Outside their Lindbergh Bay home, Steven Hodge's parents have put a memorial sign on the fence above the spot where unknown killers gunned down their son.

It was nearing midnight on Saturday, March 26, and traffic cop Steven Hodge was just getting home from work after an uneventful shift. He had plans to go fishing in his boat in the morning. But something else was uppermost in his mind.

Just two days earlier, he'd made an appointment with a top prosecutor in the Attorney General's Office to talk about what was troubling him. He'd emphasized to the prosecutor that he needed to talk to a person with highest authority --"the engine, not the engineers," the prosecutor recalls Hodge saying.

Their meeting was to be on Tuesday.

Two weeks before setting up the meeting, Hodge confided to a fellow officer that he had witnessed "something" near Water Island that left him so shook up he nearly ran his boat aground. The officer, who has been interviewed by the FBI, says Hodge promised to give her more details later.

He never got the chance.

That Saturday night in late March, Hodge quietly let himself into the Lindbergh Bay home he shared with his parents, careful as always to avoid disturbing anyone. In his room, he found his mother listening to the radio; she'd come in there because his father was asleep and she didn't want the noise to wake him.

They chatted awhile, about nothing in particular, then she went to her room. As Hodge began to undress, he turned the television to his favorite channel -- Court TV.

Hodge, 26, followed his nightly routine. He put his uniform and socks in a nearby hamper, his shoes at the foot of his bed and his service revolver on the dresser. It was the last time he would touch his gun.

He pulled on a pair of shorts that he used as pajamas and settled into his bed. Just then he heard someone in the front yard call his name.

Not his real name, but "Scooby," a nickname friends on the force gave him because his big, friendly grin reminded them of the cartoon character Scooby Doo.

Hodge, shoeless and dressed only in his shorts, opened the front door and stepped outside. Eight long strides took him through the gate and into the street.

In the darkness assassins waited. The 6-foot-5 cop walked straight into a hail of gunfire.

He was hit 21 times. One bullet, from a shotgun fired at close range, left a two-inch hole below his armpit. He died instantly.

His assailants -- investigators believe there were three or four --used at least three types of weapons. Police found shell casings for a .380 automatic, a 9 mm pistol and a shotgun.

At first, investigators assumed the murder was an act of revenge by criminals with a grudge against him. Soon, though, the finger of guilt pointed toward the Police Department itself.

"My gut feeling is that cops were involved," says Police Commissioner Anthon Christian.

That possibility led Gov. Alexander A. Farrelly to ask the FBI to take over the investigation.

FBI agents have been on the case since April. As always, their policy is to say nothing publicly about what they are doing. Except for one officer assigned as a liaison between the Police Department and the FBI, no local officers are privy to information about the investigation.

Privately, investigators confirm that the FBI has uncovered a possible motive: Hodge was killed to keep him from talking about the April 23, 1993, theft of more than 20 pounds of cocaine from the crime lab, which was then under the Attorney General's Office.

The FBI, which was also investigating the cocaine disappearance, recently announced it did not have enough evidence to make an arrest in that case and thus was dropping that investigation. The U.S. Attorney's Office then announced it would not prosecute.

But in dropping the case, the U.S. attorney did not follow usual procedures.

"When the U.S. Attorney's Office decides not to prosecute, they usually turn over their case file," says a V.I. assistant Attorney General. "This time they simply sent a two-paragraph letter saying they weren't going to prosecute."

The case file would contain the investigation findings, including leads and names of informants and suspects.

Now, the search for clues in the Hodge murder has hit a major snag. Investigators can't find Hodge's notes.

The people closest to Hodge, personally and professionally, say he was a meticulous note keeper. He jotted down everything -- dates, facts, appointments, observations, ideas -- yet those notes have vanished. Investigators say they have searched long and hard but have turned up nothing.

They believe it is likely that the missing notes hold the answer to why the six-year police veteran was assassinated -- and to who did it.