A/N: Starting now, future chapters are going to be a bit cliché-ridden. I'll try to work on that with future fics, but really, the clichés, they own me. Thanks for reading!

PS: I also wrote this before seeing Bad Words, and learning that Grissom can't actually do anagrams in his head. But, for the purpose of my story, he can….because he's Grissom.

Part Three

No one said anything for a few moments. Finally, Nick spoke up.

"Maybe it's just a coincidence."

"Do you know what the odds of that are?" Grissom asked, his eyes never leaving Sara.

"I…I…" Sara stammered. "Who would…"

Catherine stood up and picked up the crime scene photos. "Does this mean that Sara's the actual target?"

Sara's eyes widened. "I don't know those women! Why would he kill two complete strangers to get to me?"

Grissom shrugged. "Mind games, maybe. Thrill. Flaunting. That's not important right now. This guy knows your middle name, which has to narrow the field quite a bit. I mean, I didn't even know it."

"And he might have known the other two women as acquaintances," Catherine added. "Sara, we need to start cross-referencing your social circles with these women to see if there are any commonalities."

"I don't have any social circles!" Sara exclaimed. "Everyone just hold on a minute. If someone wanted to attack me, why this elaborate setup? Why risk getting caught for two other murders?"

"Ignore the 'why' for now, Sara," said Grissom, taking the crime scene photos back from Catherine. "You can even ignore the 'how.' We need to figure out who."

OOO

"Grissom, can we please stop dissecting my life?" Sara gave an exasperated sigh and tossed her notebook on the meeting table. "The only places I go outside of work are the grocery store and the gym, and nobody at either place would know my middle name. Trust me, I'm not leading a double life here. I'm barely leading a single life."

Grissom sighed in response and leaned forward in his chair, facing Sara. "Anyone from your childhood? From college, maybe?"

"Yeah. I dumped a guy sophomore year, and now he's come to Vegas to murder women for the sole purpose of freaking me out."

"Don't be flippant, Sara. We've seen weirder. You're published; people can find out you're a CSI just by looking on the internet. Anyone who ever held a grudge against you could do this."

Just then, Greg burst into the room, waving a piece of paper. "Ronnie did the handwriting analysis on the bed sheet. Different handwriting this time. He made her write it again."

"I talked to Brass," Sara said, rubbing her eyes. "This building was exactly the opposite of the first; there was a raging party going on two floors above the vic's apartment. People were coming and going all night."

"Did she go to the party?"

Sara shook her head. "The hostess said she was invited, but never showed. David placed time of death around 8:00 pm."

Greg moved closer to the table. "What was the cause of death?"

Grissom looked up at Greg. "Asphyxiation. No surprise there. Greg, could you go see if the sexual assault kit has been processed?"

As Greg walked out the door, Grissom turned back to Sara. "Shift's almost over. You should probably get some sleep."

Sara opened her mouth to protest, but finally exhaled in defeat. "I probably shouldn't go home, though, given the circumstances."

"Mm. I already talked to Brass. They're going to have an officer take you back to your place to get your things, and then take you to a safe location."

Sara gathered together all of her papers and headed for the door. "You know as well as I do, Grissom, that there is no safe place in Vegas."

OOO

Sara stole a glance at her closet, and then looked back down at the suitcase on her bed. She took a long sip of tea, tipped up the cup to finish it, and set the empty cup down on her nightstand.

"I think I'm going to hop in the shower before we leave," she called into the living room. "Is that okay?"

Officer Fromansky lifted his head from admiring Sara's photos. "That's fine. Take your time."

"Make yourself at home!" she called back, the water from the sink running in the background. "And thanks for the tea!"

Fromansky grinned and locked the front door behind him. "You're welcome."

OOO