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"You've got no idea how wrong you are."
Starsky was seething, I could tell. He could hardly get the words out before he turned around and wheeled himself out of the office.
"Mr. Hutchinson, you need to understand..." the DA began again, but I cut him off.
"No, you need to understand," I said, pointing angrily towards him. "We know this guy, know what he was capable of, and saw what he could do. My partner and I ran a profile on him so the officers could get a line on him. And now you're telling me that all that was for nothing?"
"He will be charged accordingly."
"On a reduced charge!" I yelled, pounding my fist against the desk. "He killed three women and he was getting ready to do it again."
"And you know his psychological make-up," he responded. "He's not mentally stable."
"You think anyone else we bring in is? He's not completely sane, but he's also not stupid. A year or two in the hospital, a few years in a cell, and he's gonna have it easy. Good behavior might even reduce it more and who knows if he won't be out on the streets again."
"That's hardly of your concern," he brushed me off.
"The hell it isn't!" My voice rose again and I could feel my face reddening. "We did our jobs!"
"And now it's time for me to do mine," he said, leaning forward. "You were vital to this case, you and your partner, but I have to think of the long-term. If we hope to get him on any charge, this is it. A little's better than nothing."
I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped out of my chair and headed for the door. "You can tell all your excuses to the families who lost their mothers because of this guy."
Starsky wasn't in the lobby when I came out. The secretary pointed to the door, so I headed out in search of him. I finally found him in the parking lot, waiting by the car.
"Why didn't you get in?" I asked, unlocking his door.
"I forgot my damn keys," he snapped at me before yanking open the door and getting inside.
I put his chair in the back and went around to get inside, too. He was still steaming, but wouldn't say a word. That is, until we got back on the freeway.
"What the hell is that guy's problem?" he growled.
"He's a bureaucrat."
"He's an idiot," he put in.
"That, too," I said, smirking.
"Three women are dead, Hutch!"
"I was there, I know."
"And the DA's just gonna let him cop a plea!"
"Sounds like old times," I said.
He sighed. "It was supposed to get easier, but I think profiling these guys might be worse than just tracking them down. I mean, when we worked the streets, all we had to know was they were bad people and we could stop them. Now we know how messed up they really are and even when we do stop them, there's no guarantee they won't get out and start again."
"But they got out before, too."
"Yeah, but knowing they're criminals with grudges is a whole lot easier to handle than knowing they're criminals with grudges and a few screws loose."
I put my hand over on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze before returning my attention to the road. We were fighting the same battles, we were just playing different parts than before. Two years we'd been at this job, two years of profiling and working together again as a team. Two years of trying not to over-step our bounds and take on the cases all alone. But even if we weren't the guys that arrested the killers and the rapists, we were still a part of bringing them in and anytime they walked away, it was like a slap in the face.
"What's the point of it, Hutch? Why do we keep doing this?"
"Because we don't know how to do anything else," I told him. "Because we make a difference and we put away a lot more than we don't." I looked over at Starsky. "And because we chose it. We need it."
He turned towards the window, looking out. "I still hate it when they get away."
"Same here," I agreed quietly.
It didn't take us long to get back to the house, but the mood wasn't any lighter. We always said we wouldn't take the job home with us and we always did. We lived it, twenty-four hours a day, and we couldn't let it go.
"Where are you going?" I asked, watching Starsky pushing towards the back of the house like he had a destination in mind.
"Deck," he answered shortly. "I gotta think."
And with that he disappeared around the corner. I heard the back door open and close with his escape. He would often retreat to the back deck when the job or life got to be too much. During the early part of his recovery, when we had first moved in, he retreated there often. It helped him to work through a lot of things, helped him to come to terms with the times when his limitations hit him full force. We both found some reprieve from the darkness when we sat out there, just letting the sounds envelope us. The peacefulness of the evening was sure to erase at least some of the anger and frustrations we had built up.
I ventured into the kitchen, keeping a watch on Starsky through the back door. I could see the tension in his body, see the anger that he still housed. The years had changed him in ways, made him more concentrated and determined to prove that he could still do the same things as before. Even though he couldn't chase suspects or go full-speed in a car chase anymore, he was still a better cop than most. It didn't matter, though, because he was constantly setting out to prove his worth over and over again. He set out to prove it to others, to me, to himself. But underneath he was still the same man who I had worked the streets with. He still took every case to heart, determined to see it through, and when something didn't work out to his satisfaction he let it get to him. It was up to me to ease that tension in some small way. Searching around in the refrigerator, I grabbed two beers on the way out to join him.
"Here," I said, handing him the drink before sitting down. Looking out on the backyard, listening to the neighborhood kids playing, I could almost forget the day's burdens.
"It stinks what they're doing," he said, taking a sip of his beer.
"I know."
"And he's probably gonna get out and do it again."
"Maybe."
"And we'll still be trying to put away all the other sickos that came along."
"That's the plan," I responded, taking a drink.
He didn't respond to that, didn't need to. We sat in silence, drinking our beers and clearing our minds. This was the life we had chosen, the life we needed to live, because we could still make a difference. As long as we were able, we could make a difference on the streets and in the lives of everyone in this city. But for now, we should be happy to relax and know we did our jobs.
The vacation time we had coming up was going to be well worth it. Mom and Dad were looking forward to seeing us and we were more than ready to escape away to the middle of Minnesota and remove ourselves from the job for at least a little while.
"Remind me again how long we got," he said, looking over at me.
"Four days, twelve hours, and," I looked at my watch, "twenty-one minutes."
"And then it's no stress, no cases, no deadlines. It's just you and me and your parents and silence," he sighed happily.
"Silence?" I snorted, trying to cover a laugh. "Since when have we ever had silence in that house? You know as soon as Friday rolls around you'll be right there with Dad playing poker with the guys. And Mom's planning a big Sunday dinner with Anna and Joe."
"Yeah," he said, smiling. "Totally non-work-related insanity. I can learn to love that."
"You're impossible, you know that?" I laughed at him.
My further retort was cut off, however, by the ringing of the phone. I smiled at him before getting up. I leaned down to him on my way out, grabbing a quick kiss. "Totally impossible."
I was still smiling when I picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Ken?"
"Dad! We were just talking about you. Starsky's gunning for the poker party on Friday."
"I didn't say that!" Starsky yelled from the back deck.
"I'm afraid the poker party might be cancelled for this week," he said matter-of-factly.
"Why? What's wrong?" I was instantly on alert. I could hear Starsky rumbling around, making his way inside.
"Nothing's wrong, nothing at all!" He laughed. "In fact everything's right!"
"What? What's happened?" Starsky asked, looking up at me as he rolled closer.
I covered the mouthpiece of the phone and whispered, "I don't know. It's not bad I don't think." I turned my attention back to the phone. "What's going on, Dad?"
"I just got back from seeing a beautiful little girl who would be very happy to meet her Uncle Ken and Uncle Starsky when they come to visit."
My face went slack, amazement and shock definitely crossing it. I think I scared Starsky to death because he started tugging on my arm. "What? What is it?"
"Anna..." I laughed. "Anna had a little girl. We've got a niece."
"A niece?" His eyes shone with joy. "What's her name?"
"I...I don't..."
"Ask him what her name is!" Starsky prodded.
"What's her name?" I asked, still amazed.
"Katherine Ann. It's a strong name, don't you think?" Dad asked.
"Katherine Ann...Katie Ann...Katie," I sorted through the names and identities of this previously unknown person. "That's a fine name."
"I don't think Joe has stopped smiling since she was born."
"How's Anna?" I asked.
"Tired, but happy. We're all very happy."
I could hear the pride in Dad's voice. He was so proud, his first grandchild. Well, I mean, I was proud, too. This was my niece, the first one I ever had. Starsky was smiling widely, unable to contain the pride he must've been feeling. This little girl was in for the ride of her life with us two as uncles.
"Do you want us to reschedule our trip? I mean, seeing as how all this happened and we don't wanna..."
"You're coming," he answered firmly. "Anna would get out of bed and track you to California herself if you didn't," he joked. "Besides, it's a perfect time. The whole family, together."
"If you're sure..." I didn't sound so sure myself.
"I'm sure. Now tell Starsky we'll have a poker game next time, but right now he's got a little girl to spoil."
I looked over at my partner and grinned. "Oh, I think he can handle that."
"Good, now we'll call you again before you leave and let you know who can pick you up."
"Dad, we can take a cab or..."
"Ken!"
"All right, all right," I laughed. "I'll let you handle it. What can I say? Control is my middle name."
"Good," he said, satisfied. "I've got to go now, but I'll see you both soon, okay?"
"Okay." I hung up the phone and Starsky's look of anticipation was killing me.
"Well?" he asked.
"The trip is still on and we've got presents to buy for the newest member of the family."
"Aww, Hutch, this is so great. Anna and Joe must be so happy."
"All of them are. They can't wait for us to meet her," I said, leaning down and putting my arms around him. "You've got a niece to spoil in Minnesota."
He smiled up at me. "That's a job I can handle."