A/N - I watched a fantastic movie over the weekend called 'Copy Cat' and I thought that it would make a great fanfiction. Names have been changed to offer some sort of respect for the victims and obviously creative license has been accepted and exploited for all that it is worth! I have a warning for you all however, I have changed my MO on this one and taken a route that I rarely take in regards to stories. So please read, reveiw and tell me what you think! Once again I am taking most titles from movies.

Second Sight

Chapter One – Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas

Grissom was tired. He had been working for almost a month straight on a case that they had just concluded. This is when he hated his job, when it feels like there would be no end in sight, when the suspect slipped through their grasp again and again. Then just as suddenly, the case is over and life becomes somewhat normal again. Normal for him anyway. He was just heading home when Ecklie strode into his office, placing a new file on his desk before striding back out again without a word. Which was good, because when he spoke, Grissom barely listened anyway. He glanced at the file before picking up his phone and calling Sara and Catherine. When he arrived at the scene, they were there waiting for him, talking to Brass. Catherine looked about as tired as Grissom felt, she had been working with him on the last case and he could see the results of the sleepless nights in the dark circles under her eyes. He made a mental note to himself that if they didn't need her for this case he was going to send her home for a couple of days. The last thing he wanted was one of his team to suffer major burn out when it wasn't needed. Sara looked tired as well; they had all had cases in the last month that kept them in the office when they should have been in their own homes sleeping instead of catching a few hours on the sofa in the break room. Whatever this case was, he hoped that it would be over sooner then the others had been.

"Hey. What have we got?"

Brass exchanged a glance with Sara and Catherine before turning back to Grissom.

"If I tell you, you would not believe me. You need to see this for yourself."

Grissom glanced at the two women beside him.

"Have you guys been in yet?"

"No, we were waiting for you"

"Well, let's go and see the unbelievable then, shall we?"

They nodded him and followed him, who followed Brass into the very nice house which had a shadow cast over it thanks to the loss of life that sat inside. Grissom fought the urge to ignore his surroundings; he wanted to see the thing that he would not be able to belief, settling instead for making himself look around. The house was large and airy, the kind of place you lived when you had the money. It was hardly rare for him to see this kind of house and whenever he did he always had a sense of amazement at humanity. They praised individuality and yet all the houses on this block looked identical and there was very little difference in their structure. He had a pang of sympathy for anyone who decided to come home drunk, quickly forgetting which house was theirs. He went up the large winding stairwell, taking in the thick, elegant carpets and just how clean they were. No children lived here, that much was obvious to him. They finally stopped in the bathroom and it was here that Grissom finally understood what Brass was talking about. To anyone else, it looked like a dead woman in a bath tub, a stoking wrapped tightly around her throat, her eyes wide and unstaring.

"What do you think?"

"Boston Strangler. A complete copy cat."

"Brass has there been any other cases with this MO?"

"No. As soon as I got the call I checked it against all the cases in the last ten years, there is nothing like this."

"Catherine, can you call Greg and get him to try and track down the pictures from the Boston Strangler please? I want to make sure that we are on the right track."

Catherine nodded and walked from the bathroom, her head down. Grissom looked at Sara next, a frown on his face.

"Plenty of pictures Sara, from every angle possible. Multiples and blow ups. I want to be able to examine these as closely as possible once we're back at the office."

"Ok."

While Sara took pictures, Grissom continued to explore the bathroom. There was little sign of struggle, even though it was obvious she had been interrupted. The front door had not been forced, neither had the bathroom door. Maybe she did what most woman did when they were home alone, left the door open, not really being worried about being seen by others. It didn't appear to be a sexually motivated attack either. Her robe was still securely closed and Grissom could still see that her underwear was on but at the moment that was nothing more then a guess. They would have to wait for Doc to have a look at her before they could confirm it. However, if this person was trying to imitate the Boston Strangler, then she should have been violated with an object of some sort.

"Sara, what do you know about the Boston Strangler?"

Sara kept her head down, continuing to click her camera as she spoke.

"Albert Desalvo started in June 1962 until he was caught January 1964. He preferred prostitutes but as his killing continued, they got younger and then their occupation did not matter. He even killed one lady while she sat in the confession booth and she was fifty-six. Motivation was presumed to be sex but he seemed to get off more from the action of strangling them with their stocking. The bodies were always posed."

"How?"

"Breast's exposed, legs spread in a lewd fashion. This is where you can tell how the two killers are different. Her body is not posed in such a suggestive manner. She is still covered and while she does have a leg hanging from the bath tub, it isn't as exposed as Desalvo's victims."

"What else?"

"There was reason to believe that he did not do the killings alone, that there was a partner in all this. A fact that has never been proven and I doubt that they ever will. He died and despite what they asked, he never told them anything more."

"Do you think that this guy could be doing nothing more then a poor imitation of Desalvo?"

"Could be. Unfortunately, we have to wait and see. There is nothing we can do until there are more victims."

"Did Desalvo leave any DNA behind, ever?"

"No. He covered his tracks fairly well"

"What about gaining entry to the victim's homes?"

"Just a simple fake out. Pretending to be the land lord or the gas man, anything to make them trust him."

"Smart guy"

"Yeah he was. He didn't look dangerous and people had the urge to trust him"

"Then he killed them"

"Exactly."

"Well if this indeed a serial, we will need to call in an expert to help us out. There is only so much I know about the forgotten greats."

"Same here. I know enough to know it when I see it but not enough to build you a huge profile."

"That's why we need help. But I'm hoping that I won't have to make that phone call."

"Who will you be calling?"

"Have you ever heard of Serena Wells?"

"Yeah, I took a couple of her classes in my third semester."

"She will be the one I call. She is one of the best profilers in the country."

"As much as I liked her lectures, I'm hoping that I don't need to meet her again under these circumstances."

"Nor do I"

They exchanged a quick smile before resuming the task of going over the crime scene.

He felt safe in his home, safer then he had ever felt before. Better still, it would become his escape when he became famous. It was all just a matter of time until they saw the brilliance that had been laid out in his plan. After all, how could you deny the greats the congratulations that they deserved? They will see what he could do they would see what he needed to do to make sure that they were noted. HE also wanted to make sure that he got what he deserved. By exposing and reminding people of what the killers were and the fear that they gave people in their short reign, he himself will become a legend. It all fell into a sequence, one that he will become the center of. He was going to become something that he would never have become alone but with the greats behind him, how could he not be all that he could be? And when the time came, at the very pinnacle of his plan, he would chose the one person to make the final ultimate kill and show, writing his name in her blood. A final testament to what he was and what he could do. He had enjoyed the first kill, the pleasure of knowing that he was stepping in the footsteps of one of the greatest men alive. He was sure that if he had told Suzanne Anders what she meant and who she was about to become, a chain in a very long string of event and then she would have been happy to die. As it was, she fought harder then he had expected her to but he did manage. In the end, picture in hand, he was able to make it the way the Desalvo had done. He may not be as great of an artist as Desalvo once was, but he was going to do all he could to make sure that he was as famous as all the greats once were.

When the entire team was gathered in the break room, their faces a combination of eagerness and confusion. Grissom laid out the pictures that Sara had developed as well as those that Greg had collected from the Boston Strangler files.

"Victim was Suzanne Anders. She wasn't sexually violated from what Doc can tell but she was obviously strangled."

"With a nylon stocking"

Catherine rubbed her eyes with the balls of her hands.

"So we think that this may be nothing more then a copycat?"

"Exactly."

"What do we know about the Boston Strangler?"

Sara cleared her throat before speaking, repeating the same basic facts that she had told Grissom earlier.

"We know that his name was Albert Desalvo and that he killed thirteen women between June 14th 1962 and January 4th 1964. They were between the ages of nineteen and eighty-five. Most had been sexually assaulted in their apartments and without any signs of forced entry into their homes, it was assumed that they knew the killer or at least that he gained entry by pretending to be someone that they would automatically trust. Most presume that these attacks were about sex but his MO indicated otherwise. He liked to strangle them with nylon stockings or cords. This is where he gains his satisfaction. However, even after his confession when he was rounded up on a separate rape charge, there were still many doubts regarding the truth of what really happened. There has been so much speculation as to if he worked alone or not."

"Did he work alone?"

"No one ever found out. He was sent to jail and soon after he was killed in the infirmary in prison. No one was ever charged with his murder and of course no one is going to make any kind of effort to find his killer."

There was a general murmur of agreement floating around the room. They each knew that a killer being killed by their peers is hardly going to show up on the news headlines.

"So where do we go from here?"

Grissom shrugged at Warrick's question. He didn't know what they were going to do, other then wait of course. What more could they do? He hated this, waiting for a killer to strike, not just any killer but an incredible dangerous one. If he was indeed following the Boston Strangler, if they did not catch him in time, they were looking for thirteen more bodies before the reign of terror ended.

"I cannot get over how identical these pictures are."

Greg was looking over the original crime scene pictures and those that they had taken a few hours ago.

"Even the bathrooms look the same. Everything, right down to the way her leg is hanging over the side of the tub is the same. How did he get it so precise?"

"He would have had to study Desalvo."

"What is his motive though? What the hell is he trying to tell us?"

Sara slipped from the armrest of her chair into the seat, shrugging her shoulders.

"Maybe he knows something we don't. Maybe he's trying to show us that Desalvo was innocent"

"How could he possible know that Sara?"

"Look, I want to get this guy. He was not the nicest killer in our history. Any kind of reason, every little theory needs to be explored."

Grissom held up his hands, stopping the beginnings of whatever argument that Greg and Sara were going to get into.

"He could know anything. The point is that we know much less. This guy is ahead of us before we even got out of the starting gate. While we sit here, he could have found his next victim or could have killed again already. So we need to get the prints processed, the shoe prints as well as the stockings and the hair in the tub. We may have something after that."

"And if not?"

"We can do nothing more then wait."