Grissom rolled over, wondering what had wakened him from his respite. He tilted his head to the left. Silence. He sighed and turned to go back to sleep. There it was again. He groaned as he sat up and reached for his phone.

"Grissom."

"Hey, I got something you might want to see."

"Sara, what are you doing up right now?"

"I couldn't sleep. Just come over to my room. You have to see this."

He sighed, closing the phone with a gentle snap.

She opened the door before he even knocked.

Through his hazy mind, he noted that she wore only a camisole and shorts.

"Sorry to wake you up, but you had to see this." She didn't mind.

He peered into the room, to the tv where an image sat still, frozen on the screen.

"This is the first episode our killer copied. See the actress there?" He nodded, taking in the picture. A dark blonde, with brown eyes. High forehead and thin lips. "This is a picture of the first vic, Kaitlyn Royers." She held the picture up beside the screen. Grissom's eyes widened. He took the file from her hand and brought it close to his eyes then readjusted to look at the tv.

"They could be sisters." Sara nodded solemnly.

"That's not all." She fast-forwarded to the next episode, stopping on a similar shot of the next actress, this one with a round face, curly black hair, and pale skin.

"Gloria Mayner." Sara held the file up.

They repeated this process two more times, finding the same result each time.

"He's killing a woman who looks like the actress from the show..." Grissom trailed off.

"How does he find them?" She paused. "Film the episode, take a picture of the woman, come to Las Vegas, and start looking. Find one that'll work... follow her around...," she postulated.

"Could be a coincidence." Sara looked up from the file. "An unlikely, one yes, but possible."

She sighed. "Incredible, absolutely incredible..."

"Sara," he huffed. He hadn't meant to be so difficult, he was just tired, that's all. "I didn't say I believed that, just that it's something we ought to at least consider." She didn't move. "Look, that was really... intuitive of you. You did good."

He turned to leave.

"Well. I did well."

He smiled as he closed the door.

Sara was surprised that, for once, life really did imitate art.

From all the movies and shows she had seen about Hollywood, she had expected to find a large sound stage, filled with people scurrying around silently, while a director barked out orders from behind a megaphone.

What she had found was a large sound stage, filled with people scurrying around not silently but oddly quiet, and while he wasn't using a megaphone, she could definitely tell who the director was.

She turned back to the man in front of her.

"You said, 'When we're at work.' What's your usual work week?"

Brian Lundly, producer, answered, "Well, depends on how much we get shot and stuff. Main cast usually gets at least Saturday and Sunday off."

"Mr. Lundly," Grissom interjected. "After you're finished taping, who has access to those tapes?"

"Well," Lundly thought carefully. "First we get it off to the editors. Director sit in with them... Then it pretty much goes back on the shelf until we're ready air. Unless, of course the head honchoes want to view it," he added quickly.

"No one else can get them?"

"I guess if they tried hard enough, they could. There't kept lock up pretty tight."

"Hey, Brian!" A dark haired man came up alongside them.

"Dr. Grissom, Ms. Sidle, this is Mitch Hol. He's one of our writers here." Turning to the man, "Mitch, Dr. Grissom and Ms. Sidle are investigating a murder."

"Around here?" His brown eyes looked expectantly between the two CSI's.

"No," Sara began slowly. "In Las Vegas."

"What's it got to do with us?"

"There may be ties between several murders in Las Vegas and this show. We're here to see what the evidence says," Grissom said.

"Spoken like a true criminalist."

"Ah, Mitch," Lundly said after a slight pause. "Was there something you needed to tell me?"

"Uh, yeah. We're ready for you in the conference room."

"OK. I'll be right there." Mitch sauntered off. "Is there anything else I can do for you two?"

"We just need to walk around, talk to people."

"Alright, just stay out of the way." He was gone.

"There are a lot of people here, Griss," Sara commented, looking around. "Maybe we should split up and see what we find."

Grissom nodded his agreement and the two parted.

"It doesn't bite."

Sara jumped back, surprised. "Excuse me?" she asked breathlessly.

"The food. It doesn't bite. You're welcomed to take some."

"Um..." she glanced over her shoulder and the kraft services spread. "I'm actually not all that hungry."

The man shook his head with amusement.

"Have you seen anything suspicious around here?" She dove right in.

"What?" He looked like he was staring at an insane person.

She pulled her badge out. "Sara Sidle, Las Vegas Crime Lab."

Realization swept over him. "Oh. Suspicious?" He raked his hand through the thinning blonde hair atop his round head. "No, not really. Nothing I can think of."

"No one acting out of character, or someone you haven't seen before loitering around?"

"Lady, this is Hollywood. Everyone's acting." He turned and left. Sara had no idea how they would turn up any evidence here. She turned back to the table.

"Yeah, I know... Are you crazy?" A man, the director with his cell clenched at his ear, flew around the corner, knocking Sara forward into the table. He didn't even slow down. Hearing the noise of Sara plowing into the table, Grissom rushed over and helped her to her feet.

"No... No... What? Are you kidding me...." He stopped in his tracks. "I don't care...You get me that girl or....Oh, I can get her? 'Cuz that's my job around here, isn't it? She already had her measurements! Fine...Fine!" He slammed the phone shut and raised a hand to his head.

Sara glared at the man, wiping chunks of food from her body.

Noticing her, the man said, "Sorry, lady." He wiped his brow. Suddenly, he whipped his head around and looked intently at Sara. His eyes wondered up and down her body, stopping at her face.

"Hello," his demeanor suddenly changed. "Miss... I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

"I didn't give it," she replied acridly.

Grissom shot the man a death glare, but he continued anyway. "What size do you wear?"

She lost it. "WHAT?"

His hands dropped lamely to his sides. "Look, I'm sorry about... that," he gestured to the table. "I'm Luis Garcia, the director." He was met with icy stares. "I'm in a bit of a bind here, alright. The actress that was supposed to play our victim cancelled all of sudden and we have to start taping her scenes in... two hours. You are her size, I can tell just by looking at you. You have the right look. Could you help me here? We'd only take like three days or so."

Sara gave him an are-you-kidding-me look. "Mr. Garcia," she began, but before she could continue, Grissom jumped in.

"Sara, can I talk to you?" He pulled her aside. "You're probably going to hate me for saying this, but I think you should do it."

"Grissom are you crazy? Have you absolutely lost your mind?" She was waving her hands around animatedly.

"Sara," he grabbed her wrist and pushed down to her side. "Just listen." He took her silence as a good sign. "We are getting nowhere here, alright? There is not enough time for us to interview each person, but if you do this, if you get into this show, you'll have an inside track on these people. You'll be able to find more out about each of our suspects." He paused and did his best puppy dog face. "Please."

She softened. "Do you really think it'll help."

"It couldn't hurt any."

She sighed, knowing she was trapped. "You better sign off on the overtime." Louder, "Mr. Garcia, when do I start?"