Chapter Sixteen

 

Starsky pulled up behind the rental car Hutch had parked at the end of the dirt trail.  “Just go another two hundred-or-so feet in that direction, and you’ll see it,” Sabrina told him.

 

“Look, thanks for bringing me out here.  I would never have found it by myself.”

 

“How did you know?” she asked.  When he looked back at her, a puzzled expression on his face, she added,  “How did you know he’d be here?”

 

“I just know Hutch,” he answered.  Starsky gave her a lopsided grin, considering why he’d been so certain he’d find Hutch here.  “Sometimes, I think I know him better than I know my own self.”  It was true.  The enigmatic bond they shared¾reading each other’s thoughts, anticipating one another’s actions¾often surprised even him.

Sabrina nodded, thinking about what he’d said.  “Want me to wait?”

 

“No, thanks.  We’ve got the car here.  Go on home, and don’t worry about Hutch.  I’ll look after him.”  He opened the door and eased out of the vehicle, the pain between his shoulders quickening.  Turning back, he leaned in through the window with one last request.  “Give the Hutchinsons a call and let ’em know we found him, okay?” 

 

“Sure,” Sabrina assured him.  “Just don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.”  He watched the mini-van back down the trail and turn around, before he struck out toward the old shack.

 

As he cleared the trees, Starsky spotted the ramshackle structure¾weathered boards and a sagging porch¾looking like it would collapse with one strong gust of wind.  Hutch was sitting on the porch, leaning against one of the posts, his face a portrait of dejection.  His chin was covered by a day-old growth of beard, and sprigs of silver-blond hair, denied a comb for over twenty-four hours, stood out wildly on his head.  Both bore testament to the missing hours.  He still wore the rumpled, ill-fitting navy blue suit, hurriedly bought for the funeral.  Hutch watched Starsky walk toward him, but didn’t speak or stand up to greet him.

 

“Hey,” Starsky said, gingerly sitting down next to him on the creaking slats of the porch.  “Could ya use a little company?”  Hutch ignored him and stared down at the photograph in his hands, the same one Starsky had seen days earlier in Karen’s home.  “I’ve been lookin’ for you all day.”

 

Barely above a whisper Hutch asked, “What’re you doing out of the hospital?”

 

“Like I said, I’ve been lookin’ for you.”

 

“I didn’t think the doctor was releasing you until tomorrow.  I was going to come pick you up then.  Are you sure you’re okay?” 

 

“Terrific.  But your mom’s pretty worried about you.  She said you never came home after the funeral.”

 

“I...I just needed some time alone.  I’m sorry I didn’t call you, or come by the hospital,” he answered softly.  Starsky waited, but Hutch fell silent, his eyes never leaving the photograph.

 

“Did you sleep here?” Starsky prompted.

 

“Yeah.  In the car.”

 

The dark smudges beneath Hutch’s eyes repudiated the half-truth.  You may have spent the night in the car, pal, but you didn’t get much sleep, Starsky thought to himself.

 

Starsky stared down at the photo in Hutch’s hands as he spoke.  “wanna talk about it now?”

 

“What do you want me to say?  It’s a little late to ‘talk about it,’ isn’t it?”

 

“Well, we could talk about how you’re feelin’ right now.  It helps.  Believe me...I know, it helps.”

 

“It won’t change things, so there’s really no point.”  When he looked up, finally facing Starsky’s sympathetic scrutiny, unshed tears blurred his vision.

 

“No...you can’t bring her back, that’s true,” Starsky agreed.  “But, sometimes, just talkin’ about the person we love, miss...ache to see one more time...well, it fills the void just a little.”

 

Hutch turned away, gazing out at the trees splashed with the warm afternoon sun.  The chilled autumn sky was still blue, the birds still sang, but there was an emptiness that he couldn’t quite explain, gnawing at his insides.  “Starsk, have you ever felt like something has happened that’s changed your life forever?  That your world will never be quite the same as before?  You know, something that you weren’t prepared for—never dreamed could happen.”  His eyes implored Starsky to understand something he wasn’t even sure he understood himself.

 

“Sure.”  Starsky’s voice was choked with emotion as he spoke.  “Not so much with Katherine, ’cause I was too young.  But I felt that way when my pop died.  I knew I’d grow up to be a man, and I’d never get to share those important things with him like other dads and sons would.  And Terry—I’d planned to spend the rest of my life with her—have a family.  I think it’s particularly hard when someone’s taken so suddenly—especially a young person, whose life’s been cut short.  Makes you wanna just beat the ground with your fists and shout, ‘It ain’t fair!’  We all have regrets, Hutch.  That’s part of bein’ human.” 

 

“Starsk, Karen and I were so close as kids—closer than most brothers and sisters.”  A sad smile teased his lips for a fleeting moment.  “But when I got a little older and decided to leave Redwood Valley, our lives took totally different directions.  She wanted to stay here, have a large family, and live the simple life.  Me?  I wanted college, an exciting career.  I wanted to live in a big city.  I couldn’t wait to get out of this one-horse town, and Karen saw that as my being critical of the life she’d chosen to live.”

 

“Hutch, that’s just growin’ up.  Everyone changes, and we all have to choose our own path.”

 

Hutch stood up and began pacing back and forth as he talked.  “But we became strangers.  I was too busy to come home—or at least I told myself that’s what kept me away.  Mostly, it was because it depressed me to come here and see Dad with his domineering, hard-nosed attitude, Mom growing older, her health failing.  And Karen—always in the background, silently disapproving of my lifestyle, my line of work.  My perspective was so different from hers.  Hell, we couldn’t carry on a conversation for more than five minutes without being ill at ease and all awkward with one another.”

 

Starsky’s heart ached for him.  He searched for words to offer solace, but realized in Hutch’s grief-stricken state of mind, anything he could offer would only sound trite.

 

“And now, it’s too late, Starsk.  She’s gone and I’ll never be able to say ‘I’m sorry,’ or ‘I love you,’ or ‘I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Sis’.”  His voice trembled, his fragile hold on composure slipping.  “Starsk, It’s like my childhood died with her, all the memories that only she and I shared.”

As his guilt and anger surged, grief transformed into rage.  “Dammit, Starsky, I should have done something!  I knew she was hurt and lonely after Craig died, but it was easier for me to look the other way, hide behind my own problems, and tell myself she didn’t need or want my help!”

 

He ran a tormented hand over his face, his pacing growing more frantic.  “It was just a lousy cop-out because I didn’t have the courage to face up to the fact that we’d become strangers!  Maybe if I hadn’t been so busy playing the big-shot detective, I could’ve prevented this from happening!”

 

“Listen to me, Hutch.  Don’t blame yourself for this.  You couldn’t have known what a sicko Goodwin was.  Nobody did—not even the people he was with day in and day out.”

 

Rage and desperation coalesced, as Hutch turned and faced his friend, seeking absolution and understanding that only Karen could have given him.  “Starsk, I should have been here for her—” A sob tore from his throat, the wall of self-control crumbling.  Burying his face in his hands, the anguish flowed from him with such intensity his shoulders began to shake.  Starsky rose to his feet and went to him.  He pulled Hutch into a sheltering embrace, offering his strength and compassion.

 

“It’s okay, buddy, let it out.  It’s okay.”  They stood there in the cool, quiet woods¾two men...friends...partners...brothers.  Together, they wept for a beautiful, tragic, young woman whose life had violently ended far too soon, for missed opportunities and unspoken words, and most of all, for the end of a precious relationship that could never be rekindled.

 

˜ ™

 

The front porch light blazed like a beacon, left on they presumed, in optimistic anticipation of their return.  Tiredly, Hutch opened the front door, and they were met enthusiastically by Sam.  The big dog did a four-footed jig in the foyer, ecstatic to finally have his humans home with him after what seemed to him like a lifetime separation.

 

Eileen rushed from the kitchen, and threw her arms around Hutch’s neck.  “Oh, Kenny, are you okay?  You had me worried sick!” she scolded.

 

“I’m fine.  And I’m really sorry, Mom.  I know it was thoughtless of me.  I...I guess I just wasn’t thinking too clearly.” 

 

“It’s okay, honey.  I know what a strain this has been on you,” she said, soothingly.  “I’m just glad David found you.” 

 

Overwhelmed with fatigue, Starsky inconspicuously dropped into the nearest chair.  From the corner of his eye, he saw Edward standing in the kitchen door, watching mother and son embrace.  He seemed drawn to them, but unable to take the first step.  Starsky furtively watched him battle with his emotions for several moments.  Finally, the elder Hutchinson turned and went back into the kitchen.  Starsky sighed, disappointed by Edward’s inability to put aside his pride and go to his family in their time of need. 

 

Sam’s big head slipped under Starsky’s hand, demanding his attention. Touched by the dog’s warm greeting, he talked softly to him, patting him on the head.  But when Sam tried to climb onto the chair, Starsky held him back at arm’s length, avoiding a painful encounter with the dog’s oversized paws on his sore chest. 

 

“How ya doin’, fella?  You miss me?”  He allowed the canine’s massive head just close enough to receive a welcoming slurp from his giant wet tongue, but still managed to restrain the dog from climbing onto the chair and on top of him.  Finally, getting the message, Sam reluctantly sat down and laid his head on Starsky’s knees, his big tail beating a tattoo on the carpet. 

 

“Why don’t we just sit here awhile and rest, okay?”  A yawn escaped Starsky before he could stifle it.  “I don’t know about you, boy, but I’m pretty tired.  I’m just gonna sit here a few minutes...then...I’ll go upstairs to...bed...” 

 

Sam cocked his head to one side, studying Starsky’s face, trying to understand.  But The Dark One was already sound asleep.