Eagle’s Flight
Chapter Five
We weren’t on the road for more than twenty minutes before my car started acting up—again. We went back and got the Torino, and Starsky followed me to the garage to drop my car off, hoping Merle could coax at least a few more months of life out of it. The rest of the day was uneventful, spent mostly tracking down leads on the new case. It was another homicide—this time, the victim was an unidentified male of around fifty, most likely one of the city’s hundreds of homeless people.
Starsky remained unnaturally quiet, even pensive, and while he did what was expected of him, he always seemed to be a half-second behind the game. I’d cover for him, watch out for him, but it killed me to see Starsky this way. Quiet, placid, and brooding were just not words you associated with him. But worse than any of those, was his fear. It was a silent thing, running just below the surface, but it was there. Not that it kept him from functioning, but something inside of him was fading away—dying, even—because of it, strangling that certain something that made Starsky…well, Starsky.
Every now and then, I’d catch him gazing off into space, and see it cloud his eyes. Anybody who didn’t know us would probably say I was crazy, reading much too much into things. But I knew the fear was there, and I’d do anything I could to take it away.
I wanted my partner back. And I just had this feeling that if something didn’t happen soon...
We clocked out while we were on the road. I’d timed our day so the last lead we had to follow up on—one who just happened to live in Venice—would be at the end of day, putting us near the beach. I’d sprung for dinner—tacos from the only edible Mexican joint in the area—and I convinced Starsky to eat at the park instead of in the car or at my place. He sighed, making sure I knew he was humoring me, and parked near one of my favorite stretches of beach to jog on.
There was a cool breeze coming in off the ocean, and most of the beach-goers had already left for the night. Eating tacos on a park bench with a stiff breeze blowing in your face is a challenge if nothing else, and I would have given up if I hadn’t had a plan.
Starsky managed better than I did, practically inhaling his dinner, which was good, since his appetite hadn’t consistently returned. I could tell by the way his clothes hung on him that he’d lost some weight over the last month.
The breeze picked up enough for me to lose some of the cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes from my taco, which Starsky surveyed with the smirk he sometimes gets. My paper napkin was long gone, too. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”
He just rolled his eyes and chuckled, watching the seagulls that had begun to gather nearby, waiting for the opportunity to get a little closer and share my dinner. After a few more bites, I finally gave up and offered the rest of my meal to Starsky. When he declined, I flung it away, and we watched as the birds fought over it. “That ought to give them heartburn.”
“Yeah, let’s make sure we don’t walk under them when we leave.”
I hadn’t thought of that. I stood and stretched, then stuffed my hands in my pockets and wandered down closer to the water. I waited a moment for him to join me, and when he didn’t, I turned back and nodded, gesturing for him to join me.
He stood, but shook his head. “I should probably get going since we’ve got to work tomorrow.”
“Oh, come on, Starsk, brisk breeze, fresh salt air, nice sunset—perfect for a quick walk down the beach. Clears a man’s mind. Gives him new perspective¾”
“Puts hair on his chest and gives him cleaner, fresher breath. Hutch, it’s getting cold out here.”
“Well, if you’d get your butt in gear, you’d get your blood flowing and you wouldn’t be cold.”
“Or if I got in the car, I could turn on the heater.”
Well, when words don’t convince him, there’s always staring. Starsky stared back at me for a moment before sighing and moving toward me. “Fine. But if I get pneumonia, I’m calling in sick tomorrow, and you can run all over the city by yourself.”
“Gripe, gripe, gripe.”
He flipped up the collar of his jacket and then pulled his head down into whatever warmth it offered. Still, he fell in step with me as we made our way down the beach. We walked farther than we might normally have because I kept hoping that, given enough time and with no distractions, maybe he’d open up. For someone who typically doesn’t know when to shut up, Starsky could certainly clam up.
After what seemed like miles of silence, I finally decided to push. “Starsk, look, I know what happen has been eating you up inside¾”
“Hutch, I’m¾”
I stopped and pulled him back when he didn’t. “Don’t tell me you’re ‘fine,’ because you’re not, Starsk.”
His eyes flashed in anger for a second. “Yes, I am. I don’t know what you want.”
“I want you to talk to me. You can’t keep this bottled up in¾”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Hutch, what do you want me to say?”
“It’s not what I want, it’s what you¾” I stopped, tried to slow down. “Tell me again what happened. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“You were there when I gave my statement in the hospital. You already heard it all. I don’t see what rehashing this is going to accomplish. What am I supposed to say?”
I exhaled and looked away, my anger flaring at his placidness. “Anything. Say anything! Tell me that you’re angry, that you’re scared. Tell me how much it burns you that those nuts tried to kill you. How they were going to hack you to pieces.” My voice began to escalate, but I couldn’t stop it and was past caring. I had my hands on his arms now, trying to get a reaction out of him besides his mild irritation at my pushing. “Tell me how it shook you to your core that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get away! Tell me how much you hated being a victim, Starsk! Tell me how afraid you were that you were going to die, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it!”
“All right!” His arms flashed out and shoved my hands away. “Is that what you want to hear? That I’m angry? That I was afraid? Fine! I’m mad, Hutch! No, I’m past mad. I’d like to see them all fry. I’d like to be the one that flips the switch on Marcus! Is that what you want to hear? That I’m angry? That I was scared to death?”
“And you still are.” The quietness of my voice stopped him as nothing else could. He looked at me steadily, the heat still burning in his eyes. Every muscle was taut, like he was ready to explode. But after a minute his breathing became slow and quiet. “Starsky, you know that we got them all. You know that they’re in lockup with twenty-four-hour surveillance. They can’t get to you now.”
“I know that.”
“Then, what is it?” Considering everything we’d been through, every warped and twisted person we’d encountered, every conceivable horror we’d faced, I’d never seen Starsky withdraw into himself like this. And it scared me.
“Hutch, I…” He was quiet for a long time before he finally shook his head, deflating. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, really, I do, buddy. It’s just that I can’t…I just need…It’s just that I’m…”
I waited, my breath caught in my throat. Come on, I know this is killing you. Just don’t shut down. Don’t shut me out. “Starsk, there’s…there’s something inside you—something good, something…important—that’s slipping away, and it’s like you don’t care. You’re just letting it go. I can’t do that. I can’t let go. I’m afraid if I do, you won’t get it back.”
Even as it came out of my mouth, I knew it probably didn’t make a whole lot of sense. I didn’t know how else to explain it. Starsky looked at me for a moment before he finally nodded and took a few steps back the way we came. “Do you want a ride home?”
Ah, Starsk. “No, you go on, I think I’m going to walk a while longer.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you in the morning.”
I watched him walk away, wondering how much longer he could hold up before it broke him. He didn’t get too far before he stopped and turned back toward me. “Hutch? Don’t let go.”
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The next morning, I was heading for the shower when the phone rang. The last person I expected to hear from at six o’clock on a Sunday morning was Terry. A chill ran right through me when she breathlessly started off by saying, “Hutch, there’s something you need to know.”
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I was rinsing out my coffee cup when he burst into the apartment. Burst in, not just walked in. He fairly bounced. There was energy in every movement, and his eyes danced when they met mine.
My partner was back.
“C’mon, Blintz, get a move on, we got crimes to solve, snitches to roust, whippos to bust¾”
“Hands to shake and babies to kiss—yeah, yeah.” I kept my voice nonchalant, but I really wanted to shout. I looked at him expectantly, trying not to burst as well while I waited for him to tell me what I already knew. He looked back at me, mirroring my bland expression, his eyebrows raised. I nearly yelled in exasperation. “So?”
“So, what?”
“So, isn’t there anything you want to tell me?”
Starsky looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “No. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
I sighed. I should be nominated for sainthood. “I got a call from Terry this morning.”
“Yeah? What’d she have to say?” He was bounding around the room now, gathering up my shoes, jacket, and gun.
I gave him a look when he finally stood still long enough to meet my eyes. “Wouldn’t the better question have been why was your girlfriend was calling me?”
I’m sure I saw a flash of something run across his face. Now he knew that I knew, but he wasn’t going to give in. “Probably, but I happen to know that the lady is positively crazy about me, and that her calling you was probably out of sympathy. She does work with the mentally handicapped, you know.”
Good comeback. Still… I sat down on the couch and pulled on the shoes he thrust into my hands. “No, funny man, she called me to say that she’d heard from Tamara and¾”
“And Tamara’s finally over the trauma of going out with you.”
“¾and Tamara said that someone broke into the grounds at UCLA last night.”
“Yeah? Probably just some college kids pulling a prank. What’d they do, drill peepholes in the sorority house showers?”
“No, actually, it was a B&E at the aviary.”
“Huh. And they don’t think it was some prank?”
“No, apparently, it was quite a professional job. Whoever did it must have known what they were doing, because there’s no sign of forced entry, no fingerprints. The weird thing though, is that nothing was taken. Except…”
“Hmm?” He was already heading toward the door, supposedly eager to start the day.
“Except the only thing missing was that eagle, Nimrod. You know—the one who was so hurt? His cage door was open and he was nowhere to be found.”
Starsky stopped with his hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn to face me. “They couldn’t find him?”
“No. They searched the aviary, the campus, and the surrounding area for about a ten miles radius—he was gone. Nothing left in his aviary…but a feather.”
My partner was silent for a moment before he responded in a low voice. “Some things weren’t meant to be caged.”
When he turned and his gaze met mine, I knew the eagle had remembered how to fly.
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