmed a bit and go talk to Huggy.

   Huggy was finding it hard to concentrate. He kept wondering what kind of shape Hutch was in, and how hard it must have been to look at Starsky's body, and what he and Dobey would be able to do to keep the blond in one piece during the coming weeks. And the bar was absolutely overrun with customers, which would delight him any other time, but tonight it was the very last thing he needed. He took another tray of dirty glasses back to the bar and picked up a food order from the kitchen, balancing that tray on one hand while he juggled two draft beers in the other hand. He deposited the food in front of a couple of overweight ladies at a table near the back and handed the beer mugs to the pool players. "Two dollars," he said to the nearest one.

   The guy started digging into the pocket of his tight jeans and while he waited, Huggy glanced at the crowd indifferently. Several men were leaning on the nearby wall, waiting their turn to play pool. His gaze froze on one of them and he shook his head. No. It couldn't be. He'd just been thinking about Starsky so much he was imagining he saw him. But he couldn't be seeing him, because he was dead....

   "Here ya go, man," the customer said. "Somethin' wrong? Whatcha starin' at?"

   Huggy took the money without looking at it. His eyes were glued to the curly-haired man leaning against the far wall with a beer mug in his hand. Somehow he managed to squeeze through the half dozen people between him and that man, and when he reached him, he grabbed his arm roughly.

   Dave turned. The look on Huggy's face frightened him for a moment. He looked angry or upset about something and Dave suddenly wondered if this place being familiar might turn out to be a bad thing.

   "S-St-Starsky?" Huggy's eyes were wide with some deep emotion and the hand clutching his arm was clammy with sweat.

   Starsky? Is that my name?

   Suddenly it all flooded back.

********

   It was late in the afternoon by the time Dobey stopped the car outside the medical examiner's office. Hutch had hardly spoken during the drive, and what little he did say sounded defeated and exhausted. Dobey wanted to get the body claimed, arrange for it to be sent home, and get Hutch back to Bay City. He'd already decided to take Hutch to Edith rather than to his apartment, and let her take care of him. She loved him, too, and maybe her gentle manner would help where his own gruff sympathy did not.

   Goldwyn was waiting for them. "I can't apologize enough," he greeted them. "This was inexcusably inefficient of us and -"

   Dobey raised a hand and gave Goldwyn a look that the detectives back at Metro would have called his "shut up or I'll kill you" look. Goldwyn shut up. "Just show us the body."

   Goldwyn nodded and led the way to the locker room. He walked straight to one of the drawers and pulled it open. The body was covered with a sheet. He looked up at Dobey. "You're a cop. You know suicide victims look - "

   "I know," Dobey said gruffly. He realized Hutch wasn't beside him and looked back toward the door. Hutch was leaning against it, ghastly pale. "Hutch?"

   "Cap'n, I - I - can't," Hutch said, his voice trembling. "I thought I could but I just ... can't."

   Dobey nodded. "I'll do it. Stay there." He gave Goldwyn an expectant look.

   Goldwyn, with a nervous look at Hutch, pulled the sheet back just enough to reveal the face. His heart sank when he saw the blank look on Dobey's face, followed immediately by rage.

   "I thought you told me you had the body back!"

   "I did! I do!" Goldwyn looked down at the body again just to be sure. "This is David Starsky."

   "This is NOT David Starsky!" Dobey bellowed. "I've known that boy for years and this is NOT his body! Where the hell is Starsky? Did you lose him again?"

   "I'm telling you - "

   "And I'm telling YOU -"

   By this time, Hutch had recovered himself enough to come closer and he, too, stared blankly at the body in the drawer. When he looked up at Goldwyn, the rage in his eyes was enough to make Goldwyn take a step backward. Hutch looked capable of killing Goldwyn with his bare hands. "You told us you weren't going to lose him again."

   "I didn't!" Goldwyn was adamant. "This is the body that came in with the personal effects I showed you. I checked him in myself."

   Hutch and Dobey exchanged a look. "It's not Starsky," Hutch said, and a little life had come back into his voice. "If he had Starsky's stuff - "

   "Then maybe Starsky isn't dead," Dobey finished.

   "Then where is he?" Hutch demanded. He turned on Goldwyn. "Where's the phone?"

********

   Starsky swayed a little on his feet. The sudden shock of his memory returning made his head start to pound and his vision swam. Huggy slid an arm around his back and pulled Starsky's arm over his own shoulders. "Come on, Starsk, let me take you upstairs. You look like you need to lay down."

   "Thanks, Hug," Starsky said, swallowing hard because his stomach had suddenly started to roil. It took some doing to get through the crowd and reach the stairs, but Huggy was stronger than his physique suggested and he supported Starsky all the way to the small apartment above the bar. He gently laid him down on the bed, said he'd be right back, and left again. In a few moments, he returned with a cold 7Up and a bucket of ice. He found a hand towel in the bathroom and wrapped some ice in it to make an ice pack, and placed it gently on Starsky's head. "Drink the soda, friend," he said soothingly. "You're a little green." Explanations could wait until a little of the color came back into Starsky's face.

   Starsky sipped the soda carefully and it did help. Huggy plumped the pillows and stacked them behind him so he could lean back and relax. Starsky closed his eyes and Huggy took the glass and set it on the floor. Finally, Starsky opened his eyes again and Huggy was relieved to see they were clear and focused.

   "Okay, pal, wanna tell me what happened to you?"

   Starsky looked up at him and was disturbed at what he saw there. Huggy looked like he'd been through emotional hell. His eyes were puffy and tired, his face was haggard and he hadn't shaved. Huggy ALWAYS shaved. "I got rolled in Santa Marta," Starsky said. "Took one hell of a knock on the head. I didn't know my own name, Huggy."

   Huggy's mouth dropped open, but he recovered and said, "You kiddin', Starsk?"

   Starsky shook his head and winced at the movement. "Wish I was. I really didn't. I spent a coupla days hustling pool to make a few bucks so I could get back here. I knew Bay City was familiar but I didn't know why. Somehow I found my way here and when you called me 'Starsky' I remembered everything."

   Huggy studied him. "Geez, that's scary. You sure you're all right? Need a doc? If you got hit that hard.... "

   "No, I'm okay. Or I will be. Have you seen Hutch? I was supposed to be back yesterday. He must be worried sick."

   Huggy froze. "Oh, shit."

   Starsky sat up straight. "What? Tell me, Huggy. What's wrong?" He grabbed Huggy's arms and gave him a little shake. "What is it?"

********

   Hutch hung up the phone from speaking with the Santa Marta police department. He'd asked for a missing officer report to be put out on his partner. When he was finished, he walked out without another word. Captain Dobey thanked Goldwyn and followed Hutch out the door.

   When Dobey got into the car, Hutch said, "The PD put out a missing officer report for us. They told me they have the Torino in the impound lot behind the police station."

   Dobey knew what Hutch had in mind. "Good thinking. Maybe there will be something in the car that will give us a lead."

   The two men hadn't taken the time to search the car prior to this. They were too busy running up and down the coast searching for a body that turned out not to be Starsky after all. Hutch was so irate he sat with his jaw clenched and both hands curled into fists. His few outbursts had bled off some of his anger, but the captain knew that he was still steaming just under the surface. The captain made a note that he either needed to get some butterfly bandages to fix up Hutch's damaged right hand, or they would need to go in for some stitches. Hutch's repair job wasn't helping much, and Dobey believed that the cuts were probably deeper than Hutch thought. They still hadn't taken the time to repair the damage Hutch did when he slugged the captain.

   Dobey and Hutch searched the interior of the Torino and found the program from the car show and a couple of leftover drink cups tossed in the backseat. Hutch reached for the trash and noticed something else. He picked up a bracelet and turned it over in his hand.

   "Cap," Hutch said, "I found one of those emergency medical bracelets back here." He stood up out of the car and turned the bracelet over again to examine the back.

   "Starsky didn't have one of those."

   "No, he didn't. This one has a phone number on it and it says that the wearer takes medications."

   "Maybe we can find out whose it is if we call the number," Dobey said.

   They quickly went through the rest of the car, finding nothing that would help them with either Starsky's whereabouts, or the person who was lying in the morgue. They left the impound yard, with a promise to pick the car up when they were leaving for Bay City. Hutch would drive it home.

   Next, they went inside the police station and let them copy Starsky's police ID photo for the APB. Hutch sat and looked through some mug books to see if he could spot anyone who resembled Starsky while the captain called the company whose number was on the back of the bracelet they'd found. He was finally able to get some information after he'd identified himself to increasingly higher levels of supervisors and managers, followed by a long wait while they called Metro to confirm his identity. The Santa Marta Chief of Police had extended professional courtesy and jurisdiction to the two Bay City cops. An officer was assigned to help them with the investigation, now that it was looking like a crime may have been committed.

   "Thank you for waiting, Captain Dobey," the cheerful, but professional woman on the other end of the line said. "I'm sorry it took so long, but we can't be too careful with our members' private medical information."

   "Perfectly understandable," Dobey answered. "You had no way of knowing I was who I said I was. Now, what can you tell me about the person associated with this bracelet?" The captain had already explained several times about the bracelet being part of a criminal investigation and about the importance of him being given the information to help track down the person associated with it. Telling the third level of supervisor that a cop's life might depend upon it had gotten him bumped up to this woman.

   "The bracelet belongs to a man named Randall Peter Langley. He's thirty-two years old and he lives in Bay City."

   "Bay City?" Dobey said raising an eyebrow. Hutch heard that and looked up from his mug book. "Can you give me his address and the name and number for his emergency contact?"

   "Yes, sir. Mrs. Roberta Langley is his contact. Her number is 213-555-8468. His home telephone number is the same, so they must live together. The address is 5241 La Plaza Street, Bay City. Is there anything else?"

   "Yes. What is the medical condition listed? The bracelet just indicates that he takes medications. Oh, and what kind of medications?"

   "Let me check. The medications are on this screen, so I'll read you those first. The file says the patient may be taking medications from this list as his condition warrants, so I'm guessing he doesn't take them all. Here goes - Valium, Stelazine, Haldol, Largactil, and Lithium. Now, as for the condition, that's on the next screen. Our computers were down for a long time this morning and they are still running pretty slowly. Just give me a minute."

   "Take your time." Dobey sat fiddling with his pencil while they waited. The captain thought he recognized some of those medication names, but he didn't want to jump to any conclusions.

   The woman on the phone took a deep, audible breath before she said, "The condition is listed as schizophrenia with paranoia and complicating mood disorder."

   Dobey sighed and a look crossed his face that told Hutch the news was not good. "Thank you, you've been helpful." He hung up the phone.

   "Hutch," he said, trying to soften what he had to say. "The man who owns this bracelet lives in Bay City. I'm going to get on the horn with Metro and have them run him down through records."

   "What?" Hutch demanded when Dobey paused for a few heartbeats. "Why do you look like what they just told you pulled the rug out from under you?"

   Dobey read off some of the medications listed for Langley. Hutch recognized them, too. The color had already drained from his face before Captain Dobey mentioned that those drugs were for the treatment of schizophrenia. Hutch sat back in his seat, and started to try to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth.

   "Now, son," Dobey said calmly, "that doesn't mean anything necessarily."

   Hutch said, "Oh, my God."

   "I'm going to call Metro right now. Don't get ahead of yourself."

   "Starsky's badge, Cap, and his gun. Do you think he would have given those up without some kind of a fight? I was so relieved that the dead guy wasn't him… I didn't think. The guy was a mental patient. What if…?"

   "Don't. Let's get some more information."

   Hutch shook his head and looked down as he quietly replied, "What if he killed Starsky?"

   Seeing that hoping Hutch would hold together for a while without making assumptions was getting him nowhere, Dobey placed the call to Metro.

********

   Huggy swallowed the huge lump in his throat and sat down next to Starsky. He wasn't answering fast enough for the frantic detective. "Huggy, did something happen to Hutch? Why do you look like someone died?" Starsky's heart beat furiously.

   "Oh, man," Huggy said, shaking his head, "slow down, Starsky. First, Hutch ain't hurt." Huggy didn't want to say that he was all right. Hutch was as far from all right as he had been since he was told that Starsky would die all those months ago after Gunther. Huggy wasn't going to lie to Starsky, but he struggled to find the words to describe what had happened over the past two days.

   "Starsk," he said, a little too gently.

   "TELL ME!" Starsky yelled at him. The agitation made his head throb again and he closed his eyes against the pain and the sight of his friend's wavering image.

   "Okay, okay, but you just sit back and calm down, or I'm gonna have to take you to a doc. You're not looking too good."

   Starsky opened his eyes again and said, "What's wrong with Hutch? You said he isn't hurt, but you didn't say he's all right."

   Huggy smiled wryly. "You don't miss much. Should be a detective," he joked.

   "Huggy!" Starsky insisted.

   Huggy nodded. "You promise me you're gonna sit there and listen until I'm done talkin', amigo. Agreed?"

   "Agreed. Start talking."

   "You got hit up there by the car show, huh?"

   "Yeah. I never made it to the car show. I don't remember what happened, though. I just... I know I woke up in an alley behind the bar where I hustled pool to earn the money to come home. I don't remember much of anything between driving up there and waking up in that alley."

   "Oh. Well, while you were gettin' bonked on the head, and trying to remember what was scramblin' around up there, we heard something."

   Suddenly, Starsky felt chilled. "Huggy, where's Hutch?"

   "He's in Santa Marta. The captain's with him."

   "Why?"

   Huggy put a hand on Starsky's arm and quietly said, "They think you're dead, Curly."

   "They what?" Starsky asked, not much louder than a whisper.

   "We all did."

   "Why?"

   "I don't know what happened, but the medical examiner called from up there and told Dobey that they had you in the morgue."

   "I was missing for a couple of days, but I ain't dead, for God's sake. How did they make such a huge mistake? What did I supposedly die of?"

   Huggy's expressive eyes were filled with sadness and compassion. "They said you killed yourself."

   Starsky looked stunned and his face was ashen. "Oh, my God. Hutch." He made a move to get up, but Huggy held him back. "I have to go up there and find him. Why don't they know I'm not dead? Huggy!"

   "Look, you just stay put. Something must've gone wrong. Starsky, they even had a body."

   "Well, it wasn't me! Huggy, I have to find him. He must be out of his mind!"

   "If you go running off up the coast, you might miss him. Just stay put. Like I said, you don't look good. You need to rest. I'll call up there and see if I can reach them, if you promise to stay here."

   Starsky knew he was right. He was exhausted, his head hurt, and now he was heartsick. "I can't believe it. Poor Hutch." Starsky really looked at his friend's drawn, but now relieved features. "Oh, Huggy, I'm so sorry. You all must have been...."

   "Blown away?" Huggy provided.

   "Yeah. God. Hutch has to know I would never... We both.... Aw, Huggy, we made a promise to each other a long time ago, when Terry died."

   Huggy remembered how bad it was for Starsky after Terry's death. He and Hutch were crazy with worry about him. After a bad scare, Hutch made him promise that he'd never even consider suicide, but call his best friend if he ever felt that desperate. Hutch promised to do the same... and they kept their word to each other. The few times in the intervening years that either of them had felt despair, they'd turned to the other. Huggy didn't know about the promise. That was something private between the partners. After hearing what Starsky just said, he knew why Hutch had reacted so badly, beyond the raw grief he felt.

   Starsky looked sick to his stomach when he asked the next question. "Tell me they didn't say I shot myself."

   Huggy couldn't answer him. He just nodded.

   "How'd he act? Was he okay?"

   "No, he wasn't okay, what do you think? He was crazy, man. He tore out of here like if he ran fast enough it wouldn't be true. Showed up at the Dobeys' a few hours later, right about the time the captain was gonna put out an APB on him. He's with Dobey now. Try not to worry, the cap'n'll keep him together."

   Starsky doubted that would be possible. He knew exactly how he would have reacted in Hutch's place and he was terrified. "Oh, God. He thinks I broke my promise. Call. Find out what the hell is going on up there, okay?"

   "Right now. You rest. I'm gonna go down and get you some soup or something. Can I trust you to stay put, or do I have to find something to tie you up with?" Huggy tried to make it a joke, but Starsky knew his friend would do his best to hold him if necessary.

   "No, I promise. Just find Hutch, huh?"

   Huggy was halfway to the door when a horrifying thought occurred to Starsky. "Oh, God, Huggy! Tell me they didn't call my mother!"

   Huggy smiled at him. "At least I can give you good news there. Dobey wanted to tell Hutch first, and Blondie insisted he go and see you up there before they made the call. I'm pretty sure nobody knows but us three, Edith... and you."

   "Thanks, Hug." That much was comforting.

   Starsky settled back against the pillows. He kicked his shoes off and wiggled his way under the covers, trying to fight back the chill he felt. His thoughts were haunted by what Hutch must have been going through since he'd been given the news. He rubbed the scars on his chest, thinking about everything they'd been through together since Gunther. He was worried about his best friend. If Hutch thought Starsky put a bullet in his head without even calling him to say goodbye, he knew the man would be blaming himself. Hutch would be playing every contact with Starsky over and over in his mind, searching for the clues he must have missed to his friend's despondency. "Oh, buddy, I'm all right," Starsky said aloud, but softly. "Please hold it together. Please be okay."

********

   Jack Hill was relieved to hear from Captain Dobey. "Cap! Damn, I'm glad you called. We got trouble," he said, the tension obvious in his voice.

   "Well, whatever it is, it'll have to wait. If it can't, get Captain Reynolds to handle it. I've got trouble up here, too, Jack. I need you to run a record down for me."

   "But, Cap, this might involve Starsky. You know where he is? I can't find him or his partner."

   Dobey answered, "Hutch is with me in Santa Marta. What about Starsky?"

   Jack explained about the woman who had called in a missing person report on her son. "She said she found a stash of stuff about Starsky."

   "What's her name, Jack?"

   "Mrs. Roberta Langley."

   Dobey was quiet for a moment as the puzzle pieces began to slide together. "Did you by any chance run a records search on the son?"

   "Already done our homework, Cap. Randall Peter Langley. He's been arrested a few times for disturbing the peace and for shoplifting. Done a few stints in mental institutions. He's been clean the past four years. Works at Memorial Hospital."

   "Good job. I'm going to call the mother and ask her to come up here. Will you and Sean go over and pick her up right away? I'll call you back as soon as I speak with her."

   "Pick her up?" Jack asked, curious as to what Dobey wanted.

   "Yes. We have a body up here that might be her son. I'm going to call and explain it to her and I need you to bring her up here for an ID. She'll know about it by the time you get there."

   "Sure, Cap. Is Starsky all right?" That was the one question Jack Hill most wanted answered.

   "I wish I could say yes. We just don't know."

   Dobey hung up and called Roberta Langley. She was home, waiting by the phone for any word on her son.

   "Mrs. Langley, can you please describe your son to me?"

   "He does bear a resemblance to Detective Starsky. I've seen the news articles, too. Randy is not quite six feet tall, he has curly, dark brown hair, blue eyes, and he's got olive skin. He got that from his father."

   "Yes, ma'am. Did he ever say anything to you that would make you believe he'd want to hurt Detective Starsky?"

   "No, that's the odd thing. He talked about him constantly when he first was in the hospital. Over time, he just stopped saying anything."

   "Mrs. Langley, I'm sorry to tell you that I may know where your son is."

   Captain Dobey went on to explain all that had happened, and he told her, as gently as he could, that Randy might be the man lying in the morgue who had been mistaken for David Starsky. She agreed to come up there immediately, and she said she'd bring the box of items she'd found in Randy's closet. She hung up the phone and settled down to wait for Hill and Cavanaugh to come for her. Captain Dobey was glad he'd have something to tell Hutch. In another four or five hours, they would know who the dead man was. Meanwhile, they could go through the town looking for additional clues. Their next stop was to be the largest local hospital. At least Dobey thought he could get Hutch's hand looked at there, even if there was no sign of Starsky.

********

   Huggy called the medical examiner's office in Santa Marta and couldn't get past the receptionist. He told her it was urgent that he get a message to Captain Dobey and, at first, she said she didn't know anyone named Captain Dobey. He described both the captain and Hutch in minute detail and still she put him off. He was about ready to get rude with her when finally she said, "Wait a minute. Did they come for a David Starsky?"

   "Yes!" Huggy almost shouted.

   "They've been here several times, but they're gone again," she said.

   "Several times?"

   "The body was -" She paused. "Are you a member of the family?"

   "Yes, I am," Huggy said.

   "Hold on. I'll see if Dr. Goldwyn is available."

   Huggy waited impatiently, fuming. Finally another voice came on the line and he had to go through the whole rigmarole again. There was a long silence.

   "It seems there's been a mistake," Goldwyn said at last. "The body we have is not David Starsky's."

   "I know that!" Huggy said. "That's why I gotta talk to Hutch! Starsky's here! He ain't dead!"

   "Oh, dear," Goldwyn said, sounding upset. "But I don't know where they went."

   Huggy resisted the temptation to say one of the foul words that rose to his lips. "Look, can I leave a message? In case they call or come back? Please. They gotta be told that Starsky's okay."

   "Yes, of course." There was a pause, then Goldwyn said, "I'm ready."

   "Just tell 'em to call Huggy. They know the number. Tell 'em Starsky's with me and he's not dead and to call, okay? Can you do that for me?"

   "Yes, I'll do that."

   Goldwyn must be an idiot, Huggy thought. "Don't you have any idea where they are?"

   "I'm sorry, no," Goldwyn said. "They did make a phone call before they left. Mr. Hutchinson told someone to 'issue a missing officer report.'"

   Huggy rolled his eyes and the movement showed him Starsky, standing at the head of the stairs, listening. "That was the cops he was callin'," he said. "You got more than one precinct there?" When the only response was silence, Huggy said, "Look, just tell me the number, okay? I gotta find 'em."

   There was a rustling sound and Goldwyn gave him a number, which he scribbled on the wall next to the phone. There was no time to go hunting for a piece of paper and what the hell did he pay a cleaning service for, anyway?

   Once he had the number, he said a hasty "good-bye" and broke the connection. To Starsky, he called, "Get your ass back in that bed or I'll come up and make ya, and it won't be pretty."

   Starsky gave a weak grin and went back. Huggy shook his head in disgust and dialed the number.

   "Santa Marta City Police."

   "I have to speak to Captain Harold Dobey of the Bay City PD," Huggy said. "It's urgent. He's looking for a missing officer and he might be there making out a report."

   "Hold on."

   Huggy waited, even more impatiently, for what seemed like a very long time. Finally, she came back.

   "I'm sorry, Captain Dobey already left."

   Huggy swore, silently. "Do you have any idea where he is? The officer he's looking for is here in Bay City."

   "Officer Cameron is assisting in that investigation, but he's off duty now."

   Starsky and Hutch, Huggy reflected, were never so "off duty" that they couldn't be reached in an emergency. "Can you please take a message? Call Officer Cameron and ask him if he knows where they went? This is an emergency. They think Starsky's dead!"

   "Your name?"

   "Huggy Bear," he said.

   There was a long pause. "Huggy Bear," she said at last, and he heard a pen scratching. "Number where you can be reached, Mr. Bear?"

   He gave her the number.

   "I'll give the message to Officer Cameron," she said.

   "Thank you," Huggy said. He hung up and never knew that the desk sergeant on the other end of the line shook her head, re-reading the name "Huggy Bear," and then crumpled up the message and threw it away, believing it was a prank call.

********

   Dobey pulled up in the parking lot of the hospital and he and Hutch got out. The captain deliberately steered his detective right through the emergency room doors and stopped at the desk. "This man is injured," he said to the nurse.

   Hutch started to splutter. "Hey, wait just a damned minute -"

   "Hutchinson," Dobey said evenly, glaring at him, "this is an order, so pay attention. You are going to get that hand cared for properly. I am going to do the investigating while they do that. Understood? I used to be a detective, you know."

   Hutch opened his mouth, looked into his captain's eyes, and closed it again. "Yes, sir," he said sullenly.

   "Good." Dobey pointed at the waiting area. "I'll expect to find you there when I come back. If you're not there, you'd better be in there," he waved his hand toward the treatment area, "because if you're not, I'm writing you up. Got that?"

   Hutch nodded. He knew when to stop arguing.

   Dobey went to admitting and records and pulled his badge from his pocket. "I'm looking for a missing man," he told the nurse at the desk. "I don't know what kind of condition he might have arrived in, and I don't know for a fact that he even came here. But have you had any John Does come in since Friday?"

   She examined his badge closely before answering. "I don't know. I was off all weekend. Let me try the computer records."

   It took a long time, and Dobey found himself praying that the answer would be "no." Because if it was "yes," it probably meant that Starsky was dead. If not dead, completely incapacitated. He'd never lie in a strange hospital for two or three days and let Hutch worry about him if he was able to call. This was the only area hospital with a trauma unit. If Starsky had been severely injured, he'd have been brought here.

   "We have two John Does," the nurse said at last. "Both DOA."

   Dobey took a long, unsteady breath. "Description?"

   The nurse peered at the screen. "The first one is a black male in his 50s."

   "That's not him," Dobey said with relief. "And the other one?"

   "White male in his 30s." She stopped and raised her eyes to look up at him. "Um, he was drowned. Hard to give a closer description than that. No ID."

   Dobey closed his eyes. "Damn. Can I see him?"

   "He's in the morgue." She indicated the elevator. "Lower level. I'll call and tell them you're coming."

   Dobey nodded and moved toward the elevator. No point in saying anything to Hutch until he'd seen the body.

********

   "They know the body wasn't you," Huggy said, depositing a bowl of soup and a pot of coffee on a table at the side of the bed. "They put out a missing officer and some cop in Santa Marta is helpin' 'em look for ya."

   "But they don't know I'm not dead?" Starsky shook his head and tried to force some soup down. His stomach didn't know whether to be grateful or reject the food. He doggedly kept eating. He hadn't had anything decent to eat for a couple of days.

   "Not as far as I know." Huggy lit a cigarette and settled into a chair.

   "Thought you quit."

   "I started again," Huggy said. "Besides, I only quit for a couple of days. Damn near went crazy wantin' one."

   Starsky grinned.

   "I left a message for the cop that's helpin' them," Huggy said. "Cameron, they said his name is. But he's off duty and I guess that means he can't be 'disturbed.'" He rolled his eyes.

   Starsky stopped eating and stared at him. "What? He's supposed to be helpin' on a missing and presumed dead officer, and he goes off duty and can't be reached? What the hell is THAT?"

   Huggy shrugged. "Not everybody's as dedicated as you two."

   "Shit." Starsky shook his head and went back to the soup. Once he got past the first few bites, he realized how hungry he was, and it wasn't long before the soup was gone.

   "Want more?"

   "No, better not," Starsky said, leaning back against the pillows. "Not for a while, anyway. I wanna keep it down."

   "Nobody knows where they went," Huggy said. "Where would they go? Where would you go?"

   Starsky frowned. "They're not at the medical examiner's and not at the station. Hospitals? Maybe they went to a hospital."

   "Ain't gonna be easy trackin' 'em down at one of them," Huggy observed. "Not like they gotta check in or anything."

   "No, but it's worth a try," Starsky insisted.

   "Okay, okay, I'll try." Huggy sighed. "You sure are demanding."

   Starsky shrugged. "Be glad it ain't Hutch layin' here."

   Huggy chuckled. "You're right. You're demanding, but he'd be bouncin' off the walls. Sure you don't want some more soup?"

   Starsky glanced at the empty bowl. "Well...."

   "That's what I thought. Back in a flash."

********

   Hutch fumed and winced in turns as the doctor dressed and bandaged his hand. A couple of the cuts were getting infected already because he hadn't taken care of them properly, so he also had to have a shot. He was not happy.

   "Keep it dry," the doctor instructed him. "Don't use it for at least a week. Your own doctor can take the stitches out then."

   Gee, thanks, Hutch wanted to say, but he simply nodded. He slid off the table, accepted the printed instructions the nurse gave him, and went back out to the waiting room. No sign of Dobey yet. He sank down in a chair, wincing again when his sore backside came in contact with the hard plastic seat, and reached for a magazine. He hardly noticed what he was looking at.

********

   "What a shame," the morgue attendant said to Dobey. "Such a young man, too. We're sending him over to the medical examiner's in an hour. You just barely got here in time." Dobey fidgeted, waiting, while the attendant wheeled the body out. He braced himself.

   "It isn't pretty," the attendant warned cheerfully. "Drownings never are." He pulled the sheet back.

   The bloated body was almost unrecognizable as human. There was no way to be absolutely certain of the man's age or physical condition. But he had red hair. That, at least, had not been altered by his death. "It's not him," Dobey said, dizzy with relief. "Thank God."

   "You're looking for somebody you know, then?" The attendant pulled the sheet back over the face.

   "Yes," Dobey said, turning to go.

********

   The captain was gone for a long time. Hutch was sitting disconsolately in a chair, a magazine open on his lap, staring into space, when Dobey came back. "He's not here," Dobey said as soon as Hutch looked up. "Two John Does, but neither one's him."

   "Then let's go back to Goldwyn's office," Hutch said. "It must be almost time for Mrs. Langley to arrive."

   Dobey nodded and led the way out to the car.

   No one was in the outer office by the time they reached the medical examiner's office. Dobey saw a bell on the counter and struck it three times before anyone came. "Can I help you?" asked the young woman who came in from the back wearing a lab coat.

   "I'm Dobey. Where's Goldwyn?"

   She looked slightly puzzled. "He's been called to a multiple-car accident on the highway. He'll probably head home from there. Business hours are over."

   "Look," Hutch said evenly, with a slight tremor in his voice from strain and anger, "we've danced all around the ballroom already over a body you got back there that Goldwyn told us was my best friend! Only it's NOT my best friend, and we're meeting somebody here any minute who might be able to identify that body. We are not going anywhere, you got that?"

   "Hutchinson," Dobey warned. "Watch your tone of voice."

   Hutch threw both hands in the air in a gesture of frustration and turned his back to regain his composure.

   Dobey gave the young woman his best smile and explained, much more calmly than Hutch had, what they'd already been through. Her puzzlement changed to sympathy.

   "Oh, brother. No wonder you guys look whipped," she said. "Here, have a seat and I'll get that body out for the lady to look at. Just holler when she gets here and maybe we can get this cleared up."

   Dobey thanked her and firmly steered Hutch to a chair. "Sit your ass down," he ordered. "I don't know why Starsky puts - put - up with you."

   "Me, either," Hutch said, very softly.

   Dobey cursed himself - again - for not watching his words more carefully. They sat in uncomfortable silence until they heard a car pull up outside. Hutch shot to his feet and recognized Sean's car.

   "They're here."

   Sean Cavanaugh and Jack Hill came in with a woman who was pale but otherwise composed. After introductions were completed, Dobey called the assistant from the back room.

   "Does he look very bad?" Mrs. Langley asked, her voice trembling slightly.

   "He shot himself with a 9mm pistol," Hutch said gently, putting his hand on her arm. "The shot was clean, but there is an obvious wound."

   She nodded, took a deep breath and wet her lips. "As long as I know what to expect," she said quietly.

   Dobey stood back and let Hutch and Mrs. Langley go first. He knew he wouldn't have to scold Hutch any more for a while. The White Knight always came out when a victim needed a gentle touch, and Hutch excelled at sympathy and kindness in these situations.

   The assistant waited until Mrs. Langley nodded that she was ready, then pulled back the sheet. Mrs. Langley looked down at the body. She made no sound, but her eyes filled with tears, which spilled over and flowed down her cheeks. Hutch put his arm around her shoulders.

   "That's Randy," she said unsteadily after a few moments. "Oh, God, my poor baby."

   Hutch gave the high sign to the attendant, who nodded and replaced the sheet. "I'll get the paperwork," she said.

   After Mrs. Langley had filled out the forms and signed them, she turned to Hutch. "I brought the box of things I found in Randy's room," she said. "I think you should look at them. They might help you find your friend."

********

   When a couple of hours had passed and Dobey still had not called, Starsky lost the ability to be patient.

   "I'm going back," he told Huggy, reaching for his Adidas and starting to put them on. "You and I both know Hutch is goin' nuts and for all we know, the slime that got to me might be gunnin' for him, too."

   "Starsky -"

   "I'm going," Starsky said with that cold, even tone that Huggy recognized meant arguing wouldn't do any good. "I'll need to borrow your car. I don't know what happened to mine."

   "It's probably in the Santa Marta impound lot," Huggy said. "But you ain't drivin', brother. I'm coming with you. I'll drive."

   Starsky softened and gave him a grateful smile. Truth be told, he still felt pretty woozy and knew he wouldn't be safe behind the wheel.

   "I don't even know where to start lookin'," Huggy grumbled. "I hope you got some kinda homing instinct, Starsk."

   "We'll find him," Starsky said.

********

   Mrs. Langley brought the box inside from Sean's car and gave it to Hutch. He sat down and started going through it. First, he found all the newspaper clippings and she explained that Randy had seemed unnaturally fascinated by the Gunther case.

   "He's always been interested in crime," she said. "I mean, in following crimes in the paper, watching police shows, that kind of thing."

   Hutch nodded without speaking, sorting through the rest of the items. His jaw tightened when he looked at the snapshots. He realized, as Mrs. Langley had, that Randy must have been stalking his partner. Hutch cursed himself for not noticing, forgetting that his attention had been consumed by his fear for Starsky and his search for Gunther.

   At the bottom of the box, he found a spiral-bound notebook.

   "That's apparently a diary," Mrs. Langley said. "I only read part of it before I called the station. I'm afraid ... I think Randy had completely lost touch with reality."

   Hutch opened it, forcing his hands to remain steady. The first few pages weren't so bad. Randy had written about the Gunther case, had called Gunther some of the same things Hutch had called Gunther and had sworn that if the man was ever so unfortunate as to wind up at the hospital where Randy worked, Randy would see to it he didn't leave alive. Hutch sympathized with the emotion. Arresting Gunther and not killing him in the process had been one of the most difficult things he'd ever had to do.

   But the writing got more erratic after that. Randy began to refer to himself as "Starsky." He began to threaten to "get rid" of the "imposter" who was posing as Starsky.

   The next-to-last entry made Hutch's blood run cold.

   This has gone on long enough. The imposter cannot be allowed to continue to live my life. At first, I was willing to let him have his delusion for a time. I'm not willing any longer.

   He's going to a car show in Santa Marta this weekend. I'm going to follow him and end this once and for all. I'm going to take my identity back. The imposter won't be coming back to Bay City. I will.

   "Jesus," Hutch whispered without realizing he'd spoken aloud. "This son of a bitch killed my partner!"

********

   "Can't you go any faster?" Starsky demanded.

   "Not without gettin' a ticket, hotshot," Huggy retorted. "You got a badge, but I don't."

   "I don't have a badge at the moment, " Starsky said with a sigh and leaned back, trying to be patient. It was becoming increasingly difficult.

   At last, they entered the Santa Marta city limits. Starsky made Huggy stop at the first gas station to ask directions to the medical examiner's office.

   "They'll be closed by now," the clerk said, gesturing to the clock on the wall.

   "Somebody's gotta be there," Starsky said. "Or we'll go to the police station if we can't find 'em there. Come ON, Hug."

   Huggy sighed and followed Starsky back outside.

   It wasn't far to the medical examiner's office and when he pulled up in the parking lot, Starsky made a strangled sound. "That's Cavanaugh's car!" he hissed, pointing at the dark green sedan. Huggy barely had time to stop before Starsky was out of the car and running for the door. Huggy scrambled out and followed him. Neither of them noticed Dobey's car as they rushed inside the building.

   When Starsky burst through the door, everyone in the outer office raised their heads at the sound. Hutch had just risen to lead Mrs. Langley out to the car and when he saw Starsky, all the color drained from his face. The box he was still holding fell from his suddenly nerveless hands, and he whispered, "Starsky?" just as he pitched forward and fell, out cold, to the floor at Starsky's feet.

********

   Starsky wasn't able to break Hutch's fall. He dropped to the floor, pushed away the spilled box and its contents, and gently turned Hutch over, putting his head in his lap. He patted Hutch on the cheek and called his name as he reached for a handkerchief to press against the quickly bruising gash on Hutch's forehead.

   The other three Bay City cops were calling Starsky's name and trying to get his attention, but all of Starsky's focus was on his unconscious partner.

   Sean said, "Maybe we should call an ambulance."

   "Hutch? Please wake up, buddy," Starsky pleaded, ignoring Sean's remark.

   "He's probably just fainted," Dobey offered. He thought that the strain of everything that had happened must have overwhelmed Hutch. He looked at the assistant, who had come into the room when she heard the commotion. She nodded and disappeared into the other room, quickly returning with a small item, which she handed to the captain.

   Dobey stood next to Starsky and put his hand on his shoulder, gently pushing against it until the frantic blue eyes looked up into his. "He looks terrible, Cap," Starsky muttered.

   "Of course he does," Dobey stated, "you've been dead for the past few days. Here." He handed some smelling salts to Starsky and patted him on the shoulder. His gentle smile was meant to convey calm.

   Starsky broke open the smelling salts and waved them under Hutch's nose. He was thankful when Hutch responded by turning his head and moaning, as he raised his arms to bat away whatever was producing the pungent aroma. His eyes opened and focused on his partner's worried face.

   "Good morning," Starsky said with a smile that didn't hide his concern.

   Hutch just stared at him for a few moments, his lips silently forming Starsky's name. He finally managed to squeak out, "How?"

   "Everything's all right, babe. I'll tell you all about it," Starsky said as he took note of Hutch's racing heart rate by placing one hand where he could feel the pulse. Hutch tried to sit up, but Starsky pushed him down again, soothingly telling him to, "Take it slow."

   "Are you all right, Starsky?" Dobey asked.

   Starsky nodded, but didn't notice Dobey's eyes dart to Huggy, who was silently shaking his head to indicate that Starsky was not fine. Dobey nodded

   Jack had eased Mrs. Langley into a chair. She was seated with her head in her hands, quietly crying and repeatedly saying, "Thank God." Although she could see from Starsky's pale, shaky appearance that he wasn't unharmed, she was indescribably grateful that her son hadn't killed the detective. She looked up at Jack and said, "I'm so glad he's alive. It doesn't bring Randy back, but at least he didn't kill anyone."

   "Yes, ma'am," Jack said. "Would you like us to take you home, now?"

   "Please."

   Jack helped her to her feet. Sean saw his partner rise. "Cap," he said, "if you don't need us right now, we're gonna take Mrs. Langley home."

   "Go ahead."

   Sean said, "Starsky, I'm glad you're okay. We'll call later and see how everything is." Starsky looked up at him and at Jack, who smiled reassuringly as he passed on the way out with Randy's mother.

   "Let's see if we can get you up," Dobey said, putting a hand out to Hutch. "Easy." He and Starsky helped Hutch sit up, and Huggy brought him a cup of water from the cooler in the corner. Hutch's hands were shaking so badly, Starsky had to steady them. Hutch turned around, dropping the empty cup to the floor and grabbed Starsky in a tight hug that didn't stop his trembling.

   "I think he needs to be looked at," Starsky said to Dobey.

   "Me?" Hutch spluttered, letting go and pushing back, still holding onto Starsky's arms. "Me?" he repeated. "Where have you been?" He took an assessing look at his partner, unhappy with what he saw.

   Starsky laughed and shook his head. "That's kind of a long story."

   "I'm all ears," Hutch said, pinning him with a determined stare. "Are you hurt?" He ran his hands down Starsky's arms and then reached up with his bandaged hand to touch Starsky's hair.

   Starsky said, "No," just as Huggy said, "Yes."

   Captain Dobey made the decision. "Huggy, I'm gonna go get my car. Think you can keep these two out of trouble long enough to get them outside?"

   "Sure can," Huggy replied. Dobey walked out and Huggy helped Starsky with getting Hutch to his feet.

   As they walked outside, Starsky asked, "Is the Torino okay?"

   "It's fine," Hutch said. Huggy and Starsky had to make sure Hutch didn't trip. Not only was he unsteady on his feet, he wasn't watching where he was going. He was too busy watching Starsky.

   They helped Hutch into the back seat of Dobey's car and Hutch practically dragged Starsky in to sit next to him. Huggy hopped in the front, and the captain took off for the hospital where they'd looked for Starsky. Hutch didn't know where to start asking questions. He sat staring at Starsky, afraid he'd lose it if he asked too much, afraid the man in question would disappear if he looked away from him. The two men in the front seat knew better than to ask too many questions just yet. They looked at each other and nodded, each one understanding that explanations could wait.

   When they reached the hospital, both detectives were taken back to the treatment area. As they waited for a doctor, Starsky tried to engage Hutch in conversation, but he wasn't interested in talking. He was only interested in looking. Starsky sat on a round rolling stool, trying to stay still enough to keep his nausea at bay. Hutch paced in silence, never taking his eyes off his partner.

   After they'd waited awhile, a doctor walked in and said, "I'm Dr. Carroll." He had a thick Texas accent, noticeably out of place in California. He continued, "I spoke with your captain, Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson. Seems to be some confusion as to which one of you is my patient."

   The doctor was curious as to what they'd say. The man looked to be in his middle sixties, with hair that was more salt than pepper and pale blue eyes that held a clear spark of interest in the two men he was greeting.

   Starsky opened his mouth to speak, but Hutch beat him to it. "He is, Doc."

   "What?" Starsky exclaimed, rising and stepping up to get in Hutch's space. "I'm not the one who passed out, you did that. Doc, this is your patient." He pointed at the goose egg on Hutch's forehead.

   "I'm not the one who's been dead for three days," Hutch argued back.

   "But I wasn't dead," Starsky continued, "and you...."

   The doctor shook his head and put both hands up to stop the discussion. "That's enough, boys. I'll settle this in a hot minute. You," he said pointing at Starsky, "sit up on that examining table. I'll get to you directly."

   "But, Doc," Starsky started to argue, but he stopped at a glare from both his partner and the doctor.

   After Starsky complied, the doctor said, "Passed out, huh?" to Hutch. He took a look at the knot on Hutch's head and ordered him to sit in the plastic chair.

   "I'm fine, Doctor, really."

   The doctor was ignoring him, taking his pulse and blood pressure. "Fine, hm. I saw you pacing 'round in here, young man. You're more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory." He continued his exam by shining a light in both of Hutch's eyes in succession, registering the snickering coming from the man on the examining table behind him.

   "You might not think this is so funny when it's your turn," Carroll said without turning. Hutch chuckled. He was careful to keep it under control. The man was on the edge, with anger, relief, and hysteria arguing for a purchase in his nearly fractured psyche.

   The doctor sensed that Hutch was a man close to imploding from the competing emotions just beneath the surface. His brief discussion with Captain Dobey had given him some information with which to approach the situation. At first, the admitting nurse had refused to allow the conversation. She was already annoyed that neither detective would tell her who was there to be seen, nor would they allow themselves to be separated. Dr. Carroll had walked over to them when the conversation appeared to be getting warmer than he liked in his emergency room. Fortunately, they were in a slow period. He instructed the nurse to humor the two men while he spoke with their superior.

   Starsky strained to hear as the doctor spoke quietly to his partner, but he couldn't quite make out what was being said. "Your captain told me what's been happening this past few days. I also had them pull your chart. How's the hand?" The doctor picked up the injured hand and pulled the bandage off for a look.

   Hutch had forgotten about his cut hand. "It's all right, Doc. Really, I just want you to look him over, okay? He's been through something this past few days and I don't know what. I... can't talk to him about it. Not yet."

   "All right, Detective. You look okay. Just a bump, but I'm going to have one of the other doctors check it out while I look at your partner. I'm also going to order a blood sugar test, and I want you to eat something and have some juice after that." Hutch started to object, but the doctor threatened him with an IV, so he agreed. "Wise choice. Now, I'm going to send you back to another treatment area."

   Hutch put a hand on the doctor's arm and said, "Please, Doc, can't you do it in here?"

   Captain Dobey had explained as much of the situation as he could. The doctor knew there were things he needed to ask Starsky about that the distraught blond looking at him so intensely wasn't ready to hear. He shook his head. "I'll take good care of him, I promise." He put his head out the door and called for one of the nurses. "Please take Detective Hutchinson back to Treatment Three and ask Dr. Rivera to take care of cleaning and bandaging this cut." He scribbled some additional instructions and handed the note to the nurse to give to the other physician.

   "Yes, Doctor," she answered.

   The doctor helped Hutch to his feet and whispered, "He'll be right here when you're all done." Hutch nodded at him.

   "I'll be back in a while, Starsk," he said, waiting for a nod of acceptance from his partner.

   After they left, the doctor sat down and started to talk to Starsky. "So, you got knocked on the head pretty hard."

   Starsky nodded, and added, "Is he really okay, Doc?"

   "He'll be fine. He seems a little edgy. I thought it might be better if we talked about you without him here. Do you know how long you were out?"

   "No. A long time, I think. Probably somewhere between eight and twelve hours."

   "How's your vision?" Carroll asked as he gave Starsky the pen light exam.

   "Pretty much back to normal. Sometimes things look a little fuzzy."

   "Um-hm."

   The doctor made some notes - while muttering something Starsky couldn't quite make out about a cow and an open barn door. He asked Starsky to show him where he'd been hit. They talked about what had happened. The doctor wasn't pleased to hear that his patient couldn't remember who he was for a couple of days and he'd been sleeping on an untreated head injury. In addition to the neurological exam, the doctor carefully checked Starsky for the possibility that he'd suffered any additional damage to his recently healed body.

   "Other than the sick stomach, which I'd say is related to the head injury, I think you're all right. I reckon if that knock on the head hasn't killed you yet, it won't... but if you were any luckier, you'd be twins."

   Starsky laughed. "Where are you from, Doc?" he asked.

   "I'm from East Texas. Now, let's see about getting some pictures of that thick skull of yours."

   A few hours later, both detectives were discharged with medications, instructions, and orders for follow up visits with their Bay City physicians. While they were being treated, Dobey and Huggy had taken care of picking up the Torino. They were hoping that one of the two injured men would be cleared to drive, and fortunately, Hutch was. After some rest and food, the doctor decided he would be all right to drive home, but not Starsky. He would have to wait another week to be rechecked in Bay City. Dr. Carroll wanted to be certain his nausea was gone, that he wasn't suffering from any more dizzy spells, and that his vision was completely back to normal before he got behind the wheel or returned to work. He'd laughed when the sullen detective declared that "Terrific," in a tone of voice that meant it was anything but.

   "Now that we're sure a nap won't kill you, see that you get one," he told Starsky as he shook hands with him.

   "He will," Hutch promised from behind him. He would make sure of it.

   As they walked out of the emergency room, Starsky noticed the swelling on the lower left side of Dobey's face. Earlier, in the rush to get to the hospital, he hadn't noticed it. "Hey, Cap," he said as he pointed, "what's with the lump?"

   Dobey put a hand up and touched his swollen face. He looked over at Hutch with a twinkle in his eye and a barely noticeable smile. "Oh, it's nothing. I walked into a door."

   Starsky saw that look. "A door, huh? Hm." He let it drop.

   As much as he wanted to hear everything that had happened to his best friend, Hutch didn't trust his barely maintained sense of equilibrium to discuss it on the road.

   Before they took off down the coast, Starsky asked about the hotel. He finally remembered which one he'd stayed in and he wanted to get his bag and make sure the bill was squared away with the manager.

   "Dobey did that already, Starsk. We took care of it the first night. I think they put your things in the trunk."

   The three vehicles made an odd convoy heading down the coast. Neither Dobey nor Huggy were willing to trust Hutch on the road without an escort after all he'd been through. As they drove along at the pace Dobey set as lead car, Huggy was singing to some tunes in his Cadillac and the captain was listening to various radio talk shows. The inside of the Torino remained silent. Starsky was having a hard time sleeping, knowing his partner was in serious emotional pain. He could feel it flowing away from Hutch in electrically charged waves.

   "You want to talk about it?" he asked after the first hour on the road.

   Hutch sighed and shook his head. He reached over and squeezed Starsky's shoulder. "Not now, Gordo. I just want to drive. We'll talk at home."

   Oh, boy. He's in bad shape. Starsky knew how he'd be feeling if their positions were reversed. Hutch had just received the worst shock of his life. Worse than Gunther. This time, he'd been told his best friend was dead by his own hand. After the months of fear, worry, therapy, and recovery from the shooting, Hutch's nerves were at their limit. The point of Starsky's trip had partially been to help his partner let go a little... begin to relax. Yep, this was relaxing for him. Starsky remembered what the doctor had told him about being lucky. He might be lucky from the standpoint of survival, but he and his partner were decidedly unlucky in the personal safety department.

   Hutch decided that Starsky would be most comfortable in his own place. Dobey and Huggy made sure they got there safely, and then waved as they drove off toward their respective homes. The exhausted partners trudged up to the apartment.

   Starsky crashed on the couch, listening as his partner prepared something for them to eat. He caught sight of Hutch as he paced in and out of the kitchen. Closing his eyes, he imagined that Hutch was like a teakettle, his emotions boiling up a good head of steam. He didn't have to wait long for the whistle.

   Hutch set two sandwiches and two bottles of soda on the coffee table. He got Starsky's medications out, the habit from months of caring for his wounded partner still with him.

   "Don't forget yours, Blintz," Starsky said, almost hoping the comment would bring about the impending explosion. He wasn't disappointed. Five, four, three, two, one....

   "WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?" Hutch shouted at him. Starsky winced a little at the decibel level, but he was relieved the kettle was singing loudly. He knew Hutch needed to explode before the weight of everything brought him down again.

   "Hutch...."

   "I swear to God, Starsky!" Hutch yelled, pacing back and forth in front of the French doors. He spun around and put pointed his finger at Starsky, jabbing it in the air. "You scared the SHIT out of me! Why the hell didn't you call?"

   Starsky had hoped Dr. Carroll would explain some things to Hutch, but he could see the man hadn't. He took a deep, steadying breath as he thought about how to explain everything to Hutch without making it worse. That was the last thing he needed. The only way forward was through the truth. They didn't lie to each other. Hutch wasn't going to like it, but he had to know.

   "I didn't know I should call you," Starsky said, keeping a wary eye on the furious man now staring at him with his jaw dropped.

   "Y-you didn't know?" Hutch said. "What the hell does that mean?"

   "Hutch, please sit down and I'll tell you everything."

   "I think I'd better stand up for this, buddy," Hutch said, exercising as much self-restraint as he could at the moment.

   "I mean it. You'd better sit."

   Seeing the look on Starsky's face, he crossed over and sat on the other end of the couch, after Starsky pulled his feet up and patted the cushion.

   "Just let me talk, Blondie." He waited to see that Hutch accepted that, and then continued. "I went to a bar in Santa Marta and played some pool and apparently won some money -"

   "Apparently?" Hutch narrowed his eyes.

   "Let me finish," Starsky pleaded, and Hutch bit his lip and nodded. "I don't remember everything that happened that night. The next thing I remember is waking up in the alley behind the bar the next morning and not even knowing my own name."

   Hutch's eyes widened, but though it was obvious he wanted to say something, he didn't.

   "My badge, my wallet, my gun, everything was gone," Starsky said. "I didn't know who I was or how I'd gotten there. A girl came outta the bar to dump garbage in the dumpster I was hangin' onto and took me inside and they called me 'David.' I recognized that as my name but I couldn't remember the rest, and they were teasing me about having beat their best pool player the night before. Best I could figure, I was a hustler, and since I only had the forty bucks I'd won the night before, and I kept thinkin' about Bay City, I thought maybe if I came back here I'd remember the rest."

   Hutch's anger had melted into concern as Starsky talked and now he began to look worried. He still didn't speak, allowing Starsky to tell his story in his own way, but he did reach forward and lay a hand on Starsky's leg.

   "So I hung around that night and managed to win a couple o'hundred bucks, enough to -"

   "Two hundred dollars?" Hutch exploded.

   Starsky gave a grin. "Yeah. Still got some, too. So I bought a bus ticket to Bay City and when I got here, I just started walkin'. Downtown looked familiar and I just followed my nose and somehow found my way to The Pits. I was gonna do some hustlin' in there, but Huggy recognized me and he called me 'Starsky' and it all came back."

   "You didn't know your own name for two days?" Hutch stared at him.

   Starsky nodded. "It was scary, buddy. That's why I didn't call. I didn't remember you, either. I didn't remember anything. I only knew I was 'David' 'cause that bar owner in Santa Marta called me 'David' and it felt right and I needed something to hang onto that felt right."

   Hutch swallowed. He couldn't imagine how awful that must have been.

   "I'm sorry," Starsky said softly. "I went off to that car show so you could have some free time, without worryin' about me, and I just made it a hundred times worse, didn't I?"

   "We thought you were dead!" Hutch let go of Starsky's leg and turned so he wasn't directly facing his partner. "The medical examiner called and said he had your body in his cooler and you'd had all your ID on you and some girl had given a statement telling the cops everything you'd said leading up to shooting yourself!"

   "It wasn't me," Starsky said, not realizing until the words were out how silly they sounded. "It was that Randy guy -"

   "I know that!" Hutch snapped, sounding angry but really just coming down from all the tension of the last few days. "We went up there to claim your body. And some moron had sent the body off to a funeral home in Monterey, but by the time we got there, THEY'D sent it back -"

   Aw, shit, Starsky thought, seeing the lines of tension around Hutch's eyes and realizing what he must have been through. "I'm sorry," he repeated, but Hutch wasn't finished.

   "I spent the whole weekend asking myself how I could have missed the signs that you were that far gone, that you'd want to shoot yourself," Hutch said, his voice beginning to shake. "I thought you were feeling pretty good. Then, I was scared that you offed yourself because my overprotectiveness made you feel like you'd never be a hundred percent again. I... I thought I'd have known somehow if something was wrong. I -"

   Starsky saw the breakdown coming and scooted closer just in time. He pulled Hutch to him in a one-armed hug. "Before you get there," he said quietly, "know this: I am fine. I'm not depressed. I would never kill myself. We got a deal, remember? I wouldn't do that to ya. You would know if something was that wrong, because you can read me like a book. Aw, buddy," he rested his cheek against the top of Hutch's head and felt the trembling as Hutch fought to regain control, "I'm so sorry."

   Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky's waist and held on in silence for a few minutes until he could trust his voice. Finally, he said, "I just couldn't believe you'd have been able to fool me. I couldn't believe you broke your promise."

   "I didn't break my promise and I didn't fool you," Starsky said. "But you did believe it, enough so you thought it was me, didn't you?"

   "I should have known better," Hutch admitted. "But they had your badge and your wallet -" He pulled away to sit up, but not too far away, and met Starsky's eyes. "I don't think we ought to go on any trips alone. We always get into trouble."

   Starsky grinned. "Okay. But we gotta take turns pickin' the places. I ain't spending every weekend in Mosquito Canyon."

   "And I'm not going to every hot rod show in southern California," Hutch retorted.

   "Deal." Starsky solemnly offered his hand, eyes dancing, and Hutch shook it.

   Hutch had forgotten about Starsky's rings. He slid them off his finger and handed them to his partner. "I'll feel better when you put these back on," he said. Starsky accepted them and put them on his pinky. He saw a look on Hutch's face that seemed to seal the return to normalcy between them. Hutch's next statement proved it.

   "And if you ever kill yourself again," Hutch went on, fixing his partner with a very stern look, "I will hunt you down and make you wish you really were dead."

   Starsky burst out laughing.

THE END