A/N: Again, trying for shorter chapters. These last two were supposed to be all one chapter, but I broke it up into two. We'll see how this goes.

Chapter 2

There was a hum right when he entered into the Las Vegas FBI Field Office. It came from the HVAC system and vibrated all throughout the vents of the building. It told him that the A/C was working, or the fans were on. As he walked into the building that night, he heard no such hum. It made the building so much quieter as he walked through the halls towards his office. He didn't like it. Too quiet reminded him of being in the cold desert of Afghanistan. The quiet meant danger.

Pushing out a hard breath of air, Kevin fought the feeling down as he past the various offices that housed the many different units that resided in the building. Cyber Crimes, Terrorism, Counterintelligence, Organized and White-Collar Crimes, and even Public Corruption. His office was in the section for Violent Crimes. It was on the top floor and at the rear of the three-story building. It was like they wanted them to be as far away from everyone else as possible. He was fine with that; he didn't want to be around anyone else either.

Getting off the elevator, he made a right turn and at the end of the hallway he spotted a familiar face sitting in the chair outside his office. There was a file folder in his hand, and it tapped the chair leg as he waited. As he neared, Detective Nowlins stood as he held out his hand, saying, "Good to see you walking around. How's the leg?"

"Still attached," he told the detective before unlocking his office door and inviting him inside. "Did you ever get your tie back?"

"Didn't want it back, it was covered in your blood."

He smiled at the detective as he opened the minifridge he had put in his office and grabbed out a bottle of water. "Want one?"

"Thanks." Nowlins took it before sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. His eyes took in the office and said, "Nice little office you got here."

Kevin sat down and leaned back as he glanced around the cluttered cork and dry erase boards, all the crime scene photos of victims, and said, "This is the only place I allow myself around it. Once I'm out of this building, they don't follow me home."

Nowlins was watching him. There was an edge in his voice as he said, "This one might."

That made him nervous, and he didn't like that the same way he didn't like the quiet. "Whatcha got, Bill?"

Nowlins didn't go right into what he had, instead he said, "I also talked to your dad."

"I know, I was with him when you called. Is his db a possible victim of the same killer?"

He gave a curt nod and said, "Earlier today, I was at a jumper scene at the Mediterranean Hotel with Detective Evans. Though, I didn't think it was a jumper. She had what appeared to be knife wounds on her neck and body."

"What'd you mean 'appear'? You couldn't tell?"

"Her body was pretty mangled. She'd hit some trees, palm and mesquite, on the way down. Detective Evans thought they were just wounds suffered from the fall and impact. Before we could confirm or deny my suspicions, I was called away to the dead hiker that I called your dad out to investigate. Both girls have the same physical characteristics—" Kevin went to cut him off but was stopped as he said, "I know what you're thinking. Just because they look the same, doesn't mean they were killed by the same person. I wouldn't have come here if I didn't have an ace in the hole." Nowlins finally opened the file folder as he continued saying, "There had been another girl two weeks ago, same physical characteristics as these two. She'd been cut on the shoulder, chest, and neck. Same as the jumper."

"How'd—"

"Detective Evans called. They had found the hotel room where she'd been staying. It looked straight out of a slasher movie. Blood everywhere. M.E. got her cleaned up and confirmed the wounds were made by a knife. Dead before she hit the pavement. Most likely she was murdered in the room and then thrown off the balcony."

"And the hiker?"

"From what I saw before I left the scene, she was also attacked with a knife. There was blood all around the scene. Arterial spray. Prints came back to Amanda Henley. First victim was Samantha Ivers. The girl at the hotel, Evelyn Olson." Nowlins removed the photographs of all three women. "These are their driver's license photos."

Kevin watched as Nowlins laid them out in front of him one-by-one. With each photograph of the dead victims he saw, the quiet grew louder. It was practically thundering out the warning in his head.

"Now, I don't know about you, but three victims in less than a month, all murdered by a knife, who all have three distinctive physical characteristics in common, that can't be a coincidence."

"Good thing I'm like my daddy," Kevin said as he looked up from the photographs. "I don't believe in coincidences."

Gil glanced into his rearview and saw the SUV behind him following through the gate that normally blocked the trail off the dead-end road. There was a school to the right, and down in the valley a neighborhood. His truck kicked up sand and dirt as it climbed up the side of the hill along the path. Up ahead to the left, he saw the lights of the emergency vehicles cutting through the night.

Getting to the trailhead, he turned off the dirt road onto pavement and headed further up the side of the mountain to the top where yellow tape and police cars awaited. He cut the engine and climbed out as the other SUV parked behind his truck at an angle, leaving him enough clearance to do a three-point turn if needed. He rounded to the back to retrieve his field kit as Greg climbed out of the other SUV.

As he zipped up his field vest and grabbed his kit, Greg stopped next to him and asked, "What am I doing here anyway? You're the bug guy, not me."

That was a good question. When he'd gotten to the lab to change clothes and get the work truck, he'd spotted Greg already there finishing up the report from the last case he'd worked on. It'd been a year since Greg became a full-time CSI, and wven though still in his opinion a rookie, he was quickly becoming one of the best in the field. The only problem was that Greg had no area of expertise, aside from DNA, but any field CSI could collect DNA, take it to the lab, and give it to the DNA tech. They all had something; Greg currently had nothing.

"Greg, what's Warrick's specialty?"

He shrugged and said, "Shoe and tire impressions."

"And Nick's?"

"Hair and fibers. He also knows birds." Greg quickly picked up on what he was asking as he went ahead and said, "Catherine is blood analysis. Sara, materials and elements."

"Okay," he said as he slipped over a pair of booties over his boots as Greg did the same. "What's yours?"

Greg thought about it before saying, "Well, in the lab—"

"You're not in the lab anymore," he said as he pulled out a pair of latex gloves. "Being an expert in DNA will only do you good if you're in the lab, but we now have Mia in that position. At a scene, I know who's best where. Right now, there is only one other person in the entire lab that I trust to conduct insect analysis, aside from Sara."

"Who's that?"

"You, Greg. That's why you're here and not anyone else."

"You want me to become an expert in insect analysis?"

"Why not? Despite being an expert in rare coins, you need a specialty that no one else has. You've already proven that I can rely on you. I've already taught you how to determine the time of death from insect activity. You were a big help during the Greer case—"

"Sticking it to the maggots isn't the same—"

"Are you doubting yourself because you think you're incapable, or you just don't want the job?" And, he thought with a smirk, 'Sticking it to the Maggots' was a great punk rock band name.

"I'm wondering why you're considering me as an apprentice at all. Is this because Sara left? Are you considering leaving to go after her?"

They started walking towards the yellow crime scene tape where Deputy Jackson greeted them. As Jackson got their names and checked IDs, he told Greg the same thing he told Catherine and Warrick, "One day, I will be gone. It's my job to train someone to take my place. Do you want the job or not?" He ducked under the crime scene tape and waited for Greg to do the same.

As they neared the dead body that has been dead for some time now, with maggots crawling all over it, Greg gave a nod. "I want it."

"Good," he said as he sat his field kit down and pulled his flashlight from his belt.

"Do I need to sign anything?"

He almost smirked as he said, "You already did that when you ate a chocolate covered grasshopper in my office. Now, first things first, proper equipment. You'll need a hand net. We also need forceps and a trowel, thermometer, and all the specimen jars, vials, and plastic bags we can get. Oh, and uh, see if you can get one of those deputies to give you a cup of their hot coffee."

As Greg started back towards the truck to get all the equipment, he headed over to Sean Yeager who was processing the body. Yeager didn't even look up as he snapped a photograph of the body. It was a young woman with short auburn hair and her eyes were brown. "I tried to keep the paramedics on-site, but it's not like they got anywhere near the body. Body's cold and stiff. She's been dead for more than 36 hours."

"I'll have a more accurate TOD once I'm able to do a linear regression chart."

Yeager gestured over his shoulder, saying, "Here comes your lackey."

"Lackey is a very derogatory term. I prefer protégé." Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Greg rolling out a tarp on the ground first before depositing all the equipment on top of it. He smiled slightly then went back to examining the body.

He took his own photos of the body before he used his fingers to part her lips as he checked her throat, gums and teeth. She had a diastema. Gap between her front teeth just like Sara.

"Why check her mouth?" Greg asked as he knelt down beside him and offered him the cup of hot coffee.

"Bugs aren't just on the outside of the body. They can also be on the inside. Maggots concentrate in the head or open wounds first." He took the cup of coffee and asked, "Got tweezers?" as he took a sip of the coffee before setting it down next to him on the ground.

"Yeah."

"Grab a vial and put in 70 percent ethanol or isopropyl alcohol, whichever you have. Then start collecting maggots. Put them in the cup of hot coffee first, it kills them instantly, then put them in the vial. Only a couple in each one. And vary your collection spot. Try to get at least two or three from different spots over the body. Check all the folds in the clothes. Bugs like to hide. We're also going to collect the fly pupa. They are very small in size, about half a centimeter long and red to brown in color. They go in the specimen jars. On and under the body will be carrion beetles most likely. Beetles are cannibals, so keep them separate. We're also going to take ground samples for soil analysis. At least four inches deep. There might also be wood ants. Don't worry, they don't bite." He snagged a few flies out of the air and put them into the cup of coffee.

"Okay, Mr. Miyagi, when are you going to teach me that?"

He glanced at Greg as he told him, "All in due time, young grasshopper. That's why you have a net. Lastly, maggots like to crawl away from the body to pupate. So, look under rocks or objects a few inches to up to a foot away from the body. Got it?"

Greg gave a nod as he said, "Kill and preserve adult flies in fluid, as well as maggots. Beetles in their own jars or else they'll eat one another. Soil samples are at least four inches deep around and under the body, and whatever I do, don't drink the coffee. What's the thermometer for?"

"Air temp."

"We have to take the temperature of the air?"

"Yeah. We'll also need to gather all the previous day's weather report for the area going back a week."

Yeager had been watching them and once he spotted him, said, "You're teaching Sanders insect analysis?"

"Of course. Protégé, remember."

"Yeah, Sean," Greg said, "pay attention."

Yeager looked like he wanted to say something back but held it in before glancing around the mountainside and down at the neighborhood at the bottom of the valley. "She's not hidden." He looked over the body and said, "I see no abrasions indicating she'd been dragged. There's also blood spray around the area." He snapped another photo. "She was murdered right here."

"I agree." Looking at Greg as they continued to process the scene of all the insect evidence, he told him, "We can determine if the body has been disturbed after death by the insects found on the body or at the scene. Killers like to return to the scene of the crime, which disrupts the life cycle of the insects. Not only can we pinpoint the date of death, but also the date that the killer returned to the scene."

"What do these insects tell you?" Greg asked as he used the forceps to pick up a beetle and put it into a specimen jar.

Gil lifted her hand up and told him, "See all these maggots on her palm? This tells me that there are defensive wounds. Insects colonize in a specific pattern, usually laying eggs first in the facial orifices, hence why I checked her mouth. Now, if there are wounds, they'll gravitate to them first, before proceeding down the body. If you see a colonization of insects, especially maggots, and it's not in or around the natural orifices, then most likely there's a wound."

Greg looked over the body as he said, "She has multiple wounds to her chest and neck. Here," he said as he pointed to a group of maggots. "Here, and there," he said as he pointed to her neck.

"Very good. Now, don't forget pictures. Everything needs to be documented."

He stood, feeling his knees ache and he was glad Greg was doing most of the work. Turning, he spotted another vehicle pulling up behind the yellow tape. Through the flashing lights, he saw Kevin getting out of the car. "I'll be right back," he told Greg before walking towards his son as Kevin showed his ID to Deputy Jackson.

Upon seeing him approach, Kevin said, "Sorry to interrupt, but, uh, we need to talk."

"This about your serial?"

Kevin glanced towards the body and said, "She's the third victim that we know of."

"How can the FBI be so positive that she's a victim? We haven't even ID'd her yet."

"Actually, you have. Nowlins got prints and sent them through to the lab minutes after he arrived. Prints came back to Amanda Henley. She has a record of drunk and disorderly, assault, and shoplifting—"

"That doesn't answer my question."

Kevin nearly huffed out a laugh as he put his hands on his hips. In his hand was a file folder. "Give me a minute, and I'll tell ya. Earlier today, there was a suicide at the Mediterranean Hotel. Turns out, it wasn't a suicide. She'd been murdered. Knife wounds to chest and neck. Your hiker victim here, same physical description. She was cut, wasn't she?"

Gil glanced back towards the body and gave a nod. "To her chest and neck. Defensive wounds on her palms. I'm still not seeing the serial angle."

Kevin's eyes were angry but also full of concern as he held out the file folder. "I said she was the third. Meaning, there was a first. At least, she could be the first, we don't know yet. I have to warn you, once you look…"

He understood Kevin's concern. It was the pictures, and once he looked at them with the eyes of the profiler and not the forensic scientist he wouldn't be able to stop seeing the victims. The dead ones and the future ones. Opening the folder, he pulled out the photographs. Under the bright lights that had been put up to illuminate the crime scene, he saw the faces of the victims. Despite the facial features being different, some with longer faces, shorter noses, and softer cheekbones, there were three very distinctive features: brown hair, brown eyes, and a diastema.

"Talked to Sara recently?"

He knew Kevin's concern as it was his own. She matched the physical description. "I did; she's still in San Francisco."

"Yeah, good. You might want to tell her to stay there for a while."

He handed the folder with the photographs back over to Kevin. He couldn't disagree with that, and he knew that until Sara was done doing whatever it was she had to do, she'd be as far away from Las Vegas as possible. "You worked up a profile yet?"

"Not yet." He was eyeing him as he said, "Just getting started, but…it's not what I'm good at—"

"You're more than capable—"

"You're better. I can't do what you do—"

"No one expects you to be me, Kevin. You understand more than you know."

"Understanding isn't the same as becoming. All I'm asking is if I hit a wall, will you be okay with doing it again?"

In a way, he'd never really stopped, but it hadn't been until Hannibal Lecter reappeared in his life that forced him to go deeper than he'd ever allowed himself to go. He didn't want to ever do that again, but it was hard to say no when he knew that lives were at stake. In his mind, he saw the face of the victim on the ground covered in insects. Her lifeless brown eyes, her short auburn hair, and the gap in her front teeth.

Within his mind, he cleared it all away. All the dirt and sand, the bugs, and once her face was all clear, he could see how beautiful she'd been before her life was taken. Her face turned to be staring right into him as she blinked and then a smile that revealed her diastema. A face that looked very much like Sara.

Could he do it again? "Yes, I can."

Kevin had been watching him and knew that he'd drifted away into his head. He hadn't said a word as he gave him what he needed. "Anything you'd like to share?"

"Not right now. All I'm doing now is looking…and collecting evidence."

"Whenever you start doing more than looking, you come find me." Kevin reached out and touched his shoulder. He didn't say anything before he walked away, back to his car.

He watched him go before returning to the body to assist Greg. Now that he knew what this was or could possibly be, it was going to be hard to stop. With each step he took back towards the body it was like he was seeing it for the first time, only now he was no longer solely focused on the bugs, but the entire scene. What was the killer thinking? Why here? Why her? Mostly, how was he going to stop him?

The pendulum inside his head started to swing; he let it.

TBC…