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William Sargent, a sales executive in the petro-chemical industry, published his first novel, Murder Central, in 2007. He lives in Houston with his wife of forty-six years. They have two children and six grandchildren.

A murderer in Houston is arranging his crime scenes to resemble Impressionist paintings, and Detective Ross Clayton has to stop him before this vicious serial killer hits close to home.

Suddenly without warning, the killer was on him, turning him over. For the first time he could see the killer’s face. His body was covered in Youssef’s blood, but what was the man wearing? It looked like a jumpsuit of some sort made of clear plastic. The killer grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket lifting his torso off the concrete. Just as his head involuntarily arched backward from its own weight, the killer swung the curved blade weapon his throat just as he had Youssef’s….

He could feel the killer removing the duct tape from his ankles and wrists, and for a fraction of a second he wanted to command his brain to react, to kick, or to attack his killer with his freed hands. He could do neither. The last clear thought that his mind registered was a lament that he hadn’t listened to his mother. He closed his eyes and quietly died.

When the fireworks display was over, a bank of lights on the north side of Minute Maid Park came on, lighting the walkways and the concrete sidewalks along the Crawford Street. It would take another eight minutes for the crowd to spill out of the stadium and into the surrounding streets and find the slain bodies of Youssef and Omar Abuo.