Stalk Raving Mad

© by Elsa

this story is nominated in the category Outstanding Long Story

Chapter 1.

Starsky and Hutch took the stairs to the precinct where the blond officer literally bumped into a woman. Her purse fell to the ground, its contents flying over the concrete stairs, Hutch nearly tripped over his own feet and only Starsky’s swift reaction prevented him from going flat on his arse. The woman looked startled, and hastily mumbled an apology. She grabbed her things together and hurried off to her car. She entered it, started it and raced off.

“She was in a hurry,” Starsky concluded. Hutch looked as she steered her yellow Cortina in line with a blue Volkswagen and a beige Chrysler, and then sped out of sight. He nodded.

“Sure was.”

“In the movies, the damsel in distress always loses something on the stairs. Wallet, letters, credit cars…”

“Don’t kid yourself, Starsk. She got her things alright.” The taller man laughed. “You wanna play the knight in shining armour?”

“Nope. You’re more suitable for that. I’ll be the Real Hero. The one in the background.”

Hutch laughed out loud. “Dream on, Gordo. Dream on.”

Starsky held the door open to Hutch and they entered the Bay City Police Station. At the reception desk a small group of people were screaming and cursing, while Julius Brown, the watch commander of the day tried to break up the row by bringing in a couple of more black and whites.

“Can’t hurt to try. Thanks for busting my bubble, Blintz.”

“Anytime,” Hutch winked. He watched as three officers took the quarrelling people away. A peaceful silence seemed to overtake the station. Behind the counter, Brown answered a ringing telephone and waved his pencil at Starsky.

“Starsky – phone. Merle, it’s got something to do with the Torino.”

“Thank Jools. Can I take it here?”

“Sure. Line four.”

Julius Brown handed Starsky the receiver and continued scribbling down whatever he was writing. Starsky assumed his best position to answer the phone – hanging against the desk as if it was his own. While he discussed his car with Merle, Hutch looked at the watch commander licking the tip of his pencil and writing.

“That woman who just went out...” Hutch said, knowing Julius to be very alert about who came in and left.

“The brunette with the short hair? Pale face?”

“Yeah.”

“Yep. Came to say she was being harassed by a man.”

“Huh?”

“She was nervous as hell. Something about a stalker.”

“A stalker?” Hutch listened with increasing interest.

“Said she knew who it was. She was darn hesitant. Then I got kinda distracted by the family fight here. I didn’t see her taking off.” Something dawned on Julius. “You ran into her, Hutch?”

“Yeah. Well, actually, she ran into me. She seemed kind of troubled.”

“If you ask me, it was a storm in a glass of water.” He tapped with his index finger on his forehead. “Stalking isn’t a real thing. She’s seen too many movies. Stark raving mad, if you ask me.”

A sudden flashback projected an obsessed nurse in Hutch’s living room, who tried to force a knife into his chest. He imagined he could feel the steel sliding through his arm, the pounding of his heart and the fear he felt at that moment.

“She’s NOT stark raving mad,” he spat at Julius, who looked at him kind of overtaken by the harsh tone. “If she’s being stalked by someone, she’s NOT imagining things. It’s as real as you and me are.” He lifted his index finger warningly. “I’m telling you Jools, if you ever neglect a complaint like that again, you’ll have to answer to me.”

“Hey! Don’t tell me how to do my work! I did NOT neglect her complaint - SHE was the one who disappeared.” Julius’ face grew dark with defiance. “I can’t see from the outside what’s going on inside the head of every person who appears at the counter. And I see lots of idiots, belief me.”

“Have you got her name? Address?”

Grumbling, Julius began to look through his papers.

“Nancy Kowalski. No address. I was just about to take that when that family came in.”

“Nancy Kowalski,” Hutch repeated, as to imprint the name in his mind. “And she drove a yellow Cortina, license plate XBR 723 C.”

Julius, helpful now that he noticed he could do something for Hutch and thus avert the wrath of the blond man, picked up another receiver. His own was still in use by Starsky, who hadn’t noticed anything of what was going on, as the volume of his conversation with Merle increased by the minute.

“Charlie? Run a plate for me, will ya? XBR 723 C. Yellow Cortina…. Yes, I’ll hold…” Julius waited, trying to look helpful and avoiding Hutch’s dark look at the same time. “Miss Nancy Belinda Kowalski, 82^nd August Avenue, Bay City. Got that. Thanks Charlie. Yeah… see ya…”

Chapter 2.

During the day, the girl was somewhere in the back of Hutch’s mind, but after their shift was over, the blond remembered her and decided to pay her a visit. Through the calm autumn streets of Bay City, he asked Starsky to drive to August Avenue. He let him park the car at a distance and checked the cars in the street. All of them were parked near the kerb, all of them were empty. No hiding stalker, as far as Hutch could tell.

He took the eight steps that led to the door of the apartment block, where Miss Kowalski lived, looked for her name plate next to the bell but found none. He did however find number 82 and pushed the buzzer.

No answer.

Starsky’s eyebrows went up. “What now? Home or do you still want to go up?”

“Up. Although I can very well understand she doesn’t want to answer the door if she’s being stalked.”

Starsky pushed several buttons at once, until a tinny voice cracked through the speaker. “Yes?”

“Flower Service,” Starsky said jolly and immediately the door buzzed open. “Easy. Come on Hutch. After you.” Behind the men, the tinny voice angrily wanted to know what Parcel Service, but then the door fell shut. Starsky chuckled.

Number 82 was on the third floor. It could be reached by either elevator or staircase. The detectives took the elevator. When they found the right apartment, Hutch rang the bell, took a step back and held his ID up, next to his face, so that the woman inside could look through the peek hole and see who he was.

“Open the door please, ma’am. My name is Kenneth Hutchinson. I’m with the Bay City PD. This is my partner, David Starsky. We’re here to talk about the complaint you were about to file at the station.”

For a minute he thought he’d been talking to the door only and that the apartment was empty. But then a few bolts cracked and the door was opened slightly. Through the small opening, behind a chain, a face was visible.

“Badge please?”

Hutch introduced the two of them once again. The woman looked at their badges and then the door was closed and opened again, a little wider this time.

“Come in. Quickly, please,” a worried voice said.

Chapter 3.

Nancy Kowalski was thirty years old, petite, with brown short cut hair, brown eyes, and furthermore a rather common face – not a stunning beauty, not an unattractive woman either. She was obviously nervous. She stood in the middle of her living room and gestured for the officers to sit down, but she herself seemed to be a stranger in her own place. She fidgeted nervously with the hem of her shirt or kept pulling at her sleeve.

“Can I get you something to drink? Beer? Or err… coffee or tea? A sandwich?”

“No thank you. First, our apologies for the troubles at the station. It’s not normal to have that there, the watch commander was obviously distracted by it. He didn’t pay you the courtesy he should have. That’s why we’re here. Won’t you tell us why you were at the station?”

Nancy Kowalski sat down on the edge of the sofa, stood up, sighed shakily and then sat down again.

“Stalking… I feel bad about it,” she started. “The guy’s not really dangerous, but he’s throwing my life upside down.”

“Why don’t you begin at the beginning?” Hutch asked friendly. Starsky hadn’t said a word, sensing it was Hutch’s call since he was the one who’d been dealing with this before.

“I’m a librarian. I work at the Bay City Library. I see dozens of people day in day out, and I know a fair good deal of them. Not all by name, but their faces are familiar and the type of books they read I generally know as well.” She sighed. Now that she started, it did calm her down to talk about it. “About six months ago a man came to the desk, to get a membership. He was new and I helped him around, as I often do.”

“You remember his name?”

“O yes. He made sure I would. Will Vaughn.”

She went to the kitchen and came back with three glasses and fruit juice, which she poured for the detectives unasked. She took a sip from her own juice and continued, “He was back a few days later, asking me for my assistance again. That was the beginning. After that he came in nearly every day. Sometimes he stayed for a few minutes, sometimes he stayed all day. He sent me flowers, the bouquet stood on my desk when I came in. I didn’t know what to make of it. It happened more often but generally I put them in the personnel room, I felt uneasy with them on my desk. After a few weeks he approached me and asked if he could take me out to diner. I kindly refused – I had no intention of going out with a stranger. And I can’t say he appealed to me. He was just a library visitor, no more, no less.”

“Good for you,” Hutch said softly. Starsky studied his partner closely, noticed the attentiveness in his friend’s attitude and realised how close this was to his partner’s world. Diana Harmon had left a scar in Hutch’s past that was deeper than the one in his arm. It resulted in a strong sense of compassion for a stalking victim.

“After that, he disappeared for a while. Then, things started to happen. I came home from the gym one night and he was singing a serenade outside my window. That was hilarious for the neighbours, but kind of embarrassing for me. He slept on the doormat of the library. He put advertisements in the papers that we were going to get married. He sent me presents, dozens of them. Varying from a ring to clothes, flowers, toy bears, dolls, records and books. I received letters from him, every day. He wrote me long love letters, telling me how much he loved me and that I was the only one in the world for him and such. He called me, every day, more than once. I changed my phone number, he got hold of it again and -out of frustration, I guess- I threw the phone against the wall. It broke, I didn’t replace it. I use the pay phone outside now. When things were really going bizarre, I told him I didn’t want all that and I wanted him to end that silly crusade. I wasn’t interested in him, and I told it to him very clearly. He just didn’t listen. He stared at me, almost delightedly, and took my picture.”

She stopped and drank her juice. Starsky stood up and calmly walked to the windows, taking in what was outside. A view on the street, cars, the houses and opposite apartments; from the kitchen a view on a small inner court yard, with waste bins and small sheds. Two bicycles were parked against the wall. A street lamp stood in the middle of the inner court yard.

“Didn’t you go to the police?”

“I called. An officer I spoke to didn’t seem to take me seriously. He said it was all in my mind.” She said it hesitantly but with a clear sense of hurt. “I can’t really repeat what he said but it came down to tell the bloke to go away and that’s that. He’s in love with you, big deal? If you ignore him, he’ll quit soon enough.”

Hutch felt anger rise. “Do you remember his name?”

“No. I guess I didn’t press on. I should have. But I guess the officer kinda sensed my hesitance and maybe I didn’t express clearly enough that it wasn’t only embarrassing but scary too. I really got the creeps when I found a rose on my pillow one day. He’d been IN my apartment. I changed the locks that very day. I received more mail, photos of me – everywhere. He’d been following me around, much longer than I had expected and that really freaked me out.”

“So why did you take off this morning when you came at the station?”

Over her pale cheeks a slight red glow appeared. “I… It… it feels so strange. A man is in love with me… and I go to the police?” In a sudden gush of desperation she hid her face in her hands. Muffled, her words tumbled out. “I… This… this is awful… He called my mother, my sister... friends. … my neighbour saw him rummaging through my waste bin… he’s been in my room, he’s been in my house…” Her voice trailed off. She stood up and walked to a cupboard, from which she took a cardboard box.

“I wanted to throw this away, but… well… you always hear about proof and evidence so I just throw whatever he sends me in this box.”

She didn’t open it, just pushed to box into Hutch’s hands and fell to the couch again. The detective took the lid off and found dozens of letters and photos, all carrying the same message: if I can’t have you, no one can. That’s not exactly what it said, of course, but to Hutch it radiated from the silent stolen privacy of the photos as if it was down there in neon lights. One after the other his slender hands picked up photos by the tip of the edge, one after the other were scrutinized by his deep looks. These were clearly shots of an obsessed person, and he could understand very well why Nancy Kowalski was getting nervous.

“I feel so… watched. As if he sees my every move. I feel like I can’t turn without him standing somewhere, watching me. I know it’s crap, but—“

Hutch stood up and sat down on the table in front of her. Their knees touched. He took her small hands in his and pressed them once.

“Miss Kowalski – we’re going to solve this. Officially there’s not much we can do.”

“But… can’t you book him for breaking and entering, or something?”

“Yes, but not without proof. These photos and letters don’t tell of a threat – they only tell of a man who’s interested in you. That’s not a federal offence. A rose on your pillow is not enough. You can’t proof it was him, so we can’t do much about it.” Hutch voice was soft and friendly. “It was good thing you came to the police. Don’t confuse obsession for love, miss. We’ll get him and he won’t bother you again.”

A silence fell in the room, but this time not a tensed one. It held a promise of better times. Nancy Kowalski went to the bathroom, giving Starsky and Hutch a chance to discuss their thoughts on the matter.

“Bad business, buddy,” Starsky said thoughtfully.

“Yeah. He’s been in here. That’s bad news.”

“Luckily she changed her locks immediately.”

“Those photos and letters… he’s a loose cannon.”

“Unbelievable. How many are there?”

“Dunno. Sixty? Seventy letters?”

“And the photos… big lenses. He could be anywhere.”

“He’s seen rummaging through her trash. You know what that means, don’t you Starsk?”

“What?”

“He’s got access now to a lot of information. You’d be surprised what you can find in someone’s trash, apart from orange peels and tissues. There’s a lot of information there for the take.” Hutch rose, stretched his long body to get the stiffness from his muscles and moved over to the window, exactly like his partner had done earlier. “Street’s wide, cars around, children playing, enough places to hide or go unseen…”

“I checked the back. There’s a inner court, small, but not closed off. A wooden fence with gate. He could come in through there.”

“Or just took the front door. Like you did. Ring a few buzzers, there’s always one to open up, right?”

“How did he get her key?”

“Dunno. Maybe he used a picklock or a master key. We both know it’s not hard to enter a place like this if you really want to.”

“We’re going to get that bastard, Hutch. We’re not going to let this get out of hand.”

Nancy Kowalski picked up Starsky’s remark as she returned from the bathroom. She’d freshened up and looked a whole lot better. Her bleak expression was gone and had made room for a belligerent look.

“So, how are we going to go about?” she asked.

Hutch laughed. “You sure sound like you can take on the world right now.”

She smiled shyly but gratefully. “For the first time in months I feel I’m not alone anymore.”

Chapter 4.

“We’re going to start by something to eat,” Starsky announced.

“Don’t mind my partner. His stomach has a genetic defect. His mind also, by the way.”

“Ha ha. That’s Hutch, Miss Kowalski. Very funny man.”

“Actually, Starsky here’s a miracle in the flesh – the man’s a walking genetic defect, come to think of it.”

Nancy Kowalski laughed. “Call me Nancy. Are you hungry?”

“Always,” Starsky nodded, “but that’s not the reason. We’re starting by openly showing Vaughn you’re in the company of friends. It might ring a bell, but then again it might not. If we get to see him, we’ll make it clear that he has to stop.”

Hutch asked if Nancy had a photo of him. She shook her head. “No. But I know his address – I’ve filled out all his personal information when he subscribed. It’s all in the library data bank.”

“Can you get in now?”

“Yes. I’ve got a key and the code to the security system.”

“Great. We’ll get that info when we’re done eating. Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

“Where do you want to go for dinner, Starsk?”

“How about Harmon Place?” the dark haired man suggested after some thought. “It’s got some pretty niches where we can sit and keep an eye on the place at the same time.”

“Good thinking. Let’s go.”

As they drove through the darkening evening to Harmon Place, Hutch asked Nancy to take good notice of what was going on around her. If she so much as thought she saw Vaughn, she was to warn them. Until they were seated at a nice table at the restaurant, she was tense and clearly uneasy to be outside. Hutch eyed her closely – he saw the lines around her lips, the nervous moves of her hands and noticed the slightly more audible breath. She was scared. He put his hand on her arm.

“Don’t worry, Nancy. You’re perfectly safe, nothing can happen.”

“What if he comes after me when you’re off duty? When you’re home, when you’re not here?”

“Let’s take one step at the time, alright? Starsky and me need to see him, and we want to know what we’re up against. Don’t worry, we won’t lose you out of our sight.” He smiled, trying to reassure her. “I promise.”

“Scout’s honour,” Starsky said and tapped his temple with two fingers.

“Other hand, dumbo,” Hutch said and rolled his eyes. The quip broke the tensed atmosphere as by miracle.

Dinner passed pleasantly. Vaughn didn’t show up in the restaurant and Nancy visibly relaxed. The officers soon discovered that despite her plain looks, Nancy Kowalski was a witty, intelligent and charming woman with a lovely laugh. She had a way of talking that made the men want to listen and she could fantastically tell stories. It wasn’t very hard to imagine why anyone would fall for her.

“He didn’t come,” Starsky concluded as he drove the Torino back to Nancy’s place.

“Thank God he hasn’t,” Nancy sighed from the bottom of heart. “On the other hand – it would have been a good opportunity to catch him if he’d been there.” She rummaged through her purse and took a business card from it, which she handed to Hutch. “This is my extension at the library. Normally calls come in through the operator, but I have a direct line outside. Not many people have this number. The operator blocks calls from Vaugh, she’s come to recognise his voice and keeps him off. He hasn’t got this number.”

“I’ll be careful with it,” Hutch promised and put it away.

Chapter 5.

Nancy apartment was quiet, with two little lights turned on so the place wouldn’t be pitch dark. Starsky went in first, while Hutch waited in the hallway with Nancy, ready for unexpected events. But all was quiet. Thorough, Starsky checked everything – balcony, kitchen, bathroom but there was no sign of anyone or anything out of order.

“Starsky and me will take turns in staying the night,” Hutch said to a surprised Nancy. “I promised you we won’t leave you alone, and we won’t.”

“But…”

“No ‘but’, we’re used to this kind of work.” Starsky smiled boyishly.

“Oh? Staying the night at places of women who press charges at the station?” Nancy retaliated with a wink, causing Starsky to turn red and Hutch to grin amusedly. “Can I get you something to drink, David?”

He smiled lopsidedly but shook his head. “No, I better go. I want to go to the station before I head for home. Hutch, I’ll call the captain, tell him what we’re on. In the mean time, I’ll run a computer check at the station, see if anything comes up on this Vaughn character. If he has harassed women before, we need to know about it. Nancy, lock the door behind me and keep your windows closed and locked.”

“Okay.”

“With the information you’ve got us from the library I should be able to find something. I’ll drive by his place, see where he lives.”

A shadow flew over Nancy’s face. “Are you sure? What if—“

“Uh-uh!” Starsky raised his hand. “No ‘what if’, Nancy. I’m just checking it out, I won’t leave the car, I promise.” He saw her anguish and put a friendly hand on her shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, but don’t worry.”

“He’s a big boy, he can take of himself. See you in the morning, buddy,” Hutch smiled.

“Yup. Goodnight, folks. Sleep well.”

“Starsk?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

After scanning through police records with the help of a late shift clerk, Starsky knew what he wanted to know. There was no prior record on Vaughn, apart from an occasional parking ticket. With the information from the library, Starsky found Vaughn had a degree in English literature and worked at home as an independent editor. Some calling around told him Vaughn was a mediocre man, good at school, average at the university, nothing spectacular. An every day man. With a scary obsession towards a woman Starsky already liked a lot.

He stretched his back and yawned. It was getting late, time to go home. He thought about ringing Hutch, then remembered Nancy didn’t have a phone and decided it could wait until tomorrow – besides, there wasn’t much to tell, was there?

Chapter 6.

The bottle of wine tasted well and was empty by the time Starsky was driving home.

“As much as I enjoy your company and I hate to be a spoil sport… I’m going to bed,” Nancy announced, in vain trying to hide yet another yawn. She looked like she could use some sleep. “I haven’t slept very well the past few weeks.” She gave Hutch a tired but brave smile and stood up to get a blanket and a pillow from a closet in the hall. She also had a little bag of toiletries amongst which a tooth brush and a razor blade.

Hutch began to install himself. Nancy went to the kitchen to put the glasses in the sink.

A shriek and a loud, panicked cry came from the kitchen.

“Huuuuutch! Huuuuuutch!”

In two steps the blond officer was in the kitchen, hand on his gun, finding a shaking, pale Nancy standing in the middle, holding on to the kitchen table. He looked around and registered what was in the small, cosy kitchen. No one. No intruders. No danger.

“Nancy?” Protectively, he put his arm around her.

“Hutch!” she could hardly talk and pointed with a shaking hand to the refrigerator. “He’s been here…”

Hutch opened the fridge door. Inside sat a melon. A photo was pinned to it. Hutch took the melon from the fridge and looked in awe at the picture. It was a shot of the three of them, entering the restaurant. It was taken from a distance, judging by the blur of the background. They’d been followed and observed. A shiver ran down his back.

Then his fingers felt something else – another photo, pinned to the back, one he hadn’t seen the moment he spotted the first one.

The photo took his breath away.

It was a close-up of Starsky, taken as he looked over his shoulder when they entered the restaurant. The photo wasn’t attached to the melon with a pin, but with a scalpel blade, exactly in the middle of Starsky’s forehead. The meaning of it was as clear as if it stood there in neon letters.

Starsky…

“Hutch,” Nancy said, taking deep breaths to get her wits together, “you need to warn Starsky.”

Hutch’s mind raced through the implications and possibilities. Vaughn had been in here, most likely when they had been in the library. How could he have developed and printed the photos this quickly? He needed to have access to a photo lab or a dark room. Maybe he did it himself, which was the most probable explanation.

He’d been in here. He must have her key.

He’d followed them. He must have a car.

He’d photographed them. He must have a sophisticated camera.

He’d made a statement. He wanted to get Starsky out of the way.

Starsky parked the Torino outside his apartment and took the stairs, when a loud crash, steel against steel as one car hit another, screamed through the quiet night.

Shit – no…! The Tomato… My car… My baby…!

In a step Starsky turned around and ran outside.

The spade that hit him against his head instantly knocked him out. Vaughn swung it at him with all the force he could muster. Starsky didn’t stand a change. Distracted by his car being hit by another, the curly haired man never knew what hit him.

Chapter 7.

Hutch looked for a telephone and then remembered Nancy telling him she had none. Cursing below his breath he crossed the room, his long legs looking out of place in the small apartment. He positioned himself next to the windows and peeked through the curtains. The street was as quiet and abandoned as it had been when they arrived.

“Nancy, we can’t stay here. Vaughn got in when we were out, we have to go. This place is not safe. We’ve got to get to Starsky – now.”

“I’ll get ready.” Nancy pressed her lips together. She had herself under control again, but still looked pitifully pale. Hutch inwardly commented her on her rapid adjustment.

“Where’s your car?”

“In the back. The yellow Cortina.”

“Can we get out through the back?”

“Officially not, there’s not a door that leads to the court yard, but you can step on the fire escape ladder from the balcony,” Nancy nodded. She tied her shoes and zipped up her jacket. Hutch did the same.

“Leave the lights on,” he said. “Vaughn will think we’re still here.”

Like cat burglars Hutch and Nancy opened the kitchen door, stepped from the balcony onto the fire escape ladder and climbed down. Silently they moved to Nancy’s car. Hutch held out his hand to get the key but Nancy got behind the wheel, not even paying attention to his gesture. Despite his own worry and anger, he considered it a good sign.

“I’ve done a stunt course,” Nancy said as if that explained everything. “Some people need to get used to my driving style.” She started the car. “Where to?”

“Starsky’s place.”

“Okay. Buckle up.”

She hadn’t been telling him tales. Nancy drove like crazy – but a controlled craze. Rather like Starsky, Hutch thought in mock amusement. In less than fifteen minutes she’d raced to the other side of Bay City, where Starsky lived, only to be stopped by Hutch as they approached. Police and ambulance lights were visible from afar. A knot the size of a man’s fists settled in Hutch’s stomach.

“Pull over, Nancy! Stop the car!”

Nancy did as asked and pulled over in a deep dark part of the street. They exited the car together.

“Stay in the car, Nancy,” Hutch ordered.

“The hell I won’t! If he’s done this to lure us here, he’ll wait for exactly that!” she cried out. “I’m coming with you. I need to, Hutch!”

She was right, and Hutch knew it. He grabbed her hand and they ran, hidden by the darkness of the buildings and the night, to the floodlit scene outside Starsky’s apartment.

“Hutch!” That was Stevens, a uniformed cop who looked uncanny white in the unnatural lights and who spotted Hutch before he himself saw Stevens. “Starsky was attacked.”

“Where is he? WHERE IS HE?” The tall man nearly pulled the words from Stevens’ mouth.

“They’ve taken him to Bellevue.” Stevens took a deep breath. “He was alive, but it looked ghastly. He’s lost a lot of blood. A witness says he was hit by a man with a spade, who’d hidden behind his car.” He nodded to the Torino. “There’s extensive damage to one of the rear lights. Our best guess is he heard it, went back to see what was going on and was taken by surprise.”

Hutch ran a hand over his face. He looked at the scenery, where lab men where working and policemen held nosy people at a distance. A photographer took photos of a spade, that had dark spots on it. It made Hutch’s stomach churn. Near the Torino a large dark puddle was on the tarmac, glistening eerily in the head lights of the police cars.

“There’s so much blood… Starsky… He… Where…”

A whisper broke through his thoughts. Nancy stood next to him, still holding his hand and squeezing it, scared and shocked.

“Let’s go, Nance. Bellevue. You think you can drive?”

“Yeah.”

Chapter 8.

Captain Dobey sat in the waiting room when Hutch and Nancy arrived. He’d come in just a few minutes before them.

“They’re working on him,” he said without being asked. “It looked bad, he lost a lot of blood. But that’s always scary to see, we’ll just have to wait for the doctor.” He nodded at Nancy, shook her extended hand and introduced himself. She did likewise.

Hutch told him everything, helped by Nancy. Dobey listened, took some notes and when they were finished he took off to find a telephone, undoubtedly to send out an APB on Will Vaughn.

Starsky’s injury resulted in a long treatment in the E.R. and Hutch and Nancy waited, sometimes in silence, sometimes in soft talking. Nancy leant against Hutch’s shoulder as they sat together, hand in hand, and dozed off every now and then. Hutch couldn’t fall asleep. He was far too awake and worried, his heart jumped every time he saw the door to the theatres open and a medic coming out.

Finally a woman in operating clothes approached them. She looked fresh and fit, despite the late hour.

“Are you here for Detective Starsky?”

“Yes,” Hutch said and Nancy was instantly wide awake and they stood up. “I’m Detective Hutchinson. David Starsky is my partner.” The looks from the doctor were sufficient enough for Hutch to let out a sigh of relief. Certainly the doctor would have had a totally different face ready in case of worse news.

“He came round when I talked to him, briefly. One side of his face had a deep cut. I’ve done quite some stitching to his head –21 stitches to be exact. His face is black and blue – he’s heavily concussed and doesn’t remember his name or what happened, but that will come in a few days with proper rest.”

“He doesn’t remember his name?” echoed Nancy, her eyes wide with fear, perfectly putting to words what fear settled in Hutch’s mind.

“That’s not quite abnormal after such a trauma. He’s had a fierce blow to his head and his brain needs time to recover from that. It’s literally shaken up. The brain fluids are disturbed. Once that’s restored, it’ll come back.”

“Are you sure?”

The doctor smiled but her eyes were cautious, as was her answer. “I don’t give guarantees, Miss. I’m not a car mechanic, the human body doesn’t work like that. I think he’ll be fine, provided he rests enough and gives himself time to recover.”

Hutch put up his hands by means of apology. “We’re just worried, Doctor. Loss of memory sounds serious.”

“It IS a serious condition. And that’s why I’m telling you what Detective Starsky’s state is. He’s lost a lot of blood, so we’ve given him some, and he responds well. All things considered I daresay he came through well.”

“Is he awake?”

“No. You can see him, but don’t wake him up. He needs to rest.”

“How long does he have to stay?”

“He needs to come to properly and I can’t let him go if he’s still on the IV. If all goes well I expect to sign his release papers in a few days.” The doctor noticed Hutch’s eagerness for good news and smiled reassuringly. “He’ll be fine, Detective. He’s in good shape, that’ll speed up a quick recovery.” She pointed to a green door. “Through the green doors, second door on the left. You can see him, but—“

“I won’t wake him up. Promise.”

She nodded and left Hutch and Nancy to visit their friend.

Starsky looked awful. The left side of his face was one big dark bruise, pieces of gauze unable to hide the nasty spots and deep red, blue and black lines that were put there by a crazy man with a spade in his hands.

Hutch looked at his friend with deep compassion. Next to him Nancy covered her lips with her hand. Tears welled up in her eyes when she noticed the quiet, battered man in the bed. Against the white pillow his face was ashen, a nearly blue tinge appearing around his lips, his closed eyes surrounded by rapidly increasing dark rings. His hair was dirty and moist, partly shaven away to enable the stitching. He looked very poorly.

Hutch bend over him and gently pushed a lost curl aside. Very softly he spoke to his sleeping partner.

“Hey buddy. If you want the lady’s attention you don’t need to do this, you hear? Just ask next time.” He touched Starsky’s hand which rested on the sheets and which was cold. Hutch took another blanket from a chair in the corner and covered him with it. “Here you go, Starsk. You sleep now, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“He’s so pale,” Nancy whispered as her fingers ran across Starsky’s unharmed cheek. Her voice was so thin that Hutch knew she could burst out in tears any second. He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her outside. All colour had drained from her face and all of sudden it struck Hutch how tired she looked, how beat she seemed.

“It’s all my fault!” Nancy burst out the second the door fell shut behind them, “It’s all because of me. If I hadn’t contacted you, this would never have happened to him.”

“Nancy!” Hutch said sternly and closed his slender hands around her upper arms, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t do this to yourself. It’s NOT your fault. Vaughn hit Starsky, not you. This is what happens with idiots like him, people who lose perspective. To him, it’s Vaughn and Nancy, or no one. NO ONE can have you if he can’t. And he’s taking that out on every one who crosses him. Starsky was in his way.”

“But you…! You are also in his way!”

Hutch nodded, letting his blue eyes sink into hers. “Yes. I’m in his way too. I know how he thinks, Nance. He had to get rid of Starsky first in order to get to me. He won’t be able to take out two at the same time.”

“But… how did he get in my home? And how did he find Starsky’s place?”

“I don’t know,” Hutch answered grimly. “But I will find out.” He ran his thumb across her cheek and brushed the tears away. “Don’t blame yourself for something that’s totally beyond your control, Nancy. I’m going to think of something. We’re going to get him, I promise. It might take a while, but he won’t get away with this.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Nancy almost pouted like a little girl, which made Hutch wrap his arms around her in a warm embrace.

“You’re not going home. You’re staying at my place, we’re going to make sure no one knows you’re at my place. If I can’t be at home, you don’t need to be afraid. My place is your safe house, just as long as it takes till we get him.” He smelled her hair, her light perfume, felt her tensed body coming to rest in his embrace and a rush of anger bubbled up in the usually so gentle Hutchinson.

He was going to pay for this.

Of that he was sure.

Chapter 9.

Nancy was asleep in Hutch’s arms. She’d settled for the couch, but Hutch refused and send her to his own bed. Almost naturally she’d curled up against him as he perched on the bedside and asked if he could lay down next to her, if he wanted to hold her. For a while they lay there, coming to rest near each other, softly talking the events of the evening out of their system. Not before long Nancy, who was exhausted, was succumbed to sleep. Hutch heard her breathing go calm and steady and knew she was asleep.

He himself couldn’t sleep with the images of Starsky in the hospital and Nancy’s tears wreathing themselves through his thoughts.

Dobey had an APB out, but Hutch wasn’t going to wait for Vaughn’s arrest. He knew the entire force would be on their best, all trying to help, all keeping their eyes open for Vaughn. But fact was that Hutch didn’t care for protocol at times like this. He was going to track him down and see to it that justice was served.

But how?

Dobey would have Vaughn’s house under surveillance, of that he was sure. The place would have been checked out, officers on the street would look out for the suspect. Hutch had told Dobey about the photos, so the captain would have a team following the leads to photography, dark room equipment and lock smiths.

Vaughn was an intelligent man. He wouldn’t be near his house, Hutch knew that. In the darkness Nancy stirred, a few confused words rolling muffled from her lips. A frightened Noooo followed.

“Ssshhh,” he hushed her and rocked her softly. “Shhhh, it’s alright.” In her sleep, Nancy stirred as if she was fighting off the enemy in her dream. “Ssshhh, Nancy. It’s alright. You’re safe here.”

Nancy’s nightmare induced struggle didn’t last long – Hutch’s warmth made her feel safe and she relaxed. It took a long time before Hutch fell asleep, holding her, burying his face in her short hair.

Hutch woke early the next morning. Nancy was still sound asleep, in an old shirt of his, with her back turned to him. After an affectionate feather light touch he slipped out of bed, quietly so she wouldn’t wake up. He could feel her warmth under his fingers. He took a shower, mean while thinking of what he was going to do. First, he was going to see how Starsky was. Second, he was going to go to the station and find out what Dobey’s come up with. Third, he wanted to go to Nancy’s place. He’d been going over the events in Nancy’s kitchen: how could he have gotten to her place so quickly, how could he have come in without them noticing? He wanted to investigate the inner court a little better. And fourth: he was going to find, arrest and book Will Vaughn. Today.

He made himself breakfast, his mind on Starsky who’d probably would have settled for the can of cherry coke and the lasagne in his fridge. Again he felt the cold hand of fear, mixed with anger grabbing him. What if Starsky wouldn’t remember? What if Starsky wouldn’t come through as well as the doctor thought he would? She hadn’t been cautious for nothing, scarce on information.

He sighed, shaking off the uneasy feeling and prepared breakfast for Nancy. He read the newspaper, found to his relief no mention of the attack on his partner and got ready for work. He went into the bedroom with coffee.

“Nancy,” he said, softly shaking her shoulder, “Nancy, wake up. I have to go.”

It seemed to take ages for her to wake up. Eyes thick with sleep and dull with not understanding, she woke up.

“Come on, girl. Wake up, we’ve got to talk,” he said and smiled encouragingly. “You’ve slept well, I take it?”

She pushed herself up on one elbow, looking at him a bit dishevelled.

“Nancy, what’s wrong?” With growing concern he looked at her and touched her forehead with the back of his hand. She was hot. “Nancy?”

“Hutch? I… I don’t feel well…” Her voice sounded pinched, her face turned white under the Detective’s eyes. She sat up against the head board, slightly swaying, wiping her forehead where beads of sweat appeared.

“You’re running a temperature,” Hutch concluded worriedly. “Get down, I’ll throw the coffee away and get you some water and juice.” She didn’t object and crawled back again. Blast, Hutch thought, that’s just what I need.

He came back with something to drink and some aspirins.

“Here you go, girl. Take this.”

With glistening eyes she accepted the glass and swallowed two aspirins. But she was better addressable. “Damn,” she croaked, very hoarsely, “It’s laryngitis.”

“Come again?”

“’ve had it before,” she whispered, pressing her hand around her sore throat. “It comes when I’m stressed.”

“You had plenty of that yesterday. Anything I can get you?”

“I’ve got medicine…” Nancy swallowed with obvious difficulty, “for this. But it’s at home.” She shook her head, not wanting Hutch to leave. “I’ll manage… with the aspirin.”

“Nance, as much as I hate to leave you, I’ve got to go. See Starsky, go to the station, find Vaughn.” He took her hand in his. “D’you think you can manage without me?”

“Yeah, sure.” A pause as it was clearly hurting to speak. “Can I use your phone? Call in sick?”

Hutch thought that over for a minute. “You know what? I’ll stop by the library and deliver the message myself. Tell them we were in yesterday evening and let them know you’re alright. It’s better if you don’t use my phone, no one should know you’re here. If I’ll call, I’ll let the phone ring twice, hang up, count to ten and ring again. Then you’ll know it’s me.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll make sure everything is closed.”

“How can I-“ Nancy coughed and swallowed painfully, “reach you?”

“Call the station. The number is next to the phone.” He touched her burning cheeks. “If there’s anything, ANYTHING – call. Call Dobey, if necessary, I’ll write his number down as well.”

“Thanks, Hutch.” She sank deeper into the pillows. “I guess I better try to sleep this one out.”

“Sweet dreams,” the blond said with a warm smile and rose. He did as promised, leaving the phone numbers and an extra key to the front door next to the phone, checked and locked the windows and the front door.

Starsky looked at him with watery eyes.

“Starsk? How are you?”

A flash of incomprehension came over the damaged face. He was clearly confused, spoke slowly, with obvious difficulty. “Err… I… you…” His eyes flew through the dusky room, as if he was trying to find answers there. It only took Hutch seconds to grasp what it was that he saw. God – he doesn’t know me!

“It’s me, Hutch. Starsky? It’s me. Hutch.”

The dark-haired officer blinked, his blue eyes revealing his inner turmoil. “I… I know… I know you.”

“Sure you do.” Hutch looked at his friend, hurt beyond belief by the lack of recognition. “But you don’t remember me very well right now. Your head’s a bit messed up, buddy.”

Starsky was, comfortably surrounded by soft pillows, lying in a semi-darkened room. Light was very hard on his hurting head and the blinds were down. Nevertheless Hutch saw enough in the dim light coming from the corridor. Starsky was confused. And frightened.

“I don’t… don’t remember much…” His left hand went up and powerlessly touched his hair. Hutch wanted to grab his hand, press it, tell him he needn’t be afraid. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t – unable to shove the veil of confusion aside.

“I know. We’re partners at work, you and me.”

“…You… We…. I feel sick. My head hurts.” He talked so softly and so slurred that Hutch had to listen carefully to hear it.

“I know you do. You just take it easy.”

Starsky’s eyelids began to droop.

Please, Starsk. Stay with me. Know me. Remember me, the tall man thought with pain in his heart. He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he asked,

“Starsk – do you remember anything? Anything at all?”

The answer came after a long silence. The man in the bed was very still, not in the mood for talking and unable to put the pieces in his head to a fitting puzzle. “No.”

“You better get some sleep, buddy. You look like shit. I’ll be back later. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“… won’t…” There was nothing there that sounded like Starsky.

“Don’t worry, Starsk. The doctor assured me you’ll be fine, but it just needs some time.” If only I believed that myself, he thought. He hoped his words would comfort his partner, would bring some peace to his troubled mind.

No answer.

Hutch left quietly, Starsky was asleep before the sound of Hutch’s footsteps had died.

Chapter 10.

Dobey had everything covered. The APB was out, the entire force knew about the attack and everyone was sharp, hoping to see the suspect’s face in traffic, in the crowd, in shopping public… Each officer was on stand by.

Vaughn’s house had been searched – he had a dark room where he developed and processed the photos he had taken. The cameras he used were in that room, highly sophisticated material, and all was confiscated by the police. A team was watching the house, waiting for Vaughn to show, so he could be arrested. But so far he hadn’t shown himself.

And Hutch knew he wasn’t going to.

He went to Vaughn’s house. For a while he sat in his car, parked in a small alley out of sight, and thought about what to do. There was something missing. Hutch couldn’t tell exactly what, but he wanted to see Vaughn’s house with his own eyes. He exited the car and made contact with Farnham, one of the officers on stake-out, and told him he wanted to get in. Farnham let him in through the backdoor and closed it behind him.

Slowly Hutch went through the house. It was small, normally decorated, with fairly new furniture. One wall was completely covered with books, all the way from the front to the rear of the house. A quick estimate convinced Hutch there must be at least six thousands books there. A well-read man, he thought, and fairly organised. Books categorised, alphabetised… kitchen neat and clean…

He went upstairs. Bedroom, closets with clothes, much like his own. Bathroom, like the toilet downstairs, clean, deprived of the photographic equipment that had been there. Second bedroom, more books. A desk with correspondence, folders and invoices and bills.

I’m missing something here. You’re obsessed with her, you prick. Then where are all the photos you’ve taken from her? The clothes you stole from her, the pantyhose you’ve undoubtedly taken? Where are all the souvenirs you’ve nicked? Where are they, the artefacts that are so important for you?

God, how much he missed Starsky right now! Even though he knew chances of Vaughn appearing here were negligible, he felt exposed and alone.

What would you do, Gordo? What would you come up with?

“Search the place, Hutch. Thoroughly. Prove your right by showing you’re not wrong.” It was as if Starsky stood behind him and told him what to do. It was such an odd feeling, working as half of a whole. Hutch had to shake his head to get the eeriness away.

Methodically he went through every possible place in Vaughn’s house. Nothing. There was nothing that connected him to Nancy Kowalski, apart from his library card which was in the top drawer of the desk, together with other cards. Two hours later Hutch was convinced Vaughn had another place where he was staying. There HAD to be a place where he could be alone with the object of his affection.

He phoned home. As agreed he let it ring twice, broke the connection, counted to ten and rang again. He heard Nancy answer the phone, but he could hardly make out what she said. Her voice was so faint and stressed that he could tell how bad she was feeling.

“Nance, you sound awful. I’ll come home and get you a doctor.”

She whispered a ‘no’ but Hutch had already decided. There wasn’t much he could do here and he needed time to think. Maybe Dobey would find more leads. He left the house the way he had come in, through the backdoor, silent as a shadow, a thumbs up to the team on stake-out.

Images of Starsky came back as soon as he started his car and headed for home. He called captain Dobey.

“Where have you been, Hutchinson?” Dobey’s voice was gruff.

“Investigating Vaughn’s house. The man’s a school example of a tidy place and an organised character.”

“So you found nothing?”

“Nothing.” Hutch didn’t share his thoughts about a secret, hidden place. “Any news on Starsk?”

“I’ve been to see him but he was asleep. No news.” Suddenly Dobey burst out in a curse. “Damn! One of my best men in the hospital and not a clue as to the whereabouts of the suspect.” He let out a deep grunt. “And very little news on Starsky’s recovery.”

“He’s tough, cap. He’ll pull through.”

“Yeah, I know. But just how badly damaged is that head of his, Hutch?”

So he knows, Hutch realised.

“How’s Miss Kowalski holding out?” Dobey knew she was at Hutch’s.

“Not all that well,” Hutch informed him, remembering her difficult whispering. “She woke up with laryngitis. She was running a temperature when I left. She said she didn’t need a doctor but… ” A thought crossed his mind. “I’ll stop by her place and get her her medication. Apparently she’s had this before and it reappears when she’s under stress.”

“Alright, Hutch. Keep in touch.” And Dobey broke the connection.

Hutch had the key to Nancy’s apartment still in his pocket. He opened the door and was overcome by a flash back – his partner and Nancy and him coming back from the restaurant, their spirits high, their moods good. That was when Vaughn was a far away threat, still a man they would apprehend the next day and who would have to face his sentence about the woman he’d been stalking.

Hutch picked up the faint smell of Nancy’s perfume and the sweet scent of the melon that was still on the kitchen table. There was something strange about the place. He couldn’t tell what. He stood still in the doorframe.

Nothing.

He shook his head, a bit annoyed with himself. This entire thing was getting on his nerves and if he didn’t watch it, he’d let it get the better of him.

Medicine, where did Nancy say it was? Bathroom, a bathroom cabinet, most likely. Hutch opened the door to the little bathroom. Brightly coloured red and white tiles surrounded the wash basin and a shower booth. A basket held dirty laundry, there were red, yellow and blue towels and toiletries in a small cupboard. Above the wash basin was a small medicine cabinet, where Hutch found what Nancy needed. He read the label on the package and stashed it in his pocket.

And again he felt the eeriness he had experienced when he had come in.

He stood in the hallway, hand in his pocket to grab his keys… and again the hair in the back of his neck stood on end.

Words from Nancy came back. I feel so… watched. As if he sees my every move.

A bit itchy Hutch went to the living room. What was it? Was there anything different compared to yesterday?

Nothing.

He left the living room and opened the door to Nancy’s bedroom a little further, as it had been slightly ajar.

Hutch took a few steps further into Nancy’s bedroom. The bedroom was tastefully decorated with reproductions of Monet. The bed was made, a blue bedspread covering it. On the opposite side of the bed stood a dressing table with a large mirror. Pictures and postcards were stuck behind the edge of the mirror. To it’s right stood a large closet, which was open. It was filled with clothes.

He let his eyes go over the photos and the cards. They were the usual snapshots and cards of friends. On the dressing table toiletries and the usual bric-a-brac that can be found anywhere.

“Watch out, Hutch. Get in. You’re so close.”

Starsky voice, so close. As if he was standing behind him and looked over his shoulder.

He opened the door of the closet and let his fingers run over the soft fabric of the clothes that hung there. What struck him was that the clothes were organised by colour. Black left, then blue, some green things, a row of white shirts and a number of bright red clothes on the right. It was not Nancy’s way. Vaughn had been in here. Vaughn had done this, he knew for certain.

Hutch moved the clothes aside, leant forward to study the backboard and then it hit him - three things in the same moment.

The lights. The lights were off. When they had left, they had left the lights on.

A sound. He heard a soft muffled sound, so close that he had the feeling it was right next to him.

Holes. His sharp vision noticed a few tiny holes, at various places, in the back board of the closet.

“Watch your back, buddy.” Starsky, again so close. “I’m with you.”

He hooked his fingers in the holes – perfect fit- and pushed. The back board came lose without resistance. Hutch pushed the board aside and stepped into the room that was now revealed.

Pictures of Nancy, close-ups, distant shots, photos of Nancy asleep, in the shower, in the kitchen, in the living room, eating, reading, writing, on the phone…

A huge portrait of her was in the middle of the room, surrounded by candles and rosaries. Nancy was every where in the room.

Hutch had found it.

Vaughn’s sanctuary.

Chapter 11.

“Hutch! Watch out! He’s here!”

Hutch swivelled round, his arm stretched out protectively. There he was. In a flash he recognised him from the photo he’d studied closely. Vaughn! Light blue eyes, dark blond hair, small moustache, tall, sporty, athletic – and dangerous as hell. A sharp steel blade cut through Hutch’s skin, warm blood splattered out.

“Noooo!” Vaughn screamed. “You have NO right to be here.”

Again he lashed out with the knife but Hutch jumped back.

“Hold it, Vaughn. You’ve got no chance. Drop the knife.”

“I’m calling the shots here,” Vaughn screamed, spittle flying through the air. “YOU and that curly head had to mess up everything. Our lives were perfect the way they were.”

Hutch staggered back. His fingers found the Magnum in the holster.

“Don’t touch the gun! I’ll cut you - I swear I’ll cut you.” Panic made Vaughn’s voice tremble. He took a step toward Hutch, swung the knife effortlessly through the air and backed away again.

“You’ve got nothing. Nancy Kowalski is NOTHING to you.” Hutch’s voice was cold as ice.

“Shut up!” An uncontrolled cry rolled from Vaughn’s lips.

“She’s sick. You hear me, Vaughn? She’s sick – because of you. Because you’ve made her sick, with your obsessive behaviour. She doesn’t love you. You smother her and that made her sick.”

“She doesn’t love you. She doesn’t even like you. She tolerated your attention because she felt sorry for you!” Hutch pushed on. If Vaughn could let his guard down for just a few seconds, he could master him, he knew. He was on thin ice, but he decided to press on. He threw in a lie, making sure it was convincing.

“You know where she is now? Do you? She’s safe, waiting for me. Because she loves me. ME.”

“Nooooo!” Vaughn screamed hysterically and lunged forward. Hutch jumped sideways and threw his weight fully against his attacker. The knife flew out of Vaughn’s hand, Hutch could hear it bouncing away. They tumbled over the floor, rolled over and over, until Vaughn smacked his head against the granite threshold.

Vaughn’s body went lax. He wasn’t unconscious, but very groggy. His eyes rolled in their sockets. Quickly Hutch rolled on top, turned Vaughn over, whipped the cuffs out and cuffed him to the central heating radiator. Then he grabbed him by his collar.

“Why my partner?”

Vaughn whimpered. A few drops of blood were coming from the back of his head.

“Tell me, goddamned or I’ll throttle you here and now!”

The man shook his head a little, as far as he was able to under Hutch’s vice grip. His words tumbled out as he spoke, fast, scared now that the roles were reversed.

“First him, then you. I couldn’t take you out without taking him out first. Or the other way around. He thinks he’s untouchable but that red Ford of his sticks out like a sore finger. It was a piece of cake to follow him.”

“You bastard,” Hutch spat, suddenly very tired and slightly dizzy. The pain in his arm was bearable but he knew he was losing blood rapidly. His sleeve was getting soaked alarmingly fast. Had Vaughn cut an artery?

“No one can have her. Nancy belongs to me. I know it. I’ve seen it in the stars, the first moment I laid eyes on her. She loves me, Detective. She loves me. She LOVES me.”

Hutch felt sick with disgust. The pleading look in Vaughn’s eyes and the begging tone of his words were revolting, even more than his determination to convince Hutch that Nancy was his. The detective stood up and staggered dizzily through the apartment, which was so unlike Vaughn’s other house that it dawned on Hutch that this WAS somebody else’s place.

“Get out Hutch. You need help.” Starsky. Good old Starsky. “You need a phone. Go outside. Remember Nancy told you there was a pay phone there. Go Hutch.”

A phone, he needed a phone. Starsky guided him to a phone, he knew it.

He left a bloody trail where ever he went. His mouth felt peculiarly dry. The world began to move awkwardly as he hurried outside, nearly falling down the stairs. Where were people when you needed them?

How he made it to the pay phone, he didn’t know. He dialled the alarm number, said a few words and then the world was lost on him.

Chapter 12.

“He murdered Nancy’s neighbour Mr Stowe. We’ve identified a body that was found three months ago in the river, whom no one had reported missing. The coroner said he’d drowned and there was alcohol in his blood, so no one even suspected foul play. An old man, alone, not missed by anyone – Vaughn used his house to spy on Miss Kowalski. The moment she left, he went inside. He made hundreds of photos from her and he could, simply because he was in her house.” Dobey said. “He had a hi-tech miniscule camera and used that to follow her around in her house.”

“Some character,” Huggy said, wrinkling his nose in dismay and scratched under his hat. “How did you find that sanctuary, Hutch?”

“Coincidence. I heard something, I saw those holes… I pushed, the board came lose – well you know the rest.”

Hutch sat, perched on Starsky’s bed, with his arm in a sling. The ordeal was over, his blood amount restored to normal with the aid of a blood transfusion and 24 hours rest.

“Coincidence my ass.” Huggy rolled his eyes. “Matter of sharp thinking, Mr Modesty.”

“It was good police work.” Dobey nodded contently. “The guy is stark raving mad.”

“STALK raving mad, you mean,” Huggy said with conviction.

“Anyway – well done, Hutch. And that without Starsky by your side.”

But he was there. I wasn’t on this by myself and he did help me, Hutch thought. He remembered vividly how he had sensed Starsky helping him, warning him, guiding him through the search and the fight. As close and alert as if he was right beside him, in the flesh.

He smiled warmly to his partner, who grinned back.

Starsky, in bed, was still lying, too dizzy to sit upright, but with a spark in his eyes that proved his was on his way back. It was obvious he wasn’t much good yet, but he showed a lot more liveliness than a couple of days back.

“Where’s Nancy?”

“At home, still recovering from laryngitis. But she’s fine. Relieved it’s over. Her house is safe - lab guys have been going over the place. They’ve collected everything connected to Vaughn as evidence. Plus he’s charged with murder one. He’ll be put away for a long time.”

“I’m going home,” Dobey announced, and turned to Huggy. “Need a ride, Huggy?”

“No thank you, captain. I’ve got a date who awaits me in her carriage.” Huggy’s expression made the people in the room laugh. “As a matter of fact – she’d be outside by now. I’m off as well.”

The two stood up, wished Starsky a speedy recovery and nodded to Hutch, who had already been released and was a visitor, just like them.

“Some couple we are,” Hutch said. “Look at us. If we’re not in the station, we’re either fighting or recovering.”

Starsky just smiled wanly.

“You know,” he said after a while, “when I woke up the first time, I couldn’t remember anything.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

“It was....” Starsky swallowed. “It was frightening. I couldn’t remember anything. Anything. You were here, weren’t you? I don’t recall it all that well, that first day.”

“I was, yeah.”

“I think I saw you. I knew I knew you. But by God I didn’t know who you were.”

“Starsk…”

“The doctor told me it would come back. I tried to remember who you were, In my waking moments, I racked my brains about you.”

Hutch patted Starsky’s leg. “Don’t exert yourself, buddy. Give that head of yours a little rest.”

“I dreamt about you. You were in serious danger. I think I warned you. A nurse woke me up, said I was having a nightmare.”

Hutch’s eyes went from Starsky’s face to his own hands, to the wall, the post cards, the flowers on the bedside table and back to his friend’s eyes. Again he heard Starsky’s words in his head and thought of his presence in the room when he was about to find Vaughn.

“You think I’m nuts, ‘ey Hutch?”

Oh buddy, if only you knew. “No. Not at all. Go on.”

Tiredly Starsky rubbed his eyes. “You want more? You were never out my mind. When I woke up, I remembered you. I was… worried… illogical, irrational… but I was. I mentioned your name to a nurse. She told me you were in hospital, said something about an injury at work.”

“And here comes the part where you tell me you were being obstinate until you’d seen me?”

“No.” Starsky took a deep breath. “She said she didn’t know how you were.”

“And?”

“And I knew you were Hutch and told her you were going to be fine. I knew it.”

Neither man spoke. There were no more words that needed to be said. Starsky was tired, apparently still easily worn out by too much hassle and people in his room. Hutch didn’t know about Starsky, but he himself found pleasure in just sitting there, in quiet harmony, in the presence of his friend.

Slowly, Starsky’s eyelids closed. He fell asleep, calmly and peacefully this time.

Hutch sat for a long time at Starsky’s side. There was no reason to stay but then again, there was no reason to leave either.

They’d been apart, but fact was, they had never really been apart.

Hutch smiled. One more case solved. By both of them.

Elsa, August 2004