Chapter Fifteen
Starsky sat in the chair in his hospital room, staring out the window at nothing in particular. Having slept well the night before, he felt remarkably better today. Granted, his shoulders and back were sore, but he found if he avoided making sudden moves, he was pretty mobile. Hutch still hadn’t come by, and he was beginning to worry. He’d not expected him after the funeral yesterday, in light of having given Hutch orders not to return; but it was almost 10:00 a.m., and still no Hutch—not even a phone call. Starsky was concerned something had happened to him, and considered calling the Hutchinsons’ home, but thought better of it. Remembering Edward’s admonishment, he didn’t want to be perceived as an intruder. He’d just wait for Hutch to come when he was ready.
Just as Starsky shuffled back to the bed and picked up the TV controller, the phone rang. Dropping the device, he reached over and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“David?”
He instantly recognized Eileen Hutchinson’s voice. Easing down on the side of the bed, he greeted her warmly, “Oh, hi, Mrs. H. How’re you?”
“I’m fine. How are you feeling?”
“Terrific. Just a little sore. They took the IVs out early this morning and told me to stay up, out of bed, as much as I could. Then the doc came by and said he wants me to stay one more night. I don’t know why he thinks I need to stay. I’m ready to come home.” Starsky cleared his throat self-consciously before continuing. “Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to attend the funeral.”
“Oh, dear, don’t apologize. I think you had a perfectly legitimate reason to be absent. Thank you for all you’ve done, finding who was responsible for—for taking Karen from us.” Her voice almost cracked, but somehow, she regained her composure. “Is Kenny there?”
“No, ma’am, I haven’t seen him since he left here early yesterday morning. He’s not with you?”
For a couple of seconds, Eileen was silent on the other end of the line. When she did speak, her voice quivered slightly. “David, he left the cemetery yesterday, and no one’s seen him since.”
Starsky sat up abruptly, the jolt causing a pain to shoot between his shoulder blades. “What?”
“To tell you the truth, we figured he went back to the hospital to be with you. I know how close the two of you are, so it didn’t seem like something to worry about at the time. But his bed hasn’t been slept in. Sabrina brought Sam home last night, and Kenny didn’t even come home to feed and walk him.”
Starsky felt a cold chill of fear sweep through him. He should have known when Hutch didn’t at least call last night, that something was wrong. “I’ll be right there.”
“No—no, I won’t hear of it! I didn’t call to worry you, I just thought I’d better check there before calling the sheriff.”
“Did you check Karen’s place?”
“Yes, I sent Bobby over. Kenny wasn’t there, but Bobby thinks he may have been, earlier. He found the door ajar.”
“Don’t call the sheriff yet, Mrs. H. That bozo’ll probably just put you off anyway. Give me a chance to find him. I’ll talk to you later.” Starsky hung up the phone, then realized he had no transportation. Retrieving his pants from the closet, he dug through the pockets until he found the scrap of paper with Sabrina’s phone number scratched on it, then picked up the phone and hurriedly dialed the number. When she answered, Starsky asked if he could borrow her mini-van, saying it was important, and he didn’t have time to explain. Without questioning his reasons, she offered to bring it to him and have a friend pick her up at the hospital.
Starsky struggled into his shirt, ignoring the discomfort and the dried blood crusting the back, where Goodwin had plunged the letter opener.
“Mr. Starsky, what do you think you’re doing?”
Without pause, he looked up at the nurse standing in the doorway. “Checkin’ myself out,” he answered. “Could you give me a hand with my tennis shoes? I can’t seem to bend over that far.”
“You can’t do this. The doctor’s going to be really angry when he finds out.”
Starsky tucked his shirt into his jeans, then ran a hand through his tangled hair. “Look, are ya gonna help me, or do I have to walk outta here barefoot?”
Seeing the hard set of his jaw and the determined look in his eyes, she knew it was hopeless to try and dissuade him. “At least let me change your bandage.”
“Then you’ll help me with my shoes?”
Reluctantly, she agreed.
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It was late and Starsky couldn’t remember ever having been so tired. He’d driven up and down the streets of Redwood Valley for hours, stopping frequently to ask the people he passed if they’d seen a man fitting Hutch’s description, but no one had. As a last resort, he went back to Karen’s house, but found the doors locked and the lights off¾no sign of Hutch anywhere. Driving back into town, he sat in the van outside the hospital, eating a burger he’d gotten at the local greasy spoon, and waiting—hoping Hutch would come to see about him.
Unwilling to admit defeat, but with no other leads to check out, Starsky realized it would be dark soon, and he needed to return Sabrina’s van. He just hoped that Hutch had gone back to the Hutchinsons’ home on his own.
As he pulled into Sabrina’s driveway, he saw a tan Buick pull in right behind him. The passenger door opened and Sabrina stepped out, then bent down and said something to the driver, before waving goodbye and heading up the driveway toward Starsky.
He got out of the van and waited for her. “No luck?” she asked when they were within speaking distance.
“No. Zero. I don’t know what to think. It’s not like Hutch to pull a stunt like this. We always let each other know where we’ll be.” Since the Jeanie/Forest episode, he thought. Starsky reached up and unconsciously massaged his right arm, trying to work out the subtle pain that had nagged him all day.
“Come on in,” Sabrina said, removing her keys from her purse. “You look like you could use a cup of strong coffee.”
“Yeah, I guess I could, at that.”
“I know you’re worried about him,” she said matter-of-factly, tossing her purse on the sofa and kicking off her pumps as she walked toward the kitchen. “But you know, Dave, Ken grew up here, and knows this place like the back of his hand.”
“What’re you sayin’?”
“Just that he could ‘disappear’ for several days if he wanted to. Maybe he just needs some time alone. You know—to work through his grief.” She peeked around the kitchen door. “How about something to eat?”
“No, thanks,” he answered distractedly. “You mean, he’s hiding from me? That doesn’t make sense. He’s never done that before. Not even when Gillian died.”
“Who?”
Starsky realized she had no way of knowing about Gillian. As far as he knew, Hutch had never related the incident to his parents. Too many messy explanations would’ve been necessary, and Hutch couldn’t have dealt with his father’s criticism had Gillian’s checkered past been brought out. “Never mind. It’s not important now.”
Sabrina came back, carrying a tray with two mugs of steaming hot coffee, cream, and sugar, and set it down on the sofa table. “I’m not suggesting he’s purposely hiding from you, rather, he just wants to be alone.”
Starsky sipped his coffee, silently mulling over her words. Slowly, an idea began to take shape. “Wait a minute...” A smile curved his lips. “Where’s that place you were talking about?”
“What place?” Sabrina looked up at him, thoroughly confused.
Snapping his fingers several times in quick succession, he tried to delve into his memory of their recent conversation. “You know...the one where the three of you used to go...sorta like a secret hideout...clubhouse...whatever...” His eyes danced with excitement. For the first time since leaving the hospital, he could feel his detective instincts kicking in.
“Of course! I know what you’re talking about! The old shack on the Hutchinson property!” Sabrina smiled broadly. “Do you want me to show you where it is?”
“Do I? How fast can we get there?”
“Well, that depends on who’s driving. According to Ken, you only know one speed—fast.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
Starsky grinned mischievously and stated the obvious. “Well, since I’ve got the keys, I guess that means we go fast.”
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