Jeepers Creepers
Jeepers Creepers
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Jeepers Creepers By Mystic Whim
Pulling on the heavy door, the woman quickly stepped into the restaurant and out of the downpour of rain. She paused for a moment to catch her breath after her quick dash through the wet parking lot, and to shake the excess moisture from her long mane of straight black hair. Glancing around the room, she smiled. It was exactly as she expected; warm, dark and tastefully decorated. She couldn't help herself; she had to quickly scan the faces to see if he was here, even though she had already noted that his car was not present in the parking lot. None of the faces looked familiar. ~*~
"There's been a shooting. Couple dozen victims. Dobey thinks it may be mob related. You up?" ~*~
He softly approached her bed. “Hey, you okay?” he whispered. She didn’t acknowledge him. He leaned over and gently brushed the tears from her cheek. Suddenly she sat bolt upright, her arms and feet thrashing wildly. She was fighting with the blankets and comforter that had been so carefully tucked around her as if they were burning her flesh. Without uttering a sound, she fought against her invisible demons, terror once again blatant in her eyes.
Starsky sat on the side of her bed and tried to grab her arms. “It’s me!” he cried softly. “It’s Starsky! Take it easy. I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re all right.”
As quickly as the attack started, it ended. She suddenly stopped, breathing hard. Her arms dropped. Her eyes were not focuses at first, but she soon lifted her gaze to the man clutching her upper arms. Bright with pooled tears, her eyes studied him for a long moment.
Starsky released his tight grip on her arms. He started to rub her arms up and down as if to warm her, relax her. Just as he was about to get up from the bed, she jumped at him without warning. She grasped his work shirt in her fists, tugging him toward her. She wrestled with his shirt, trying to unbutton it, pull it from his body.
Shocked by her sudden assault on his clothes, Starsky tried to stop her. He clasped her fingers in his own, stilling their actions. Her eyes locked on his, and he saw something in them that caused him to free her hands, give her free reign. There was desperation in her eyes, a need that pierced his heart. He would have given her anything to stop the tortured pain he saw there.
She resumed her task unbuttoning his shirt, roughly ripping it from his body when undone. She then tugged at his tshirt with the same ferocity, and he aided her in removing it. Casting it aside, she placed a hand against his chest, staring at it breathlessly. There was something so primitive in her actions; not sexual, but driven by instinct, fear and need. Her hand pressed more firmly against his chest, fingers together, eyes fixated on her own hand. She leaned in to him; placed her head against his chest where her hand had been held. She nuzzled her head against him, wrapping her right arm around him and reaching for his hand with her left. Guiding his hand under her shirt, she placed it against her bare chest, pressing it against herself as she had held her hand against him. He could feel her heart beating hard in her chest.
Starsky’s eyes burned with the understanding of her actions. She had nestled her head against him to listen to his heart, to hear and feel its beat, to feel his life force and share her own. After spending a night surrounded by slaughter and the smell of death, buried beneath corpses, blood raining down upon her, she craved life. She needed to hear it, to feel it, be warmed by it. Her earlier fight with her blankets was not a fight against her demons, but an attempt to claw her way out from under the bodies that had pinned her down. She had been reliving her experience in her dreams.
Starsky squeezed his eyes shut, wondering just how callused he had become, how unaffected by human destruction. As a cop he was trained to emotionally detach, but when did it make him unaware of the emotions of the victims?
He lay back on her bed, gathering her against him. He wrapped his arms around her and caressed the top of her head with his cheek. “You’re alive, babe. I’m alive. You can hear it, feel it. Life will be beautiful again, I promise…” he whispered into her hair. His tears fell down his cheeks, just as hers fell upon his chest.
Eventually she fell asleep in his arms. Her arms still wrapped tightly around him, even in sleep. He absorbed her pain, feeling it ebb from her tiny frame, feeling it squeeze at his heart as he took her suffering as his own.
In the morning, Starsky awoke to find her still tightly wrapped against him, sound asleep. He let his mind wander over the events of the previous day, bewildered about some of the feelings he wrestled with. There was something so profoundly familiar about this woman in his arms, yet he couldn’t identify it. From the first time he laid eyes on her, terrorized in the corner of the booth, he felt he knew her. Not her face or her appearance, but her essence, her spirit. There was no way he had ever seen that face before. That face he would have remembered. But he knew her. He knew her personality, her scent, her taste. He knew how she would feel against his skin. He knew how it would feel to make love to her. Everything about this woman spoke of an old love, comfortable and trustworthy. Yet, he had never seen her before yesterday. How can I feel this way about a stranger?
He suddenly felt the need to escape from the bed, from the house. If he stayed with her much longer, he would let his desires overtake him. He slid from her grasp and from her bed, leaving her sleeping peacefully and alone. Heading into the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee. Plucking the phone from its cradle, he dialed his best friend.
“Starsk, I was just about to call you,” Hutch said in a serious tone.
“Anything happenin’ at the precinct?” he asked, glad for the distraction.
Starsky’s need to hear about the mundane sparked a suspicion in his partner. “Is something wrong, Starsk?”
“No, just bored,” he lied. He didn’t know how to explain his troubling thoughts when they didn’t make sense to himself. “Has the coroner come up with anything we can use?”
“The bullets he took from the bodies have been run through ballistics. It seems like there were four different weapons being used.”
“Four gunmen? That’s more info than we had before.”
“I spoke to the owner of Paesano’s. He didn’t have any leads on who would do this. I tend to think he knows more than he is saying. I’m supposed to meet with Roberts and Johansson to plan our next move.”
“When are you meeting with them?” Starsky asked.
“Late this afternoon,” Hutch answered. His suspicions were back. “Why?”
“Think ya can come spell me for a couple hours?”
Hutch raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Sure, pal. I’ll be right over. Anything I can bring you?”
Starsky sighed in relief. Getting out for a couple hours might help clear his head. At the very least it would give him a chance to be away from the woman who was tempting him from the next room. “No, I don’t need anything. Thanks Hutch.”
Hutch stared at the phone long after he hung it up. Something was bothering Starsky, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. He fumbled with the sketchpad in front of him, flicking through the drawings once again. Something told him that this artwork was related to Starsky’s odd behavior lately. The pad had been found on the floor of the restaurant and brought in with all the other unidentified victims’ belongings. There was no name in it, but there was a tell tale drawing that announced its owner. Hutch flipped to the page titled Self Portrait, and admired the now familiar face with the huge haunting eyes. He snapped the pad closed and tucked it under his arm before leaving to see Starsky.
By the time Hutch arrived, Starsky was antsy to get out. He had been remembering pieces of dreams, dreams that involved the girl. They were ordinary enough images; eating lunch, laughing at the beach, driving in his car. Were they from last night? Or have I had these dreams before? Then there was an erotic memory. Best not to think about that.
Hutch knocked on the front door. Starsky pulled open the door and stepped back for his friend to enter. Instead, Hutch grabbed his arm and pulled him outside, closing the door behind them. He turned to face down Starsky on the front porch. “What’s the matter Hutch?” Starsky asked bewildered.
At first Hutch didn’t answer. He locked eyes with Starsky as if trying to see right into his thoughts. Starsky held his scrutiny for a long moment then turned away. “Are you sleeping with our witness, partner?” Hutch accused.
Starsky whirled around and faced him again. “No!”
“Then why are you so anxious to get out of here this morning?” he demanded.
Starsky walked up to the railing around the porch and leaned both his hands against it. “I didn’t sleep with her Hutch. I held her last night, nothing more. She woke up with nightmares, and I just wanted to comfort her. This morning I wanted her. So I called you. I thought if I could just get away for a while, put some distance between us and get my mind off her, I would be fine, all right?”
“Have you slept with her before?”
Starsky turned around. “Whadda ya mean before? I TOLD you. I don’t know the girl. I never met her before yesterday.”
“Then explain this to me.” Hutch opened up the art pad and showed Starsky a beautiful sketch of three zebras running wild.
“What’s this?” Starsky asked, reaching for the pad. As soon as he touched it, he knew who it belonged to. “It’s hers.”
“If you have never met her before, why would she know about Zebra 3?” Hutch watched him intently.
Starsky smiled. “Come on Hutch, it’s got to be a coincidence. So she draws some zebras. That doesn’t mean it has to do with us.”
Hutch took the pad from his hands, and turned to another page. He handed it back to Starsky. This drawing was of a faceless man with dark curly hair and a leather jacket. Though the facial features were not sketched, there was no mistaking the build and the posture of Starsky. He looked to Hutch with confusion.
Taking the book again, Hutch flipped to another page. This one was sketched in color. It was a sketch of someone’s eyes; Starsky’s eyes.
He flipped to one more sketch. This one was drawn as if the artist was behind Starsky, and he was looking over his shoulder back at the artist. He wore no shirt and he was turned slightly, but the scars from the bullet wounds on his back were visible in the drawing. Starsky snatched the pad from his friend and sank down to sit on the front step. Hutch sat beside him.
“Where do you know her from?” Hutch asked quietly.
“I have never seen her before in my life,” Starsky insisted. “Are you sure this is her pad?” Hutch reached over and flipped the pages to reveal the self portrait. Starsky closed the pad, reopening it to start from the beginning, examining each and every drawing. He found one of Hutch. His facial features were not drawn, giving the illusion he was a stranger hovering in the background like a sentinel.
As Starsky searched through the art pad, Hutch told him of the suspicious things he noticed yesterday. How she knew where to find his keys, the fact that she knew his car, and how she only allowed the two of them to get near her.
“She knows us,” Starsky said simply.
“How?” Hutch asked. “And what does she have to do with this shooting?”
Shaking his head, Starsky replied, “I have no idea.” He was silent a few minutes. He mustered up the courage to confess what had been bothering him. “Hutch, I’ve had the weirdest feeling I know this girl. Not just aware of her, not just an acquaintance; but I know her. I don’t know how to explain it. I know I’ve had dreams about her, or maybe they are memories. The more I am around her, the more I remember and the more I feel. The only way I could know someone the way I know her is to have had a long term relationship with her. I feel like I know her as well as I know you.”
“Has she started to talk yet?” Hutch asked hopefully.
“No. Last night I heard her crying in her sleep. I went in to check on her, and to find out what the noise was. I could hear her sniffling, but she was crying hard in her sleep and I couldn’t hear a sob.
“I’m going to put this in my car,” Hutch decided. “I’d like to learn more about her before I ask her about this. I’ll run a check on her as soon as we have a name.” He rose and walked down the driveway. When he returned, the two men went into the house.
“It’s time for her meds,” Starsky said, pouring a glass of orange juice. He shook some pills from a bottle into his hand, then picked up another and repeated the process. Pills and juice in hand, he went into the bedroom to wake the girl.
She was sleeping peacefully when he walked in. Unaware that Hutch was watching from the door, he sat on the edge of her bed and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her cheek. She woke from her sleep and smiled up at him.
“I brought you your pills,” he said softly. She took the medication and drank the juice. “I gotta have a name for you,” he mused. “Can’t keep callin’ ya babe, or hey you.” He thought for a moment. “I should call you Jeepers. Like the song. You know, Jeepers Creepers, where’d ya get those peepers…” he sang.
She did not speak, but he saw a twinkle in her eyes. “If you don’t like it,” he continued, “you’re just gonna have to use that voice of yours and tell me. ‘Kay, Jeeps?” He caressed her cheek then gave her a parting smile. “I’m gonna go out for a little while, but Hutch is gonna be here to keep you safe. Get some more sleep.”
Hutch fell into place behind him as he brought the glass back to the kitchen. “Jeeps?” he teased.
“Gotta call her somethin’,” he grinned. “You got something better?”
“No,” Hutch admitted. “I like it. It suits her.”
Starsky slid his coat on. His grin had faded. “I gotta get outta here. You gonna need anything?”
“Yeah. I need you to be careful.” Hutch gave his friend a knowing glare.
Starsky faced him. “Careful? About Jeeps ya mean?”
Hutch nodded. “I saw you kiss her, Starsk. Don’t get emotionally attached to her. We still don’t know if we can trust her. And don’t jeopardize our case by sleeping with our only witness.”
“Come on Hutch!” Starsky turned away exasperated. “It was just a friendly kiss on the cheek. I’m not sleepin’ with her, okay? I won’t.” He looked back at his friend with sad eyes. “I care about her Hutch. I’m not gonna sleep with her. She’s still hurtin’ over this. She’s too vulnerable. Too fragile.”
“I don’t trust her, Starsky. Not until I have some answers. There may be a reason she was the only survivor in that massacre. There may be a reason she singled you out to help her. I want you to be careful and keep your eyes open.”
Starsky nodded, then turned and walked out the door.
~*~
While Starsky was gone, Hutch read a book. Jeeps slept for a long time, then wandered out to the living room.
Hutch smiled a greeting at her. “Good morning Jeeps. I was just going to make some tea. Would you like some? It’s good for your throat.”
She nodded once, the first real attempt she had made to communicate. “You’re talking to me,” he said pleased. “Good! I’ll get that tea.”
He brought her a cup of herbal tea laced with lemon and honey. She drank it up before she curled on the couch wrapped in an afghan.
The pills were still making her very groggy so it wasn’t long before she had fallen asleep. She was still sleeping soundly when Starsky pulled up in the driveway. Hutch heard the car, so he closed his book and put it on the coffee table. Starsky’s keys in the lock startled Jeeps awake. She jumped to a sitting position and looked at the door. Starsky had unbolted the deadbolt and was now unlocking the doorknob. Jeeps panicked. Fearfully she leapt from the couch and ran for Hutch. “Ken!” she cried out.
Shocked, he grabbed her by the arms. “Jeeps, it’s okay! It’s Starsky!”
Starsky stepped into the living room, thrusting his keys in his pocket. Jeeps ran across the room to him, calling “David!” then fainted in his arms.
Starsky looked to Hutch, his eyes wide with amazement. “What happened?”
“You scared her. She didn’t know it was you coming in,” Hutch explained.
Picking up the unconscious girl, Starsky carried her to her bed. “She spoke! What did she say to you?” He slid her onto the bed and covered her with the blankets. He caressed her face.
“Just our names,” he replied. “I was just as surprised as you.”
Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at the two men in fear. “It’s okay Jeeps. It’s just me and Hutch. You’re safe.” Jeeps closed her eyes in relief and sagged into the bed. “Go back to sleep, Jeeps,” he whispered. “We’ll talk later.” The two men quietly slipped out of her room.
They sat down at the kitchen table and contemplated the change of events. “At least now we may be able to get some answers,” Starsky said hopefully.
“Did you notice what she called us?” Hutch pointed out.
“What she called us?”
“Ken and David. When did she ever hear our first names?”
The two men sat in thoughtful silence.
~*~
Jeeps slept the rest of the afternoon. Hutch went back to the precinct to meet with Roberts and Johansson. She did not awaken in his absence.
After work, Hutch came by to have dinner with Starsky and Jeeps. He kicked his partner out of the kitchen and happily started to fix the meal. While it was cooking, they heard Jeeps call out softly from the bedroom. “David? Ken?”
Both men went to her. Starsky took his seat on the edge of the bed while Hutch leaned against the doorframe.
“How ya doin’?” Starsky gently asked her.
“I’m fine,” she yawned. Then she smiled at him, her whole face lighting up. Without thinking, he reached up and caressed her cheek. She touched his hand and turned her face into his palm. “It’s so good to finally meet you,” she murmured.
“Do I know you?” Starsky asked, holding his breath.
She nodded. “You know me, don’t you? I know you. I’ve been waiting to meet you, to finally find you.”
Bewildered, Starsky shook his head. “I don’t remember ever seeing you. How do I know you?”
“You don’t know me here,” she said, lightly placing her hand over his eyes for a moment. “You know me here.” She placed her hand on his heart.
He placed his hand over hers and smiled. “I feel that. I feel like I have known you for a long time. But I don’t understand it.”
She shrugged. “Neither do I,” she admitted. “I have seen you in my dreams, in my thoughts, for many years now. At first I couldn’t see your face clearly, but once I moved to California, I started to catch glimpses of your face. Finally I could see you.”
Hutch stepped forward. “Jeeps, are you saying you know us from your dreams?” She nodded.
Starsky added, “I’ve had dreams about you too, and memories that just come to me. But if we haven’t met, how do I have memories of you?” She shook her head; unable to give him an answer to something she didn’t understand either.
“What is your name?” Hutch asked.
“I know her name,” Starsky replied. It was as if the knowledge of it just came to him. He looked at her. “It’s not a girl’s name, is it?” She laughed. “Mike?” he asked.
“Her name is Mike?” Hutch questioned.
She looked up at him. “Marcella,” she replied. “But my friends call me Mike.”
“How long have you known that?” Hutch asked his partner.
“Just now,” he admitted. “I told you, the more I am around her, the more I remember.”
Hutch sat down on the foot of her bed. “This doesn’t make sense. You two must know each other from somewhere.”
“We’ve never met,” she insisted. “But I know everything about you David, just as you know me.”
“What do you mean by that?” Hutch demanded.
“Ask me anything at all about David,” she challenged. “I bet I know him as well as you do.”
Hutch chuffed. “You can’t know him as well as I do.”
“Try me.” Her eyes sparkled with defiance.
Starsky laughed. “What’s my favorite color?”
“Blue,” they answered in unison.
“My favorite soft drink?”
“Rootbeer,” they replied
“Do I wear boxers or briefs?” he grinned.
Mike giggled. Hutch looked at him irritated. “Oh come on, Starsky. You wear your jeans so tight a nun could answer that question.” He shook his head.
“Neither,” they both stated, then looked at each other and laughed.
“Ask us something tougher, Starsk. Something only I would know,” Hutch suggested. “Or something even I couldn’t know.”
Starsky got up and walked away from them. With his back still turned, he asked, “Do I prefer to make love with the lights on or off?” He kept his back turned.
“On,” Hutch answered. “Off,” Mike answered.
Then Mike turned to Hutch and corrected, “He used to prefer to make love with the lights on but now he prefers them off.”
Hutch looked at her perplexed.
“He is self conscious about his scars,” she said quietly.
Starsky turned around to face them. His eyes held such a stricken expression, filled with hurt and pain. They both looked to him for an answer. “She’s right,” he said in a hoarse voice. Then he left the room.
Hutch went after him, but when he got into the living room he heard the front door close. He had left the house.
Mike came into the living room to find Hutch just standing there, running his hand through his hair. Hutch turned on her. “Who are you Jeeps? Why are you here? Did someone send you to us?”
“I’m not out to hurt either of you,” she answered. “I don’t know why this is happening.”
~*~
Starsky returned later and the three sat down to a very quiet dinner. When dinner was finished, Mike started to get up from the table. Starsky laid a hand on her shoulder. “Not yet, Jeeps. We need to talk to you.” Hutch finished clearing the plates then sat down with them. He placed a tape recorder in the center of the table and turned it on.
“Tell us about Paesano’s,” Starsky said gently.
She took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her nervously. “I had those dreams about you David. In one of the dreams you and I were having dinner together. It was the first time I saw your face clearly. I had memorized every detail about that dream; what you looked like, what the restaurant looked like, what kind of car you drove. I had hoped it would help me to find you.”
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“I was watching tv when I saw a commercial for a new restaurant that had just opened. They showed the inside of the restaurant, and I recognized it! The wallpaper, the paintings, all of it. It was the same restaurant that we were at in the dream! I had to go. I had to see if you were there. I knew I would finally meet you once I saw that.”
“So you went out to Paesano’s? Was that the same night you saw the commercial?” Hutch asked.
She nodded. “As soon as I got there I knew. I knew this was it. If I didn’t see you there tonight, I would go back. Eventually you would be there. The waiter took me to my table, and it was the same table I had dreamt about! Everything was falling into place. I would look up every time someone walked in, half expecting to see your face. Then I looked up and I saw four men come in wearing ski masks.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. Starsky reached over and squeezed her hand. “Take your time, Jeeps.”
“They were carrying automatic weapons. They started shooting at the people along the back wall. I jumped up and started to run. The waiter saw me and grabbed me. He threw me to the floor just before they turned their guns on us. They just kept shooting and shooting….”
She started to cry. Hutch brought her a box of kleenex. “Jeeps, can you tell us what the shooters looked like?” His voice was soothing.
“They were wearing ski masks, but I saw their eyes. One had brown eyes with dark lashes. Two had hazel eyes. The third had pale blue eyes. Brown Eyes had a tattoo on the back of his right hand. It looked like a scorpion, or maybe a spider. Blue Eyes was blond and left handed. One of the Hazel Eyes wore a wedding band, and he was blond too with a long pony tail. The other Hazel Eyes had a mustache, light brown. It needed a trim and I could see it in the opening for his mouth on the ski mask. Hazel Eyes with the mustache had an accent, a Southern accent. It wasn’t too strong though, maybe from Tennessee?”
Starsky and Hutch looked at each other and smiled.
“You gave us a lot there Jeeps,” Hutch told her.
“You said Hazel Eyes had an accent. Did they say anything you remember?” Starsky prodded.
“He said, ‘Alphonse will be pleased,’” she said. “He also mentioned Heathcliff Place. They were all going to meet at Heathcliff Place. The rest didn’t say much.”
Hutch jumped up and kissed Jeeps on the top of the head. “Jeeps, you just handed us the shooters all wrapped up with a big red bow on top,” he laughed.
“We know these guys,” Starsky explained. “With your testimony, we’ll be able to get them the death penalty. You also fingered the man who hired them.”
Hutch added, “The four men are known muscle for Luigi Alphonse, a mob boss in LA. Alphonse has been in heated conflict with the Gaziano family for years now. Alphonse wants Gaziano’s territory in Bay City. This shooting was a threat to Gaziano to compromise or go to war. After speaking with the owner of the restaurant, I felt like he wasn’t being straight with me, so I had him checked out. He goes by the name Colleti now, but he is a Gaziano. As soon as I saw that, I had a pretty good idea that it was a mob hit. Several Gazianos were killed in the shooting, including Gaziano’s grandson, but Colleti claimed he had no idea why the shooting took place. He’s running scared. It’s a pretty good bet there will be a shift in power taking place here now.”
Starsky said happily, “Your statement just verified our suspicions on the gunmen, and you tied it back to Alphonse. Not only was Alphonse specifically named, but Heathcliff Place is the name of his estate. We have enough to bring them down.”
She smiled. “Good. I’ll look forward to testifying.”
“Testifying will endanger your life,” Hutch reminded her. “These are not small time hoods. They will come after you. You will be offered the Witness Protection Program.”
“I understand,” she said soberly. “I’m still testifying.”
~*~
Hutch sat back on the couch and dragged a hand over his face. “I’m sorry Starsk. I’m just not buying this story from you two. Someone’s lying here.”
“We’ve been over this a dozen times. I can’t give you any answers, Hutch.”
“I can’t shake the feeling that Jeeps has the answers. That she knows more than she’s telling.”
Starsky shook his head. “My gut tells me she is telling the truth. She doesn’t know any more about this than I do.”
“Yeah, well, you’re a little too close here, buddy. You want to believe that.” Hutch looked to his partner. “What if she’s been hypnotized?” he speculated. “What if she were brainwashed or something? What if Gunther’s goons got to her, planted all these ideas in her head, and sent her to you? Have you thought of that? She could be setting you up for something, and neither of you know it.”
“That’s pretty far fetched, don’t ya think?” Starsky smiled.
“Oh, and I suppose the idea that you two met in your dreams is perfectly logical?”
“What if we’re soulmates? Did ya ever think of that?” Starsky grinned. “Maybe it’s just fate.”
“I’m sorry Starsk. I don’t trust this. I’m concerned. What do we really know about her?”
“I know all I need to know about her,” he said quietly.
“What are you going to do if she chooses to go with the Witness Protection Program?” Hutch’s question was like a knife in Starsky’s heart.
“I guess I’ll have to face that when it happens.”
~*~
Mike’s purse and portfolio were discovered among the victim’s belongings. Hutch brought it to her, along with her sketch pad.
“I brought this to show you that night,” she said to Starsky. “I have drawn pictures of you.” She passed the book to Starsky. Starsky went through the drawings again slowly, as if seeing them for the first time.
He stopped at the faceless drawing of him. “When did you draw this?” he asked.
“They’re dated,” she told him. “Top left corner. Year, month, day; without slashes or dashes.”
Starsky checked the date. “This was five, nearly six years ago,” he said in awe.
He finally came to the picture of him with the scars and he checked the date. “Hutch?” His voice was tight.
Hutch walked up and took the pad from him. He examined the date. “Jeeps, this must be a mistake. When did you draw this one?” He held the book out to her and pointed to the date.
“No, that’s correct,” she said confused. “Why? What’s wrong with the date?”
Hutch and Starsky locked eyes. Starsky swallowed hard. Hutch turned to Mike and handed her the book. “This was drawn a year before he was shot.”
~*~
Mike testified against the gunmen, and all four were found guilty. One had arranged a plea bargain for a reduced sentence, and testified against Alphonse for arranging the massacre. Because of the influence Alphonse would have, even from prison, Mike’s life would be in great danger. Against his own heart, Starsky tried to persuade Mike to take the offer of the Witness Protection Program.
“I can’t do it, David. I can’t walk away now. I have searched for you for so many years!” She cried softly on his shoulder.
“You will never be safe here, Jeeps,” he insisted. “I can’t protect you from that kind of muscle. Alphonse will never rest until you are dead.”
Hutch came into the house, very somber. He tossed his keys down on the kitchen table and slid out of his coat. When he sat down, he crossed his arms on the table and hung his head. Without looking at the pair on the couch, he announced, “Altamore is dead. Knifed in his cell.”
Altamore was the gunman who plea bargained and testified against Alphonse.
Jeeps turned her head into Starsky’s chest and cried.
~*~
“Detective Hutchinson! Where is your partner?!” Dobey bellowed.
“I don’t know where they went, Captain,” Hutch replied honestly.
“The agent from the Witness Protection Program was expecting them yesterday! What am I supposed to tell him?!”
“Captain, Starsky is determined to get her into that program. Give him some time, please. He’ll bring her in, Captain. You have my word.”
Dobey grunted. “He has 24 hours,” he stated. “After that, I can’t promise anything. Make sure he gets his butt in here!”
Hutch nodded his thanks and quickly scooted out of the captain’s office. Later in the day, he drove by Starsky’s apartment, hoping to see the familiar Torino. He didn’t expect it to be there, and was relived to see the garish white stripe in its regular spot. Hutch ran up the stairs and pounded twice on the door for warning before he burst into the apartment with his key.
Starsky and Jeeps were on the couch, Jeeps curled into his arms.
“Geez you two scared the hell out of me!” Hutch shouted, hands on his hips. “How was I supposed to know if you were safe? And how was I supposed to get a hold of you if something was wrong?! Dobey is having a fit. He’s given you 24 hours to get down to the station and meet with the agent. I gave him my word you would be there. Don’t make liar out of me.”
Starsky walked up to his partner and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry Hutch. It was just something I needed to do.” Hutch saw the look on his face and softened. One glance told him that Jeeps had agreed to enter the program. He nodded to Starsky. “What should I tell Dobey?”
“Tell him I will be there tomorrow,” Jeeps soft voice answered.
“Where were you?” Hutch inquired. He turned on Starsky, his glare demanding an answer.
“Camping,” Starsky replied.
“Camping?” Hutch was amused. “You?”
“I borrowed your gear,” he admitted.
Hutch laughed. He had never missed it. It would certainly not occur to him that Starsky would willingly submit himself to roughing it in the woods. It was probably the best place for Starsky to be in hiding. Nobody who knew him would have expected it.
Jeeps got up and wearily headed for the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower,” she said.
After she was out of earshot, Hutch nudged his friend. “You gonna be okay?”
Starsky nodded. “I just needed some time with her Hutch. I have spent all these months with her as Detective Starsky. I needed to be with her as David.” Then he added, “Before I let her go.”
“You know,” Hutch pointed out, “you could always go with her.”
He gave a sad smile. “Trying to get rid of me Hutch?”
“Trying to remind you that you have options.”
Starsky faced him. “I can’t do that Hutch. My life is here.” He looked down, dejected. Then he looked up with a smile. “But I can tell you one thing. I will find her. We found each other once; we will find each other again. I will see her again.”
“I believe you will, pal,” Hutch replied sincerely. “It’s fate.”
The End |
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