Shadows

By M. Willow

Chapter Sixteen

Hutch looked up into the cold, uncaring faces of his parents.  He hadn’t seen his mother in years, but she’d changed little.  He didn’t doubt that the Hutchinson money had seen to that. 

Now he faced them showing a coldness he’d never displayed before.  He made certain to remove every bit of fear from his face, every bit of love from his heart.  They had threatened Starsky, and that he would not have.

He shifted in the bed and looked at the two guards.  He was in command and they flinched at his power.

“You two hand me your guns and leave this room,” he ordered.  They looked at Richard, waiting for an answer.  Not receiving any, they did as ordered and left the room.

Hutch gave the guns to Starsky who put one on the bed and the other in the back waistband of his trousers.  Hutch stood up releasing himself from Starsky’s grip.  He didn’t look at his partner.  He would have to remove every emotion from his face if they hoped to walk out of there. 

“I’m not your son anymore.  I’m not something cowering in a corner, waiting for crumbs, hoping for your love. You are merely vessels who brought me into the world that’s all.”  His voice was cold, hard edged.  His father took a step back as if he could feel the change.

“I remember everything.  I remember what my uncle did to Sandra.  I remember the screams, the begging, her calling my name until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Summer, 1957

Hutch struggled to free his hands.  Sandra had cried out for him just seconds ago.  She’d said his uncle was trying to rape her.  She’d been terrified, screaming for him to save her.  Hutch had listened to every agonizing sound.  But he was tied up.  His uncle had done that when Hutch tried to stop him from beating Sandra back in his room.  He had forced both of them to the east wing, tied him up in the storage room and took Sandra to the bedroom next door.

Hutch struggled with the ropes, his eyes scanning the room.  The power had gone out some time ago so he was in total darkness.  Fear swept over him as he realized Sandra might already be dead.  He had to get away.  He continued to struggle.   The ropes were tight, but they finally gave enough for him to free one hand.  It was pretty simple to get his other hand out after that.  Now he ran toward the room.  He prayed he was in time to save her.

At the door of the bedroom, he heard the quiet whimpering of the girl.  He entered the room, finding it lit with candles.  His uncle was on top of Sandra trying to remove the rest of her clothes. Hutch found a vase on the table and hit his uncle soundly on the head.  He gave a sigh of relief when his uncle toppled to the floor, his eyes closed.

Sandra looked like she was in shock, her eyes wild, her clothes disheveled.  He wanted to comfort her, but knew they didn’t have time to waste. 

He grabbed Sandra.  “Come on, I don’t know how long he’s going to be out.” 

They ran from the room, he still holding her hand.  They had almost reached the staircase when a shot rang out and Sandra crumbled to the floor.  Hutch looked behind him and saw the silhouette of his uncle, gun in hand.  And then he looked down at the girl as her sightless eyes stared up at him.  She was dead.

Now Walter was coming, his silhouette moving quickly down the candle lit hall.  It was an image so terrifying that he couldn’t move at first, but then he ran.  He heard the pounding footsteps as his uncle followed.  He expected to hear the gunshot any moment and wondered what it would feel like to die.  He ran down the steps and headed down another long hall.  In the distance he could see light spilling in from a window in the west wing.  He hoped he could make it there.  Maybe his aunt would be home and save him.  His uncle wouldn’t dare kill him in front of her. 

He had almost made it when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder followed by a sharp pain in his head.  It was too late.

0000

Hutch awakened with a start, his head pounding.  He didn’t know where he was.  He felt something prickly touch his hand.  It felt like lace.  He opened his eyes and saw nothing.  It took only seconds to realize he was in the old chest.  It was the wedding dress he felt.  He banged on the lid, trying to open it, his body gasping for air. 

He heard the sound of something moving.  He stopped screaming when he realized it was probably his uncle.  It sounded like he was dragging something.  It had to be Sandra, Hutch thought with sadness.  Walter had killed her and now he was trying to get rid of the body.

Soon the house was quiet.  He figured his uncle had left, probably to bury her somewhere.  He had no doubt that after he was done, he would return to finish him off. He had to get out before he came back.  He tried the lid of the chest again, but he was too weak.  His head was pounding and he realized he probably had a concussion after Walter had struck him back in the east wing.  Still he had to keep trying.

It seemed he banged on the lid for hours, all the while fighting the panic surging through him, all the while afraid his uncle wouldn’t return and he had been left to die.

Time seemed to stand still as his exhausted body fell into a fitful sleep.  It was the approaching footsteps that finally awakened him.  He sighed with relief even as utter terror gripped him.  He was about to die. He nearly screamed when the chest suddenly opened and his uncle stood there holding a lantern.

“Come on out of there,” he ordered, sitting the lantern on a nearby table. 

Hutch did as he was told and exited the chest.   He was so weak he could barely stand. A rush of dizziness nearly made him fall to the floor, but strong hands grabbed him before he could fall.  He looked up into the intense blue eyes of the man he still thought of as a father. 

“I should have known not to trust you,” Walter said.  “I never wanted Minerva or you.  I only put up with you because your presence kept Minerva distracted enough for me to steal her money.”

He pulled Hutch to him, his pungent breath threatening to make him gag. 

“I guess you’re wondering why I did it.  Well I’ll tell you.  You see, I have a gambling problem.  First I spent all my money and then most of Minerva’s.  So I felt the need to make my own.  I found a partner who was more than willing to help.” he laughed, his voice echoing in the room.

“It was so easy till you and your girlfriend stuck your noses where they didn’t belong.  No one would have ever suspected a rich man making counterfeit money.  Now I have no choice but to kill you.”

“But…but they’ll know.  They’ll find our bodies.  They’ll wonder what happened to us.” Hutch stammered.

“No they won’t.  See while you were in your hiding place, I made a few phone calls.  I told my dear brother that you had gotten your girlfriend pregnant, but that I had taken care of it by sending the girl packing.  Your father will give the Nelsons some money to keep them quiet.   I even had the girl write a goodbye letter.  Now all I have to do is make it look like you committed suicide because she left.  No one would have a problem believing it.”

Hutch knew he was telling the truth.  The year with Kevin Anderson had made him depressed.  More than a few of his father’s friends had suggested he send his son away for professional help.  It was the reason his parents had jumped at the chance when Minerva offered to take him—they could get rid of an embarrassing problem.

“What do you plan to do with me?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“I’ve brought a few pills for you to take.  You and I are going to your room where you’ll take the pills and die a peaceful death.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I leave you here to die.  Nobody will ever come looking for you.”

Hutch shuddered at the reality of his situation.  The east wing had only recently been closed.  He could die there and no one would ever know.  He thought of how it would feel to die in the chest—alone, afraid, no one to hear him scream.  Kevin Anderson had done that to him, leaving him in that room for days with just a little bit of water.  Now he faced the reality of dying that way.  It was his worst fear. 

He looked at his uncle, searching his eyes for some sign of humanity, some hint of love, but the man standing before him showed nothing but coldness.  Hutch sighed.  He was too weak to fight. He had no choice.  He willingly allowed his uncle to lead him to the west wing.

When they reached his bedroom, Walter forced him to sit on the bed and poured a glass of water.

“Take this,” he ordered, offering him a bottle of pills.

Hutch took the proffered pills and placed two in his mouth, swallowing them with one gulp of water.  The rest followed.  He was ordered to lie back on the bed.  Hutch did so as his uncle pulled up a chair and sat down.  The strange thing was he didn’t want him to leave.  He didn’t want to die alone.  And so he watched his uncle as his life force diminished.  He wondered what he’d missed.  How could his uncle hate him that much and he not see it?  He looked at the man as he sat by his bed.  He wanted to see something in the eyes, something in his posture that would explain it all.  But, his uncle got up and stood next to the window.  Hutch shuddered at the picture he presented now.  It was as if the man had disappeared leaving in its stead a shadow.  The shadow seemed to loom by the window.  And then it stepped out and walked toward his bed and the face of his uncle once again became distinct. 

He was dying.  He could see it in the cold eyes of the man who watched, feel it as his breaths became more labored.  The room seemed to swim in a myriad of colors.  His body felt if it was becoming something separate, something not him.  He was dying and wondered if he would become a shadow, forever haunting the halls of Lamb House.

Hutch shook himself as he came back to the present.  He locked eyes with Starsky.  “I don’t remember anything after that.”

“Your aunt called.” Richard said, continuing the story.  “She came home early to find you unconscious in your bed.  Your uncle was frantic, he thought you were dead.  They managed to get you to the hospital in time.  We pulled some strings to keep your suicide attempt quiet.”

“I know you were disappointed to find out I survived. It would have been so much better if I had died, wouldn’t it father?”

He waited for an answer, his hatred of the man almost overwhelming him.

“Yes, what I’ve done to you…well... there’s no excuse.  I just wanted you to see the truth, but no matter what you think of me, I still love you in my own way.” Richard sat down heavily in a chair, his mother holding his hand as he dropped his head.”

“We both love you,” his mother added.  “But you must understand our positions.  We could have lost everything if people knew you had tried to take your own life and that you had suffered a nervous breakdown.  It was a different world then.”

Hutch looked at them incredulously. “What makes you think I had a nervous breakdown?”

“Son, I know you don’t remember, but you wouldn’t speak even after you regained consciousness,” his father said.  “We tried everything.  We finally hired a psychiatrist, but you still wouldn’t speak.  You would lie there for hours, just staring off into space.  We were desperate.”

“So what did you do?” Hutch asked, knowing the answer, but needing to hear it anyhow.

“We took you back to Lamb House.”

Hutch felt Starsky touch his arm, but all he could see were his parents.  “So you left me with that murderer.”

“We didn’t know,” his mother pleaded.  “We thought it was for the best.  The doctor….”

Hutch slammed his hand on the nightstand.  “Who the hell cares what the doctor said.  You left me with a murderer.”

“But he didn’t kill you,” his mother shouted.  “You even started to talk again.  You never mentioned your suicide attempt so we let it go.  It was for the best.”

“If we had known, we never would have sent you back.  But, son, he didn’t try to kill you again.  He must have had some feelings for you,” his dad added.

“He didn’t try to kill me because I couldn’t remember anything and he died before he got a chance.”

Hutch was angry, he paced the room, glaring at his parents, finally coming to stand in front of them.  “So why did you come back for me?”

“Because Minerva asked us to after Walter died.  She said that it was best that you leave.”

Hutch couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but most of all, he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t remembered any of it. At least until he came back and started to suffer from flashbacks.  Until then his memory of 1957 had been of spending time with Sandra and then finding out his uncle had died in a terrible car crash.  How could he now fit any of this into his life?  Even now his memories felt fragmented and he had the overwhelming feeling that something was still missing.  He looked at Starsky for help.

“How did Hutch’s uncle die?” Starsky asked. 

At first the older man seemed like he didn’t want to answer.  But then he spoke.

“It was a crash down a mountain side.  It was horrible.  We couldn’t even identify the body.”

And now the rest of the puzzle fell into place.  His uncle’s death was too convent.  His aunt sending him away suspicious.  And then there was the phone call the sheriff made to a Mr. Hutchinson. 

Hutch locked eyes with Starsky both realizing the truth at the same time.  Hutch was about to say something when a man stepped into the room, gun drawn. The sheriff followed. 

Walter laughed.  “So we meet again.”

TBC