MANIFEST DESTINY

(c)October 2018 by Charlotte Frost

A sequel to Eddies of Time

Trello Board of Characters

Hutch knew he'd been silent for an extended time. He was sitting on the sofa in Judith Parkson's office, his right ankle propped over his left thigh. He had the end of a shoe lace between his fingers and was poking at an eyelet. He was aware of the Freudian symbolism -- sticking something firm and hard into something round and yielding.

He realized Judith would wait as long as he needed.

Finally, Hutch admitted, "I guess I should feel better, because he's doing better."

Judith tilted her head in a way Hutch always liked, because it showed her great interest. "What are you feeling instead?"

Hutch abandoned the shoe lace and sat back on the sofa. "Worried. It's a difficult thing to pin down, but I feel that the light has gone out of Nick's eyes."

She waited.

"At first, I thought it was a normal thing. He's never been seriously hurt before, that I know of. And, you know, it's not like you wake up in the morning and think, 'Today, I might be in a serious car accident and lose my spleen, and my left arm will never be back to a hundred percent.' So, I felt it rattled him, like it would most people. Facing that he's just as vulnerable as the rest of us." Hutch shrugged. "He's been upbeat in the hospital, cheerful toward everyone. Didn't seem too concerned about the recovery. But now he's back home...."

Judith's head tilted to the opposite side.

 "Maybe that was part of it, at first. Feeling vulnerable."

Judith nodded. "I've had quite a few clients who have been in emergency situations. Even if their body heals up just fine, gets back to a hundred percent, that feeling of vulnerability can stay with them a long time."

"Yeah," Hutch said, sighing. "But now, I'm not sure that's it. He's back home. Lannie has taken good care of him." Hutch shifted. "But I think -- I feel -- for both of them, they got robbed."

"How so?"

"They were so close to reconciling, after being apart a few months. It was important to Nick that Lannie be the one who got to say if and when he was going to return home. No one doubted the if. It was just the matter of when. But they didn't get that moment of reconciliation. Lannie didn't get to welcome Nick back as a matter of choice. Suddenly, being back together was what had to happen, whether they were ready for it or not." Hutch shrugged. "They get along fine, from what I've seen. But it's like an elephant in the room. Like, they're both fully aware they're back together because they have to be, not because they reached the moment where they had decided to be."

"Sometimes," Judith offered, "those sorts of emergencies can speed along what was going to happen, anyway. People suddenly realize how much they care about someone, after they almost lost them. But it sounds like you're getting the sense that that's not what the primary feeling is between them."

Hutch recalled when he'd been at Nick and Lannie's house two days ago. "I do think that's there -- they have a greater appreciation for life and each other. What they've got. But it's mixed in with being robbed of the choice to reconcile."

Judith nodded again. "That can be very confusing for them, and hard to sort out the myriad of feelings they're surely experiencing after an accident like this." She leaned forward, hands between her knees, "Ken, I know it's difficult to sit back and do nothing, when you're feeling an uncomfortable vibe around them, but you can't fix this for them. They're the ones who will have to solve their own issues, and with the car accident having thrown such a monkey wrench into things, it might take a while. You will have to do your best to be patient." She sat back. "How is David doing?"

Hutch drew a breath. "Well, it was scary as hell when it first happened. Getting the call. Not knowing what shape Nick was in. Then getting to the hospital and hearing they needed to take him into surgery right away, because of internal bleeding. David was a basket case, and yet not as much as he otherwise would have been, because we both felt the need to take care of Lannie." Hutch gazed at the wall, remembering. "I'd never seen her like that. So scared. Crying. Vulnerable." He looked at Judith, emitting a soft snort. "Then the doctor came, sounding confident about Nick recovering, even with no longer having a spleen. So, each day, things were sounding better, and Lannie went right back to putting the walls up. She was the wife and mother back in control."

"You sound disapproving," Judith noted.

"It gets frustrating that she's always in control. I wish we were closer, where she would be okay with being vulnerable around me. But we've never had that kind of relationship. But then," Hutch relented with a shrug, "it seems like I'm always unhappy with how she reacts to things. I always want more from her -- more emotion. More freedom to be herself. I guess it's unfair of me."

"Why do you suppose she's so careful with her feelings around you?"

Hutch gazed at the floor for a long time. Then he shifted. "When we were kids, I thought she was a typical sister. When she visited a few years back -- when David and I first bought the house -- and she met Nick, I knew she wasn't happy in her marriage." Hutch shifted again, as he recalled the few times he'd seen Lannie in the subsequent months. "There was a time, when Nick told David that Lannie felt I didn't respect her as a person, I guess because she was a girl. She's had that 'girl' thing going on, needing to prove she's equal." He couldn't help but grin. "She even has her two-year-old daughter Melinda saying she's going to President some day."

Judith's eyes widened. "President?"

"Yeah. Of course, Melinda doesn't even understand what she's saying. But Nick told us that Lannie wanted to make sure Melinda gets encouraged in a way she never felt she herself was." Hutch regarded Judith hopefully. "I'm sure you can relate, being a professional."

Judith nodded. "The good news is, things are getting better for women."

"But Lannie seems to always be in a state of war about that, about being accepted. I mean, even if I compliment her, it seems like the wrong thing."

Judith held up a hand. "Let me tell you something. I have a client who is black, and has a professional occupation and lives in a nice house. He tells me it grates on his nerves when people say things like, 'You've done so well for yourself.' What he hears is, 'You've done so well for yourself, considering that you're black.' Same with a client who had been in a wheelchair all his life. People say, 'You have such an amazing life.' What he hears is, 'You have such an amazing life, considering that you're in a wheelchair.'"

Hutch nodded with a sigh. "I get it."

"You say to Lannie 'What a great job you've done with your life', and she's probably hearing 'What a great job you've done with your life, considering that you're female.'"

"So, what do I say instead?" Hutch asked.

"There's no easy answer. She's got to reach her own peace about her own issues. You can't fix it for her." Judith glanced at the clock, and then asked, "Anything else going on right now?"

Hutch considered a moment, and then smiled. "We've got this racehorse running now, Danny, and we're still trying to get a first win from him, and probably his only win." He shook his head. "Despite centuries of breeding, he doesn't seem to be cut out for this racehorse thing."

"You don't seem too upset about it."

"I think we've kind of had to get used to the idea. He ran at Del Mar, outside San Diego, a couple of times, and got a third and a fourth. And then the circuit moved to Santa Anita in Arcadia, and we were able to go out for his first race there. The trainer wanted to try something different, so he put blinkers on him." Hutch put his hands around his eyes. "Those cups that go around their eyes, so they can only see in front of them."

"What does that do?"

"Horses usually 'show speed' with blinkers, especially for the first time. That means they want to be near the lead early, because all they see is in front of them, so they can only think to go forward. Well, sure enough, Danny was just a few lengths back going down the backstretch, and it seemed so amazing." Hutch's grin widened. "And he's in striking position on the turn, and David and I were so excited, that this homebred horse of ours looked like he might win. And then, this other horse rushes up to his outside, and I heard our trainer say, 'He's going to wuss out.' Sure enough, as soon as that horse came up beside Danny, Danny started falling back. He hasn't got a dominant ounce in his body, and he's like, 'Go ahead, go right on by me.' And almost all the rest of the horses did. He only beat two horses."

Judith's expression was sympathetic. "Ahh."

"Danny sort of reminds me of a story I read in school. About that bull, Ferdinand, who just wanted to smell the flowers?"

Judith nodded with a smile.

"Danny's bred to want to be in front of other horses, and all he wants to do is be friendly with everybody -- human and equine."

"That doesn't sound like much of a racehorse."

"Yeah, and on the way home, David was all offended that Mike, our trainer, had called Danny a wuss. He was saying, 'Do you think we raised him wrong?'"

Judith laughed.

"And I was pointing out that we really didn't have much to do with how Danny was raised."

"That almost sounds like what a parent of a homosexual would ask." Judith laughed again.

"Yeah, no kidding." Hutch shifted, glad he'd made Judith laugh. Then he said, "Interesting that we were just talking about the gender thing, because there's this girl jockey, Nadine Harrison, who begs our trainer for rides sometimes, and he hasn't wanted anything to do with her, like most trainers. They say girls don't have the upper body strength to ride racehorses. Well, David had been wanting to give her a chance, but we sort of forgot about it after what happened with Nick. But now, after Danny ran so poorly with blinkers, we had nothing to lose by giving her a chance, so we pushed it with Mike. So, he let her ride Danny when he last ran, last month. He was third again, but the good news was that he was only beat a neck and a head. He was coming on."

"Oh, I wonder what made the difference."

"Nadine says she makes kissing noises to him." Hutch pursed his lips and tried to mimic the sound, and knew he was doing a poor job. "The other jockeys will do that, too, but she says, 'The horses know I mean it.'" Hutch shrugged. "So, Mike's going to let her ride him again, but he bruised a hoof, so it's going to be a few more weeks until he runs again. Perhaps he'll finally win, though that'll be a mixed blessing."

"A mixed blessing?"

"Yeah. Mike pointed out that, from a financial standpoint, we're better off with Danny getting thirds and fourths, because he earns purse money but can keep running in maiden races, which are for horses that haven't won. Because as soon as he wins, he'll have to race against other winners, and the southern Cal circuit is one of the toughest in the world, so he'd have to be shipped to a lower level track to have a chance. So, he'd have a different trainer, and David and I would need to travel to see him run, and I doubt we'd want to do that, so...." Hutch shrugged. "I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I haven't talked to David about it yet, but I think Danny will make somebody a nice riding horse some day." Fondly, he added, "He's such a sweet boy. I don't think we'd have a problem finding him a home, when the time comes."

Judith crossed one leg over another. "I know you've mentioned before that you've had a lot of money invested in him, for all the care and training since he was born. I'm glad you seem at peace about how things have turned out."

"Well, it helps that, supposedly, his younger half-sister might turn into something. People who can tell things when they're young seem to take note of her. I was just thinking this morning that, with so much going on, we haven't been out to see her in a long time. It's November already, and she should be broke to saddle by now and galloping on the track. David and I need to drive out to the training stable soon and take a look."

When Hutch pulled into his parking space at the office, he saw a child's blue bicycle near the door. He got out and approached it with puzzlement, noting that it had a deep basket and a gear shift for five speeds.

He walked inside and saw Lois sitting at her desk, speaking earnestly with a boy about twelve years of age, dressed in slacks and a white shirt, his short brown hair combed and parted on one side.

"Honey," Lois said, "like I told you, you need to come in with an adult, before anyone here can talk to you."

Hutch approached. "What's going on?"

The boy looked up at him hopefully, while Lois explained, "This young man says his mother left the family, and he wants us to find her."

Hutch could imagine the gumption it must take for a child to figure out that he needed the services of a detective agency. He knelt beside the boy. "What's your name?"

"Dennis."

"How old are you?"

"Eleven."

"What about your father?"

"He said Mom left to be with her boyfriend."

Hutch furrowed his brow, finding such reasoning unlikely for a mother. "You don't believe him?"

Dennis shrugged, his voice edged with emotion. "Why wouldn't she have said goodbye? Or told us she was leaving? Dad says it was because she didn't want to make us sad."

Hutch nodded. "You seem sad, anyway."

"Uh-huh. Dad says we'll have a new mother when he marries Sabrina next year."

Hutch felt the hairs stick up on the back of his neck. "How long has your mother been gone?"

"Over a week."

Already, the father had another woman lined up for marriage. Trying not to show his worry, Hutch stood. "Come on back to my office, Dennis, so we can talk."

While Lois gave him a disapproving look -- no contract could be entered with a minor -- Hutch knew he was doing the right thing when he saw the relief on Dennis' face.

He walked slowly, so Dennis could keep up with him.  Starsky was at his desk, typing on his computer. He looked up as Hutch entered their office and said, "Meet Dennis."

Puzzled, Starsky held out his hand. "Dennis, I'm Dave Starsky."

Dennis shook it.

Hutch pulled his chair over and sat Dennis in it. He leaned back against the counter that ran the length of the wall, and relayed to Starsky what Dennis had already said.

Starsky's expression was concerned. He asked Dennis, "Do you know if your mother had a boyfriend?"

He shook his head. "She's married to Dad. Why would she have a boyfriend?"

Hutch felt bad for the questions they were having to ask.

Starsky said, "Has anyone called the police to find your mother?"

"I don't think so."

Hutch asked, "Are your grandparents on your mother's side still living?"

He nodded. "My grandmother. She lives in Flintwood."

That was a small town an hour away. "Do you have her phone number?"

"Not memorized," Dennis replied. "It's written in my Mom's address book."

Starsky brightened. "Is your Mom's address book at home?"

"She keeps it in a drawer in the kitchen."

Hutch prompted, "Do you know if she took it with her?"

Dennis shook his head. "Dad used it to call relatives to tell them Mom had left."

Hutch exchanged a worried glance with Starsky. If a woman was starting a new life -- even if she could up and leave her children -- why wouldn't she have taken the address book with her?

Gently, Starsky asked, "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"My six-year-old sister, Becky."

Hutch asked, "Do you think you can bring your Mom's address book to us? We can make copies of the pages and give it back to you." He realized he needed to ask, "Does anyone know you're here?"

Dennis shook his head. "Dad said not to talk about Mom leaving. He said it's embarrassing to the family." He glanced at them worriedly.

"You're doing the right thing," Starsky assured.

The young voice was eager. "I've been saving money since I've been working. I have over fifty dollars."

Hutch's voice was tender.  "Let's not worry about payment right now. I saw your bike outside. What kind of work do you do?"

"The neighbor down the street -- Mrs. Green -- is in a wheelchair and can't drive a car. I do errands for her, and she pays me a dollar every day I do errands. Like, today, I rode my bike to the post office to buy stamps for her. And sometimes I mow lawns. And sometimes I help my friend next door with his paper route."

"Well, you're quite the little entrepreneur," Starsky said cheerfully. "So, we're not worried about you being able to pay us."

Hutch said, "The next time you have to ride your bike into town, can you bring your mother's address book? It'll just take us a few minutes to make a copy, and then you can take it back home."

Dennis appeared contemplative. "And then what happens?"

Starsky replied, "We'll call some of your Mom's friends and relatives, and see if they might know where she is. Maybe they didn't want to tell your father, for some reason. We need to find out the information other people have."

Seeing Dennis' worried expression, Hutch assured, "We won't tell them you're the one who hired us. That's normal for our business -- to not tell people who's wanting to find out information about the missing person. Don't worry. We won't get you into trouble."

Dennis appeared relieved.

Hutch grabbed a legal pad. "Let me take some basic information from you." He took down the names of Dennis parents -- Stuart and Tamara -- as well as the names of the living grandparents, so he'd know who they were in the address book. He also got the home address, which was ten minutes away by bicycle, but was an older, more rundown part of town. Dennis relinquished to their temporary care the family photos he had in his wallet. Hutch then walked Dennis to the front, told Lois that he was a client and she could start a file, and then watched Dennis leave on his bike.

"Don't send him any invoices," he firmly told Lois, while tearing the top sheet of paper from his yellow pad and handing it to her. He then went back to his office.

Starsky's worried look greeted him. "Think the husband killed her?"

"That seems the most likely," Hutch said sourly, plopping into his office chair, "considering that the husband already has wedding plans with another woman." He shook his head. "I don't know what would be worse: Telling Dennis that we've found his mother's body somewhere, or telling him she truly took off, because he and his sister weren't worth hanging around for."

Starsky was thoughtful. "Hard to believe a woman could be together enough to raise a nice kid like him, and yet be so messed up herself that she felt she needed to up and leave."

Hutch rubbed at his lower lip. "Well, we've got to keep an open mind, until we've got some hard facts."

"Yeah. Maybe... Maybe she, like, had an operation, and was given narcotics for pain pills. Maybe got hooked. Got in deep with drug dealers. Left her family to protect them from the drug dealers." Starsky shrugged with a timid smile.

Hutch wanted to believe in that sort of explanation, no matter how far fetched.

It was after six when the LeBaron pulled up in front of Nick and Lanette's house. The sun had just risen, casting the grayness of dawn over the city.

"They're up," Starsky announced with satisfaction. Lights were on from within the house. Hopefully, their siblings wouldn't be upset at the unexpected intrusion on a Sunday morning.

Starsky led the way up the walk and pushed the doorbell. It sounded loud from inside the house. A moment later, footsteps approached.

Hutch smiled at the peephole.

The door opened, and Lanette stood in her robe, her hair uncombed.

"Hi," Starsky greeted. "We're here to kidnap your husband. Call it a spur of the moment idea."

Lanette held the door open. "What?"

With a tone of apology as he moved past her, Hutch said, "We figured you guys would be up."

"Of course," Lanette replied. "Melinda rarely sleeps past six."

They moved down the hall, where Nick was sitting at the kitchen table in boxer shorts, a cereal bowl before him. He put his newspaper aside, revealing a large scar on the left side of his body, below his chest. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Come on," Starsky said. "Finish your cereal, so we can get going. We're taking you to the country for the day." He noted the gray strands visible in his younger brother's hair. Gray he could swear wasn't there before the accident. But then, he had never seen Nick so vulnerable as when he'd seen him waking up from surgery in the hospital. Nick had always been vibrant and upbeat, if rather whiny when things weren't going his way.  It had jarred Starsky, seeing his brother so incapacitated, despite his own individual experiences with such, to say nothing having nursed Hutch through major illnesses and injury.

"The country?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. Don't you want to get out of here? Hurry up. We have to be at the training farm in an hour, to see our filly Bri. If we're late, we'll miss her being on the track. And we need someone to be in charge of the video camera."

Hutch pressed, "Lannie needs a break from you."

Nick looked at Lanette, who said, "I've got nothing to do with this, but I agree you ought to start getting out more. I've got to check on Melinda. She's in the bathtub."

Nick quickly swallowed a spoonful of cereal, and then rose, his hand braced against his scar.

Hutch kept looking at Nick his rearview mirror. While Starsky droned on with inane conversation, Nick seemed to be increasingly restless.

It struck Hutch how intimate, and sometimes brutally honest, he and Starsky were in their conversation with his each other. What a contrast to how Starsky was with his brother. Now that the car accident had happened, along with the fear for at least a few hours he could lose his brother, Starsky seemed to have taken a few emotional steps back, and appeared more comfortable treating Nick with mundane banter and older brother superiority.

After they had all fallen silent, Starsky asked, "Have you guys seen the attorney we recommended?"

"Yeah," Nick replied. "Lan went in and filled out the paperwork a while back, and we both saw him a couple of days ago. He said the company which owned the van that hit me is a small operation, and they don't have much money. So, the insurance company is eager to settle. If we settle, we probably won't get as much money as if we go to court, but whatever we do get, we'll get it a lot faster."

Hutch exited the highway. "So, you guys expect to settle?"

"Lan certainly wants to, and I guess it makes sense. But the attorney says if we settle too fast, I might end up with medical bills down the line that don't get covered. I mean, I haven't been able to drive much, and it sort of freaks me out to make a left turn. It's hard to know how long that might last."

Starsky muttered, "You'd think losing full use of your arm for the rest of your life would be worth a few million, to say nothing of being missing a major internal organ."

"If I was, like, a carpenter, it probably would mean a lot of money. But I can't prove much, in terms of how the injury to my arm has handicapped me. Plus, people can do just fine without a spleen."

Starsky's voice was suddenly cheerful. "The one good thing that came out of this is you and Lanette are back together."

Hutch watched in the rearview mirror as Nick scowled and then said, "Yeah. Great. I can hardly do anything while she has to take care of me."

Starsky turned in his seat to look at Nick. "Has she complained?" he asked worriedly.

"No. Of course not. It's not my fault. She knows that. Still, how do you think I feel? Not being able to provide for my family, like a man should, and instead just sitting around being needy?"

"Come on, Nicky, you're getting better. You're moving around pretty good."

Hutch furrowed his brow. Starsky seemed to be missing the point of how his brother felt. Soothing, Hutch said, "We've both been there, Nick. Believe me, David and I both know what's it's like to feel as though your body has betrayed you, because it's not working like it's supposed to. And how emasculating that can be. And you're helpless, and all that. But you've got full support of Lannie and us and everyone else. One day this will be behind you."

Starsky turned back to face the windshield. "Besides, if nothing else, the car accident at least got you back together."

Hutch watched Nick's face fall. Nick's eyes flared as he said, "Yeah, great. She was going to ask me to come back, and instead she was forced to take me back, whether she was ready or not."

"Come on, Nicky, me and Hutch let you linger at our house too long. What difference does it make if she was going to ask you back the next week, or being in a car accident meant you needed to go back home? Either way, you ended up back together, where you belong."

"Yeah," Nick muttered, releasing a sigh.

Hutch couldn't help but recall his conversation with Judith the other day, and wished Starsky could have been a part of that.

Starsky calmed his voice. "Is she still talking to that guy?"

"That guy" was supposedly what had caused the problems between Nick and Lannie in the first place.

"No," Nick said. "She told him not to call anymore. I heard her. She said she needed to focus on her family right now."

Starsky nodded with satisfaction. "See? This accident may have been a blessing."

Hutch didn't think it was quite that simple.

The breeze had a cold nip, and they put on jackets when leaving the LeBaron at the parking lot of the training stable.

While carrying the camcorder, Nick grumbled, "I don't know how people can have jobs where they get up so early every morning. Especially knowing that all they're going to do is ride horses around in circles."

Starsky shrugged as they moved toward the long barn open at one end. "Seems like it would be fun riding fast horses. I mean, if you knew what you were doing."

"And surely," Hutch added, "satisfying when a horse you trained turns into a winner."

Starsky glanced at Hutch. "What's the trainer's name. Lowell or something?"

"Lance Lowell. He's the manager of this place. Remember, we met him last year, when they had that Owner's Appreciation Day?"

Starsky brightened. "Oh, that's when we met Mandy."

"Right."

They entered the barn that had a wide aisle. There was activity in a variety of stalls, as horses were being saddled and bridled. A dark bay horse that looked too old to be a yearling was standing in the aisle, a western saddle on his back. A man holding the reins turned toward them, leading the horse. He was sixtyish with a white mustache and looked vaguely familiar. "You're Bri owners?" he asked.

"Yes," they replied. Hutch asked, "You're Lance?"

"Yes, nice to see you all again." Lowell gestured. "Let's go outside here, so we're out of the way. The first set will come out in a moment." He started forward, leading the horse.

"Is Bri in the first set?" Starsky asked.

They were outside the barn, and Lowell stopped. "Always," he replied. "We have to include her in the first set. She was spinning around in her stall and getting upset when other yearlings were saddled first and got to go out before her, so she's always with the first group. She's got a princess complex bigger than my eight-year-old granddaughter."

While exchanging a glance with Hutch, Starsky asked, "Princess complex? What do you mean?"

Lowell drawled, "She's not happy unless everyone is paying attention to her."

Nick watched the saddled horse warily. "Is that a good thing?"

Lowell's stern gaze turned to Nick. "If she can run, I suspect that she can have anything she wants."

A slender Hispanic man about five feet in height, and wearing a riding helmet, approached them. "Good morning, folks," he said as he took the reins from Lowell.

"These are Bri's owners."

"Oh," the man said, his expression brightening. "Nice that you could make it out this morning."

"This is Farris Gomez, one of the riders here. He's going to be ponying Bri."

Farris put his foot in the stirrup and mounted the horse.

There were noises from the barn, and long-legged slender horses began to exit in single file, each carrying a rider that wore a helmet. A few pranced sideways, some tossing their heads. There was a gray, and four horses of various shades of bay. Then a chestnut with a blaze and one white foot, a groom leading her by a leather strap attached to her bridle.

As soon as she left the barn, Bri began to prance, leaning into the bit, and there was an obvious effort from the groom to hold the lead shank firm..

"None of the other horses need to be led," Hutch noted, wondering if that meant trouble.

Farris moved the "pony" next to Bri and took the lead shank from the groom. As the older horse moved calmly beside her, Bri pranced and turn sideways, her neck arched. Her rider sat still, unconcerned. There was sweat on the side of her neck and the whites of her eyes were rolling around as she regarded the small crowd around her.

The horses moved on toward the track, and their small group fell beside Bri and the pony, while giving her a wide berth.

"What's wrong with her?" Nick demanded. "How come the other horses don't have to be led?"

Lowell replied, "We pony her out to the track for everyone's safety. Otherwise, she tries to run off. Once she's into a nice rhythm when she's galloping on the track, the pony will move away."

Hutch considered Lowell's words. "Was she difficult to break to saddle?"

"She threw a few bitch fits when the rider least expected it -- you know, after she seemed to handle everything calmly. But she's starting to figure out that if she does what we want, then she's going to get to do what she wants. And what she wants is to run. Any time, any where."

Hutch felt his trepidation leave him, and excitement began to creep in.

"Man," Starsky said, while Bri continue to move in a continuous prance, sweat turning to foam along her neck, as she watched them all warily. "She's nothing like Danny. Or Darla."

"Danny," Lowell repeated. Then, "Yes, I remember him. Nice horse Temperament wise. Last time I looked at the Racing Form... he's trying to break his maiden?"

"He's getting close," Hutch said. "He's been off a few weeks, because he bruised a hoof."

Starsky said, "Their Mom, Darla, was trained here, wasn't she?"

"Deep Waters," Hutch clarified.

"Oh, yes," Lowell replied with a smile. "She was a pro all the way. On the track and off. Nice filly to be around."

They had reached the track, and the yearlings began to trot along the outer rail, their riders perched high in their stirrups.

When Bri broke into a trot beside the pony, they moved in the opposite direction.

"We try to keep her away from the others," Lowell said, "so she can settle into her exercise and not get so worked up."

They all leaned against the track railing, and Nick was now working the camera with his right arm.

Starsky was next to him. "Do you need help?"

"I've got it," Nick said.

One couldn't tell that his left arm was injured, but Nick could never again scoop up Melinda in that arm alone.

Hutch asked, "Bri doesn't like being around other horses?"

"It's not that," Lowell said. "She just gets hyped up about any little thing, and we don't want her temperament upsetting the other horses."

Hutch wondered if he should feel pride. "Sounds like she's a handful."

"She gave us a few scares when she was first shipped here," Lowell admitted. "We were afraid she was going to hurt herself in her stall, she was so full of energy. But then we brought in a radio and put it outside her stall, and we leave it playing. You can see her ears go back and forth, listening to it, so that holds her attention."

Nick asked with humor, "What? She listens to country western or something?"

"Talk radio calmed her down the most. I guess so she can think they're talking about her."

Hutch glanced at Lowell to see him smile, but Lowell wasn't smiling. Was he serious? Hutch then met Starsky's eye, which were wide, as though asking Is this real?

The yearlings began to canter, and then moved faster into a full gallop, though much slower than Hutch what had ever seen in a race. While the others were galloping along the homestretch, well spaced apart, Bri was on the backstretch, galloping with the pony beside her. Her rider nodded, and Farris let go of Bri's bridle and moved his horse to the outside. Bri galloped alone, entering the far turn of the track.

"She's into her exercise now," Lowell said with satisfaction. "She's focused on what she's doing." After a moment, he added, "She's more relaxed now than I've seen her before. This is what we want."

As she came into the stretch, Lowell continued, "She switches leads more smoothly than any youngster I've ever seen."

Starsky glanced at Lowell. "What?"

Hutch studied her motion and realized her right leg was leading each stride. Remembering his lessons on Poncho, he said to Lowell, "I know what leads are, but in arena riding, we always need to be on the inside lead." One a racetrack, that would be the left lead, rather than the right.

As they watched Bri gallop by them, Lowell said, "Yes, they need to be on their left lead going into the turns. So, on the straightaways, we want them on their right lead, because that's the rested leg. That's particularly important in the homestretch in a race, when they're giving their all. If the horse doesn't switch to his right lead -- and some don't -- he's leading on that tired left leg."

"Why wouldn't a horse switch?"

"Some horses just don't. Or they do most of the time, but then won't for a particular race. You'll see the jockeys shift their weight and such, trying to get them to switch. Sometimes, that's why you'll see a jockey hit a horse with his whip left-handed. He's trying to get the horse to shift over to their right lead. But in the intensity of a race...," Lowell shrugged, "sometimes horses are so focused on running that they aren't thinking about lead changes, even though it's sure to bring them some relief from getting tired."

After Lowell fell silent, Starsky moved closer to Hutch and asked, "What are you guys talking about?"

The gray yearling was now galloping in front of them. Hutch pointed. "See how, as he's galloping, his right leg is sticking out slightly more than his left with each stride?"

Starsky observed the motion. "Yeah?"

"That means he's on his right lead. His right leg is leading with each stride. When horses gallop, the leading leg needs to be in the direction they're turning, for balance. So, when they turn left, going around the turns in a race, they need to be on the left lead. Usually, going straight, it doesn't matter what lead a horse is on. But in a race, on the homestretch and backstretch, they need to switch to their right lead, because that's the rested leg. The way Clint, at the riding stable, explained it was that it's like carrying a heavy suitcase. After you've been carrying it in your right hand and it's feeling really heavy, you switch it to your left hand, and it doesn't seem as heavy. That's what some think switching leads is like for horses."

Bri was on the far turn again and approaching the homestretch, galloping comfortably. Hutch said, "Let's watch her as she comes into the stretch. She's on her left lead now, to get around the turn."

She made the bend and straightened out. There was a momentary extended stride. "There. She just switched to her right lead."

Starsky shook his head. "I couldn't tell anything."

"You probably have to see a lot of horses to get an idea of it. She did it real smooth. See? Now her right leg is the leading leg."

"Yeah," Starsky said.

"Even everyday riding horses sometimes won't switch leads when you want them to. When they're running free in a pasture, they do it naturally. But putting a rider on their back messes up their natural instincts, so they have to be trained to do it."

Bri galloped by them. A dark bay horse was now on the far turn.

"Take a look," Hutch nodded toward the turn. As the dark horse came into the stretch, his rider shifted his weight, and then pulled on the right rein. There was a slight jerk in the horse's stride. "There, he just switched," Hutch said. "The rider had to work at it."

Starsky shook his head. "I saw a little hesitation or something, but I can't see what you're seeing. Besides, how does the rider know the horse has switched?"

"You can tell by feel, if you know your horse. Otherwise, you can tell by the movement of his shoulder, because the leading leg is reaching farther." Hutch then relented, "It can take some practice, before you can tell."

 "So, it's a good thing that Bri does it easily?"

"Yeah."

Nick lowered the camera. "Gee, they all sure seem to be moving slow."

Lowell turned to him. "They just started their track training a couple of weeks ago. It'll take a few months for them to build up their muscles so they're strong enough to go to an actual racetrack."

With enthusiasm, Starsky said, "I think she looks great!" Then he said, "Even I can tell from her attitude and the way she's moving that she's nothing like Danny."

Lowell asked, "You're going to be sending her to Mike Hawkins?"

Hutch nodded, "Uh-huh."

"Good. He's a fine trainer, but hasn't had a top horse to put him in the spotlight for a prolonged period. He's due for one like that."

Starsky looked at Lowell with wide eyes. "You think Bri will be a top horse?"

Lowell crossed his arms and rubbed at his chin, and the way he released a breath made Hutch wonder if he'd regretted saying too much, getting their hopes up. "She's got a lot of potential," he admitted. "But she's also got some challenges. With these nervous types, you usually have two main problems. One is that they have a hard time holding their weight. We're feeding her as much as the largest colt in the barn, and if she lost thirty pounds, she'd be underweight. At the track, they tend to have more things to be nervous about. So, keeping her fit might be a problem, because she can't take a lot training if there isn't much muscle to work with. The second is that, with her temperament, she can be prone to get in her own way. That's part of our job here -- to get her used to a routine and the starting gate and all that. Still, when she's at the track, and especially when it comes to a race, there's going to be a lot of stimulation for her to throw bitch fits about." He shrugged. "Everyone around her will have to adapt and figure out how to work with her, like we have. If she's worth it, nobody will mind."

Hutch was trying to take it all in, and responded with a congenial, "Unless and until she proves that she isn't, she's worth it." He met Starsky's eyes, which were still wide as he nodded firmly.

"With the young ones," Lowell went on, "it's always a delicate balance, as they start getting fit. They want to run faster and faster, and their joints and tendons might not be ready for it. We've got to watch that with Bri and make sure she doesn't do too much." He nodded at the track, where the yearlings were now all walking toward the gap that led back to the barn. "We want her to stay nice and relaxed in her gallop, like she was today, even as she starts getting stronger and stronger."

Bri was turned away from the other yearlings. Farris guided the pony beside her and took her by the bridle.

"Man," Starsky said. "She sounds so eager. Nothing like Danny. Hard to believe they had the same mother."

"She's her father's daughter," Lowell agreed. "I was reading the other day that trainers back east are saying the Storm Birds are a handful. But they can sure run. And that's what matters."

There was a gasp behind them, and Hutch turned to see Nick collapse on the small bleachers nearby, his hand against his back.

"Nicky!" Starsky rushed to him.

"Bad cramp," Nick muttered, braced against the bench with one arm.

"Where?" Starsky demanded, rubbing along Nick's back.

Hutch said to Lowell, "He was in a car accident."

Lowell turned to the path, where the other yearlings were now near the barn. "You can drive your car down here, if you need to."  He turned toward the barn.

"Thanks."

The cramp had eased by the time they got Nick into the car, which Hutch had driven next to the bleachers. He preferred to stretch out along the backseat.

Starsky could sympathize, considering the various cramps he and Hutch had suffered from, after various injuries. "You sure you're okay, bro?" he asked as he stood at the car door.

"Yeah," Nick said with a sigh. "Just ignore me. I'm going to try to fall asleep." Starsky shut the door, and realized Bri was now walking toward the gap in the track, near where the car was parked, accompanied by the pony. Her head went up, and she had darted against the pony at the sound of the door slamming.

That earned her a reassuring pat from her rider, and from Farris.

Hutch moved next to Starsky, with his hands resting on the back pockets of his jeans. "Let's not spook her." She exited the track and walked past them, and he asked, "Can we pet her?"

Farris stopped the pony, and Bri's rider pulled on the reins, bringing Bri to a half-halt. "Only if you know what you're doing. She'll bite."

Hutch positioned himself behind her shoulder, near her rider's leg, and stroked her neck. "She's a handful, huh?"

The rider grinned. "She keeps me on my toes, but she had a real nice gallop this morning." He petted her again. "She's coming along. You just can't assume anything with her. She over-reacts to just about everything."

Starsky preferred to admire her from afar, and kept his arms crossed, since he didn't want to risk getting bitten. Lowell's comments were still running around in his head.

Bri moved away from Hutch, who said, "We'll let her get back to the barn."

The pony moved forward and Bri walked calmly beside him.

Hutch got in the LeBaron. "How you doing, Nick?"

"Leave him alone," Starsky said. "He's trying to sleep."

"Uh-huh," Nick muttered.

Hutch started the car, then turned it around, driving slowly as they went past the barn, which Bri had now entered.

When they had reached the entrance to the stables, Starsky couldn't wait any longer to voice his feelings. "Man, am I imaging things, or was almost everything Lance was saying really good news?" He looked over at Hutch.

Hutch turned onto the main road. "It sounded mostly good."

"I mean," Starsky said breathlessly, "it sounds like she could be really something. What if she's even better than Darla?"

"It sounds like a lot of things have to go right to make that happen, and Lowell never came right out and said she's better."

Starsky knew Hutch felt the need to be practical, to balance out Starsky's excitement.

Hutch went on, "It's good to hear that he thinks highly of Mike's training abilities."

"Yeah." Starsky rubbed his hands together. "Just so amazing. That we might have another one like Darla, even though Bri doesn't look anything like her. I mean, it's like she's getting all this special treatment."

Hutch made a snort of humor. "Yeah."

"Playing the radio for her and having to have a pony take her out to the track so she can be controlled and stuff." Abruptly, Starsky realized, "It's not like they get a percentage of her earnings."

"No, but they can advertise their place is where she was broken and trained. Surely, whenever a youngster goes on to be a stakes winner or whatever, they make sure other horsemen know about it. They seem really professional and take pride in what they're doing. That's probably a reward in itself, too, getting the best out of a horse. Doesn't sound like they ever expected Danny to amount to much -- just like Mike hasn't -- so it's a testament to the foundation they put on the yearlings that Danny is still probably going to be a winner."

Starsky thought back. "When we were here last year when they had that owner appreciation day, and we met Mandy, I remember you were worried that Danny wasn't doing well."

"That's how it seemed, reading between the lines."

"I guess you were right." Starsky brightened. "At least if Bri becomes a great racehorse, that'll make up for Danny."

Hutch was driving with a warm smile, and Starsky suspected that he was the object of his love's thoughts. Perhaps Hutch was enjoying his partner's enthusiasm, as he always did. Or perhaps he was remembering how Starsky was the one who had pushed for them to keep Darla in the first place after movie actor Steve Hanson had up and died.

Starsky was happy to guess at Hutch's thoughts, since Nick's presence kept him from asking outright.

What he knew for certain was that Hutch looked awfully edible right now. Thankfully, it was Sunday, and Nick was probably eager to be dropped off at home.

Nick was better when they dropped him off to Lanette's care.

Hutch talked about work, and how he hoped that little Dennis Mills would soon bring his missing mother's address book. Starsky made appropriate noises of agreement and tried not to let his distraction show.

Then they got in a traffic jam, with vehicles turning into a large church. While Hutch grumbled and swore, Starsky thought about waterfalls. He decided that wasn't helping, so he thought of a documentary he'd seen about expeditions to the North Pole.

Finally, the LeBaron was pulling into their garage. Starsky entered the house first, pausing in the kitchen. He turned to Hutch and announced, "I'm hungry."

Hutch nodded at the clock. "It's not even ten."

Starsky pushed Hutch toward the hall. "Who cares. There's something I want to feast on." He pushed more firmly. "Right now."

When Hutch turned back to him, Starsky grabbed Hutch with both hands, and shoved him against the wall. He attacked those luscious lips, as his hands felt across the cotton of Hutch's shirt, moving around his chest.

Starsky felt the initial protest -- probably all the things Hutch thought he needed to get done before the weekend was over -- and then the giving in, as Hutch's knees buckled. He shoved his tongue into Hutch's mouth, which generated an enthusiastic response, and eager hands felt him up.

Starsky pulled back with a gasp. "Leave me alone," he commanded. "I'm eating."

Hutch groaned.

Starsky nibbled at Hutch's neck. When he realized he might be starting a hickey, he moved to Hutch's chin. Then, unable to wait much longer, he pushed on Hutch's shoulders. "On your knees."

Hutch slid to his knees. Starsky unsnapped his jeans and pushed them down to his hips. He presented his erection. "Be gentle with it, 'cause it's gotta be nice and hard to take care of you later."

Hutch took it in his mouth, which was filling with saliva.

"Ah, yeah, baby." Starsky rested his hand in Hutch's hair. "It's gonna show you who's boss in just a little bit." As the suction increased, he cautioned, "Be real, real careful." He felt along Hutch's throat, enjoying the motion that pleasured him. Eventually, he reached lower, beneath Hutch's shirt, and rubbed along the smooth chest. "Gonna fuck you nice and good after I feast on your cock a while." He pushed Hutch away. "Bed."

Hutch staggered to the bedroom and began to undress.

Starsky felt the weight of his boner while pulling off layers of clothing.

Hutch kicked his clothing away and then dived onto the waterbed and rolled onto his back.

Starsky crawled between the spread legs and took the stout, pale flesh into his mouth. "Mmm," he approved, and made a point of relaxing into his task.

Hutch wasn't as patient and groaned while curling Starsky's hair around his fingers.

Starsky pulled off and whispered, "Just relax and enjoy it, baby. Gonna take a while." He ducked his head to lick at the enticing ball sac, and then returned to swallowing his prize. His hands rubbed slowly along Hutch's thighs.

The bedroom fell silent, save for an occasional grunt and wet noises.

"Fuck me." A hand pushed at Starsky's head.

Starsky raised up, and looked around for their wedge pillow. They needed a new one, because it wasn't as firm as it used to be. He placed it on the bed and helped Hutch roll his hips on top of it.

Huskily, Starsky said, "Got to get you ready first. All ready for your fucking."

Hutch quivered.

"Ah, yeah, baby," Starsky cooed while parting pale ass cheeks. "You just lie there and relax. I'm gonna be awhile, because I'm really, really hungry."

Hutch groaned. He emitted more noises in the silence, save for the smacking sound of a wet tongue against delicate skin.

Starsky tongued him with purposeful, long strokes, sprinkled with intermittent determinations to push inside.

 "Fuck me!"

Starsky was eager to comply. He loudly kissed Hutch's center, and then straightened to find a tube of lubricant. "Gonna fuck you deep and hard, baby." As he applied the gel, he taunted, "I'd love to put my cock in your mouth, for just a moment, but I'm already huge enough to barely fit." He took his enormous erection in hand. "Gonna fuck you all nice and proper. Relax, baby, so you can take the whole thing."

Hutch released a deep breath.

Starsky fell silent as he focused on entering the snug channel, gratified when the pale flesh raised to encourage deeper penetration.  He went right to work, thrusting hard with rhythmic strokes, knowing it wasn't going to last. He reached for Hutch's erection and pumped it.

Eventually, their mutual cries penetrated the darkness.

An hour later, Hutch staggered to the bathroom.  Eagerly, he returned to bed.

Starsky watched him with hooded eyes. "You're still a fine fuck, Hutchinson."

"Mmm." Hutch leaned over to kiss Starsky deeply.

Starsky grunted with a smile. "Somebody enjoyed getting plowed."

Hutch arranged the pillows behind him, the morning's activities coming back to mind.

Starsky got on en elbow. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nick." Hutch amended, "Nick and Lannie."

"What about them?"

Hutch wanted to steer clear of hurting his love's feelings. Amiably, he pointed out, "You're different toward him now."

"What do you mean?"

"You're more flippant with him. Like you're keeping your distance."

Starsky blinked. "He went through a traumatic time. I'm just trying to rally him." Then, "More flippant as opposed to what?"

"As opposed to really listening to him."

Starsky's eyes darted back and forth. "Was is it you think that I'm not hearing?"

Hutch kept his voice soft. "I can understand why it bothers him that the accident forced him and Lannie back together. It's like they were robbed of the choice to decide to make their marriage work."

"Well, I figure the important thing is that they're back together. What difference does it make how it happened?"

Hutch acknowledged the point with a shrug. "I just feel like it took something away from them, not having the choice. I'm surprised that you don't notice it, when you're around them."

Starsky sputtered a moment, and then reasoned, "They've got to make the best of the hand they were dealt. We all do. It's not like we always get to pick and choose how we want things to turn out, and how to get to where we're going."

"I guess you're right."

Starsky turned onto his stomach, his chin resting on a pillow. "Besides, I still think we let Nick stay with us too long. It made it convenient for he and Lanette to drag things out. I mean, it started to seem almost normal that he was here all the time."

Hutch snorted with amusement. "Yeah."

"Did Nick or Lanette say anything to you?"

"No. Not beyond what Nick said in the car this morning. I just feel it, you know? When I'm around them. That they got cheated out of a big reunion. All of a sudden, they're back together because Nick needs Lannie's help."

"Well, of course things feel a little funny. After a major injury like that... there's adjustment for everybody. Maybe that's what you're sensing. We're used to you and I having injuries and long recoveries. But we never expected something like that to happen to Nick.  Still, this could end up being a nice thing, from a financial aspect. If they end up with a few hundred thousand extra dollars, after all the medical stuff is paid, that's got to help with their bills, big-time."

"Yeah, that's true. Though I'd hate to count on that much money. You never know how legal settlements are going to turn out."

"Yeah, but they're going to get something, considering that Nick is missing an internal organ and his arm will never be the same."

Hutch felt better now that they had talked about it. "Hopefully, It'll be a fair amount."

They were silent for a long moment, and then Starsky smiled with a distant expression. "Man, I wonder how good Bri is."

Hutch held up a hand. "I'm not going to project too much into the future, buddy. Can you imagine if, like, she hurt herself in training and never got to race? That would be beyond disappointing. So, I'm determined to think about it as little as possible."

"Just so cool," Starsky mused, "thinking that she could be like Darla was. Even a little bit. Or a lot of bit."

Hutch nudged him. "We should probably offer to let Mandy buy a piece of her, like she did with Danny. But Bri is worth a lot more, so Mandy probably isn't going to be able to afford ten percent. I mean, Bri was worth seventy-five thousand when she was a foal. She's got to be worth at least a hundred grand now, since she's closer to racing. Plus, the Storm Bird offspring are doing really well."

"It would be fun to have Mandy involved, if she wants to be. I've liked having her around for some of Danny's races. Maybe she could buy in just one percent, as a token way of saying she's one of Bri's owners."

"Yeah, that's one way we could handle it. We can talk to her about it when Bri is ready to go to the racetrack."

"That sounds good." Starsky squeezed Hutch's leg. "I'm starving. Let's go out for lunch."

Hutch opened the file Lois had left on his desk, labeled "Tamara Mills". She'd told him on his car phone, when he was approaching the office, that Dennis had brought his mother's address book and waited while Lois copied the pages.

Starsky was on an ancestry appointment, so Hutch leafed through the pages that held names, addresses, and phone numbers. There had to be two dozen pages, which suggested Tamara hadn't been a loner or lacking family.

Hutch picked up a notepad and turned it over to a fresh sheet. He dialedl the number for Rose Theriot, whom Dennis had said was his mother's mother.

"Hello?" an elderly woman answered.

"Is this Mrs. Theriot?"

"Yes. Who's calling?"

"This is Kenneth Hutchinson. I'm a private detective."

"Detective?"

"Yes. Someone asked me to look into the disappearance of your daughter, Tamara."

There was a worried sigh. "What have you found out?"

"Well, we're just starting the investigation. Our understanding is Tamara has been missing for over two weeks, and her husband has said she left to be with a boyfriend."

Mrs. Theriot's voice was flat. "Yes, that's what he said."

"Do you believe him?"

"I don't know what to believe. I can't imagine her ever up and leaving her children."

"What do you know about the boyfriend?"

"Nothing."

"So, she hasn't been in touch with you at all?"

"No."

"What do you think happened to her?"

Mrs. Theriot drew a shaky breath. "I'm wondering if her husband Stuart had somebody do something to her."

"Have you called the police?"

"Yes. They sent an officer over, asking questions. When I told him she'd had an affair before, early in the marriage, before the kids, they lost all interest. Like, they thought it meant that's what happened this time. They didn't come out and say so, of course. But when I called two days later, it was apparent they didn't want to pursue it further, after talking to Stuart. They said I'd have to give them proof of foul play, if I wanted them to spend time on it." After a moment, she asked, "Was it her friend Melanie who hired you?"

Hutch made a note of the name. "I can't divulge that."

"Doesn't seem like she could afford a private detective."

"Mrs. Theriot, please don't assume anything. If you want to help us find your daughter, I'd like to ask more questions."

"Of course, I want to help. I'm so glad somebody is trying to find her."

Hutch had two pages of notes when Starsky walked in, and was finishing up the call. "I'll be in touch if I need anything else. Thanks so much for your help, Mrs. Theriot." He hung up the phone.

"Who's that?" Starsky asked, draping his jacket over the back of his chair.

"Dennis Mills' grandmother. Tamara's mother."

"Oh. Anything good?" Starsky sat down.

"Yes, as far as background." Hutch glanced through his notes. "When Tamara married Stuart, she was having an affair with her first love from high school. Mrs. Theriot says Tamara was immature at the time, didn't really seem to understand the seriousness or commitment of being married. They got through that, and once they had Dennis, Mrs. Theriot feels motherhood was the best thing for Tamara. She became more responsible, was a good mother, and she and Stuart seemed happy. Then they had a daughter, Becky. Things seemed to be fine, but Tamara's sister did tell her mother about a time, a few months back, when she went to Stuart and Tamara's home, and as she drove up, she heard shouting inside the house. Once she knocked on the door, they acted fine and said they'd had a movie on loud on the TV. Otherwise, there hasn't been any reason to think the marriage was going badly."

Starsky asked, "So, they didn't know about Stuart having a girlfriend on the side?"

"No. Then, after Stuart called her to say Tamara had taken off a few days prior, to be with her boyfriend -- which no one had known about -- Mrs. Theriot found that impossible to believe. She called the police, but once they found out Tamara had had an affair at the beginning of the marriage, they seemed to think she was repeating the same pattern, and they couldn't do anything without something to go on."

Starsky furrowed his brow. "I wonder if this supposed new boyfriend is somebody different altogether, or the same person she had an affair with before."

"Her boyfriend from high school died from an accident at work, years ago. Whoever she's with now, she's sure been able to keep it a secret." Hutch relented, "But then, that's assuming there's any truth to husband Stuart saying she has a boyfriend. Mrs. Theriot couldn't imagine Tamara just up and leaving her children."

Starsky was thoughtful. "What do you want to do next?"

Hutch looked at his notes and then leafed through the pages of the address book. "Her mother was asking if we'd been hired by Tamara's friend, somebody named Melanie Schwartz." He circled the name on a page. "Here it is. She's in the Mills' neighborhood. I want to see what she has to say about Tamara and the marriage."

Starsky's phone beeped, and Lois said, "David, Mike Hawkins is on line three."

Starsky pushed the speaker button and then pressed line three. "Hi, Mike. Hutch and I are both here."

"Just letting you know I'll be entering Danny next week. His hoof is healed, so he's back to galloping. I don't want to work him out before he runs, since I'd like to keep him fresh for the race. I'll put him in a route."

"Going around two turns?" Hutch asked.

"Yeah. He's proven he can't run with the sprinters. So, I'll put him in a route race -- a long race -- and hopefully that'll help his chances, since the pace will be a lot slower."

Starsky inquired, "You'll put Nadine back on him, right?"

"Yeah, she can have another shot at it."

Hutch said, "But it'll be another cheap maiden claimer?"

"Uh-huh."

Worriedly, Starsky said, "Hey, Mike, since Danny has a lot of thirds, is it possible somebody might claim him?"

"No, ninety-nine percent certain that won't happen. Because if he wins, the win and the purse money go to you. And then they've claimed a horse that's broken his maiden. So, they can't run him in maiden races. Now, what are they going to do with him? Plus, horses which take more than a few races to get their first win are virtually never claimed. Plus, he's had time off and won't have a timed workout before he runs again, and that'll make people nervous. They'll wonder if he has something wrong with him, health wise. So, no way."

"Okay." Starsky said with relief.

In the background was a woman's voice.

"Oh, almost forgot," Hawkins said. "Danny's fine, but he was involved in an incident yesterday morning, when he was out for his gallop."

"What sort of incident" Hutch asked, as he exchanged a worried glance with Starsky.

"While he was on the track, another horse had lost its rider, and he almost careened into a horse in front of Danny. In trying to avoid those two horses, Danny's rider turned him sharply and lost his balance and fell off. So, Danny was also loose, and usually a loose horse will go down to the gap in the fence that goes back to the barn area, since they want to return to where they know they're safe. The gap in the fence was a furlong away. But Danny headed toward the outside rail, and he suddenly jumped it. Cleared it. He stopped at the first people he came to, and they brought him back to my barn. He was fine, thank goodness. And the rider's fine, too."

The woman's voice sounded firm.

Hawkins sighed. "All right. My wife Stella is threatening to divorce me unless I put her on the phone."

Starsky and Hutch exchanged another glance.

"Fellas, this is Stella."

"Hi, Stella."

"I don't know if you recall, but I come from the hunter-jump world, where horses jump fences in shows."

"Yes," Hutch said, "I remember you mentioning that."

"I was in the grandstand when the incident occurred. Had my binoculars on Danny. When he was loose, it's like he purposely turned toward the outside rail, instead of running along it to find the gap. He tucked his legs in, lowered his neck, and curved his back over it, like he'd been jumping fences his whole life. His form was perfect. I've seen loose racehorses try to jump the rail before, and usually they have their head in the air, since they're spooked and terrified to be riderless, and their back is concave, and sometimes they'll crash right into the fence. Danny jumped that rail like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he was perfectly calm about it."

"Yeah?" Starsky prompted, his expression showing he wasn't sure what her point was.

Hutch spoke for both of them. "So, what do you think that means?"

"Well, to put it in poetic terms, Danny might be a show jumper trapped in the body of a racehorse."

Hutch blinked, thinking back to their first major case, when The Sandman had been electrocuting Grand Prix show jumpers, so their owners could collect the insurance money. He and Starsky had seem some of those magnificent equine performers up close.

Stella went on. "So, if you reach the point where you want to get out from under him, I can make some phone calls to my hunter-jumper friends, to see if they might be interested in trying him out. He's too young to train for jumping, but it would be a shame to not give him an opportunity later on."

Dubiously, Starsky said, "I'm not sure we'd want to sell him."

"You wouldn't necessarily have to. You could do something like a lease. Have somebody lease him at no charge, since they'll just see how they like him for, say, a year. They could pay for his upkeep, so he's not costing you anything. You can work it out any way you want, if both parties agree. You could ask for him back at anytime, or they could return him to you any time they feel he isn't going to work out. From what I saw, he could really be something, especially since it's not looking like he has much future as a racehorse."

Mike's firm voice said, "He's got a win in him."

"I know," Stella protested, her voice turned away. "I'm just saying when they decide there's no longer any point in keeping him in training for racing."

Hutch felt heartened at the idea Danny had a talent that nobody had known anything about. "Thanks for passing that along. We'll keep it in mind."

Hawkins was back on the phone. "I'll let you know when he's entered."

"Thanks, Mike." Starsky cut the line. He grinned at Hutch. "Wow. A show jumper. Wouldn't it be something if we could see him someday jumping in one of those shows we've seen on ESPN?"

"Yeah, that would be amazing. Though sounds like it would be years from now if that happened. But it's a great option, isn't it? When his racing days are over, he can have a second career he might be really good at? And it wouldn't cost us anything while he's in training. A lease sounds like it could be a good idea."

Starsky rubbed his hands together. "First he's got to succeed as a racehorse. Maybe this next time, huh?"

"Hope so," Hutch said, feeling better about Danny than he had in a long time.

Melanie Schwartz was a thirtyish woman, modestly plump, who had a tired expression when answereding her door.

"Mrs. Schwartz?" Hutch greeted, holding out his card.

"Yes?" She said, accepting it through the narrow opening of the screen door.

"I'm Ken Hutchinson, and this is my partner, David Starsky. We're private detectives who have been hired to look into the disappearance of Tamara Mills. We'd like to ask you some questions."

"Tamara? Yes, of course, I want to help out." She glanced behind her. "I'd invite you in, but my house is a mess. I have three boys and..."

"It's okay," Starsky put in. "We need to talk to you, if we're going to have any chance of finding what happened to Tamara."

She hesitated. "My house really is a mess."

"We don't mind," Hutch pressed.

She opened the screen door. "Well, all right."

"We won't stay long," Starsky assured, as they moved past her.

There were clothes and toys scattered about the living area. Melanie moved items to one side of the sofa. Self-consciously, she said, "I can't keep up with it all, with three boys."

"I assume they're all in school," Hutch said with a smile.

"Yes." She sighed. "I don't know how I'm going to get anything done when they're off next week for Thanksgiving break. Please, have a seat."

They sat down on the cleared sofa and turned down her offer of refreshments. Melanie sat in an easy chair.

While Hutch flipped his notepad to a new page, Starsky said, "We assume you've heard that Tamara is missing."

"Yes," she said solemnly.

"How did you know her?" Hutch asked.

"Through the kids' school. PTA meetings and school plays and things like that. We usually made a point of sitting next to each other. Our kids go to each other's birthday parties. Every once in a while, when we both felt we had the time, we'd go to lunch together. Once, we went to dinner with our husbands."

Hutch looked up from his writing. "How did it go?"

Melanie shrugged. "We hadn't met each other's husbands before. Stuart seemed kind of distant. He'd laugh at all the right places in the conversation, and smile and nod, but I got the sense his mind was elsewhere. I talked to my husband about it on the way home, and he said Stuart had a lot of stress at his job. You ask me, having a lot of stress at work would be all the more reason to cut loose with friends."

"What kind of work did Stuart do?" Starsky asked.

"Something to do with payroll for the sales staff at a computer firm. They use computers themselves to do the payroll, and it's so hard keeping up on all the technology, because it's changing so fast. And the salesmen get paid commission all sorts of different ways, so it gets complicated. He sounded frustrated with his job, the little bit he said about it."

Hutch made a note. "How long ago was that dinner?"

"Oh, let's see. I think... six months ago?"

"Did you ever see Stuart again?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Did Tamara talk about her husband much?" Starsky asked.

"Most of our conversations centered around our kids. And money. There's never enough money, no matter how many coupons you use at the grocery store, or how many raises your husband gets at work. The kids keep needing more clothes and eyeglasses and doctor visits. Rarely would Tamara talk about her marriage. I got the feeling she wasn't comfortable talking about it -- you know, it's not a polite thing to discuss one's marriage."

Hutch prompted, "Still, she mentioned it sometimes?"

"Yeah. Just menial stuff. Stuart was in a bad mood because he got chewed out at work. Or he was mad when he wanted to buy a new drill, and found out they hardly had any money, because he didn't realize how much it costs to maintain the household."

"Did you ever get the impression that Tamara was afraid of him?"

Melanie shrugged. "No, it seemed like normal husband-wife stuff."

Bluntly, Starsky asked, "Did Tamara ever mention anything about Stuart having an affair?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Would it surprise you that he has a girlfriend?"

Melanie shrugged again. "I don't know anything about that."

Starsky said, "Did Tamara ever mention being interested in anyone else herself?"

"No. But then, I don't think we had the kind of friendship where she would have mentioned something like that to me."

Hutch felt disappointed that Melanie didn't have more to offer. He asked, "What do you think happened to Tamara?"

"I've heard rumors that she just up and left, but you know how rumors are. Can't imagine she'd leave the kids behind." Melanie then muttered, "Unless...."

"Unless what?"

Melanie shifted with discomfort. "Well, I remember -- it was just girl talk, you know -- but once we were laughing, while we were shopping together for kids' clothes, about how nice it would be to be rich. And she said something about how she'd thought marrying a man with a steady job meant that she'd never have to worry about money. And how naive she'd been."

Hutch waited a moment longer, but when Melanie didn't add anything further, he flipped his notebook closed.

Starsky held up a finger. "Uh, Melanie, did you know Tamara had an affair early in her marriage? Before the kids."

Melanie pursed her lips while shaking her head. "No, I didn't. That would be a pretty embarrassing for a woman to admit."

"One more question. Do you know of anybody else Tamara socialized with, who might be able to tell us anything about her?"

"No. Like I said, we usually sat together at school functions and outside of school. I didn't know much else about her."

When they were back in Starsky's Corvette, Starsky said, "She wasn't really able to tell us anything. I was under the impression Melanie was a good friend of Tamara's."

"Yeah. That's what it sounded like, since Tamara's mother first assumption was that Melanie hired us."

As the Corvette pulled away from the curb, Starsky said, "The only thing that was a little bit interesting was what she said at the end, about money. Tamara having thought she wouldn't have to worry about money, marrying a man with a steady job. Still, can't imagine a mother leaving her kids, just because she wanted to run away with someone who was wealthy."

"Yeah."

The Monday before Thanksgiving, Starsky and Hutch separated to talk to more relatives and acquaintances of Tamara Mills.

After finding little from the few people he'd contacted that morning, Hutch drove to Tomorrow Computers, where Tamara's husband, Stuart, worked. Hutch's intention was to present himself to the receptionist as someone who wanted to apply for a position, and hoped he could strike up a conversation and find out more about Stuart.

However, just as he left his car in the parking lot of the building, Hutch saw a man resembling Stuart coming down the front steps, wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. Hutch decided to risk being straight about his intentions.

"Mr. Mills?" Hutch inquired, pulling a card from his wallet.

The man paused. "Yes?" He had dark brown hair with sideburns and, according to the birthdate in Tamara's address book, was forty-one years old.

"I'm Ken Hutchinson and am with a private investigation firm that was hired to find your wife, Tamara."

Mills snorted. "Her family wants to spend money looking for her?"

"Somebody does," Hutch replied firmly, watching the man's expression. "I can't reveal who requested our services." He made a point of softening and gestured to his car. "Do you mind giving me a few moments of your time, so I can ask you some questions?"

"I've already talked to the police, and I have an appointment to get to."

Hutch was glad that the police had at least interviewed Stuart, however disinterested they may have been in the case. "It won't take long. Your input is vital to finding her."

The man shrugged and moved to Hutch's car.

As he unlocked the passenger door, Hutch was grateful to have this degree of cooperation from someone he suspected had killed his wife.

Once they were both in the LeBaron, Hutch said, "Tell me about the last time you saw Tamara."

"It was Thursday morning, October 29th. I didn't go into work, because I was taking a flight later in the morning to Portland, for a training session on a new computer payroll system. I was going through the notes in my briefcase, focused on work.  At about 8:30 Tamara comes into the living room, suitcase in hand, and she says, 'Stuart, I'm leaving you for someone else. I took a hundred dollars out of the cookie jar. I don't need anything else.' Then she got in her car and left."

"You didn't say anything?" Hutch demanded.

"I asked, 'What about the kids?' She reminded me that her mother was picking them up at school that day, because they were going to spend a long weekend with her, because there wasn't any school the next day. Rose had wanted to spend time with them, just her and the grandkids, so they were going to do the Halloween thing at her house. I admit I didn't think it through. I was all stressed out about the training in Portland. Tamara and I had stopped being intimate a long time ago. I've been having an affair with someone else for a while and didn't go out of my way to hide it. So, when Tamara left, I assumed she meant for a while. Was going to go shack up with some guy. It wasn't until a week later that it dawned on me that she might have really meant it -- and maybe she didn't intend to come back."

Hutch furrowed his brow. "You think she'd just up and leave your kids?"

Mills rubbed at his face. "Hell, I don't know. I stopped paying any attention to anything she wanted or needed, once she made it clear she was no longer interested in any bedroom action. I took it as permission to start seeing someone else, though I'd already had a few flings." He shook his head. "I don't know why we got married. I guess I thought that's what a man is supposed to do -- get married and start a family. I love my kids. I'll always appreciate Tamara for being their mother, and she's been a damned good one. But it's fine with me if she's got another man in her life. That should make her all the more eager for a divorce, which makes things easier for me, since the woman I've been seeing is one I hope to marry."

Mills' story wasn't what Hutch had been expecting, especially since he seemed open and sincere. "What do you know about the man Tamara was seeing?"

"I don't know anything. Not his name. Nothing. She never mentioned anything, and I never looked for signs that she was seeing anyone else, because I didn't care."

Hutch was trying to comprehend Stuart's attitude and thought back to what Mills had already told him. "You say she said she took a hundred dollars out of the cookie jar?"

"Yes. We always kept a cookie jar in the cupboard, and tried to put any spare change in it, the rare times we got some unexpected money. To have cash for an emergency. Last time I counted, there was close to two hundred, so she was trying to be fair to take half."

Hutch tilted his head. "If she was going to meet another man, why would she need a hundred dollars?"

Mills was silent for a long moment. "Hmm. I never thought about that. Maybe he lives far away, and she needed it for food and gas."

"But if he lived far away, when would she have met him?"

Mills shrugged. "I don't know."

They both sat in silent contemplation, and then Hutch clarified, "You said she just had one suitcase?"

"Yes."

"Would that have been enough for all her things?"

Mills shifted in the seat and rubbed at his face again. "Now, that's a funny thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. See, a few weeks before she left, she was going through closets and drawers and throwing a lot of things out. I came home from work, and she had these big plastic bags full of stuff and I asked what she was doing. And she said she was getting rid of old things, that she didn't wear or need anymore. She said, 'Don't worry, I'm not getting rid of any of your stuff.' So, I didn't give it another thought."

"Sounds like she was planning to leave ahead of time."

"Yeah," Mills said in a distant voice. Then, firmly, "And not come back, since there's hardly anything of hers left."

"How are the kids taking it?"

"They're sad. Puzzled. I've tried to make them feel better by telling them that they'll have a new mother next year. Maybe I shouldn't have said that.  At least, not right away. I certainly hope I'll have heard from Tamara by then and we can get divorced." Abruptly, Mills looked at his watch. "Dammit, I've got to get going." He cocked the door handle.

"Please keep my card and don't hesitate to call me if you can think of anything else that might be helpful."

"Will do," Mills said. He slammed the door and walked away.

Starsky was typing up notes on his computer when Hutch walked in.

"Stuart Mills didn't kill his wife," Hutch announced, tossing his briefcase onto the counter.

"He didn't?"

"No." Hutch rested back against the counter. "He was completely at ease talking to me, answered all my questions, didn't seem at all evasive. He's selfish and clueless, but he's no murderer."

"Then, what does he think happened to Tamara?"

"He said she left one morning. Told him she was leaving him for another man. But here's the weird thing. She left with one suitcase, and within a few weeks of leaving, she'd thrown out all her old clothes and other things."

Starsky considered that. "Like, she was starting a new life?"

"Yeah, that's what it sounds like. And she told Stuart she took half of the two hundred they kept in a cookie jar. If she was starting a new life with a new man why would she need money?"

"Maybe she needed traveling money."

"If so, how could she have run into him in the first place? She was a housewife. Just did shopping around the town and visited her mother regularly. How could she meet a man who lived far enough away that she felt she needed a hundred dollars?"

Starsky proposed, "He doesn't have a job?"

"After what her friend Melanie told us, about frustrations with money, why would she start a new life with a man that doesn't have a job?" Hutch moved closer to Starsky. "Did you find out anything good?"

"No. I interviewed three people today, and everyone seemed puzzled. One had met Stuart and felt uncomfortable around him. Sort of because he was distant, like Melanie Schwartz said. But that's about it."

"Did anyone say anything about Tamara having a boyfriend?"

"No."

Hutch crossed his arms while releasing a heavy breath. "We've interviewed -- what? -- close to twenty people now? Not a single one of them knew Tamara had a boyfriend. We don't even have a name of the boyfriend."

"What if there isn't a boyfriend? And Tamara just left on her own?"

"Then why would she have told Stuart she was leaving him for another man?"

"Maybe the 'other man' was someone she was hoping to find? Since Stuart had a girlfriend, she was trying to be prideful by announcing that she had a boyfriend?"

Hutch bowed his head and released a long breath. "Well, whether she did or didn't have a boyfriend, we're no closer to finding her."

Starsky suspected what Hutch was thinking. "I'd sure hate to let Dennis down."

"Yeah." Abruptly, Hutch looked up, snapping his fingers. "She left her address book behind. Why would she do that? Even if she wanted to start a new life, why cut all ties completely, where she didn't have the phone numbers of relatives and friends?"

"Maybe she forgot to take it with her."

Hutch bit his lower lip. "But she planned on leaving. She was obviously planning to leave when she threw out all her old clothes. Stuart said she went through the closets and drawers. So, surely she would have come across the address book and been sure she packed it. She deliberately left it behind."

Starsky spent a few moments in contemplation. "Perhaps if she's in a relationship, or wanting to start a relationship, she's creating a new background for herself, and she doesn't want the new man finding out her real background."

"But that would mean abandoning her kids, her mother...."

"Yeah," Starsky admitted. "That's a tough one to consider."

"I don't know what to do next."

Starsky patted Hutch's stomach. "Something will turn, baby. It has to."

The Tuesday after Thanksgiving, Starsky walked into their office. Hutch slowly hung up the phone, his mouth open.

"What's wrong?" Starsky demanded, standing before Hutch.

"I called Judith Parkson, in case she could give me any insight into why a mother would leave her children."

"Yeah?"

"She said lots of housewives have fantasies of taking off, because they feel so overwhelmed by the responsibilities of raising their kids and keeping their husbands happy and maintaining the household. But most admit they'd be happy with just a weekend away, because they'd miss their family before long." Hutch leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands together. "That's why daytime soaps are so popular with housewives. It's a way of escaping to another world where the characters live much more dramatic and emotionally rich lives than they themselves do, to say nothing of those characters having a lot more money than people in real life."

Starsky nodded.

More solemn, Hutch relayed, "Judith said that when a person gives away a lot of their stuff, it's a classic sign of the intent to kill themselves. They don't need their belongings anymore."

"Oh, no," Starsky said. What were they going to tell Dennis? "Did Tamara own a gun?"

"I don't know. But Judith thought the reason Tamara needed a hundred dollars was to get a motel room for at least a couple of nights, so she's not disturbed, and buy enough pills to swallow. That would also explain why Tamara didn't take her address book."

Starsky tried to find a reason why Judith's theory made little sense. "But why pack a suitcase?"

Hutch shrugged. "Maybe she wanted to emphasize that she was leaving, so nobody would look for her. Same with saying she had a boyfriend. It might have been an attempt to keep anyone from worrying about her and looking for her, before she had a chance to kill herself."

Starsky collapsed into his chair. "Damn it." Then he insisted, "She doesn't care what happens to her kids, if she kills herself?"

"Judith said Tamara would hardly be the first mother to commit suicide. She said when people are depressed, everyday things can seem like an enormous task or event that they don't know how to deal with. Like, if the oil light comes on in their car, most of us would just think we need to get the oil changed at some point in the near future. But for a depressed person, such a simple thing can seem like yet another daunting task they have to figure out how to do, and when, and how to afford it, and all that. Everyday things can overwhelm them."

Starsky rubbed his hand over his face, not wanting to believe it. "Geez."

"Yeah." Hutch drew a heavy breath. "We need to get Lois to call around to the morgues and see if they have any Jane Does that match Tamara's description."

Starsky's phone beeped and Lois said, "David, Mike Hawkins is on line one."

"Great, thanks." Starsky sat up straighter, eager to change the subject. He clicked the button on the speaker phone. "Hi, Mike. What's up?"

"Danny's in the fourth race on Thursday. Post position eight. Ten horses going a mile and an eighth, fourteen thousand maiden claimer. California-breds only. Nadine Harrison up."

"Awesome. We'll make it out." The circuit was currently at Santa Anita, near Pasadena, which was over a half hour away.

"What are his chances?" Hutch asked.

"It's a group of horses that are all in the same boat. They've all run at least three times. Danny isn't the first one going a distance for the first time, so it's hard to know how the others will do. Hopefully, Danny will like the slower early pace. My only concern is that, after his layoff, he might need a race under him before he's completely fit. But on the other hand, I'm hoping being fresher will give him a stronger kick. So, we'll see."

"See you Thursday," Starsky said, and cut the line. He shook his fist at Hutch. "Come on, Danny!"

With the December sun shining bright, Rudy led the tacked up Danny out of the number 8 stall at Santa Anita. Starsky and Hutch stood in the spacious, attractive paddock that was a hallmark of the track, with its large walking ring, and green grass in the center. Danny again had his mane and tail neatly braided. He calmly watched the crowd gathered around the ring as they looked over the horses.

From one end of the row of stalls, the jockeys emerged to cross the walking ring onto the grassy area. Nadine Harrison indicated the long, braided ponytail that draped from the back of her helmet. "Danny and I are both ready for the win photo."

"Danny might be a little short, conditioning wise," Mike told her. "But since this race is such a crap shoot, maybe it'll work out for him."

She looked over at the group of humans near the No. 1 horse. "Gustavo has been whining all day about how every horse he's riding today drew the one hole. The footing on the rail has been a little deep this week."

Hawkins chuckled briefly. "Well, you won't have to worry about that, since there's no reason for Danny to be near the rail. Don't rush him at all. Since this is his first start around two turns, just let him gallop along, and hopefully he'll have something left at the end to do some running."

"Riders Up!"

When Danny was next to their group, Rudy brought him to a halt. A moment later, Nadine was in the saddle, and the line of ten horses began to file out onto the track.

"Man," Starsky said, "I hope he does it today." They moved with the other owners and trainers and exited the paddock to the grandstand.

Hawkins said, "I'm going to grab a hot dog. See you guys later." He moved off.

Starsky briefly clasped Hutch's hand. "I'm going to go bet. 9-2 is good odds." He headed for the betting windows.

Hutch heard a young male voice behind him say, "Man, it's embarrassing to think about betting any of these horses. The favorite, Playful Frolic, has run eight times, and he's never been closer than two lengths."

Another man replied, "It's hard to figure, with so many going a route for the first time. But the favorite has the fastest speed figures."

His companion said, "And the second choice, this Depth Charge pig, hasn't even had a workout since his last start two months ago. I bet he's hurting and they're hoping somebody claims him."

Hutch bit his tongue and was glad that Starsky wasn't there to hear such derogatory comments.

More racegoers began to line up at the windows to make their bets. Hutch saw a woman with short brown hair looking around the mezzanine as though studying each person. He realized, "Mandy!"

Her face brightened as she looked in his direction. "Ken!"

They approached each other. "What are you doing here?" Hutch asked. "I thought you had to work."

"Well, I decided that I wasn't feeling well, so I said I needed to leave early."

"Mandy!" Starsky joined them, ticket in hand. "You made it."

"She's sick," Hutch deadpanned.

While Starsky looked at her with concern, she laughed shortly. "Yes, I admit it. In a million years I never thought I'd tell a white lie like that. But I guess I decided to live on the edge and tell a fib. What if Danny wins? I didn't want to miss it."

As they began moving toward the stairs that led to the box seats, Starsky said, "Too bad you didn't decide to call in sick this morning. We could have driven up here together."

"I know. But I have an old high school friend that's up this way, so I thought I might drop by her place after the race."

They made their way to Hawkins' box, which was empty.

"Sometimes," Mandy said, "I wonder if I'm going through some kind of premature mid life crisis. I feel like I've been a good girl all my life, and I'm wondering why. Other people don't always do the right and proper thing, and yet things work out most of the time."

Hutch considered that. "Well, don't go too crazy too quickly, if you're feeling bored with the status quo."

Starsky soothed, "I wouldn't say that lying about being sick is any big deal."

Hutch wondered, "There doesn't happen to be a new beau in your life, is there?"

She drew a deep breath. "Somebody asked me out. But he's sort of irresponsible and tall and skinny and...."

"Did you say yes?" Starsky asked.

"Not yet."

"But you're thinking about it," Hutch encouraged.

"Can't imagine what we could have in common," Mandy muttered.

"But you're thinking about it," Hutch repeated.

Starsky said, "Going out on one date is hardly moving in together. Why don't you just go on a date and see how it goes? You can always turn him down the next time."

Hawkins appeared with his wife, Stella.

"Hey fellas," Stella greeted.

Starsky said, "You usually don't watch the races, do you?"

"That's when I usually like to get a lot of the office work done," she replied. "Since most everyone else is at the track, it's pretty quiet around the barn. But I think this is a race that Danny can win, and I didn't want to miss it."

"It is now post time," the announced declared.

Their box was near the finish line, and the starting gate was set a furlong before the finish of the mile track.

"Danny is 4-1," Starsky said. "Second choice."

Hawkins noted, "The favorite is only 3-1, which is big odds for a favorite. The public doesn't know what to make of this race. We horsemen don't know, either. It's an odd mix of horses, even though they're all two-year-old maidens."

They watched as the horses began loading.

Hutch said, "I overheard someone saying that Danny's owners are hoping he gets claimed, since his lack of a workout since his last race must mean that he's hurting."

Hawkins scoffed, "They obviously aren't horsemen. Danny looked great in the paddock. The fact that he doesn't have bandages on his legs shows that there's nothing wrong with him. And most barn hands aren't going to bother braiding a horse for a race that they don't think they have a chance to win."

"All in line."

They all turned their attention to the starting gate. It opened a moment later, and the horses galloped away.

Danny smoothly settled on the outside of the tightly packed field in sixth, with two horses well behind the others. As the field circled the first turn, Hawkins nodded at the tote board. "They went the first quarter in twenty-six and two. They're barely galloping. Nobody wants the lead, and nobody wants the rail."

Hutch could see that there was a lane open along the inside fence. The announcer said, "They've gone the first quarter in a dawdling twenty-six and two. As they head down the back stretch, Wedding Band is a head in front of Playful Frolic, with Ships Away to his outside, and behind those two is All Levels, and then Hurrah Hurrah and Depth Charge. Behind those are...."

"Come on, Danny!" Starsky pleaded.

"He is a good spot," Hawkins soothed, watching through his binoculars. "Nice and relaxed." He lowered the binoculars. "If he's got something left for the stretch, probably the others will, too."

As a horse accelerated, the announcer's voice quickened. "And All Levels has had enough of this and is going for the lead. He's third, now second, and now goes by Wedding Band, who maintains a half length over Playful Frolic as they head into the turn. Ships Aways is backing up and Hurrah Hurrah and Depth Charge are moving up together."

"Come on, Danny!" Hutch shouted with the others. The horses now rounded the final bend, and the packed group spread out. When they entered the stretch, Hutch realized he was watching a horse with a narrow stripe down his face and that wasn't Danny. "Where is he?" He listened to the announcer, whose voice had gone hesitant and flat. "Hurrah Hurrah in between horses, and... Playful Frolic is driving..."

Starsky pointed. "He's in front! On the rail!"

Hutch blinked in disbelief. A horse was leading by two lengths on the rail, his rider going to the whip.

The announcer just then seemed to realize it. "And that's... number eight, Depth Charge, now in front. Yes, Depth Charge ahead by two."

"He's on the wrong lead," Stella said urgently.

"Switch leads!" Hawkins bellowed.

As if on cue, Nadine switched her whip to her left hand, and hit Danny twice more. Hutch saw the little jolt in stride, and Danny was surging forward, with his rested right foreleg leading each stride.

"That's a good boy," Stella called.

Starsky screeched, "He's going to win!" He grabbed Hutch, jumping up and down.

Hutch wasn't sure. Nadine was now waving her whip at Danny while perched over his neck, but the finish line still seemed far away, and horses behind were in an all out gallop. Danny suddenly shortened stride, as though running out of air, a situation Hutch was well familiar with, considering all the suspects he'd tried to run down in younger days.

"Hang on!" Hawkins shouted.

"You can do it!" Stella pleaded.

"Here comes Toll Booth flying on the outside. Depth Charge trying to hang on. Here's the finish... Depth Charge gets it by a neck! Toll Booth second, and then..."

Hutch felt his eyes water with joy, as he and Starsky threw their arms around each other. Then they hugged Mandy, and then Stella, and shook Hawkins' hand while pounding him on the back.

"Oh, man," Starsky gushed, "This is the coolest thing!"

"I lost track of him," Hutch admitted, as they all left the box.

"Nadine faked out everybody," Hawkins said as they continued walking, "including the announcer. She angled him over to the rail right before the stretch. She knew it would be open, and that move saved a few lengths."

"I thought the rail was supposed to be heavy going," Starsky said.

"If it was, it didn't over-ride what she saved in lengths."

They reached the track, and a guard next to the winner's circle opened a small gate for them to go through. Nadine was smiling as she trotted Danny up to their group. While Rudy loosened the over-girth, Nadine said, "I knew they all were so psyched out by the rail being deep that they were going to leave it open for me."

"You fooled everybody," Hawkins said. "Even the announcer."

She made a motion with her hand. "When I knew I could clear the horses behind us, I slanted him right over to the fence, and all of a sudden we're in front. And his ears went up, like, 'What am I doing here?' And I'm like, 'You're in front, dummy. Go!" And I popped him a couple of times, and he was on the wrong lead, so I switched my stick to my left hand. Then he changed leads and got a little momentum."

They all entered the winner's circle, where the photographer was waiting. Nadine continued, "I was chirping to him down the lane, to keep him going. Then a few strides before the finish, I felt him run out of gas. Wasn't sure the wire was going to come up in time."

Hawkins indicated Danny's heaving sides. "This is the first time he's ever tried really hard."

Hutch was next to Rudy and reached to pat Danny's nose. "That's a good boy. A winner finally."

"Entering the winner's circle for the fourth race is Depth Charge, a California homebred for owners David Starsky and Kenneth Hutchinson. Trained by Mike Hawkins and ridden this afternoon by Nadine Harrison."

"Man, this is so terrific," Starsky said, while they posed for the photographer.

Once snapping a few photos, the photographer came toward them with his program and pen in hand. "How many copies do you want?"

Nadine dismounted and began to unsaddle Danny.

"Uh," Starsky glanced at Hutch, "twenty?"

"Sounds good." They still had dozens of copies of Darla's first win, since Starsky's extreme enthusiasm had prompted him to order a hundred winner's circle photos.

The photographer wrote on his program.

"Thanks for the mount, guys," Nadine said over her shoulder, and then headed to the weighing scale.

Rudy patted Danny's neck. "Come on, you good boy, time for a nice rub down." He led him away.

Hawkins said, "I want to see that replay."

They followed him into the grandstand where they stopped at the first monitor where a few others were watching. The horses were going down the backstretch.

"He's sixth right here, in a great spot on the outside," Hawkins said as the field entered the far turn. "Watch how she turns him inside."

Hutch wanted to see what he'd missed during the actual running. Danny was four paths from the rail, near the back of a tightly bunched group, going around the far turn. Suddenly, he slanted to the rail as they came around the final bend, and in saving ground, he entered the stretch in front by a half length.

Stella laughed, "Look at his ears."

Danny's ears were straight up in the air, until Nadine used her whip.

"He completely lost his momentum," Hawkins said, "when he realized he was in front. We're lucky that none of the others had the stomach to challenge him before he got going again."

Hutch said, "I was afraid he was going to get caught. It seemed like it took forever for the finish line to come up."

"That was incredible, seeing him in front," Starsky gushed. Mandy was beside him, and he hugged her again.

"I gotta admit, Nadine made a hell of a move on the turn," Hawkins said. "All the other riders were afraid of the rail. She took advantage of it."

A man glanced at Hawkins. "I guess girls can ride sometimes. Still, I don't want to use her for any of my horses. There's too many races that count on strength more than smarts."

Hawkins said, "I'm glad she got this chance. Maybe others won't be as stubborn as you, Oscar."

Oscar grunted.

Stella looked at her husband with a smile. "Or you."

Hawkins made a low growl in his throat. Then he moved away with a wave. "Time to celebrate back at the barn and see how our winner is doing."

An hour later, Starsky and Hutch were sitting in lawn chairs, with Hawkins and Stella, next to the barn. Danny had been cooled out, and was now tied to a post near the barn, and Rudy was releasing the braids. Mandy had left to visit her friend.

Starsky felt he was starting to come down from his exhilaration, and he knew the next obvious subject would be more controversial.

Hutch spoke for them. "So, what's next, Mike?"

Hawkins sipped his beer. "He's going to have a tough time on this circuit, racing against winners."

Starsky suggested, "Well, maybe after winning today he's got the point of what he's supposed to do."

"The time of this race was so slow that ordinary horses could have gone another half furlong. And Danny tried really hard." Hawkins shook his head. "He doesn't have the speed it takes to be successful here. You'd need to ship him to a lesser circuit. If you want to do that, I have a cousin that's a jockey in Phoenix. He could recommend a trainer. But out there, while your expenses will be a lot less, so will the purses. This race had a purse of sixteen thousand. At Phoenix, it would only be three thousand, if that."

"We don't want to do that," Starsky muttered, looking at Hutch, who nodded.

"There's the northern California circuit," Hawkins went on, "but he'd still find those horses awfully tough."

Hutch said, "Just hard to swallow that Danny's racing career is already be over, after waiting so long to see him run."

"On this circuit, I think you'll get deeper in the red, if you want to keep him in training. But look at it this way. He never had much potential. Being able to win a race -- even a cheap maiden claimer for Cal-breds -- on one of the toughest circuits in the world, that's a success story, as far as I'm concerned. And Darla now has a winner from her only foal to race. That's good for her value, too."

Starsky looked at Stella. "What if we go the show jumping route, like you suggested?"

"When I was with the jumping stable, whenever we bought a horse off the track, we always turned them out to pasture for at least six months, and usually closer to a year. We wanted to get the track mindset out of their system, and any medications out of their system, and get them healed from any aches and pains. Danny doesn't have any mental or physical issues, but he's also too young right now to train as a jumper. So, I'd say turn him out for at least six months, while you decide what to do with him. Then if you want to see if someone wants to lease him as a potential jumper -- and I hope you do -- I can make some phone calls."

"Yeah, fellas," Hawkins put in, "you shouldn't feel pressured to make a decision right this minute. Give it a few days, so I can make sure he's doing fine after today's race, and if you take him to a regular riding stable, that'll be a lot cheaper than a layup farm for racehorses. If you decide you want to try racing him again, you can always do that, though it'll take a few months to get him back to fitness."

They all watched as Rudy now combed out Danny's mane.

Hawkins noted, "There aren't many racehorses that I'd say would make good pleasure riding horses, but he would."

Hutch turned to Starsky. "Maybe we should send to the stable where I had Poncho. He could stay out at pasture there. And if we made him into a regular riding horse, there's probably lots of people around, taking lessons and stuff, that might be interested, if we end up not going the jumping route."

"Yeah, that's makes sense," Starsky relented. "Danny's short racing career is easier to take, knowing Bri should be racing next summer."

Hawkins brightened. "That's the Storm Bird filly?"

"Yeah," Hutch grinned. "We were out to see her at the training farm a few weeks ago. She's the queen bee there. They have to pony her out to the track, because she's such a handful, but it sounds like she's got the 'it' factor."

Hawkins nodded. "That's great."

"She's so different from Darla or Danny," Starsky marveled. "Completely different personality. Just go-go-go. Really high strung."

"But Lance Lowell talks like she might be as good as Darla," Hutch put in.

Starsky rubbed his hands together. "Yeah, it's so exciting to think she could be something special."

"By the way," Hutch put, "Lowell had nice things to say about you, Mike. He said you deserve a really good one."

"Meaning Bri," Starsky quickly put in.

Hawkins grinned. "That's nice of him. Darla was no slouch, having won a Grade 2 stakes. But a multiple Grade 1 stakes winner would be nice."

"Would it ever." Starsky rubbed his hands again while feeling butterflies in his stomach.

It was dark when they were on the way home. Hutch was driving.

"Man," Starsky droned on, "there's nothing like winning. Even if it took this long. Even if the time of the race was really slow. That was just... man."

"Yeah," Hutch agreed.

"It's been a long time, buddy boy, since we've stood in a winner's circle. Just so hard to believe that this is probably it for Danny's racing career."

"I know. But I think it's for the best that we quit with him, while we've got a bit of our investment back. I'd hate for his finances to head south again. If we turn him out to pasture at the stable where I had Poncho, instead of keeping him in a stall, that'll cost a lot less. The foreman, Clint, will keep an eye on him. Make sure he's okay and in good health. Danny can grow a little more, and at some point next year we can decide what to do with him."

Starsky shifted in his seat. "He has such great parents, and he inherited so little of their combined ability."

Hutch shrugged. "It happens to people too."

"Huh?"

"My father was a good accountant. Just think if I'd been told, 'You have to be an accountant. You don't have any say in what you want to do with your life.'" He glanced over at Starsky. "We'd never have met, if I hadn't wanted to do such an oddball thing as be a cop."

Starsky grunted.

Hutch went on, "I feel like Danny's been trying to tell us he doesn't want to be a racehorse. Like when he jumped the fence after losing his rider. How else is he supposed to communicate where his real talent lies?"

 "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Hutch focused on a memory. "I remember, earlier this year, when we were driving to the track with Mandy, and her cousin Millie was still alive. And we were talking about animal rights or something. You said that that not all dogs trained to be police dogs make it to be police dogs, because the ones that probably don't want to be police dogs aren't any good at it, anyway, so they don't make the cut." Hutch nodded. "I suspect that nature has a way of working those things out, when it comes to domesticated animals. Danny's lack of speed says something."

Starsky muttered. "Just don't know how he got jumping genes in his veins."

"And I don't know how I ever got cop genes." Through the corner of his eye, Hutch caught a glimpse of Starsky's crooked smile.

Starsky suddenly pointed to an exit sign. "Turn off here. Let's go to the beach."

Hutch was surprised but instantly obeyed. "Any beach in particular?"

Firmly, Starsky said, "You know what beach."

Hutch realized that he did.

The waves were strong in the cool December night.

Starsky and Hutch sat on a bench, in their jackets, their arms around each other, watching the waves. No one else was around.

Starsky was trying to think back. "It's been a while since we've been here. A few years, at least?"

"Well, let's see," Hutch said in a quiet voice. "I know the first time was after we left the dinner at the house of your personal trainer and her husband, who started to lecture us about religion and sin."

Starsky snorted, grateful that the incident was so far in the rearview mirror.

"That was the night," Hutch went on, "when we met Steve Hanson, the western movie star, at Huggy's."

"Which set this whole racehorse thing into motion." Starsky realized why he had an impulse to come to this beach. "Seems fitting to be here, since Darla's first foal is now a winner."

"Yeah," Hutch said with a nod. "Then the next time, it was when you were bummed out after having a professional agent read your book. She had a lot of criticisms."

Starsky nodded, recalling. "Oh, yeah. Man, that was at least a few years ago, Hutch."

"Yeah." After a moment, Hutch added, "We haven't been here since then. I remember, that night, wondering what life would be like in another two years."

"I think it's been three."

"Yeah." Hutch leaned his head against Starsky's. "Danny may not be what we'd hoped, but at least he's a winner. And your book did get published."

"And we've been on TV, even the Carson show."

"Yep. That's something, huh?"

Starsky nodded. "And now there's little Melinda. And we have a good friend in Mandy."

"And we bought a building."

"Oh, yeah," Starsky said with a grin.

"And took on a lot more debt."

"But have a whole lot more people working for us, and the business to support them."

"Yeah," Hutch agreed, more solemn. "That's nothing to take for granted."

Starsky reached to take Hutch's chin and turn it to face him. "And you're still sexy." He leaned forward and kissed him. It ended up lasting a long time.

When their lips parted, their foreheads rested together again. Full of emotion, Hutch said, "I love you so much. I'm so glad we still mean so much to each other. That we know how to keep loving."

"Now you're getting sappy," Starsky accused with humor. When they parted, they watched the ocean for a few minutes. Starsky considered, "Now, on the horizon, I guess the big thing is Bri. I'm trying not to hope too much that she's going to be really special."

"It could still be awhile before we know. She should be ready to go to the track in a couple of months. Then race a few months later, if everything goes well."

"Wouldn't it be something, if she helped us get out of debt?"

"I'm not ready to put that responsibility on her. We'll have to see. And we'll have more expenses with Darla having another foal in a month or so. That'll be three babies."

"Yeah."

"In the meantime," Hutch sighed, "we've just got to keep working cases, buddy. I sure hope something breaks with Tamara Mills. I don't want to let Dennis down."

Starsky was engrossed in compiling notes on an ancestry case the following week when Lois poked her head in the office door. "I just heard from the last morgue. Their Jane Doe doesn't match Tamara's picture."

Starsky sighed and looked over at Hutch.

Hutch turned away from his computer to face the doorway. "Thanks," he said, and Lois left.

"Now what?" Starsky wondered.

Hutch tilted his head thoughtfully. "We're going to have to get some of our people to start showing Tamara's photograph around motels. See if Tamara might have stopped for the night."

"If so, she didn't kill herself in any of them, since she's not in any morgues." Starsky mused, "Why would she have stayed the night near home?"

"Maybe just to get away?" Hutch said. "Men do it all the time, when they've had a fight with their wives."

"Tamara doesn't seem like the type to get a room by herself." Starsky's phone beeped. "Yeah?" he answered.

Lois responded, "There's a woman here named Melanie Schwartz, who says she has something to show you about the Tamara Mills case."

Just as Starsky placed the name, Hutch said, "That's Tamara's friend. We interviewed her before."

Lois added, "The conference room is free."

"Put her there," Starsky said. "We'll be right in."

Hutch fished around his desk for a notepad and flipped through the pages. "Here it is. She really wasn't able to tell us much. Mainly mentioned that Tamara's husband seemed distant when both couples went out for dinner once. She also told us that Tamara had once said that she'd been naive to think that marrying a man with a good job meant she'd never have to worry about money."

Starsky considered that. "Can't imagine what Melanie has to show us."

Hutch rose from his chair, taking the notepad. "Let's fine out."

They moved into the hall, and then entered the conference room, where Melanie Schwartz was seated with an envelope for photos in hand.

"Hi, Mrs. Schwartz," Hutch greeted. "Nice to see you again."

"I hope I'm not wasting your time, but I thought I should show you this."

They each took a seat on either side of her. "What's that?" Starsky prompted.

She pulled a set of 4x6 photographs from the envelope. "We had a big family Thanksgiving dinner and took some pictures. I got the roll developed, and it had some older pictures from a few months ago. Before the kids were back in school." Melanie placed a picture on the table. "Four of us gals decided to take a day for ourselves on a Sunday, because our kids were over at a boy's house for a birthday party, and spend the night. Tamara wanted to drive out to the country where there was some sort of museum for farm tractors and stuff. She said her great grandparents used to own the property, and she hadn't seen it in a long time. So, the rest of us thought a trip sounded like fun, to get away for the day."

Melanie tapped the picture. "We had a neighbor take this before we left. That's Tamara. Look how she's dressed."

Starsky and Hutch both peered closer. Tamara was wearing a tight purple dress that went down to her ankles, similar to a style from the 1920s.

"Was the trip a costume event?" Hutch asked.

"No. That's what's strange about it. Once we all met to start the trip, the other two gals whispered to me, 'We were supposed to dress up?' I said Tamara hadn't said anything to me about it. So, we were in casual clothes and Tamara was in that dress -- a flapper dress, I think they're called. Tamara never said anything about what we were wearing, and we never said anything to her about the dress. We just all got in her car and went on the trip."

Starsky wondered, "Did Tamara ever dress like that before?"

Melanie tilted her head. "That's what's weird -- I mean, why I got to thinking about it. She usually did dress a little odd. I mean, not as blatant as this," she tapped the photo, "but usually something a little different. From this same time period. I just thought it was the way she liked to dress. But after seeing this photo," she shrugged, "I think it really stands out as odd."

"You say you all went to some kind of farm museum?" Hutch asked.

Melanie presented another picture. It was of a big barn that looked old, but had been painted red with black trim in the past few years. "It's technically a museum, but not the kind of thing you pay for. Just this huge barn, and there're tractors and plows around, with little placards next to them about their history. Tamara said the county stopped being able to have someone maintain the museum, due to lack of funding. She said her great grandparents sold the land in the fifties. Most of it went to another farmer, but about ten acres was purchased by the county for the museum."

"Where is this located?" Starsky asked.

"Tamara did the driving, so I wasn't paying much attention. I do know that we were on Highway 602 for a long time. Probably over an hour. It was really quiet and peaceful out there. We had lunch inside the barn."

"A picnic lunch?" Hutch asked in a way that Starsky knew he was on to something.

"Well, sort of. I mean, we brought lunch with us. But..." Melanie tilted her head again. "It's kind of odd, but the barn had, like, a little kitchen. With a burner and a small sink and a little refrigerator. There were some sodas in the refrigerator. Tamara knew the kitchen and refreshments would be there." Melanie abruptly looked up. "I didn't think anything of it at the time. But Tamara was talking like she hadn't been out there since she was a small child. Yet, she seemed comfortable there. Knew her way around."

"Did you guys go anywhere else?" Starsky wondered.

"No. It probably took us a couple of hours to get to the museum. And then we spent a couple of hours there. Then we came back home. So, it took most of the day. We had a good time."

Hutch asked, "Is there anything else in particular you remember about Tamara that day? Her demeanor, or anything?"

Melanie shook her head. "No. We were all talking. About all sorts of things. It was a really wonderful time." She looked from one to the other and shrugged again.

Starsky indicated the two photos on the desk. "Do you mind if we keep these for the time being? We'll return them."

"Oh, sure. I didn't even remember them being on the roll. I mainly wanted the family pictures from Thanksgiving."

"Thanks very much," Hutch said. "It tells us something else about Tamara." He shook her hand, and Starsky could sense his restlessness.

Once Melanie had left, Hutch turned toward the door that led to the hall and said, "I've got to call Stuart, Tamara's husband."

Starsky followed. "What are you thinking?"

"Just a hunch."

When they entered their office, Hutch pointed to Starsky's phone. "See if you can find out where that museum is located."

Starsky grabbed the phone directory while Hutch flipped through his notepad. Then Hutch dialed his phone

Starsky looked under museums while Hutch said, "Yes, this is Ken Hutchinson calling for Stuart Mills." He put his hand over the receiver and said to Starsky, "I hope he remembers my name." Then into the receiver, "I'm a private detective." To Starsky, "She's putting me through."

Starsky ran his finger down the list of museums.

Hutch said, "Mr. Mills? This is Kenneth Hutchinson, the private detective that talked to you a couple of weeks ago... I have a quick question. That morning that Tamara left, was she wearing a purple dress? From the 1920s?... Uh-huh.... Yeah, I understand. But you know, in old movies, those dresses that women wore in the 1920s?" Hutch listened for a long moment. "I mean, she wasn't wearing a regular everyday dress when she left? Or slacks? Or jeans?" Hutch listened a while longer, and then said, "No, that's fine. Thanks for your help." He hung up.

"What did he say?" Starsky asked, his finger on a place in the phone book.

"He kept saying he doesn't know anything about dresses, but he sort of said what Melanie said -- that Tamara didn't seem to wear the same clothes as other women. But he thinks it was purple and might be from the 1920s, the morning she left. He isn't one for those sorts of details." Hutch nodded at Starsky. "Did you find it?"

"The Kent County Tractor Museum." Starsky paused as Hutch wrote on his notepad. "18478 Highway 602. Call this number." He waited until Hutch picked up his phone. "555-4268."

After a moment, Hutch said, "Is this the tractor museum?... Oh, I see... Okay.... Well, I'd just driven by there once and wondered what it was.... So, no one is out there?.... Sure, thanks for your help." He hung up and looked at Starsky. "That number goes to the county. She said they don't maintain that museum officially anymore. But anyone can stop and look at the displays, during daylight hours. Technically, no one is supposed to be on the property after dark." Hutch looked at the clock. "We need to get out there." He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair.

"What are you thinking?" Starsky asked as he stood.

"Buddy, that piece of land where the museum is, is the only place that we can tie Tamara to, outside her home town. She likes it out there. So I'm thinking, if she killed herself, she did it there. If she has some kind of boyfriend, she's meeting him there. If she just wanted to run away from home, to get away from a lousy marriage and stresses of life, she ran away to there."

That made sense to Starsky, but, "What does the dress have to do with it?"

Hutch shook his head, relenting, "I don't know." He shrugged. "Maybe some kind of fantasy of a better life? A simpler time? That's a 1920s style dress. Her grandfather owned that land in the 1920s. It's the only dots we can connect. We've got to check it out."

Starsky patted Hutch's stomach. "Okay, I hear ya. Let's go."

It was a long drive during the warm December day, even with Starsky's Corvette speeding along the two-lane highway outside the city.

Hutch watched the numbers on any mailboxes they passed, and after an hour said, "It should be coming up soon." It was another mile before he spotted a red barn in the distance, with black trim, set well away from the road. "That looks like it."

Starsky slowed and turned onto the dirt lane. As they approached the barn, the parking area in front of it was empty. There was an old plow next to the lot.

Hutch said, "If she came here, surely she wouldn't have parked out front, advertising that someone was here. Let's go around back." He rolled down his window and looked at the sky, trying to locate buzzards or any other sign that there might be a body around. But then, if Tamara had come here and killed herself, that would likely have been weeks ago.

A rougher road circled around the large barn.

As soon as they rounded the corner to the back, they spotted an old powder blue Mercury. Tamara's car.

"Oh, my God, Hutch," Starsky said with awe. "That was one hell of a hunch."

 "Let's hope she's here and alive."

They left the Corvette, gently closing their doors. They went up to a door on one side of the barn that had a window on the top half and peeked in. There was a large bay area, and various tractors and other farm equipment was spread about on a dirt floor. Stands with placards were next to each vehicle.

Starsky noted, "The lights are on."

Along the left, inside the barn, was a door that appeared to be open. Hutch detected a light from within. "I think I see where the kitchen is. A light is on there, too." Hutch opened the door to the barn. As soon as he did, he heard a female voice. He turned to Starsky with a finger to his lips.

Starsky nodded.

They carefully entered the barn. As they came near the open door to the kitchen, a woman's voice was saying, "It hasn't gotten too chilly yet in the daytime. Hopefully, the warm weather will stay through the month, since the space heater can only do so much."

They pressed against the wall as they approached the kitchen since they didn't know who else was there.

"The robins were so beautiful this morning," the voice went on. "I didn't see the blue jay that I'd seen the other day." There was the sound of sipping liquid. "I think I'll need to sell a few more pieces of clothing and then go for more groceries. I hope I can start a garden next spring."

Hutch had gotten close enough to see into the room. A woman with a shawl draped over a purple dress sat with her back to him at a small table, a coffee cup in hand. A chair was at the opposite side of the table.

No one was sitting in it.

Hutch turned back to cup a hand around Starsky's ear. "I don't see anyone else. She's talking to an empty chair." As he straightened, Starsky looked at him, perplexed. Then, not wanting to startle Tamara, Hutch pointed to the door where they'd come.

They moved back to the door. Hutch opened, and then loudly closed the door. In a normal voice he said, "Look at all these tractors."

"Yeah," Starsky chimed in. "And most of them look really old."

"Is someone here?" a voice came from the kitchen. Tamara appeared with a pleasant smile. "Oh, I didn't hear you pull up."

Hutch gestured, "We parked around back. I hope you don't mind."

Tamara indicated the tractors. "You're welcome to look around. There's a card next to each tractor, telling about its history."

They moved to the nearest one, and Starsky asked casually, "You here all by yourself?"

"We don't get many visitors."

Hutch pretended to read the placard, but directed his words at Tamara. "Seems like this could be a rather dangerous place for a woman by herself."

"Like I said, there aren't very many visitors. It's very peaceful here."

Hutch glanced at her. "We thought we heard you talking to someone when we came in."

Tamara waved a hand. "Oh, sometimes I say my thoughts out loud."

She turned away, and Hutch said, "It must get lonely."

Tamara turned back. "No, I don't get lonely," she said with a smile.

Starsky piped up, "Do you have children?"

Tamara hesitated and then shook her head.

"Married?" Hutch pressed.

"I used to be." Tamara folded her hands. "Like I said, you're welcome to look around. I'll be right here in the kitchen." She turned.

"Tamara," Hutch said.

Slowly, she turned back.

Hutch gentled his voice.   "Your children miss you very much. So does your mother, and your friends."

Tamara bit her lower lip. Then, pleading, "I'm happy here."

Starsky's voice was calm. "It's going to get cold. And it's dangerous being out here, all by yourself."

Though he had no facts to back up his statement, Hutch warned, "This place is used by drug dealers to do business, especially at night."

"You need to come home, Tamara."

Tamara put a hand to her mouth. Then shook her head. "Please leave. Please don't tell anyone I'm here."

Hutch questioned if what they were doing was cruel.

Starsky said, "Let us take you home."

Once Starsky and Hutch made it clear they weren't taking no for an answer, Tamara quietly obeyed. They helped gather the trash bags that contained her clothing, and put the bags in the trunk of her car. Hutch drove the Mercury, with Tamara in the passenger seat, while Starsky followed in the Corvette.

Tamara's voice was flat as she answered Hutch's various questions. For months, she had been slipping away to the museum whenever she could disappear for half a day, and gradually transferred her belongings there. Tamara sold clothing and other useful items for the small amount of money that she needed, considering she was petite and ate mostly soup and other canned goods.

Darkness had fallen when they got close enough to the city for the car phone to work. Hutch called Tamara's mother and then put Tamara on the phone. He assured Rose that Tamara was fine, and was taking her to the hospital to get checked out. He didn't tell Rose that Tamara needed the psychiatry division, but hoped the clues in his tone made it clear.

Starsky's mind was so full of the scene at the hospital -- how Tamara had been meek and agreeable to everything asked of her, including only half-heartedly greeting her mother -- that he realized that he and Hutch had been in the Corvette for twenty minutes, driving home without saying a word.

He glanced over at Hutch, who was gazing at the floorboard, and prompted, "What are you thinking, baby?"

"I'm not sure we did the right thing."

"Because we brought her back?" Starsky asked incredulously.

"She was happy. As we approached the city, she got quieter and quieter."

"Geez, Hutch. It was only a matter of time before some low life found out she was there by herself and assaulted her -- or worse."

"I pointed that out to her. She said one night of terror, even if she lost her life, would have been worth these last few weeks of peace and freedom. She meant it."

Starsky held up a finger and shook it. "Well, I for one am not sorry that we found her alive and... not injured."

Hutch glanced over at him. "You can't say alive and well. Because she's not well. Because she'd been very unhappy and found happiness. We can't have that, can we? How dare she. How sick she must be."

Starsky blinked, trying to compute the sarcasm. "She was trespassing on county property. Staying at a place she had no right to be. She has children. Responsibilities. Lots of people don't like how their marriages end up and stuff, but they just don't go running out on their kids." He turned onto their street.

"Lots of people do," Hutch countered. "Lots of men, anyway. If a woman does it... how dare she."

Starsky reached to the visor and pushed the button to open their garage door. "There's no way you would have left her out there. No matter how much she said she didn't want to come back." He pulled into the garage, knowing he was going for a low blow. "What would you tell Dennis? 'Hey, kid, we found your mother, but she doesn't want to come back, and you should be okay with that.'"

Hutch didn't reply as they moved into the house. He switched on the light in the laundry area and walked on to the darkened foyer.

"Look," Starsky insisted, as he watched Hutch gather the mail from the foyer floor, "lots of mentally ill people seem happy. But happy or not, they have to adapt to society, or they'll end up in a treatment center or something."

Hutch dropped the mail onto the kitchen table, demanding, "What about us? Huh, buddy? To a lot of people, we're social deviants. We're sick. The fact that we're happy and peaceful in our lives means nothing to them." They moved down the dark hall, undressing. "If such people represented the majority, we wouldn't be able to live like we do. We'd have to hide our relationship. Or not be in a relationship at all."

Starsky deflated when they reached the bedroom. Gently, he asked, "So, it's guilt that's eating at you? That we have a happy life and others don't?" This would hardly be the first time.

Hutch plopped onto the water bed, bare chested. After gathering his thoughts, he looked up at Starsky, "Why can't other people be happy, like us?"

Starsky muttered, "I don't know." He sat beside Hutch, eager to sooth his love's distress. "What I do know is that we've always made our lives together work, because it means that much to us."

"So, you're saying that other people aren't trying as hard?"

Starsky shrugged. "Maybe. And maybe, too, it's that they don't know what they want. Me and you, we were always sure of our feelings for each other. Even back in the old days. We never tried to pretend that we didn't love each other. That we didn't enjoy being around each other. We were always straightforward about stuff like that, because we were sure of ourselves, when it came to each other."

Hutch sat silent for a long moment. Then "It's just seems that society preaches things like 'Be yourself'. Yet, when it gets down to it, we're all supposed to fit into 'acceptable' ways of being. I mean, even Danny."

Starsky was taken aback. "Danny?"

"Yeah. We can spout all we want about how he should be a good racehorse because of his bloodlines or whatever. But he's made it clear that we've been trying to put a square peg in a round hole. He doesn't want to be a racehorse."

Starsky had thought they were done with that subject, at least for the time being.

"And Tamara doesn't want to go back to the life she had before."

Hopefully, Starsky said, "Well, surely, she and her husband are going to stay apart. That's got to help. Maybe, after her experience with him, she'll find somebody she truly loves. And who loves her. And maybe she'll feel good about having a family again."

Hutch nodded. "I'd like to think so."

Silently, they continued to undress. Then Hutch asked, "Do you remember being taught about manifest destiny in school?"

Starsky furrowed his brow while removing his underwear. "Huh? Manifest destiny? I remember the term, but I don't remember anything about it."

"Back in the first half of the 19th century, it's what the government used as its excuse to conquer the remaining frontier of the New World. Wipe out the Indians and all that. Continue to expand west. It was our manifest destiny. God's will. The white man had not only the right, but the holy assignment to conquer the remaining territories, and remove the Indians and Mexicans, because God wished it to be so."

Starsky wasn't sure how Hutch's thoughts had taken this left turn, but he admitted, "Of course, that seems completely ridiculous now. But I'm sure the people back then who did the conquering thought they were doing the right thing."

Hutch nodded. "Like, now, people decide how everyone is supposed to behave. God's will. And when people don't, then there's something wrong with them."

"I still think it's right that Tamara was admitted to the psych ward. She'll get the help she needs." Starsky quickly held up a hand when Hutch started to speak. "Perhaps, fifty years from now, people will look back and decide it was the wrong way to handle her. But, baby, we can only do what we know how to do. This is the best we can do in our society."

Hutch was thoughtful a long moment. "I just don't see how it can ever be wrong that someone simply wants to be happy. Especially when they've figured out how to be."

Starsky rested his cheek on Hutch's bare shoulder and released a heavy sigh. "I hear you, buddy boy. I don't disagree. But I also can't accept that you and I happen to be lucky. We have the life we have because it matters to us to have it. We wouldn't stand for anyone trying to take it from us. Tamara made her decision to marry when she did, to start a family.... That's not our responsibility."

Hutch was silent.

Starsky kissed Hutch's shoulder. "It makes me crazy when you're unhappy. Especially when it's about something that you nor I have any control over. We can't be responsible for other peoples' lives."

Hutch bowed his head. "Yeah."

They were silent for a long moment. Then Starsky ventured, "Ready to get under the covers, and I'll hold you for a while?"

Hutch hesitated and then moved to pull back the blankets.

"Ken, it's Rose Theriot on line three." Lois reminded, "Tamara's mother."

Hutch glanced at Starsky, who looked up, and pushed the speaker button. "Hello, Mrs. Theriot. How are you doing?"

"Much better, thank you. The doctors are releasing Tamara tomorrow. That's a wonderful Christmas gift for the family. She and the kids will stay with me awhile, since things are rather tight financially. But it'll be for the best and she is getting divorced from Stuart."

"I'm glad to hear that Tamara is doing better."

"Yes, the doctors have many names for what's been ailing my daughter. I just recall something about 'dissociative disorder'. But she'll be on medication and someone at a used dress shop is giving her a job there, so that'll help."

"That's good." Hutch prompted, "I assume Tamara is excited about coming home."

"Yes, she was thrilled to see her children when they've been able to visit. She seems happier than she's been in a while. I'm probably biased, but unhitching herself from Stuart has a lot to do with her improved outlook."

"I'm certain it'll all work out," Hutch said, wanting to believe it.

"I wanted to thank you, Mr. Hutchinson, for finding her. For looking. I really thought Stuart had, you know, had her killed or something. I just didn't want to believe it, and I'm glad I held onto hope. I know you can't tell me who hired you, but I'm just so grateful for your excellent work."

Gently, Hutch said, "Getting this kind of outcome sure makes it all worth it."

"I won't keep you. Merry Christmas to you and yours."

"Same to you. And please call if we can be of further help."

"I'll do that. Goodbye."

While Hutch hung up the phone, Starsky said, "See? We did the right thing, bringing Tamara back."

"It certainly sounds good," Hutch admitted. "I just hope that this is the beginning of a better life for them all."

"Surely, Tamara will find someone who really loves her."

"Yeah. Stuart sure didn't. I'd think he's glad about how things worked out, too. Now he can get a clean divorce and marry his girlfriend."

Hutch's phone beeped again. "Ken? Dennis Mills is here. He wants to pay his bill."

While Starsky presented a grin, Hutch said, "Uh, why don't you bring him back here."

"Will do," Lois replied, cutting the line.

"I don't want to insult his pride," Hutch said. "We should probably take a little bit of his money. From what he told us before, he works pretty hard for it."

Starsky nodded, and they both turned when Lois appeared in their doorway, and then stood aside for eleven-year-old Dennis to enter.

"Hi ya, kid," Starsky greeted, while Lois turned away, closing the door behind her.

Hutch came forward and shook Dennis' hand. "How are you?"

His voice was unsteady. "Thanks for finding my mom."

Starsky nodded. "Well, that's what we do. We're really glad to help. How is she doing?"

Hutch, too, was curious about Dennis' perspective.

Dennis brightened. "She's getting out of the hospital tomorrow. She's been sick for a while. But she'll be home in time for Christmas."

"Yeah, that's really terrific," Hutch said.

Dennis put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. "I need to pay you. I've got nearly seventy dollars. I had more, but I wanted to get my mother a nice Christmas present."

"You've been working mighty hard," Hutch said. "Getting your mother a nice gift is a great idea." He pretended to be thoughtful. "Let's see... we had to talk to various people that were in your mother's address book."

"Do some driving," Starsky put in.

"Spend a lot of time evaluating all the clues." Hutch nodded with finality. "That all comes to... thirty dollars. But it's Christmas time, and we like to give discounts at Christmas. So,"

"Half of that would be fifteen dollars," Starsky declared.

Hutch straightened, holding out his hand. "Yes, fifteen dollars will pay your bill."

Dennis leafed through the bills, his mouth in a firm line, and pulled off three fives. He handed them to Hutch.

"Thanks very much," Hutch said, placing the bills on his desk. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

"I'd better be getting home," Dennis said.

"Hey, Dennis," Starsky said in a serious tone, "you might tell your mother that it was you who hired us to find her. Considering that she's been sick for a while, I think she'd appreciate knowing you cared so much."

Dennis hesitated and then nodded. "I'll think about it."

"When the time seems right," Hutch suggested.

"Okay. Goodbye," Dennis said, turning to leave.

Hutch groaned as he rose from the table at Nick and Lannie's house. He was stuffed after eating New Year's Eve dinner. The football game on TV was to follow, and then welcoming 1988 by watching whatever fireworks might be visible from the back patio.

Clark and Lorraine were seated on the sofa, watching television. Nick and Starsky were on the floor, encouraging Melinda to put together an age-appropriate puzzle.

Hutch entered the kitchen where Lanette was filling the dishwasher. She had already shooed her mother away, insisting on cleaning up herself, but Hutch didn't like leaving her to the chores alone.

Lanette glanced at him. "Did you need another beer? There's plenty in the frig."

Hutch reached for the refrigerator, resigned to having too much to drink tonight. It was a holiday after all. He popped the lid, asking, "So, have you guys heard anything more from the lawyer?"

Lanette continued to rinse dishes before placing them in the dishwasher. "He keeps wanting to contact more medical people and things like that. He says if we settle too fast, we may leave too much on the table. He wants to document any problems Nick is having. Like, getting nervous when making a left turn." She shrugged. "It'll probably be at least a year before we see any money."

"Well, if you guys need something to tide you over until then, it's no problem at all for Starsk and me to loan you some."

"Thanks. Hopefully, that won't be necessary. Mom offered, too."

Hutch leaned against the counter as he sipped his beer. "Dinner was really nice."

"Thanks, there's enough for leftovers."

Hutch patted his stomach. "Don't think I need any of that." He was glad they were talking, however mundane the topics.

He glanced around the kitchen corner to the living room, where Nick and Starsky were cheering as Melinda completed her puzzle. Hutch smiled warmly when he turned back to Lanette. "Do you ever feel like you're married to a child?"

She glanced at him with a smile. "Sometimes. Nick's fun-loving, and I've always loved that about him."

"Yeah," Hutch said fondly. "That's one of the things I love most about David, too. Even back in the early days when we first knew each other. It's so easy for him to cut loose and find the joy in every moment. Find the simplicity in the confusion. Find the positive in the disastrous."

Lanette closed the dishwasher, her back to him. "We were certainly raised in a more droll environment."

"Yeah." Hutch watched as she wiped the counter. Feeling bold, he asked, "Are you and Nick okay?"

She glanced at him. "Yeah."

"I've wondered if it's been difficult that you got back together because you had to, and not because you wanted to."

She paused, bowing her head. "I had already made room in the closet for him to come back. I just hadn't quite said so yet. If I believed in God, I'd think He was trying to tell me something, with Nick having the accident."

Hutch realized it was her way of saying she felt guilty. He was grateful that she was willing to admit it. "Does Nick know you were going to ask him to return?"

"No. I haven't seen much point in telling him."

Hutch tried to sound more casual than he felt. "He might appreciate knowing you were ready for him to come home, even if you hadn't said so yet." Perhaps, too, Nick could assure her that her hesitation in asking him to return had nothing to do with the accident.

She made a non-committal noise, and Hutch knew he couldn't push farther. He was glad, though, that they'd had this brief conversation.

It felt like 1988 was getting off to a great start.

Comments to regmoore@earthlink.net or post here