Starsky raced through the streets of Bay City, his mind in turmoil as he sought a logical explanation for Morgan’s appearance. He had clearly seen her standing in the squad room and everybody had disappeared. How could that happened? “I’m losing my mind,” he shouted.

By now, Starsky was panicked as he drove through the streets, his mind a muddled mass of confusion, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He was aware that he should have told Hutch where he was going, but even he didn’t know the answer to that question. It wasn’t safe at home, but now Morgan had appeared in broad daylight in a squad room full of people so what did it matter where he went at this point. He drove home, stopping at the store for some more coffee. He would need plenty to stay awake.

Starsky reached his house in record time. He entered the apartment, locking the door quickly behind him, his heart beating at a frantic pace. He went to the kitchen and made some coffee. He paced the floor while he waited for the coffee. The telephone rang pierced the silence of the room. Starsky stared wearyingly at the telephone. Would Morgan start calling him now? Would she tell him it was his fault over the telephone?

Starsky slowly advanced toward the telephone, secretly hoping it would just stop. He answered it and heard the nervous voice of Hutch.

“Starsky, what the hell happened to you?”

“What do ya mean? I was just tired. Thought I’d come home for a while, that’s all.” He tried to sound normal.

“Not according to Reese,” Hutch replied.

Starsky thought of Jennifer Reese. She was a recently promoted detective. She was an attractive woman and certainly off limits since they worked together. She had proven to be an astute officer, solving the more difficult cases in record time. Starsky knew he would have a hard time explaining why he inexplicably got up and raced out of the squad room.

“She said you looked scared shitless. Said you were doing your report. Next thing she knew you were running out the door looking like the devil himself was chasing you.”

“She’s probably exaggerating. I was just tired. Feeling a little sick, that’s all,” Starsky said, trying to sound confident, knowing he wouldn’t be able to convince Hutch.

“I’m coming’ over,” Hutch said determinedly.

“No,” Starsky said too quickly. “I just want to sleep Hutch. I don’t need a baby sitter. Told ya that before.”

“You need something,” Hutch said slowly. The sadness in his voice struck Starsky like a knife. How could he continue to keep something of this magnitude from his best friend? He had to tell him. Had to tell someone. But when he spoke, the words just didn’t come out.

“I need to be alone. Can you respect that. I’ll be okay.” Starsky said with an edge that he hoped indicated the subject was not open for argument.

Hutch was silent for a few moments. Starsky half expected the blond to continue to insist. Instead he reluctantly agreed. Starsky hung up the telephone. He was alone now. For an instant, he considered picking up the telephone and calling Hutch. In the end, he returned to the kitchen and drank his tenth cup of coffee.

It was ten o’clock at night. The scent of coffee permeated the air as Starsky drank another cup of coffee. He had decided on a plan. He realized that each time Morgan appeared, he had been unable to move. She’d always appeared after he had been asleep for a short time. If all went well, he’d have his answers tonight. He headed for the bedroom and jumped into bed fully clothed, pulling the covers over himself. He had decided that he would not sleep. Instead, he would wait for his visitor and confront her. He eyed the gun sitting by his bedside. He knew it wasn’t possible to kill a ghost, if that’s what she was. Still, the presence of the gun made him feel like he had some control of the situation. He turned the lights out and waited.

It was two o’clock when he heard the soft sounds coming from his living room. His body tensed. The room was dark with only the soft moonlight illuminating it in shadows. He watched the open door of his bedroom expectantly and found his hands seeking the gun. Now he had the gun in his hand and instantly felt the tension release from his body. He was a cop, not some scared kid lying in the bed and this time he could move. The strange paralyzing feeling did not affect him this time.

He heard the footsteps coming closer to the door. His hands tightened on the gun, releasing the safety. He smiled to himself. He was going to kill a ghost. His hands shook as he aimed the gun at the door and waited. Suddenly, he saw the white blond hair in the moonlight. He pulled the trigger, firing in an instant. He watched the figure collapse to the floor. Starsky turned on the light and saw Hutch lying on the floor

Starsky was on his feet instantly, his heart hammering.

“Oh, my God. What have I done. No!” He wasn’t sure if he was screaming or the scream was only in his head. The blond lay there for a second, slowly opening his eyes. Starsky was checking his body, looking for where the bullet went. Hutch met his eyes and sat up, his face incredulous.

“Hutch, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Oh my God, what have I done? What have I done?” His voice was panicked. He was going over the edge.

“What the hell were you thinking, “ Hutch said, anger in his voice. He picked himself off the floor. Starsky sat there looking at his partner.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” he said repeatedly in a monotone voice, clutching his knees and rocking back and forwards.

Hutch quickly kneeled down, looking at his partner with concern.

“Starsk, Starsk, I’m okay.” Hutch said soothingly, massaging the other man’s neck. Starsky continue to say he was sorry.

Hutch grabbed Starsky, pulling him towards him in a tight bear hug. “I’m here. You didn’t hurt me.”

Starsky was trembling. He was losing his mind and there was nothing he could do about it. He held on tighter to the blond. He had caused the death of a girl and now he had almost killed his best friend. He felt his mind shutting down, blocking the pain he felt, the hopelessness. He held on tightly as he clutched the blond. He was aware of his partners far away voice. And then blackness overtook him.

Two hours later, both men were sitting in Starsky’s bedroom. Starsky was near hysterics as he explained what had been happening over the past three weeks.

“Hutch. I’m scared. She blames me for her death. She won’t leave me alone. She’s coming for me.”

“Starsky, there’s a reasonable explanation for this. There’s no such things as ghost.”

“Then how do you explain it. I saw her. She was as close to me as you are now. It was Morgan.”

“Or somebody who looks like her,” Hutch said, rubbing his eyes.

It had been a long night. The neighbors had called the police when they heard the shot. Hutch had explained that the gun accidentally went off when his partner was cleaning it. The cops didn’t look like they believed it, but took the explanation and left. Hutch was lucky to be alive. Starsky was an excellent marksman, but his recent distress had made his hands unsteady.

Hutch had called Huggy who had a doctor friend of his stop by and take some blood samples. Starsky had been nearly catatonic during the whole procedure, still apologizing for nearly killing his best friend. It had taken Hutch nearly an hour to get through to his friend. Hutch had considered taking him to the hospital at one point, but rejected it when he thought of how it would affect Starsky’s career. It was clear that he was nearing a nervous breakdown. And then Starsky started to explain the events that lead up to him almost shooting his partner. Hutch was at first incredulous as he related the tale of the past weeks—the visitations, the fear of sleep, the guilt and finally nearly killing him.

Hutch recalled his education on sleep deprivation. He had studied medicine briefly before becoming a cop. One of the symptoms of sleep deprivation was hallucinations. That could easily explain why his partner was having visions of Morgan, what couldn’t be explained was the inability to move when she appeared at night.

Hutch remembered a professor explaining that it was a built in safety mechanism that kept people from moving while they were dreaming. He had experienced these frightening phenomena himself on more than one occasion. Still, these episodes rarely happened and then for only a few moments. Starsky said he had been unable to move for at least 15 minutes and that he had drifted off to sleep immediately after.

“You said you were feeling well when you got in bed? I mean, did you feel like you had been drugged?”

Starsky bowed his head and rubbed tiredly through his curly hair. “No, I’m tellin’ you. I was just tired. Not drugged, not anything. Juts tired. Still am.”

Hutch touched Starsky’s shoulder reassuringly. “You get some sleep. I’m going to stay here till we find out who’s doing this to you. I’ll call Huggy and get some help from him.”

“I won’t go to sleep. Not after what I almost did to you.” Starsky said, desperately locking eyes with Hutch.

“I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Only because my hands were shaking so badly and you saw the gun and was able to drop to the floor before I fired.”

Starsky lay back on the bed, his eyes cast upward to the ceiling.

“You can’t go forever without sleep. You need to sleep. Now, I’ll be right out front. I’ll even take the gun if that’s what worries you. But you got to sleep.”

Starsky looked at him for a few moments and then closed his eyes. Hutch quietly left the room leaving the door open.

Hutch had called Huggy once he got Starsky calmed down and asleep. Now both men sat in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee.

“I’ve never seen him so scared, Hug. He was out of control.”

“And you think somebody’s is gas lighting our dark-haired brotha? Huggy asked, taking a sip of coffee.

Hutch tiredly wiped his eyes, “I don’t know what’s going on. Sleep deprivation could be the cause of the whole thing.”

“But you don’t think so,” Huggy said locking eyes with Hutch. Hutch looked down at his coffee.

“I got a feelin’ about this one. I don’t know.” The blond stood, picking up his cup and tossing the hot liquid in the sink.

“You think it’s a ghost?” Huggy asked quietly, not meeting the other’s eyes.

“Don’t believe in them, Huggy.”

Huggy observed the blond standing at the sink. He looked at his coffee as he spoke,

“Got a cousin. She said when you asleep you’re closer to death. Said that’s when we can see the dead, if they want us to see them.”

Hutch approached the table abruptly. “That’s bull. This is a regular human being, playing tricks. Probably one of her own family and I intend to find out who it is. I’m going to talk to her mother in the morning.”

Huggy looked at his friend sadly, the blond sat down at the table, absently rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know what else to do, Huggy. If I don’t do something, he’s going to lose his mind.”

“We’ll find the answers. I’ll put out feelers. Find out about rumors on the street,”

“Thanks Huggy, don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Get some rest. You look like you’re dead on your feet. I’ll stay here in the kitchen.”

Hutch got up and tiredly walked to the couch, plopping down and grabbing the cover he had retrieved earlier.

“Huggy, can you stay here tomorrow while I check the mother? I don’t want him alone.”

“Yeah, no problemo. Nothing will get in here. Not while I’m here.”