I slept. I was scared to death but he didn't know who I was, so I fell asleep. The skin across my neck was almost burning- I could still feel his fingers tracing across my throat. It made me shiver as I lay on the green couch the man had set me on, at his mercy. I finally opened my eyes and observed my surroundings once again.

Picture frames, furniture, papers here and there- nothing that I hadn't seen already. The sun was now up. I wondered where Grissom was. Well, if he found my body in this house, he'd find out where I had been at least.

Well, I still stuck with what my gut told me the first time I saw this guy- he's bad news. I really think he did kill his family when he mentioned it as a joke. And I think this guy was also the guy we were looking for in our 419- you know, the scene we never reached.

I could hear Catherine, Warrick, Nick, and even Greg making cracks about what was taking us so long to return to the lab. It almost made me sick- they had no idea what was going on. I had no idea where Grissom was and I was in bad enough shape as it was.

"So…you lied to me."

His voice startled me. I turned to face him. It was psycho-man.

"What are you talking about?" I said, trying my best to sit up and face him.

"I found your ID."

My blood just ran cold. He found my ID? How could he have-? Damn. ID, pocket; like shoe to foot.

"Oh…" was all I managed to squeeze out of my mouth.

"Sara Sidle, huh? Las Vegas Crime Lab…I've heard of you."

He made me feel uneasy as he walked over to me.

"I said I wouldn't hurt you…maybe I should break your other leg so you can't go anywhere…as long as I have one of you guys they won't be able to come near me without risking your life," he said this with a smirk. I gulped.

"Why did you kill your family?" I squeaked.

He sighed, sitting down next to me.

"I suppose I could tell you…I mean, you're going to die anyways…if not by me by the hand of one of your friends when I throw you in the way of that speeding bullet coming toward me…"

He was a total freak.

"Well, Cheryl, she was my wife- we got married when she was 19- I was 22. Well, you see, I got her pregnant when she was 13! We already had a son!"

He found this funny. I didn't- I wrote the facts down in my head- if his first son was seven when he killed them all, she was 20 and he was 23.

"Her parents hated me. She said she didn't care- hell, she ran away with me. We got a house and had a second kid 'bout a year later."

I was shaking as I nodded, not wanting to hear him continue but at the same time dying to know the facts to get this guy for the murder of his family and the innocent stab-wound victim they were called out to, soon to be laying on the metal slab in the morgue.

"As time went on, our relationship died. We had our little issues, just like all other couples. We argued. A lot. The baby was always crying; I was always drunk after I got fired from my job. Kid was so damn annoying…"

I raised an eyebrow in interest. Something seemed vaguely familiar about this story…something I knew all-too well.

"She got mad at me one night- I came home late and she said she needed help with the kids. She always needed help with something…kids, dishes, cleaning…she was always bitching about something. She just did it to piss me off."

"Did you think maybe she just needed your help?" I blurted out. He smiled at me.

"That thought crossed my mind sometimes, but she was desperate to get me out of her life, I just took a guess."

I stared at his eyes- they were so green…they were going to haunt me forever.

"So, that night, I had a few drinks, though I was still perfectly sober…" this made him grin a bit. "She ran up to me, furious. Asked where I had been. I didn't answer her question and walked past her."

"Then, she threw a vase at me. I turned around. Now she was really asking for it."

His knuckles had turned white as he balled each of his hands into a fist as he continued.

"So I grabbed a broken piece of glass from the vase she had thrown at me and ripped it across her throat. Of course, not after I got a few blows to her face," he smiled to himself.

Now my knuckles were turning white as I clenched my hands into fists.

"Well, baby wouldn't stop crying and my oldest kid was going cry wolf to the police, so I took care of them."

"You killed your own wife and children?" I shouted getting to my good leg. He stood up and stared at me.

"They never appreciated anything I did when I was in work!" he yelled.

"That's what you think! How could you have known? You were always drunk!"

He wrapped his hands around my neck- his hands were so big they could eat mine up three times and still have some left over. He squeezed my neck. I couldn't breathe.

"You know what, bitch? You don't know anything! So shut up!" he said pushing me into a wall. He loosened his grip on my neck so I could at least breathe some.

"Isn't this interesting? Your life in my hands…literally," he said smiling as he then squeezed my neck again. I gasped for air- all attempts were in vain.

He released me again and this time I slid to the floor gasping for breath. A breath I couldn't seem to regain after what had happened.

"I'd love to make a nice cut across that beautiful neck of yours…" he said kneeling down in front of me.

"Your neck is so elegant…like a swan's neck," he said and again traced a line across my neck.

He smiled and then stood up and motioned towards his garage.

"No one ever knew what had happened to my family. They couldn't find any bodies. Only you and I know what really happened to them. I hid their bodies in some freezers out there," he said looking out towards his garage.

"Unfortunately, I wasn't able to recover that body from my most recent kill; I ran to hide the weapon first. When I returned I found out that some damn hiker had found the body and called the police. I was too late."

I smiled a little at the flaw in his plan. He didn't appreciate my enjoyment of his misfortune.

"You better stay quiet or you'll be in that freezer sooner than I'm planning to book you for." And with that, the psychotic murderous freak left me alone as he returned to his garage.

I hope Grissom was having a better time than I was.