PICKING UP THE PIECES

Starsky continues to battle his inner demons as he picks up the pieces of his life. When Hutch disappears, Starsky has to risk everything he’s regained to get him back. Sequel to Tortured Minds.

A/N: Since so many people liked the original story and requested a sequel, your requests have been answered. This story is shorter than the original but just as intense. Hope you enjoy it.

CHAPTER ONE

Starsky let out a long slow breath and tried to relax, the fragments of the nightmare slowly loosening its grip on his mind. It had been almost three months since he’d been found in Viet Nam, barely alive and teetering on the edge of insanity. Hutch had rescued him and brought him back to Bay City, resurrected from the dead and reunited with his closest friends.

The military officers who had orchestrated his abduction and faked his death in order to brainwash him to become an assassin for the government, had been rounded up and convicted of a variety of crimes. The Justice department had offered to put him into the witness protection program but he had refused. He’d already spent over two years of his life pretending to be someone other than David Starsky. The only thing he had allowed them to do was to restore his former identity so that for all intents and purposes, David Starsky was alive again. Once more he had a social security card, a driver’s license and a bank account in his real name and not an assumed one.

He no longer had an apartment of his own but Hutch had insisted that Starsky stay with him as long as he needed to. As always, Hutch had provided the brunet with the strength, the courage and the emotional support to start picking up the pieces of his life. Still plagued by horrendous nightmares almost every night, the only thing that kept Starsky centered and in control of his fragile emotions was Hutch. He was also still in therapy with a counselor that he had grudgingly learned to trust who was helping him to come to terms with the things he had been forced into doing. Even so, the guilt at times was almost overwhelming. Subtle changes had taken place in his personality that left him on edge and withdrawn, unable to allow himself to feel comfortable around anyone except Hutch.

He sighed heavily, restless and agitated after the dream that repeatedly awakened him night after night. He felt a shift of the mattress beneath him and a large, comforting hand settled on his shoulder as Hutch moved closer in the bed. After being awakened the first three nights by Starsky’s screams as the nightmare awakened him, Hutch had insisted that Starsky start sharing the bed with him. His familiar presence had soothed and comforted the brunet when the night terrors attacked without warning. Every since the big blond had learned the sordid details about Starsky’s ordeal, Hutch had became fiercely protective towards his best friend and former partner.

“I’m right here, buddy.” Hutch said, using the soft gentle voice that he reserved solely for the brunet. “You’re safe now…go back to sleep.” He wrapped his arm around the lithe form of his friend and felt Starsky relax against him. After a few minutes, Starsky’s breath deepened and evened out as he fell back into a deep, restful sleep. Neither of them felt uncomfortable with their current sleeping arrangement. They had often shared a bed over the years, usually when one of them was too drunk to go home or hurt, either physically or emotionally, and needed the comfort that sharing a bed offered them. Despite the rumors that had surrounded them for years concerning their unique relationship, neither of them had ever been interested in other men sexually, their easy familiarity with each other similar to that of close siblings.

The counselor had assured them both the nightmares would eventually cease as Starsky felt more secure and safe back in familiar surroundings. Although he encouraged Starsky to discuss his dreams with him, the only person that Starsky was willing to share his personal demons with was Hutch. Slowly, the brunet was adjusting to being home but he still depended on Hutch to help him get through the day.

Hutch had taken an indefinite leave of absence to help care for Starsky until he was more stable and more confident being back in the ‘real’ world. That decision didn’t surprise anyone. Hutch had done the same thing when Starsky was shot and almost killed in the parking garage. The people who knew them best accepted and even envied the close relationship between the two friends. They were bonded at their very souls, two halves of the same whole, complete only when they were together. His friends who had struggled to keep Hutch sane after Starsky’s alleged death could attest to that fact.

Although the Justice Department had offered to reinstate Starsky as a detective after it was discovered the men who had abducted him had gone so far as to ‘fake’ the official medical reports after his shooting that had kept him from being reinstated at that time. But Starsky had declined that offer. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a cop anymore, not after the things he had done in Viet Nam. Being told that he was permanently disabled after the shooting and unsuitable for anything but desk duty had shaken the brunet’s confidence in his recovery badly. Finding out that was all a lie had almost destroyed him when he realized how far the men responsible for his two years of hell had been willing to go to ‘recruit’ him for their mission.

Once he was sure that Starsky was sleeping soundly, Hutch eased his lanky frame out of the bed and padded into the bathroom where he relieved himself. He paused at the sink and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. Since Starsky’s miraculous resurrection from the dead, Hutch’s face had lost the haunted, withdrawn expression he’d worn for the past two years. He had even shaved off his mustache and trimmed his hair to a shorter style, the changes making him look years younger. Hutch felt as if he had been reborn along with his former partner. He knew that Starsky was still having difficulty adjusting to being back in the States and back in his former life. His nightmares were proof that he still had a ways to go before he recovered from his ordeal but Hutch intended to be right there beside him all the way. Now that he finally had Starsky back in his life, Hutch vowed never to let the brunet out of his sight again, at least not for very long. He knew that eventually Starsky would need some degree of independence again without Hutch looking over his shoulder constantly. Hutch accepted that but not now. Not yet. The pain and suffering of the past two years was still too raw for both of them.

The ringing of the telephone startled Hutch. A phone call this late at night usually meant trouble especially for a cop. Hutch hurried into the bedroom and grabbed the receiver before it could ring again and awaken Starsky. Lowering his voice to little more than a whisper, he said, “Hutchinson.”

“Hutch, its Dobey.” his immediate superior’s voice growled in his ear. “I wanted to let you know right away I was just informed that Simon Marcus escaped last night.”

“Marcus?” Hutch said in a stunned voice, a chill running down his spine as he thought back to the last time the two detectives had encountered Simon Marcus. They had been investigating a series of particularly vicious mutilation murders of young men and women, along with some children. The remains didn’t even resemble anything human. Their investigation had led them to a deranged cult led by a man named Simon Marcus. The victims had all been killed in one of their satanic rituals.

The two detectives had arrested Marcus, charging him with nine counts of murder. The day he was to be sentenced, in spite of the heavy security at the court house, some of his followers had abducted Starsky and issued an ultimatum. If Marcus wasn’t released in twenty-four hours then Starsky would die.

Hutch had spent that twenty-four hours desperately searching for his missing partner. He had even visited Marcus in jail to try and get some answers but the deranged cult leader had mocked him with intricate riddles claiming that he had dreamed Starsky’s death and that his dreams always came true. Finally after a long night of brainstorming Hutch, Captain Dobey and Huggy Bear had deciphered Marcus’ riddle and figured out where Starsky was being held.

They had arrived at the old deserted zoo where Marcus’ followers were at dawn the next morning, arriving bare moments before Starsky would have slaughtered. As it was, the brunet had been tortured and traumatized from the twenty-three and a half hours he had been held. It had taken him months to cope with the lingering aftereffects of his ordeal. Marcus’ eyes, burning and deranged, had haunted Hutch’s dreams for weeks afterwards. “How in the hell did he escape?” Hutch demanded, trying to keep his voice quiet so he wouldn’t disturb Starsky.

“Apparently there was some kind of mix up in a transfer of prisoners and Marcus was loaded on a van with some other prisoners to be taken to another facility.” Dobey explained “The van was hijacked along the route and Marcus escaped, along with a few other prisoners. We’re not sure but we think some of Marcus’ people may have been behind it.” Dobey’s voice turned grim with a hard edge of anger “I think you and Starsky should go into a ‘safe’ house until we can find him and capture him.”

“No. Starsky will never go for that.” Hutch said in a frustrated voice.

“You have to tell him about Marcus. You’re both in danger as long as that lunatic is on the loose.”

“I know that…but I’m not sure he’s ready to handle something like this right now.” Hutch said. “Look, Cap, I appreciate your concern and I promise to be careful but hiding somewhere isn’t the answer.”

“I really need you in on this, Hutch.” Dobey said “The sooner we find this psycho the better.”

“Give me a chance to find a way to break this to Starsky and I’ll get back to you.” Hutch said, hanging up before the Captain could reply.

“Break what to Starsky?” the brunet’s soft voice said from behind Hutch, startling him badly. Jerking his head around to look over his shoulder, he found Starsky lying on his side, looking at Hutch with a puzzled frown.

“That was Dobey. There’s a little problem at work.” Hutch said evasively.

“What kind of problem?” Starsky asked, the tone of his voice making it clear that he wasn’t going to let the subject drop until Hutch told him what was going on.

Knowing that he had no choice but tell Starsky the truth, Hutch sighed deeply and said, “Simon Marcus escaped.”

“Marcus?” Starsky said, his voice rising slightly, the tension clearly reflected in his tone. “That’s a name I hoped I’d never hear again.”

“Dobey wants us to go to a safe house until he’s found.” Hutch said, even though he already knew what Starsky’s reaction would be.

“No way!” Starsky said firmly, his mouth tightening into a thin, hard line. “I’m not going to hide just because that son of a bitch is out there somewhere!”

“Look, he may have forgotten all about us by now.” Hutch said with a confidence that he didn’t really feel. “Regardless, I’m not going to let him get to you again, buddy.” He promised solemnly.

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Starsky said “He hates you just as much as he does me because you found me before his freaks could slice and dice me.”

“Then I guess it’s me and thee time. We’ll just have to watch our asses and each other’s back.”

“Don’t we always?” Starsky said with a hint of a smile.

“Dobey wants me to come in. He wants me on the case.” Hutch said, watching Starsky’s face closely to see how he would take that news.

Starsky’s expression turned grim. He started to speak then stopped and lowered his eyes, avoiding Hutch’s worried gaze. In a strained voice that betrayed his inner turmoil, he said, “Then you have to go in. He has to be found before somebody ends up dead.”

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.” Hutch argued

Starsky’s head snapped up, his eyes snapping with a fierce determination that Hutch was all too familiar with. “I can take care of myself. Just make sure you don’t go anywhere without somebody being with you to watch your back.” He sighed heavily. “This sucks. I should be out there with you hunting that bastard down.”

“You’re not ready for that yet, buddy.” Hutch said softly, gently brushing his fingers through those thick unruly curls. “I promise I’ll be careful. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

“It better not or I’ll never forgive you.” Starsky said, only half joking. The two men locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. They had taken an oath a lifetime ago to serve and protect. They didn’t take it lightly then and they didn’t take it lightly now.

CHAPTER TWO

Hutch reluctantly left Starsky behind when he went into the office the next morning. Before leaving, Hutch reminded Starsky about the spare weapon hidden in the bedroom closet. After the big blond left, Starsky went into the bedroom and opened the closet, rummaging through some boxes on the top shelf until he found the hidden weapon. Starsky couldn’t help grinning when he saw that it was a Berretta almost identical to the weapon he had always carried. The symbolism of Hutch’s choice of a spare firearm was not lost on Starsky.

He hefted the gun in his hand, testing the weight and feel of the gun. It felt familiar and comfortable in his grasp. He found some spare clips in the closet and stuffed them in his pockets, tucking the weapon beneath his belt in the middle of his back. Feeling more secure with a weapon close at hand, he wandered back into the kitchen and made some coffee.

He flipped on the TV, scowling when a news report detailing Marcus daring escape and giving a recap of his notorious crimes appeared on the screen. With a snort, Starsky snapped off the TV. He didn’t need to hear a broadcast about Marcus’ crimes, he had been there. He had been one of the victims of the madman and his sadistic cult of followers. The thought of that psycho being on the loose again was enough to give any sane person nightmares.

Starsky smiled fondly as he looked around the room, drawing a sense of inner peace from Hutch’s familiar surroundings. His beloved plants hung from hooks in the ceiling in Hutch’s ‘greenhouse’. His Gibson guitar stood in the corner just waiting to be played by the talented blond. Hutch was an accomplished musician but his music was much too personal to him to share with very many people. Starsky had always considered himself as one of the lucky ones who was privileged enough to be granted a private performance. In another corner of the room stood a stack of Hutch’s paintings, another hidden talent that very few people knew about. His eye for color and detail was astounding. One of Starsky’s many hidden talents was photography. He knew artistic talent when he saw it.

Starsky slumped down on the sofa and let his thoughts drift back over the past few months. He was glad to be back in Bay City and back at Hutch’s side, even if only symbolically. He was easing his way back into his former life and trying to leave all the shit that happened to him in the past two years behind but it wasn’t easy. He still carried a lot of guilt for the things he had done and the man he had let himself become over in Viet Nam. In his head, he understood that he had been brainwashed to make him do the things he had done but in his heart, he still felt responsible for his actions. Killing, even in the name of war or self defense, had never come easy to the brunet. He bore a scar on his heart for each man he had killed since he was eighteen.

Restless and agitated, Starsky shoved himself to his feet and began pacing the confines of the apartment. He had always had a high metabolism rate with an overabundance of barely suppressed energy. Sitting still for any long period of time had always been difficult which had caused him no small amount of grief during his high school years. The police academy had been different, combining both the academics with the more physical activities that gave him the outlet he needed to work off his excess energy. He longed to be out on the streets with Hutch but he realized that he still couldn’t trust his own reactions if he found himself in a volatile or dangerous situation. In the past two years, he had been programmed to respond in a certain way and he couldn’t do that anymore if he wanted to reclaim his former life.

The hours in the day seemed endless. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief when Hutch finally came through the front door shortly after six p.m. From the tired, frustrated look on the big blond’s face, Starsky knew that the search for Marcus had been fruitless. A weary smile tugged at Hutch’s mouth when he smelled the delicious aroma of Starsky’s homemade spaghetti sauce in the air. In spite of his atrocious junk food diet, Starsky was actually an excellent cook with a few mouth watering specialties. That was only one of the surprising facets of Starsky’s complex personality that very few people knew about besides Hutch.

“Hi, honey…I’m home.” Hutch quipped with a mischievous grin.

“It’s about time.” Starsky teased back “I slave over a hot stove all afternoon and you can’t even call to tell me you’re going to be late. You don’t appreciate me anymore.”

Hutch chuckled at the familiar bantering and gave Starsky a playful slap on the back of the head. Side by side, they worked together to finish the meal. Hutch set the table and then made a salad while Starsky finished the spaghetti and garlic bread. Starsky pulled a bottle of chilled wine out of the refrigerator to have with their food and popped the cork. He poured two glasses, sitting one at each plate, as the two friends sat down to enjoy their meal together.

“Any leads?” Starsky asked as he shoved a mouthful of spaghetti into his mouth.

“Nothing.” Hutch said in a frustrated voice “Nobody seems to know anything or if they do, they’re too afraid to say anything.”

“Figures. Nobody wants to end up like his other victims.”

“We’ve got ABPs out on all of his known followers that are still in the city and we’re still trying to track down the location of some of the key players from before.”

“Luke and Michael should still be in San Quentin.”

“They are…but James and Matthew are still out there somewhere…and so is Gail.”

“Yeah, but the last we heard Gail was trying to get her life back together and forget about ever being part of the cult.” Starsky pointed out. “She spent months in that private sanitarium being deprogrammed.”

“Yeah, but she could still be a target since she was indirectly responsible for keeping them from killing you.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. We need to find her and make sure she’s protected until they’re rounded up. I’d hate to see anything happen to her. She was as much of a victim as I was.” Starsky said. He was fond of the disturbed young woman who had been part of the cult at the time of his abduction. Instead of cutting him with the knife which would have been the signal for the other members to attack him with various weapons of destruction, she had cut his hands free at the last moment, freeing him to defend himself against the rest of the cult. It was Starsky’s statement about the sequence of events that had prevented Gail from being charged along with the rest of the cult for their atrocious crimes.

“She’s not living with her parents any longer. They said she moved out about a year ago after a fight about her boyfriend.” Hutch told him “But we’re looking for her. Minnie’s using the computer system to see if she can find a paper trail on her.”

“Yeah, well knowing Marcus…he ain’t gonna stay quiet for long.” Starsky said with a disgusted snort. “He’ll be up to his old tricks and the bodies will start piling up.”

“We’ve got somebody covering everyone involved with his case…the judge, the members of the jury, his public defender, the D.A.” Hutch said with a heavy sigh.

“And us?” Starsky said with a smirk finishing Hutch’s thoughts for him.

“Yeah…us too. There’s a black and white parked down the street keeping an eye on the house. It’ll be there while I’m at work too to make sure he doesn’t try to come after you while I’m gone.”

“Gee, Blondie…I’m glad to know you care.” Starsky said with a sarcastic smile.

“Just not taking any chances, pal. I lost you once, I’m not gonna take that chance again.” Hutch said, reaching out to touch the back of Starsky’s hand, clasping it gently. The two friends exchanged a silent look of understanding. They didn’t need words to express how they felt about each other. They knew. They finished their supper and cleaned up the kitchen.

As they settled down on the sofa, Starsky reached for the remote and started flipping through to channels. In an offhanded voice, Hutch said helpfully, “There’s a monster marathon on channel six tonight.”

Starsky glanced at his blond counterpart and arched an eyebrow inquisitively. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my partner?” he quipped. He knew that the old movies and monster movies that Starsky loved to watch bored Hutch to tears.

“Figured you’d enjoy it. I can always sit here and read a book.” Hutch said with a shrug of his shoulders. The truth was ever since he’d found Starsky in Viet Nam and brought him home safely, Hutch was perfectly willing to let Starsky do anything he wanted or watch anything on TV that he liked as long as it made him happy. Starsky switched to the right channel and settled back to enjoy an evening of classic monster movies. Hutch hid a smile as he drank in the image of Starsky’s childlike enthusiasm at the prospect of watching a marathon of his favorite movies. “Wanna a beer?” Hutch asked, shoving himself to his feet.

“Yeah, sounds great. How about some popcorn too?”

Hutch chuckled as he went into the kitchen to get their drinks and make their snack. Starsky was the only person he knew that could still eat even immediately after finishing a meal. In spite of the amount of empty calories he packed away every day, Starsky still managed to maintain a lean, muscular build without much effort. Thankfully, Starsky had regained most of the weight he’d lost in the past two years and his face no longer held the gaunt, hollow appearance he’d had in Viet Nam. Slowly, Hutch was getting his old friend back. He just wished that healing Starsky’s emotional scars was as easy as getting him to gain a few pounds and a good night’s sleep.

As Starsky enjoyed his movies, Hutch found his mind wandering to the events surrounding Simon Marcus’ escape from prison. Hutch knew that he had to have had help from someone on the inside. Marcus was too well known and notorious to be able to just slip out of prison by taking the place of another inmate. And the timing of his escape seemed almost too coincidental. Although it wasn’t public knowledge that Starsky was still alive, it wasn’t any secret either. And Marcus still had informants and spies scattered throughout the city. Even though it had been a number of years since he had abducted Starsky and had him mercilessly tortured by his band of followers, Marcus was infinitely patient. It was entirely possible that he had waited all this time to seek his final revenge against the two detectives that had been solely responsible for bringing down his satanic kingdom.

CHAPTER THREE

Starsky was in the bedroom getting dressed and Hutch was in the kitchen fixing pancakes when the phone rang. Setting the griddle to one side, Hutch wiped his hands on a dishtowel and grabbed the receiver before it could ring again.

“Hutchinson.” He listened for a moment and then said in a rigid, tightly controlled voice, “Got it, Cap. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

As he hung up, Starsky came out of the bedroom and looked at him curiously, obviously overhearing Hutch’s end of the conversation. “Marcus?” he questioned, alerted to that possibility from the tone of Hutch’s voice.

“They found a body near the park a few blocks from here. It looks like his handiwork.” Hutch acknowledged with a scowl.

“He didn’t waste any time, did he?” Starsky said flatly, as he walked into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. “You be careful out there, Blondie.”

“Always.” Hutch told him with a wry smile. He walked over to the closet and opened the door, shrugging into his leather shoulder harness. He pulled his magnum from the holster, checking to make sure the safety was on and the chamber was full, then slammed the heavy weapon back into the holster to nestle against his left side. He slipped on his favorite tan leather jacket to hide the gun and grabbed his car keys on the way out the door. “Double lock the doors.” He called back over his shoulder as he left.

“Yes, Mom.” Starsky said with a trace of sarcasm as he closed the door behind his fretful partner. He locked the heavy chain and the dead bolt. He tried not to think about Hutch out there on his own with Starsky to watch his back. He knew that Hutch had been doing mostly desk duty and supervisory chores since his promotion. Even though Hutch was one of the best detectives Starsky knew, his street skills had to be a little rusty. Things happened so quickly on the streets at any given time that you had to be constantly on alert. Any long period of inactivity caused those skills to diminish somewhat. Even at the best of times, it was far too easy to make a costly mistake.

Hutch climbed into his battered car with its collection of dents and dings. Having grown up in an affluent family where image and prestige meant everything, as an adult Hutch chose to live a frugal lifestyle, enjoying simple pleasures which included a series of used cars that cost him more money than they were worth to keep on the road. Twenty minutes later, Hutch pulled up at a secluded area of the park near his home. Since it was still early in the morning, the park was deserted except for a few early morning joggers and the police officers gathered at the crime scene. Hutch parked beside a black and white cruiser and climbed out to join the others.

The body of the victim lay at the bottom of a small ravine that ran alongside a jogging path. It had been one of the early morning runners who had discovered the murdered girl, tossed aside like a piece of garbage. Even from a distance, the horrid mutilations of the body were clearly evident and the smell in the air was sickening. Several of the more seasoned officers in the group had pale faces and a young rookie was crouched in some nearby bushes puking his guts out. Hutch recognized Marcus’ handiwork immediately.

“What kind of sick fuck would do something like that to that poor girl?” Jake Ludlow, an older uniformed officers grumbled to his partner as Hutch stepped up beside him.

“A sick fuck like Simon Marcus, that’s who.” Hutch said his voice tight with repressed anger at the senseless loss of a life. “He’s sending us a message, letting us know he’s back.”

“Not very subtle is he?” Jake growled, eying the young girl’s torn and battered body in disgust. The coroner’s people were busy sealing the victim in a body bag for transport back to the morgue. Hutch heaved an audible sigh of relief as the girl’s face was hidden from view. He’d seen enough of Marcus’ previous victims to last for a lifetime.

“What have we got?” Hutch asked, turning his attention away from the victim. His voice was calm, but the steely look in his ice blue eyes betrayed his emotions. The autopsy would tell him everything he needed to know about the unfortunate girl.

“Not much.” The older officer told him solemnly, consulting his notes to make sure he relayed the information correctly. “A jogger out for his morning run found her about an hour ago. The coroner said she’d probably only been dead for half hour to forty-five minutes before she was found. Victim is a female between sixteen and eighteen years old, approximately five feet two and one hundred and ten pounds. She was a natural blonde with brown eyes. Cause of death was multiple traumatic wounds with massive blood loss. No identification was found on the body so for now she’s listed as a Jane Doe.”

“They cut out her tongue and her eyes.” Jake’s partner said in a strained voice.

Hutch nodded. He’d seen it with Marcus other victims. “It’s his signature…they cut out the tongue to symbolize that the victim can’t tell anyone what happened to them or that the victim was a snitch of some kind. They cut out the eyes to symbolize the victim not being able to identify them or that the victim has seen too much…and they do it while the victim is still alive. It’s one of the first mutilations they do.”

“Jesus…” Jake hissed, shuddering at the thought. All of the officers present fell silent as the coroner’s team carried the body out of the ravine and loaded the victim into the back of the black van parked nearby. Hutch finished up at the scene as quickly as possible. As he had expected, there was very little evidence at the scene and what there was wasn’t very useful. The girl had obviously been tortured and mutilated somewhere else and then dumped at the scene. By the time Hutch got back to police headquarters, checked in with Captain Dobey, and then wrote up his initial reports, it was well past five in the afternoon. It was almost seven p.m. before he walked into his apartment, exhausted from his day. Starsky didn’t say a word as he opened the refrigerator, took out a beer, popped the top and handed the can to Hutch.

Hutch smiled his gratitude as he tipped the can and took a long deep swallow. “Do I have time to take a shower before we eat?” he asked wearily.

“Go ahead. I was gonna order a pizza.” The brunet told him.

“No garbage on my half.” Hutch warned him as he walked towards the bathroom.

Starsky snorted as he reached for the phone to place the order. He ordered two medium pizzas, one with everything on it and one vegetarian pizza for his health conscious friend. He also ordered a side of garlic bread sticks. As he hung up the phone, he heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Grabbing a beer for himself, he slumped down on the sofa to wait for his partner. He knew from previous experience that when Hutch was ready, he would need to unwind from the traumatic events of the day. Even if Starsky couldn’t be out there on the streets with Hutch right now, he could still be there to help him brainstorm ideas on how to catch Marcus and his band of programmed murderers.

Ten minutes later, Hutch came back into the living room, dressed in his ragged orange bathrobe. Grabbing a second beer from the refrigerator, he sat down beside his friend and propped his feet up on the coffee table. The big blond’s face showed the stress and strain of his day.

“Bad, huh?” Starsky commented quietly as he took a sip of his beer.

“Yeah…young girl…couldn’t have been much more than sixteen. Hard to tell with what they did to her. There wasn’t much left to identify.”

“Tongue and eyes cut out?” Starsky said softly, already knowing the answer to his own question. Hutch nodded with answering. He didn’t need to. Starsky had seen enough of Marcus’ previous victims to know what the cult members did to them. He had experienced first hand some of the atrocities they were capable of. During the twenty-four hours they had held him, the brunet had been viciously beaten with fists, clubs and chains, kicked, burned, cut with a knife, poisoned, drugged, and not allowed to sleep. The mental abuse had been just as bad as the physical abuse and had been much harder to recover from after his rescue. The brunet had suffered from terrible nightmares for months after his ordeal, slowly revealing more and more about what he had suffered to Hutch as he felt safer and more secure. It was just another instance in a long string of many that Starsky knew he would never have survived without Hutch’s constant support and encouragement.

“How was your day?” Hutch asked with a heavy sigh, glancing at his friend with a faint smile.

“Not as bad as yours.” Starsky said with one of his trademark crooked grins. “I say we get plastered and forget about Marcus for a while.”

“You’re on, pal. That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.” Hutch said with a snort.

CHAPTER FOUR

Two more days passed with no sign of Marcus or any of his followers. On the second day, Hutch decided to make a trip to the prison to see what he could find out about the escape. The warden, a distinguished looking man named Walters, was waiting for the big blond when he arrived. Hutch politely declined his offer of a cup of coffee and said, “I believe that someone in this prison helped Simon Marcus escape. He’s too well know to just walk out pretending to be another prisoner.”

“I’ve come to the same conclusion myself, Detective Hutchinson.” Warden Walters said with a smirk. “That’s why any staff member who had daily contact with Marcus is being investigated and I’ve come up with the names of two guards who bear further scrutiny. Jim Lewis, who has only been with us about six months, and Tyler Davis who has been with us for ten years. According to my information, they both became ‘friends’ with Marcus and spent a lot of time talking to him.”

“What’s your gut tell you?”

“If I had to make an accusation, I’d have to say my primary suspect would be Tyler Davis. He’s more familiar with the inner workings of the prison than Lewis is and he went on sick leave shortly after the escape so I haven’t been able to talk to him directly yet.”

“Give me his address and I’ll save you some time.” Hutch said

“I assumed that you’d want to speak to him.” The warden smirked as he picked up a piece of paper from his desk and handed it to Hutch. The blond glanced at it, then stuffed it in his shirt pocket.

“I also want to take a look at all of Marcus’ visitors over the past six months.” Hutch said

The warden nodded agreeably. “I’ll call down to records and authorize that. Is there anything else I can do for you today, Detective Hutchinson?”

“If there is, I’ll let you know.” Hutch said as he turned on his heel to leave.

“Detective, I just want to let you know how concerned we are about what happened. Steps have been taken to make sure that nothing like this happens again.” The warden’s voice said.

Hutch glanced over his shoulder, his gaze cold and unforgiving. “It’s a bit too late for that now, don’t you think?” He left the office before the other man could reply. The escape may have happened because Marcus had help from someone on the inside but the fact remained that if the prison had stricter guidelines in place for prisoners like Marcus, it never would have happened. Now, Hutch was left to do the damage control.

Hutch spent the next three hours going over Marcus visitor’s log and taking notes. As with all notorious prisoners, Marcus had a wide following consisting of reporters looking for a story, college students doing their Master’s theses on famous criminals and their crimes, and the usual groupies, people who were attracted to famous prisoners like Marcus for reasons of their own. Cops had groupies too, usually women, who were attracted to the uniform more than they were to the man who wore it. By the time he finished going over the logs, Hutch had a list of six names that he planned to check out closer. But first, he wanted to talk to the ‘sick’ guard that the warden suspected of being the inside man.

Pocketing the list he had made, he returned the logs to the clerk on duty and thanked them for their help. Retrieving his weapon at the main entrance, he left the prison and followed the directions the warden had given him to the address for the missing guard. The address was in a lower middle class neighborhood consisting of one-story, clapboard houses. Hutch pulled up in front of the last house at the end of a one way street. A fairly new light green sedan was parked in the driveway. Hutch climbed out of his car and walked up to the rickety front porch. He knocked loudly and waited. There was no answer and no sounds from inside to indicate that anybody was home. Undeterred, Hutch knocked again, louder. He was surprised when the door clicked open a crack.

Cautiously, he reached out and pushed the door open wider. An eerie silence greeted him that made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Automatically, he pulled his gun from his holster and flipped off the safety as he slowly stepped inside.

“Hello?” he called out. “Tyler Davis? Police.” Hutch was greeted by the same obsessive silence. He moved through the tiny front room crammed with worn, threadbare furniture and into the kitchen. Both rooms were empty, although there were dirty dishes piled in the kitchen sink. The last room he checked was the bedroom. As soon as he pushed open the closed door to the room, the stench that drifted out of the room told Hutch all he needed to know.

Breathing through his mouth, he stepped into the room. A bloated body, obviously dead for a few days, lay on the bed. A thirty-eight was still clutched tightly in the man’s right hand, most of his face and the top of his head blown away from the bullet.

Hutch sighed heavily as he flipped the safety back on and put his gun back in his holster. Pulling a hanky from his pocket to avoid contaminating the scene with his own fingerprints, he used it to pick up the phone on the nightstand beside the bed. He called the local sheriff’s office to report the apparent suicide of Tyler Davis.

By the time the local authorities arrived and processed the scene, taking Hutch’s statement on discovering the body, it was almost dark. It would be close to midnight before he finally got back to Bay City and home. It had been a long, exhausting day. Just outside the city limits, Hutch saw a car pulled over to the side of the road. A pretty blonde with legs a mile long stood in the middle of the road, waving her arms frantically. Ever the gentleman, Hutch pulled over and climbed out of his car to see if he could be of assistance.

“What seems to be the problem? He asked with a pleasant smile as he walked up to the car.

“I don’t know.” She said with a sweet smile. “It just up and quit on me.”

“Let me take look.” Hutch graciously offered. “Pull the knob under the dash to open the hood for me, would you?”

The blonde slid into the front seat to do as he asked. The hood unlatched with a soft click and Hutch raised it to peer at the engine. Everything seemed to be intact and the engine felt cool, it hadn’t overheated. Hutch started to straighten up to ask the girl a question when he felt a solid thud to the back of his skull followed by a sudden flash of excruciating pain. Then there was nothing but blackness as his legs crumbled and he collapsed to the ground.

CHAPTER FIVE

Starsky was sleeping soundly when he was jolted awake by a loud pounding at the front door. Pushing his stiff body off the sofa where he had dozed off earlier, he grumbled “Okay, okay. I hear ya. Hang on.” He fumbled with the chain and lock, pulling open the door expecting to find Hutch standing on the stoop. “Whatcha do, Blondie? Forget your ke…” the words died on his lips and a cold block of ice formed in his gut when he found himself facing Captain Dobey instead. Before the burly black man could speak, Starsky demanded, “What happened to Hutch?”

“He disappeared on his way back from the prison.” Dobey said, knowing there was no way to soften the blow. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him before continuing. “We’re not sure what happened. His car was found on Highway 202 about five miles outside of town but there was no sign of Hutch. We think he’s been abducted.”

Starsky stared at his former commanding officer, his dark blue eyes smoldering with rage. “Who was supposed to be watching his back?” he growled in a dangerously low voice.

“Starsky, he insisted on going to the prison by himself. There didn’t seem to be a reason to send anyone with him.” Dobey argued. “Whatever happened to Hutch may not have anything to do with Marcus.”

“You don’t believe that and neither do I.” Starsky said firmly, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at Dobey. “They couldn’t have taken him without a fight.”

“There were no signs of a struggle, just some footprints in the dirt at the side of the road. Whatever happened, it happened fast and quiet. There was a second set of tire tracks at the scene but we don’t know if there’s any connection to whatever happened to Hutch.”

“There had to be something!” Starsky snapped, trying to keep his anger under control. He knew whatever had happened wasn’t the Captain’s fault.

“The only thing we found was Hutch’s keys lying on the ground in front of his car. We’re not sure how they got there.” Dobey could see Starsky’s body trembling with barely suppressed rage and fear. He put a gentle hand on the younger man’s shoulder to center him and said quietly, “I put out a missing officer on Hutch immediately and came right over here to tell you.”

“Who’s in charge of the case?”

“Jameson and Winters.”

“They’re both good men but they were still rookies when Hutch and I busted Marcus.” Starsky said as he began pacing the room, his anxiety level increasing with each breath he took. “They have no idea what kind of sick mind they’re dealing with.”

“Well,” Dobey said, choosing his words with deliberate care. “There is another option.” Starsky paused and looked at him questioningly. Dobey reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a familiar brown leather case, holding it out to Starsky. “Dave,” he said quietly “Son…we both know that you’re the only one who has a chance of hell in finding Hutch before its too late. I can push the paperwork through with the Chief and the Commissioner in the morning to put you back on active duty. They owe you that much.”

“It could already be too late.” Starsky said softly, eyeing the badge that represented his former life but making no move to take it from Dobey.

“Is that what your gut is telling you?” Dobey asked, extending the badge further.

With a trembling hand, Starsky reached out and accepted the badge that would make him a cop again. Looking into Dobey’s dark eyes, the brunet was silent for several seconds before finally saying in a firm, determined voice, “I’m doing this for Hutch…not for you or anybody else. Understood?”

“Perfectly.” Dobey said, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. He felt a surge of pride. The other half of his best team of detectives was back on the job where he belonged. “I’m on my way home. Edith’s going to be worried if I don’t show up soon.”

Starsky nodded absently and showed Dobey to the door. Closing it behind him, Starsky refastened the chain and dead bolt, leaning heavily against the door frame for a moment till he regained control of his chaotic emotions. Images of Hutch being abused by Marcus and his band of crazy followers the way Starsky himself had been kept drifting through his mind.

Finally, he walked back over to the sofa and slumped down on the cushions. He looked at the leather case he still clutched in his hand. Opening it, he stared in silence at the gold shield that had defined so much of his adult life. He choked back the lump that rose in his throat as a single tear slowly ran down his cheek. He was no longer sure if this was what he really wanted but Hutch needed him and that was all that mattered. Knowing that any further sleep was out of the question, he bounced to his feet and went back to the bedroom to dress. He stuffed the Berretta beneath his belt in the middle of his back, pulling on a black windbreaker to conceal it. Grabbing his wallet and his keys, he hurried outside, locking the door behind him.

He unlocked the Torino and climbed under the wheel, relaxing back against the black leather seats. Absently, he ran his right hand over the dashboard, forever grateful that Hutch had kept the car even when he thought Starsky was dead. A crooked grin tugged at his mouth as the engine roared to life with the turn of the key. The rear tires squealed as he pulled into the street. Since it was almost three in the morning, the traffic was fairly light. Within twenty minutes, he was parking in front of The Pits, a combination bar and grill owned and operated by his old friend, Huggy Bear. The closed sign was hung in the front window but that didn’t deter Starsky. Climbing out of the car, he stalked across the sidewalk and starting pounding loudly.

“GO AWAY! WE’RE CLOSED!” Huggy’s gruff voice yelled from inside the building.

“OPEN UP!” Starsky yelled back “IT’S ME.”

“ME WHO?” Huggy yelled back in an irritated voice even though Starsky knew that Huggy had recognized his voice.

“COME ON, HUG. OPEN UP! IT’S IMPORTANT!”

After a few minutes, he heard the rattle of the locks been undone and the door swung open. Huggy stood in the doorway glaring at him as Starsky stomped into the bar. He shut the door and said, “This better be good…cause the bar is closed for business.”

“Hutch is missing and I think Simon Marcus has him.” Starsky said, his haunted eyes burning into Huggy’s soul.

“Jeeze…I’m sorry, man.” Huggy said apologetically “I didn’t know.”

“It just happened.” Starsky said. He slumped down on a bar stool and looked at his old friend somberly. “I have to find him before its too late.”

“Are sure that Marcus has him?”

“I’m sure of it.” Starsky said flatly.

“What can I do to help?” Huggy said as he stepped behind the bar. He grabbed two shot glasses and poured both himself and Starsky a shot of whiskey.

“See what you can find out on the streets. Somebody has to know something.” Starsky said as he grabbed the offered drink and downed it in one swallow, welcoming the burn as it slid down his throat and settled in his stomach. He gestured for Huggy to pour him another one.

“I’ll do my best.” Huggy said as he poured Starsky another drink. “But that Marcus cat is one scary dude. My usual resources may not be inclined to share even if they do know something. You dig?”

“I dig.” Starsky said, downing his second shot with ease. “Just do your best.” He shoved himself to his feet and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Huggy asked. He recognized the rigid set of Starsky’s shoulders and the rage in his eyes that covered the pain and the fear.

A thin smile curled Starsky’s mouth. “Hunting.” He replied in a cold, deadly voice. Huggy watched his friend leave, disappearing back into the night. Shaking his head ruefully as he grabbed the dirty shot glasses off the bar, he muttered under his breath, “Man, I sure wouldn’t want to be in Marcus’ shoes right now.” Huggy knew from previous experience just how dangerous Starsky could be when Hutch was in danger.

Starsky spent the rest of the night searching out old contacts and snitches of his own trying to find out anything about Marcus or his possible whereabouts. More than one snitch looked as if he had seen a ghost when he saw Starsky. Starsky leaned on them heavy but none of them admitted knowing anything about Marcus or Hutch’s disappearance. The sun was just breaking over the horizon when Starsky headed for Police headquarters.

Minnie an officer who worked in the computer room and was a close friend of both Starsky and Hutch, squealed happily when she saw Starsky strutting down the hallway. She ran to him and threw her arms around him, giving him a heartfelt hug. Although she had seen him frequently since his return from Viet Nam, she was overjoyed to see him back haunting the familiar halls of headquarters.

“Honey, I’m so sorry about Hutch. I know you’ll find him.” She said, brushing a kiss across his lightly whiskered cheek.

“Have you been able to find Gail yet?” Starsky asked, remembering that Hutch had Minnie using the sophisticated computer system to try and locate the missing woman.

“Sure did. Her current address is listed as 2136 East Converse Avenue. Apartment 23.”

“Thanks, darling…” Starsky said, making her blush as he gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll check it out after I talk to the Captain. Is he in his office yet?”

“Probably not, honey. It’s not even seven a.m. yet.” Minnie reminded him with a smile.

“Oh…yeah.” Starsky said in a dejected voice. “Guess I’ll just head up to the squad room and wait on him.”

“You better grab yourself something to eat and some coffee.” Minnie suggested “You look like you could use it.”

Starsky nodded as he turned to walk away. He made a quick stop at the cafeteria where he bought a cup of coffee and a couple of doughnuts. In the back of his mind, he could almost hear Hutch nagging him about his menu choices. The thought brought a hint of a smile to his face that never quite made it to his eyes.

He climbed the steps to the third floor and entered the detective’s bullpen. Several voices called out greetings, welcoming him back. Apparently the word had already leaked out that he was back on the job. Dobey hadn’t come in yet so he hadn’t had time to push the paperwork through to get him back on the payroll. Starsky sat down at his old spot and looked across the table at Hutch’s familiar clutter. His own side of the table was empty. Hutch had told him that nobody else would use his seat after he supposedly died as a sign of respect for their fallen colleague. Since his resurrection from the dead, Starsky had been overwhelmed by the unconditional support he had received from his co-workers.

Starsky was surprised when Captain Dobey burst through the squad room doors a few minutes later, growling “Starsky! My office! Now!” as he stormed into his office. Starsky stood up and followed. Things felt back to normal already. To keep things up to par, Starsky hooked his foot around the bottom of the door to pull it shut behind him.

“What’s up, Cap’n?” he asked as he slouched into the chair facing the desk and propped his feet up on the polished surface.

“Starsky! Your feet!” Dobey barked, hiding a smile at the brunet’s familiar antics.

Starsky slid his feet to the floor but remained slouched in the chair. Dobey shuffled through some papers on his desk and handed Starsky a plain white envelope with the younger man’s name written across the front in a blood red marker. “That was delivered sometime last night to the duty clerk downstairs. It was busy at the time so the officer in charge didn’t see who put it on his desk.”

Starsky tried to still the frantic pounding of his heart as he accepted the envelope and tore it open with a trembling hand. He pulled out the single sheet of folded paper and read the short, painful message it contained, then silently handed it to Dobey. The big black man glanced at the page and read: “The White Knight must take the Black Knight’s place in Simon’s Kingdom.” Dobey sighed heavily. It was all the confirmation they needed to know that Marcus had Hutch.

CHAPTER SIX

Starsky pulled up in front of the rundown apartment building on the east side of the city where Minnie said Gail was now living. Starsky frowned as he climbed out of his car and glanced around at the dangerous neighborhood where the innocent, somewhat naive Gail now lived. A gang of boys hung out on the corner, smoking and yelling obscenities at anyone who walked by and a small child was playing unattended in the meager lawn in front of the building. It wasn’t anything that Starsky hadn’t already seen far too many times over the years but it saddened him to think of Gail ending up here. Her parents had money and had been very supportive when Gail was rescued from the cult. Starsky had hoped they would reconcile their differences and give Gail the opportunity to turn her life around. Apparently that hadn’t happened.

Starsky found the right apartment and knocked on the door. He waited and then knocked again, a bit louder. The door next door opened and a woman in her mid-thirties with her hair in curlers peered out. In a gravelly voice from too many years of smoking, she said, “She’s probably sleeping it off. She had one hell of a party last night.”

“Thanks.” Starsky said offering the woman a gracious smile. “Did you happen to see any of her guests?”

“No, just heard a lot of yelling and banging around. Sounded like somebody was throwing the furniture around in there. Then I heard her moaning and carrying on so I figured she was getting some, ya know?”

Starsky immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. With a curt nod, he knocked on the door even louder but still got no response. He glanced at the neighbor who was still watching him intently. “Where can I find the manager?” he asked

“That ass? Your guess is as good as mine.” She told him with a snort “The only time he comes around is when the rents due.”

Without hesitation, Starsky raised his left foot and kicked the flimsy door, breaking the lock. The door swung open, slamming against the wall with an audible bang. The smell of fresh blood immediately assaulted Starsky’s senses as he stepped across the threshold. He almost gagged as he took in the carnage in front of him. The room was trashed with broken pieces of furniture and glass littering the floor. Gail’s mutilated body was positioned against the far wall, her arms outstretched with nails driven through the palms of her hands, in a bizarre mockery of the crucifixion of Christ.

“Oh, my God!” he heard a female voice exclaim from behind him. He whirled around to find the ‘helpful’ neighbor standing in the doorway with her hand held over her mouth as she struggled not to vomit all over the gruesome crime scene.

“Go call the police and tell them to get over here right away! Tell them that Detective Starsky is already on the scene.” Starsky ordered. The woman nodded and scurried out of sight. Starsky turned his attention back to the gory scene in front of him. He had no doubts in his mind about who was responsible for this horrendous act of violence. Stepping closer to the gentle strawberry blonde who had been so kind to him during his ordeal at the hands of the cult, he held out his hand, stopping just short of actually touching her. In a choked voice, he whispered “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.” He knew that he was not responsible for Gail’s murder. She had been murdered in retaliation for not following Marcus’ orders. She had been a marked for death the moment she chose to defy the cult. He stuffed his clenched fists into his jeans to keep from punching something and possibly destroying evidence.

Starsky noticed the bloody, gore covered knife, lying on the floor at Gail’s feet. It was identical to the one she had been ordered to use to make the first slice when he was supposed to have been sacrificed by the cult. For all he knew, it could even be the same knife. In the confusion following his rescue and the arrest of the cult members that day, the knife had mysteriously disappeared from the scene. Feeling the doughnuts he’d eaten for breakfast trying to make a repeat performance, he backed out of the room, standing guard at the doorway until backup arrived. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment but they snapped open again almost immediately when he pictured Hutch hanging in Gail’s place.

When backup arrived, along with the coroner’s team and lab boys, Starsky excused himself and went back out to his car. He’d seen enough. He would get the rest of the information he needed from the official reports when they were completed. The long hours without much sleep was starting to catch up with him. His eyes burned and the exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. But he couldn’t sleep or even rest until he found Hutch. Time was running out for both of them. Pulling away from the crime scene, he headed for the closest place to get a cup of coffee. He needed a strong jolt of caffeine to keep going and to calm his ragged nerves.

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Outside the city in a well concealed hiding place, Hutch lay on the ground, semi-conscious, his hands and feet tied securely to prevent his escape. His battered body curled into a fetal position against the pain that threatened to plunge him over the edge into the blackness. His cracked battered lips repeated one name over and over like a silent prayer “Starsky…Starsky…Starsky…”

A figure stepped out of the darkness and kicked the fallen detective viciously in his ribs. In a cold, deadly voice he said, “Heavenly Polaris can’t help you now. The White Knight is no more…Simon’s dream is now your reality.”

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Starsky let himself into Hutch’s apartment, slamming the door behind him. He had returned just long enough to shower and change clothes before starting his search anew. The coroner’s graphic report on Gail’s brutal murder still lingered in his mind. It was obvious that she had been tortured terribly before finally dying from her injuries. The coroner estimated that it could have taken her up to four hours to die. Starsky felt a surge of rage at the next door neighbor who had listened and casually ignored Gail’s dying screams, assuming that she was just having a good time.

Starsky stumbled on his way to the bathroom, so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. After a quick shower, he went into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed, intending to only close his eyes for a moment to rest. The next thing he knew the insistent ringing of the telephone aroused him from a sound slumber. With a start, he fumbled for the receiver and growled “Talk to me.”

“Polaris…” a voice hissed in his ear. “Where’s the white knight now?”

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” Starsky yelled, instantly alert and outraged at the taunting tone of the voice. “IF YOU LAY ONE HAND ON HIM YOU WON’T LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO REGRET IT!”

The only response from the caller was a sickening laugh that sent chills up and down Starsky’s spine. “You’ll never find him. The white knight is no more…he’s tarnished and old, while your star still shines.” The voice mocked him as a sharp click sounded in his ear. Starsky yelled out his frustration and anger as he ripped the phone out of the wall and threw it across the room where it left a good sized dent in the plaster. Starsky rose to his feet, still shaking with rage. Let the games begin. Starsky scowled darkly. In order to find Hutch, he was going to have to go underground and crawl through the sewers with the rest of the scum. A thin smile tugged at his lips. It was a lesson he had learned well in the past two years. A ghost that drifted through the shadows, never seen and never heard until he struck with deadly violence.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Captain Dobey paced the squad room in frustration. He had been trying to find Starsky for the last two hours without any success. Nobody had seen or heard from him since he left headquarters after reading the autopsy report on the former cult member named Gail. That had been almost six hours ago. The press and the public were already demanding action. Nobody wanted a monster like Simon Marcus on the loose for long. Dobey had a strong feeling that Starsky had gone off on his own to try and find Hutch and Marcus. He wondered if he had made a mistake by offering Starsky his badge back. He wasn’t sure if the brunet was emotionally strong enough to handle a case of this magnitude with losing it, especially was Hutch was in danger. But Dobey knew that even without the badge, nothing would have stopped Starsky from hunting for his missing friend. At least the badge offered him some legal protection as long as his actions didn’t bring any negative backlash on the department. Reluctantly, Dobey decided to put a BOL or a Be on the lookout out on Starsky. Any officer who saw the brunet was to report his location back to Dobey but was ordered to make no attempt to try and stop him themselves. All Dobey could do was wait and hope for the best. He could only hope that Starsky would call in for backup if he found Marcus or Hutch.

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“Simon…Simon…Simon…Simon…” the insistent drone of the chanting grated on Hutch’s nerves. There was no variation in the rhythm or tone, just the same monotonous chanting. Hutch could feel the cold sweat that covered his bare chest and back, the blindfold that covered his eyes preventing him from seeing the cult members that surrounded him. He estimated that there had to be at least ten of Marcus’ followers surrounding him, maybe more.

His muscles ached from involuntarily bracing himself for the blows that never came. He had already been beaten repeatedly by at least two men who appeared to be in charge of the others but so far, none of the other cult members had touched him. Hutch was positive that he had heard Marcus’ voice at least once but he had been too disoriented at the time to be sure.

His head pounded relentlessly and his mouth was dry, his tongue feeling swollen, his throat parched. He longed for a cold drink of water but he remembered Starsky telling him about the tainted water that he had been given that had given the brunet agonizing stomach cramps. Hutch had lost all sense of time. He had no idea how long he had been a prisoner of the cult or what their plans for him were. His abuse so far had been mild compared to what Starsky had been subjected to. Was he just some kind of pawn in their little game? The bait to reel in Starsky so they could kill the brunet this time? Hutch didn’t know but he vowed to do whatever it took to keep Starsky safe this time, even if it meant sacrificing his own life to save him.

It pained Hutch to think about Starsky out there alone looking for him. He remembered far too well the twenty-four hours he had spent trying to find Starsky after his abduction by the cult. Hutch’s biggest fear was that this would send Starsky over the edge and jeopardize his recovery from his ordeal in Viet Nam. Hutch was far too familiar with Simon’s sick mind games and fondness for cryptic riddles. He had no doubt that the cult leader would enjoy tormenting Starsky with clues that he would have to decipher in order to figure out where they were holding Hutch.

The first blow came out of nowhere, catching Hutch off guard, as the foot slammed into his left side, taking his breath away and making him gasp. More blows immediately followed raining down on his defenseless form, vicious kicks and blows from heavy sticks along with a few well aimed punches to his face. Hutch bit his lip to keep from giving them the satisfaction of hearing him crying out in spite of the pain. As he felt the darkness reaching out to draw him into its comforting embrace, he went willingly and without any resistance.

Sometime later, he awoke with a start, the involuntary jerk of his abused body sending a wave of pain washing over him. Hutch moaned softly and curled into the pain, wrapping his arms tightly around his bruised ribcage. It took him a moment to realize that his blindfold had been removed. Without moving his head, he let his gaze sweep over his surroundings. He was lying in the middle of a large clearing, surrounded by thick trees and brush. His clothing had been removed and he shivered in the cold night air. As his awareness grew, he suddenly realized that there was a chain fastened around his left ankle that was tethered to a thick stake driven into the ground. He appeared to be alone. There was no sign of any of the cult members, not even a guard. Apparently they felt safe enough to leave him by himself considering his nudity and the chain that held him captive.

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Back in the city, Starsky was holed up in an abandoned building on the east side of town plotting his strategy. Before leaving Hutch’s apartment and going into hiding, he had stuffed his duffle bag with a change of clothes and other supplies including enough food to last for a few days. He had deliberately chosen food that wouldn’t spoil and could be eaten while on the run. He chewed on some raisins and nuts while sipping some bottled water. He had conditioned himself to survive for days on a lot less. He was exhausted but he couldn’t afford the luxury of more than a short nap at a time. He had to find Hutch. He had a feeling that time was running out for the big blond.

He had always hated it when Hutch got hurt. If he could, Starsky would willingly risk serious injury or even death to protect Hutch. Even the past two years apart had not dampened Starsky’s obsessive drive to keep Hutch safe from harm. But that same protectiveness towards his best friend worked both ways. Hutch would gladly do the same thing for him. Starsky leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, resting for a moment. He took several deep breaths and exhaled slowly fighting back the weariness that seemed to creep into his bones. He had to get some sleep, even if it was only for a few minutes. His body was letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that it couldn’t keep functioning without some rest. He was asleep within minutes.

The scrapping sound of a door opening startled the brunet awake. Blinking his eyes to clear his vision, he automatically drew his gun and took aim. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief as Huggy Bear appeared out of the shadows. The streetwise black man raised his hands in mock surrender and said, “Hey, man…be cool. It’s only me.”

“Don’t sneak up on me like that. I could have shot you.” Starsky grumbled as he flipped on the safety and re-holstered his weapon.

“I wasn’t exactly sneaking.” Huggy pointed out indignantly. He looked at his old friend closely, carefully assessing his present condition. There were dark circles under the sapphire eyes from a lack of adequate sleep and deep lines etched around his mouth and eyes from worry but other then that he appeared to be fine.

“Have you heard anything?” Starsky demanded, knowing his voice sounded hard and rude but past the point of caring. His only concern was finding Hutch and putting an end to Marcus’ reign of terror.

“Nada.” Huggy said “But somebody dropped this off and said to give it to you if I happened to see you.” He took a plain white envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Starsky.

“Who?” Starsky growled as he took the envelope and tore open the flap.

“Don’t know my white brother.” Huggy said “They left it with Angie before I got there.”

Starsky took out the single sheet of paper and read the cryptic message it contained. Without a word, he handed it back to Huggy. The tall thin black man squinted as he read the message:

Behold, the White Knight shall fall and Heavenly Polaris shall submit to the will of the father. Where the hunters roam, the Black Knight shall perish in the fiery pits of hell. Face to face, two Knights shall be no longer as one defeats the other. Heaven and hell shall join forces for the good of the kingdom as the dark lord reigns.

Huggy handed the note back to Starsky with a disgruntled scowl. “Not another one of Marcus’ riddles.” He said flatly.

“It looks that way.” Starsky said “And if we can figure out what the hell it means then it might give us a clue where to start looking for Hutch.”

“Well, we already know that Marcus called Hutch the White Knight and you were Heavenly Polaris.” Huggy said, remembering the last time he had helped to figure out one of Simon’s intricate riddles.

“He called me the Black Knight a couple of times too.” Starsky said with a sigh.

“Well then, it sounds like when he says that the White Knight shall fall means that Hutch will die. And face to face, two knights shall be no longer as one defeats the other almost makes it sound like you and Hutch will end up fighting each other.”

“Knowing Marcus anything is possible.” Starsky muttered “And the bit about Heavenly Polaris submitting to the will of the father obviously means I’ll obey Marcus and do what he wants…maybe to protect Hutch.”

“Okay, so what does the last line mean?” Huggy asked in a puzzled voice. “Heaven and hell shall join forces for the good of the kingdom as the dark lord reigns…”

“I don’t know.” Starsky said in an agitated voice, his head aching from trying to figure out the clues in the riddle. “If I represent Heaven and Marcus represents hell, then maybe it’s supposed to mean that I’ll join Marcus so he can rule his unholy kingdom.”

“So what’s the line mean about the Black Knight perishing in the fiery pits of hell where the hunter’s roam?”

“Hell if I know.” Starsky snapped, his patience wearing thin. “It has to be some kind of clue as to where they’re holding Hutch or where our ‘final’ showdown is supposed to happen.”

“Where the hunters roam…what kind of hunters?” Huggy asked

“I don’t know!” Starsky snapped “He could mean cops or he could mean his band of sickos.”

“Maybe he means actual hunters.” Huggy suggested “You know…guys with big guns that go out and shoot defenseless animals?”

“Still sounds like the cops and the bad guys to me.” Starsky said with a snort.

“Man, that means they could be holed up anywhere in the city.”

“Yeah…I know.” Starsky looked lost in thought for a moment. “If Marcus had that note delivered to you then that must mean he knows I’m not at my place or at Hutch’s apartment.”

“Or police headquarters.” Huggy pointed out helpfully.

“So, it stands to reason if he delivers anymore riddles for me it’ll be through you.”

“Gee, why doesn’t that make me feel special?” Huggy said dryly.

“I didn’t mean to drag you into the middle of this, Hug.”

“Hey, I care about Hutch too…I’ll do whatever it takes to help you find him. Where are you gonna be?”

“Around. I think under the circumstances, you’re better off not knowing exactly where I am. I’ll find a way to check in with you every couple of hours to see if you’ve found out anything or received anymore of Simon’s little love letters.”

“Okay…but if I don’t hear from you every two hours then I’m calling in Dobey.” Huggy said firmly.

“Give me at least four hours before you call in the Cavalry.” Starsky said with a pleading glance at his old friend.

Huggy hesitated and then nodded his head. “All right…if I haven’t heard from you in four hours, I’ll call for reinforcements and tell Dobey everything I know…which right now isn’t that much.”

“Thanks, Hug.” Starsky said with a lopsided smile.

“Why don’t you want Dobey in on this anyway? It’d be a hell of lot safer than trying to take on this psycho and his band of loonies by yourself.”

“Because this whole thing is between me and Marcus.” Starsky replied. “It always has been. Hutch is just the bait to get us together.”

“Pretty effective bait if you ask me.” Huggy declared.

“Yeah,” Starsky agreed in a voice that sounded lost and filled with despair. “And Marcus knows it. This time only one of us is going to walk away in one piece.” There was an ominous finality to Starsky’s words that sent a cold chill down the tall thin black man’s spine. The hunted had become the hunter; the victim, the predator and a certain blond was the prize that went to the winner. Huggy prayed he didn’t lose both of his friends before the final showdown was over.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Starsky left the shelter of the abandoned building and blended into the background. Unseen and unnoticed, he haunted the streets, searching relentlessly for any sign of Marcus and his followers or his blond counterpart. He followed a lead from a reliable snitch to a woman whose daughter had joined the cult within the past year. Although the woman didn’t know where they were holed up at the moment, she was able to tell him where they had been hiding out up until three weeks ago.

Starsky wasn’t surprised to learn that they had been hiding at the old Zoo. It was the same location they had been using when they abducted him so many years ago. With its intricate catacomb of underground tunnels and caves, it was the perfect hiding spot. The zoo had been closed down for almost fifteen years but the old cages, animal enclosures and most of the buildings were still standing. A cold chill ran down Starsky’s spine as soon as he stepped on the grounds of the old zoo. This place held too many traumatic memories for the brunet, memories he had struggled to resolve for months after his abduction.

As he moved deeper into the compound, Starsky pushed aside the images that kept drifting through his mind. Images of a large bear, a man with a torch, and a sharp knife held in the hands of a disturbed young woman. Starsky avoided the cave where he had been held capture and concentrated on searching the other enclosures. In a partially collapsed building at the rear of the grounds, he found evidence of the cult’s recent residency. He sorted through the trash and litter, looking for anything that might tell him where they had gone. Finally, he slumped in a corner, discouraged and frustrated.

He had found evidence that at least three young girls may have fallen victim to the cult’s satanic rituals in the past six months and that at least two of the cult members, young women named Sarah and Michelle, had been in regular contact with Simon while he was in prison. Starsky tried not to think about what they could be doing to Hutch while Starsky ran around looking for clues. The only thing he found that might be of some use was a cryptic note containing one of Simon’s insidious riddles.

He smoothed out a crumbled piece of paper and read:

By dark of night, the white knight shall fall

Walls of stone where water runs free

The black knight shall come alone

A broken dream of boards, mortar and stone

Where Heavenly Polaris will atone

Where trails wind and Eagles fly free

The white Knight waits to meet his fate

Destiny, now divided by one

Good and evil shall meet

But only one shall bow in defeat

Starsky rubbed his temple to ease the throbbing ache in his head as he tried to decipher the hidden messages in the note. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind, trying to find that psychic connection he shared with Hutch. Hang on, Blondie…I’m coming. I’ll find you…I swear I will. Somewhere deep inside of his soul, he could almost hear Hutch answering him, begging with him to hurry.

Shoving the note in his jacket, he shoved himself to his feet and left the grounds of the old Zoo. He needed to check in with Huggy. Maybe the perceptive black man could help figure out the clues contained in this new message. Starsky was convinced that the note had not been left behind by accident. It was just another one of Simon’s mind games. Like a cat playing with a mouse before closing in for the kill.

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Hutch lay on his side with his eyes closed. He could hear the cult members milling around him but he continued to feign unconsciousness. He wasn’t sure how much more abuse his battered body could take. The persistent beatings had taken their toll on the tall blond. Hutch knew he had some broken ribs and a badly bruised kidney but other than that, he didn’t think his other injuries was that severe. Compared to what the cult had subjected Starsky too, Hutch knew that he was getting off easy. A nagging suspicion in the back of his mind kept whispering in his ear that he was just a pawn to lure Starsky back into the cult’s grasp.

Hutch listened to the different voices around him. He could readily identify the voices of Matthew and James, two of Simon’s second in command. But, so far, he had not heard the velvety, hypnotic voice of the cult leader even though he was positive he had heard it earlier. Hutch shivered involuntarily, chilled by his nudity even through the sun was directly overhead. Despite the pounding in his skull, he tried to concentrate on low pitched voices to his left. He dared not open his eyes to see who was speaking.

“It won’t be long now. The dark one has been to the old zoo.” A high pitched male voice was saying in a confident tone.

“How soon?” another voice, a female this time, asked impatiently. “The ceremony must be held under the light of the full moon.”

“Matthew is sending out disciples to find the dark one and bring him here by sundown.”

“He is more dangerous now than before.” The woman said “He will die to protect the white knight.”

“He will voluntarily sacrifice himself.” The man said smugly. “Simon’s dream will be fulfilled when the Dark Knight succumbs to our master willingly. As long as we have the White Knight, the dark one will obey.”

The faces faded away into the distance. Hutch fought the bile that rose in his throat, threatening to choke him, as his suspicions were confirmed. He wasn’t the one they wanted. Starsky was. Fear for his friend’s safety and his mental health overwhelmed the big blond. Being a victim of the sadistic cult before had almost destroyed Starsky’s sanity. This time, he might not be able to defeat them. He was still fragile mentally and emotionally from his ordeal in Viet Nam. And Hutch had no doubt that the vision shared by the two cult members was true. Starsky would give himself over to the cult voluntarily if it meant saving Hutch’s life and Hutch had no way of warning Starsky of the cult’s intentions. He had to think of something. Both of their lives depended on it.

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Starsky kept to the shadows as he made his way through the downtown streets towards the Pits. He ignored the rats and alley cats that lurked around the overflowing dumpsters looking for food. He could feel himself slipping back into the persona of the solider skulking through the jungles of Viet Nam seeking his target. Only this time, the inner city was his jungle where he would fight his own private war.

Somehow, he wasn’t that surprised when six figures, dressed in dark jeans and black tee shirts stepped into the alley, confronting him. With an inhuman scream of pure rage, he charged into their midst, ready to meet his destiny. Unprepared for his unexpected attack, two of the men soon fell beneath his well placed kicks and death blows. The other four men were more cautious, one of them immediately drawing a gun and firing at the brunet. Starsky felt the sharp burning pain in his left shoulder when he was hit. Almost immediately, he felt light headed and dizzy. Too late, he realized that he hadn’t been shot with a bullet but with a tranquilizer dart that brought him to his knees. He heard the other men laughing as they surrounded him, beating and kicking him into submission.

CHAPTER NINE

Starsky could hear the sound of the chanting around him even before he opened his eyes. “Simon…Simon…Simon…Simon…Simon…” He tried to force his eyes open but his eyelids felt like they were glued shut, refusing to obey his brain’s commands. His arms and legs felt heavy, an aftereffect of whatever they had used to drug him with.

Another voice cut into his conscious, a voice he remembered from his nightmares.

“The time has come and we meet again, Heavenly Polaris.” Simon said in his most hypnotic voice. “Our destiny is in the here and now as I have dreamed.”

Starsky forced his eyes open, staring into the hated features of the infamous cult leader who was kneeling in front of him. He was dressed in the black robe with the inverted red cross of the front and back. The inverted cross in the middle of his forehead was clotted with fresh blood. Starsky choked back his fear and glared at Simon defiantly.

“Fuck you.” Starsky hissed “You’re nothing!”

Simon smiled faintly and reached out to run his fingers through Starsky’s thick dark curls. The brunet’s stomach knotted in anxiety as he instinctively pulled away from the cult leader’s vile touch. Simon chuckled, a cold mirthless sound of pure evil.

“The Black Knight still tries to defy the Master and deny his destiny.” Marcus said “Perhaps the White Knight should pay for the Black Knight’s defiance.”

“NOOOOOOO…” Starsky cried out instinctively when two cult members stepped forward out of the shadows, supporting a naked and badly beaten Hutch between them. Ice blue eyes locked with sapphire blue, Starsky and Hutch both drawing strength from each other.

“The bond between you is strong.” Marcus sneered, looking from blond to brunet. “It is what gives you both your strength and your power. But even your bond is not without cracks in its foundation. That same bond is also your weakness.”

“You lay another hand on him and I swear I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do!” Starsky declared in a cold, deadly voice that would have made most men cringe.

“The White Knight shall not suffer as long as you do what you are told.” Marcus said in a satisfied voice. “Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for the sake of the White Knight?”

“Yes.” Starsky said, exchanging a glance with his former partner, pleading with his eyes for the big blond to trust him. Hutch lowered his head, feigning defeat and submission.

“Take him away.” Marcus said with a wave of his hand. Starsky watched, his heart leaping into his throat, as the two men drug the unresisting blond away. When the brunet felt strange hands grabbing his arms, pulling him to his feet, he struggled instinctively but his mind was still foggy from the drugs. His hands were roughly pulled behind his back and bound with a thin piece of wire that cut cruelly into his flesh. Hands on his shoulders shoved him back to his knees in front of Marcus.

Starsky cursed vehemently as Marcus rested his hand on top of those unruly curls and chanted “Into our fold, we welcome this disciple, the Heavenly Polaris…let the cleansing ceremony begin…” Marcus gave a slight nod of his head and took a step backwards as the rest of the cult closed in around Starsky.

Hands began clutching at him, too many to resist, and the brunet felt his clothes being forcibly removed. He gasped as a bucket of icy cold water was poured over his head; drenching his curls and making him shiver. Then the hands were back on his body, drying his skin and then rubbing his torso with some sort of oil. At first the oil felt cool and soothing but then it started to burn and sting. Starsky tightened his lips, refusing to let them see his discomfort even though his skin felt like it was on fire. After several long painful minutes, another bucket of water, this time almost scalding hot was poured over his head. Starsky hissed through tightly clenched teeth but otherwise made no other sound.

Suddenly, hands were grabbing him and pulling him to his feet. Starsky felt himself being dragged across the uneven ground; He was laid on a cold stone slab. The wire binding his hands was cut loose and his arms were pulled out to each side, his wrists shackled in place with thick leather straps. Other hands bound his ankles with similar straps, effectively holding him in place on the makeshift altar. It was difficult to keep his thoughts straight with the drugs they had given him still in his system. He was far too familiar with the cult’s habit of using drugs to keep their victims disoriented and confused so they couldn’t resist Starsky took several deep cleansing breathes as he waited to see what would happen next. He knew that both he and Hutch were in danger as long as the cult was in control. Even if he voluntarily went along with Simon’s demands, the brunet had no doubt that the cult still intended to kill them both as part of their ritual.

The chanting increased in intensity. Starsky watched warily as several cult members stepped forward, holding something in their hands. A moment later, his eyes widened in alarm as he realized the cult members were holding snakes that they carefully placed on his naked body. His heart pounded frantically in his chest even as his mind registered the fact that the snakes weren’t poisonous. Not that that mattered. Starsky was terrified of snakes, poisonous or not. He fought to stay calm, choking back the bile that rose in his throat. No matter how hard he tried, Starsky couldn’t ignore the feel of the reptiles as they crawled over his bare skin. Marcus relished using his victim’s innermost fears against them, tormenting them with their own phobias. He enjoyed hearing their screams and seeing the terror reflected in their eyes when faced with their own personal version of hell. He lay perfectly still, not flinching, his eyes staring straight ahead as he used all the self control he possessed to keep from screaming. He would not give the sick bastards the satisfaction of seeing his fear.

Slowly, one by one, the snakes slithered across Starsky’s body and down the side of the makeshift altar to the ground. Starsky breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief as the last one crawled down his leg and over the side of the stone slab. His tense muscles finally relaxed and he ignored the fine tremors ran through his body. His skin still burned and tingled from the oil that had had been rubbed into his flesh. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, searching for Hutch’s comforting presence.

I’m here. Hang in there buddy.

I’m trying. How are you doing?

Don’t worry about me. Don’t let those bastards get to you.

Piece of cake. This is nothing.

Me and Thee, buddy. Me and Thee.

Starsky heard the words clearly in his mind and his resolve strengthened. He would show no weakness, no fear. They would not break him anymore than the bastards in Viet Nam had tried to break him. This time he had Hutch with him and that was the source of his greatest strength and courage. He could control the pain. He could control the fear. This was one battle he was determined to win. The battle for his life, Hutch’s life and their combined souls.

CHAPTER TEN

Unknown to Starsky, Hutch was tied to a tree a short distance away where he could see everything that was done to the brunet but was helpless to rescue him. A thick gag covered the big blond’s mouth to keep him quiet. Hutch was forced to watch, the rage boiling up inside of him, as the cult members tortured his best friend. He shuddered involuntarily as if the snakes were crawling over his own skin. Instinctively, he pulled at the ropes binding his wrists, feeling the rough hemp scraping and abrading the skin. He used the pain to stay focused and centered. He knew that even if he were able to free himself, he was vastly outnumbered by the members of the cult. He needed a plan. He needed Starsky.

Suddenly, Hutch could hear Starsky’s voice echoing in his mind, reaching out to him. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on communicating with his