GONE
The operator said that the line wasn't busy; “it sounds like the phone isn't replaced correctly sir.”
Hutch raced his car to the house in the canyons and ran in.
Starsky was sitting on the floor; surrounded by empty beer cans; hugging the phone to his chest and sobbing in silence.
The knife was by his side and the tear in his T-shirt was as ugly as a wound.
Hutch sat beside him..
“Starsk?”
Starsky was lost; Hutch reached into the flood to rescue him with a gentle hand on his cheek.
“Starsk?”
“Momma.” He whispered; wiped his nose; “Dead”