The Friday evening commute started out like any other. Bus number 394 pulled out of the downtown transit center threading it's way through the more traditional business district, toward the Strip, and then out to the suburban developments that ringed Las Vegas. Driver Ed Connley greeted each of his regulars as they got on, this was his last route of the day. Chatter was down to a minimum as it usually was on public transportation. People just wanted to shut the world out and get home to their families. Seldom did anyone talk to each other. They may sit next to each other everyday, but they seldom talked. Mostly, they read the newspaper, put on headphones and listened to music, or just napped until their stop was announced. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as Ed pulled the number 394 into the bus barn for the evening. Not until the sound like a watch alarm went off near the rear of the bus. He parked the bus and walked to the back of the bus expecting to find someone's missing watch. What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. Somewhere along the route, someone had taken a knife to the throat of the man slumped against the corner of the back seat of the bus. Blood soaked the cushion. Not much had made it's way to the floor. The man's watch continued to beep, a reminder for something he wouldn't need now.