Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Here's chapter six, story should be taking bigger steps forward now. Hope you like it.

The ring echoed through Greg's apartment, waking him after a few hours' sleep.

"Hello." Greg said, sounding groggy and a little annoyed.

"It's Grissom." Pause. Your homicide became a serial."

"Great. How come you never call just to talk?"

"What?"

Greg sighed. Of course Grissom wouldn't get the joke. "Never mind. "Where's the scene?"

"UNLV. The victim is Dean Barkley. He was found in his office less then an hour ago."

"Guess that rules him out as a suspect, then."

"Yeah. Listen, the press and the under sheriff are all over this. He said something about bringing in FBI."

"That was quick. I'll be there in a few. Just need to shower first."

"All right. Nick's all ready on his way. And if any reporters ask…"

"All I can say is 'no comment'. I don't talking to them anyway." After what happened to him last year, Greg was no fan of the media.

"Thanks." Grissom hung up the phone.

Greg did likewise, and glanced down to see his dog staring at him. "Don't look at me like that. Gotta pay for that gourmet dog food somehow."

The golden retriever just wagged his tail at the mention of food. Greg rolled his eyes and got ready to go to work. He showered and dressed quickly, and hurried down to his old Jetta.

His kit was packed and ready, and he was at the crime scene a few minutes later. Greg parked next to Nick's truck and found Officer Mitchell waiting for him. There were also at least half a dozen news vans around.

"Hey, Sanders," he greeted him. "One of the Professors found the body. Said that the vic wasn't answering his phone, and he got worried." Mitchell paused. "Stokes is all ready inside. Third door on the right."

Greg nodded his thanks. "Anyone else around?"

"Not really. Grissom's trying to convince McKeen we don't need the Feds, McKeen's on the phone with them, and I'm trying to keep reporters out of here. Chased off three of the vultures all ready."

"Good luck. You're gonna need it." Sanders warned him.

"Same to you." Mitchell grinned back at him.

The CSI just shrugged and walked on down the hall. He opened the door and found a blood pool at his feet. Dean Barkley was lying just inside the doorway. The scene was similar to what they had found the first time. The Dean looked as if he'd been other autopsy table while he was still alive and bleeding.

The office looked tidy, well organized and professional. Greg made a note of the lack of personal items. The desk was sitting against the far wall, with file cabinets set on the left wall. The right was covered with degrees, commendations, and a few certificates. The desk was clear except for an old PC, and box of various office supplies. It looked like he had been caught just as he was cleaning out his desk.

Nick was on the other side of the body, photographing some shoeprints. Greg recognized the pattern immediately. He finally looked up and noticed Greg.

Stokes glanced up from the prints he had been photographing. "Looks like we've got ourselves a serial."

Greg nodded. "And this is awfully soon after the first body. Either something set him off, or this guy's working on very fast pace."

Nick nodded. "I don't think there's much doubt, but make sure you swab every blood sample to confirm it's the same guy." Nick's phone went off as he finished. Greg just nodded and started processing the scene, but there really wasn't a lot to go on.

As Nick left the room to answer his phone, David Philips arrived. He looked over the body. "I heard that you guys have a serial."

"MO matches, but you'll be able to tell us for sure."

David nodded. "COD looks obvious." He reached into his kit for a thermometer. "Looks like he's been dead for about six hours."

Greg nodded as Nick reentered the room. "That was Grissom on the phone. The FBI is sending over one of their best profilers, a Dr. Spencer Reid. His plane should be landing in a few hours, so he'll meet us back at the lab."

They continued to process the scene in silence. They didn't find anything else that seemed out of place. Greg did find that most of the desk drawers and file cabinets were locked, but that could mean anything.

He just hoped that the guy the FBI was sending could help them catch this guy. This serial killer seemed to be working on a frightening pace.

He tried to think of any cases with a similar MO, but nothing came to mind. He had a funny feeling that someone was going to be him. Greg packed up the last of his evidence and headed out to car.

The drive back to the lab was short and quiet. He turned on the radio mostly to break the silence.

He headed inside to find a stranger fighting with the soda machine. Greg rolled his eyes and walked over.

The stranger looked at him. The guy was taller then Greg, and kind of skinny. He was wearing a button down white shirt, a sweater vest, black slacks and thick glasses. He was also wearing a gun, Greg noted.

"What's wrong with thing?" he muttered, mostly to himself.

Greg laughed. "The entire city of Vegas is finding ways to separate a fool and his money." He joked. "There's a secret to it." Sanders demonstrated.

"Thanks." The guy smiled at him. "I don't suppose you could tell me where I could find a Dr. Gil Grissom."

"I'll take you to his office. I'm Greg Sanders, by the way."

"I'm Spencer Reid."

A/N: sorry to stop you there, but I want to go sleep sometime tonight. I'm sorry this is so late, but I've got a lot to do, including another big writing project that's still very early stages. I promise I'll have the chapter up soon if you are kind enough to leave a review. Hope you like the story so far. Thank you for your patience.