Chapter Eight

 

Two nights later, Hutch was getting ready to leave when he noticed Starsky putting on his navy blue parka.  “Where you going?” he asked, curious.

 

“With you.”

 

“No, you’re not.”

 

“Yes, I am,” Starsky stated.

 

“You don’t have an okay from the doctor to go back to work.  You don’t even see him for a couple more days.”

 

Starsky shrugged and headed to the door.  “You’ve been saying that nothing’s happenin’, so there shouldn’t be any problem with me riding around in the car with you.  I know some new word games,” he offered eagerly.

 

“Starsk, I don’t need any word games.  Jackson will have my hide if I let you ride along.”

 

“I’ll duck if he shows up.”

 

Aware that he wasn’t going to change his stubborn partner’s mind, Hutch gave in reluctantly, hoping to extract a promise from Starsky in return.  “If anything happens, you promise to stay in the car?”

 

“Scout’s honor,” Starsky said.

 

“You weren’t in the Scouts,” Hutch pointed out.

 

“You were in the Sea Scouts, and we’re practically living together, so that’s close enough,” Starsky reasoned, shrugging his shoulders.  Hoping to prove that he didn’t intend to get into any possible action, he’d purposely left his gun and holster locked up in his bedroom.  “Look, I won’t even take my gun.”  He opened his jacket for Hutch to see the missing holster.  “Nothing’s going to happen, besides, I just wanna get outta here for a little while.”  Starsky looked at Hutch, pleading, the tone of his voice instinctively changing to the little boy he knew Hutch couldn’t resist.

 

“Get going,” Hutch said, pushing his partner toward the door.  He hit the light switch and pulled the door closed behind them.

 

˜ ™

 

“I’m getting bored, Hutch.  Is this really all you’ve been doing every night?”

 

“You know this is all I’ve been doing,” Hutch replied, dousing the lights and pulling to a stop across the street from Garfield Liquors.  It was the second time that night they’d made their rounds.  Garfield’s was on the edge of the warehouse and light industrial district and was primarily frequented by second and third shift workers.  The employees were now either on their way home or working, and the streets were quiet.

 

Starsky sat in his seat rubbing his arm, sorry that he’d forgotten to grab the sling before he’d left.  He was occupying his time by watching the moon’s shadows play against the building.  “Hutch,” he whispered suddenly.  “I think I see some movement down that alley.”  Starsky pointed ahead and to the right.  “I could have sworn I saw a person’s shadow.”

 

Having learned long ago to trust his partner’s instincts, Hutch reached for the door handle.  “You stay here.”

 

“Hutch—”

 

“I don’t have time for this, Starsk.  You promised.  Besides, I don’t need to worry about you—”

 

“Go,” Starsky said.  “But, if you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m coming after you.”

 

“If I’m not back, you call for back-up and stay put.”

 

Hutch exited the car and stealthily moved toward the building to his right.  Gun drawn, he headed toward the alley.     

 

Starsky blinked repeatedly, his eyes tired and strained from staring into the dark.  The moonlight was playing games with him, sending shadows in every direction.  Unable to read his watch, Starsky calculated that at least eight minutes had passed.  He reached for the radio and called for back-up.  Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he opened the car door and headed toward the alley.

 

˜ ™

 

Hutch entered the alley using only the moonlight to guide his way.  It was a long, narrow alley filled with litter, broken bottles, boxes, and trash bins.  Plenty of places to hide, Hutch thought.  He moved slowly down the alley, body taut against the brick walls.  Seeing nothing unusual, Hutch increased his pace.  He was certain Starsky had seen someone, the only question was whether it was one of the suspects, or just a bum heading for the protective doorway of a building.  Crouching slightly, gun drawn and ready, he moved from trash bin to box and back again, providing himself as much coverage as possible.  He stopped to catch his breath and let his eyes adjust to the darkening alley, the moon now hidden by clouds.  He froze as he heard the scuffling of feet farther ahead.  He stepped out from behind the overflowing trash bin and moved past the back door of an abandoned warehouse.  It was in that instant he felt a hard blow to the back of his head and, losing consciousness, fell to the dirty ground.

 

A tall, dark-haired man stepped out of the shadows and, pocketing Hutch’s gun, grabbed him under the arms and dragged him into the building.  He returned to the door and glancing down the alley, smirked when he saw no one coming.  He shut the door and locked it.

 

˜ ™

 

Starsky stopped at the entrance to the alley.  He couldn’t hear anything.  He moved ahead slowly, apprehension growing in the pit of his stomach.  He was waiting for Hutch to call or the sound of his returning footsteps.  Hutch knows I’d never stay in that car, even if I did promise.  If he’s in trouble, promises don’t count.  Starsky thought as he waited, his vision and hearing attuned to the deafening silence of the alley.  Deciding he couldn’t wait any longer, he moved between the darkening shadows. 

 

Hearing a noise, he reached for his gun.  Damn!  I left it behind.  He had done so to persuade his partner into letting him come, and now he regretted it.  Moving stealthily, he slid into the dark shadows of a doorway and strained to see what was ahead.  He continued forward and stopped suddenly at the sound of someone humming softly.  Hutch?

 

Starsky continued moving forward cautiously, not willing to scare away whoever was there.  The clouds covering the moon drifted on, leaving the moon’s light to once again shine on the alley.  Ahead, Starsky saw the leg of a man sticking out into the alley, the man resting on the bottom step of a stoop leading into one of the abandoned buildings.  Starsky moved forward slowly, careful not to scare the man.

 

As Starsky neared, the man called out, “I ain’t got nothin’, so robbin’ me ain’t gonna get you anythin’.”

 

Starsky straightened up and approached slowly, his hands clearly at his side, in full view.  Without his gun, and with a throbbing arm, he was at the guy’s mercy.  The last thing he wanted to do was spook him.  “I don’t want anything, except some info.  You see a blond man, little taller’n me, go past here, probably in a hurry?”

 

The man, his face full of sweat and dirt, studied Starsky before answering.  “I ain’t seen nobody.”

 

Starsky looked back and forth down the alley.  “Could he have gotten past you without you seeing him?”

 

“Possible.  But I doubt it.”

 

“Anybody else come down this alley tonight?”  Starsky was growing impatient, but he wanted information, anything that might help.

 

The man took a drink from the whiskey bottle on the ground next to him and then looked up.  “You a cop or somethin’?”

 

Starsky reached into his back pocket and pulled out his badge, flashing it at the guy, knowing that in the darkness he wouldn’t be able to read it.  “Yeah, I’m a cop.  And I’m trying to find my partner.”

 

The man shrugged, “Like I said, I didn’t see no one.  Least whys a tall blond.”  He took a drink from the almost empty whiskey bottle and added, “Few hours ago, Curly came back.”

 

Grabbing onto anything, Starsky asked, “Who’s Curly?  Friend of yours?”

 

“Curly ain’t no friend of mine.  I stay clear of him.  He’s a mean one.”  Taking another sip, the drunk nodded in confirmation.  “Yep, he’s a mean one.”

 

“What does he look like, and where do I find this Curly?”

 

“He’s a tall man, with dark curly hair.  He’s been coming down here the last few months.  Goes into one of the abandoned warehouses, back there.”  Starsky turned to look in the direction he’d come from.  That meant that Curly, one of the possible suspects, was somewhere down this alley and Hutch was missing, possibly hurt.  He didn’t like the odds facing him.

 

Reaching into his wallet and pulling out a twenty, Starsky held it out.  “Thanks for your help.”  He handed the money to the man and then, replacing the wallet, hurried back down the alley.

 

Starsky started trying every door leading out into the alley, but most were locked and those that weren’t looked like they hadn’t been entered in years.  He could hear footsteps coming down the alley and figured it to be the back-up he’d radioed in for.  Hurrying toward the two officers, and knowing that they couldn’t clearly see him, he called out, “It’s Detective Starsky.  Don’t shoot.”

 

He slowed his pace as they approached, leaving his hands in plain view.  “Spread out, we need to search for Detective Hutchinson.  He went down this alley a little while ago and hasn’t come out.  Begin at the front of the alley and go into every building and search carefully, he may be injured. But be careful, the suspects he’s looking for are armed and dangerous.”

 

As the two officers ran back toward the entrance to the alley, Starsky rushed back to where he’d left off.  As he reached the end of the alley, he was not at all surprised to find the drunk gone.  And then he realized how dumb he’d been.  Damn it, Hutch, I better go have my head examined again.  I was in such a hurry to find you I forgot to grab a gun from one of the officers.

 

Trying every door, he soon became frustrated when he found no clues to Hutch’s disappearance.  He started searching the ground for anything that might lead him to finding Hutch.  The moon and clouds no longer wanted to cooperate, offering Starsky little light to see by.  He knelt down to look closer at the ground near an overfilled trash bin.  It looked like something, or someone, had been dragged.  He looked up at the back door, and then up the five-story brick wall.  It was an abandoned warehouse where someone could easily stay hidden.  Straightening up, he rubbed his right arm, now fully aware of how much it was aching.  Clenching his jaw, he shrugged it off and headed to the door, a brick in his hand.

 

˜ ™