The Michelangelo Murders. Aubrey Smith

      “It’s better to be safe than sorry,” she said. “ I’ve got to tell you, this is the most exciting evening I’ve ever had, thank you. If only that poor officer hadn’t been shot. Do you really think whoever was following us earlier killed him? In retrospect, are you sure we were even being followed?”

      Shelby turned off the interstate at the Memorial-Houston Avenue exit, right onto Capitol, and finally another right onto Smith. “I don’t know but, yes, I think we were being followed, and I’ll let you know tomorrow if I think the officer was killed by that same person.” He turned and for a moment looked into her face. “Just in case, I’m going to have an officer stationed outside your hotel tonight.”

      “Just in case of what?”

      “Just in case.” He turned left on Elgin and then right on Fannin. They drove in silence, each locked into their own thoughts. When he let her off at the hospital, he waited for her to start her rental car and then followed her to her hotel. While he drove, he used the car phone to make arrangements for a patrol officer to keep a watch until the shift changed.

      When the blue-and-white arrived at the hotel, he tried to give the young officer all the information he could about the situation and left with a final warning. “You be careful. This may be unrelated, but I don’t think so, and, if there is a connection, you may have all the excitement you want before daylight. Understand?”

      The officer looked solemn and waved the captain home. Young, dumb and full of energy. Three years on the force and he’s not afraid of anything. I hope there’s nothing to this, but my instincts tell me this could be a long night.

      Shelby left the hotel and drove to Greenbriar and University Boulevard, where the crime scene investigation into the murder of Patrolman Steve Hartley was still underway. It was 11:30 when he parked his car behind several patrol units. Their overhead lights cast splotches of red, blue and white in the night. A heavy mist was falling and he reached back into the car and got an umbrella.

      Hartley’s body was being lifted into a bronze hearse. Shelby was glad he did not have to look into the young man’s face. He watched until the door closed and the two attendants got in and drove away. There were several detectives going about their routines with cameras, tape measures, and diagrams. “Captain,” called Detective Morales. “Heck of a night, ain’t it? Here’s what we know.”

      He handed Shelby a clipboard with a sketch and some notes. “Seems that Hartley was working the six-to-two shift in this district. I’ve requested the radio logs be pulled and saved for homicide. Everything looks routine. He backed you up at 7:25 and then made a traffic stop at 7:57. Dispatch said he didn’t give a plate number. When they called back for one, he didn’t respond.”

      “Any witnesses?”

      “None that we’ve been able to locate. Looks like he made the stop going east on University. Pulled the car over right where his vehicle is still parked. Can’t figure out why he didn’t give a license plate number, but he didn’t. Then I think he must have brought the driver back to the patrol unit, maybe to give him a citation. I don’t know, nothing is written on his pad except ‘TEX PP SPA.’ He hadn’t started a ticket, but his handcuffs are missing. Maybe he cuffed someone or maybe they just took them. He’d started to check for a stolen car on his mobile terminal but never finished the check. It looks to me as if he was checking to see if the person or car was wanted. The terminal was covered with blood when the second unit arrived.”

      The rain suddenly got heavier and Shelby moved to the side and motioned Morales to get under the umbrella. “Was the second unit dispatched or just passing by?”

      “He was dispatched. When Hartley didn’t answer the radio, a second unit was sent to see what was wrong.”

      “Was he shot from inside the car or outside?”

      “Inside. Twice. Once in the right armpit, like they were struggling and he had his right arm extended. The second shot went through his neck and blew out the driver’s side window. First one’s still in him and the second, who knows? We haven’t been able to find it.”

      “Anything else?”

      Morales thought a moment. “I think it’ll turn out to be a 9mm with silver tips, and the note pad with ‘TEX PP SPA,’ we don’t know when he wrote that, but it could be a Texas personalized plate…SPA?”

      “And it could be that he was going to buy a hot tub. Have you run SPA?”

      “Yes, sir. Came back to a David Marks in Dallas. I’ve called Dallas PD and they’re going to contact Marks and check his alibi for tonight. They ran him local and he has no record. Owns a chain of retail hot tub outlets. They’re on their way out to his house now to be sure the car is in Dallas. If it is, then I guess the note pad doesn’t mean anything.”

      “We’ll see. Be sure and hold onto it and let me know if anything develops, okay?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      Shelby walked around the blood-splattered patrol car and stopped once to watch as the rain caused the blood to run down the side of the door and trickle between the H and O in HOUSTON POLICE. He was getting wet and he was cold as he returned to his own city vehicle. He had been up for almost twenty-four hours and he was exhausted. He shut the door and sat with his eyes closed, listening to the rain hitting the car.

      A few blocks away, Heather Kendrick unpacked the rest of her clothes and sat on the edge of the bed, tired and bewildered. After the rush from Atlanta to Houston the day before, and now all that had happened tonight, she needed to sort things out.

      When she had arrived in Houston, she expected the normal routine medical health investigation, the usual procedures she was so used to after five years with the Center. She recalled that when she arrived here Thursday night, she had never heard of a Captain James Shelby. Now, she thought he was kind of cute in a cowboy sort of way. She kicked her shoes off and removed the rest of her clothes. It feels good to get out of these.

      She got up from the bed with a sigh and walked into the bathroom. She rummaged through her toiletries bag, found a bottle of bubble bath, and started the hot water. While the water steamed into the white tub, she poured the soap and immediately it began to bubble. Her mind was on the cause and effects of the six victims lying in ICU at Ben Taub Hospital and the murder of Steve Hartley. She wondered if they could really be connected.

      The water was too hot and she balanced the water temperature, then walked to the dressing table. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, she surveyed her body. Not too bad for thirty-plus. She worked out every day. Forty-five minutes of aerobics, followed by a steam bath as a reward. The routine had kept her firm and trim.

      She started taking off her makeup with a bottle of skin cleanser, when suddenly she was sure she heard something in the next room.

      I’m just jumpy, with all that Shelby is suggesting. She had closed the bathroom door and locked it when she had come in. Too many Psycho movies, I guess. At least I’ll never be stabbed to death in the shower.

      She walked to the door and listened. Holy cow, there’s someone there. Steps. More than one person, coming toward the door. I can hear them breathing. Oh please help me! They’re trying to turn the doorknob!