(phone ringing)
(ringing)
No one is available.
Please leave a message.
(beep)
Jane, you there?
Pick up.
Okay... I'll call back later.
(sniffling)
(phone ringing)
(sobbing gasp)
No one is available.
Please leave a message.
(beep)
Slut. You can't hide from me, bitch.
Jane, you there?
Now, didn't I tell you...
not to bite your nails?!
(door opening softly)
(scratching softly)
(gasping )
(whimpering softly)
Shoo, Peanut.
Go away. Go away.
(whimperin)
(screaming)
(screaming and crying)
Posed?
Reading my mind.
What do you make of the smears?
It's definitely not blood.
Wrong color, texture.
It's hair dye.
Her hair's still wet.
You think the assailant surprised her while she was dyeing her hair?
Who called it in?
Neighbor lady... doing the dishes with her window open.
Heard the dog yelping, evidently.
Called the cops.
There's no sign of forced entry.
The bathroom window's nailed shut.
So, has anyone seen this dog?
Dog bed, dog bowl, dog food; no dog.
Triple locks on all the doors.
Every shade drawn.
State-of-the-art alarm system.
Far as we know, her place was perfectly, hermetically sealed
until the cops batter-rammed their way in.
Prisoner in her own home?
So, how did he get in?
A better question... how did he get out?
Aluminum foil.
Keeps the sunlight out.
Keeps the eyeballs out, too.
(gasping)
Sorry, Nick.
You've been staring at this girl for ten minutes.
Do you know her?
No.
Why don't you go do the bedroom?
I'll get the coroner in here
and finish up in the bathroom.
Sure.
Hey, Catherine, I'll get that.
No. I got it.
Tweeze me.
Thank you.
So, what do you think?
A little thick for a human hair.
No, I've seen them this thick.
Really? Yeah.
I'll get it to the lab.
Oh, and don't forget what's under the bed.
Why? What's under the bed?
Something that you would have caught eventually...
Crime Stopper.
(chuckles)
- No one's going to let me live that one down, are they? - No.
You know, now that you're a celebrity,
you may want to think about getting a new shirt.
Yeah? Well...
I'm short on options.
Besides, the dry cleaners keeps losing my stuff.
What did you get?
Grocery bag
with a red smudge.
Good. Fume it.
Tell Sara and Warrick to grab a couple shovels and dig in, too.
(sighing)
(laughter)
Who wrote this?
You're kidding me, right?
"Nick Stokes, Crime Stopper."
(both chuckling)
You went Hollywood on me, man.
And I quote, "In his off time
he enjoys creating and inventing toys."
That's fascinating. What kind of toys do you make, Nick?
I thought I got my hands on all those departmental newsletters.
Where'd you get those?
Greg. Greg.
Yeah, that figures.
All right, listen, Griss wants us to divide and conquer.
Blond hair for you, Warrick.
I do love a blonde.
Sara,
you're on phone records.
Yay.
Hey, I wasn't done reading that.
Yes, you are. (chuckling)
I know two things for certain...
Jane Galloway died from a lack of O2,
and she's a natural blonde.
What are you looking at me for?
Sorry.
So, what...
suffocation?
It certainly looks that way.
Uh, petechial hemorrhaging in the eyes,
deoxygenation led to cyanosis, hence the blue lips...
blue fingertips
and blue face.
No ligature marks on her neck.
If she had struggled with her assailant,
that effort alone could have limited her oxygen intake,
causing further O2 depletion of the brain.
Easy kill.
Sexual assault?
No physical findings.
You'll have to check the kit.
So, he murders her, poses her,
yet he doesn't rob her or rape her.
So, what's his agenda?
How's that platinum blonde coming?
- Wrong question. - Come on, Greg
I'm not getting anything out of Trace.
I was hoping you could help me out here.
I took a snip, ran a crossed immuno-electrophoresis.
Didn't pass.
Not hair? Not human?
What are you reading?
This is Pink.
Pink, this is Warrick.
Do you know how hot you are?
Ssss!
Bet I know someone who's hotter,
and I'm not talking about looks.
Yeah? Yeah.
How mad is he?
Watch your back.
Heard you were looking for me?
Greg. Come here. I want to talk to you for a sec.
- Come on. - What's up?
Stop invading my privacy, man. I don't like it.
I'm just trying to do my job around here.
I don't need the extra attention.
Okay. But, I mean, you are the one who's doing the "Forensic Spotlight"
in the department newsletter.
I didn't do anything, man.
Someone from the community wrote a letter of commendation.
Public Affairs ran it. Cool?
Cool.
(sighing)
So, uh... what are you fuming?
Plastic bag from the crime scene.
Trying to get lucky...
see if I can get some prints off it.
She die of suffocation?
(screaming)
Did some digging on Jane Galloway.
Her boyfriend had a TRO against him.
And, according to his phone records,
the guy called Jane 13 times the day of the murder.
That's 13 times too many,
according to the restraining order.
- We're going to check out his house. - I'll be on my cell.
Grissom, you got a second?
I got a mystery.
- No Becke Line. - Yeah.
Hair refracts light under cross-polarization, but glass doesn't.
Well, it's not a hair. It's a synthetic fiber.
Glass... what do you think, fiberglass?
Maybe.
This could be a lot of things.
You'll figure it out.
(pounding on door)
Looks like the boyfriend skipped out on us.
(sighing)
Hey, Brass?
Isn't that his car?
Control, this is P-9241 requesting backup and medical assistance,
the 1800 block of Newhaven Road.
Possible 419.
P-9241, copy.
(gasping)
All right, all right.
Get out of the car. Get out of the car.
Sit down on the ground.
Sit down, sit down.
Sit down; just sit.
Sir, are you okay?
You all right? You seem injured.
No, I'm all right.
- Are you Adam Piorio? - Yes.
Any idea how you got this blood?
I don't remember.
We're going to take you to a place
to help you remember.
Let's start again.
What happened last night?
I'm telling you, I don't know.
Adam, we're analyzing the blood that we found on your shirt with the blood of your girlfriend.
It's going to tell us everything that we want to know.
Look, we broke up a few weeks ago. She...
She started acting weird for no reason.
She had a TRO against you.
Something must have happened to spook her.
She changed overnight.
She... she wouldn't return any of my phone calls.
She started calling in sick at work.
Barricading herself in her own house.
So, you went to Jane's house. What next?
We started arguing.
Open this door. What do you mean I can't come within 1,000 feet of you?
Open the door. Stay away from me!
I was afraid she was going to call the cops, so I-I left.
Well, that's interesting.
Because, according to her phone records, she never did...
call the cops.
But you called her 13 times.
Once, you're in love. Twice, you're
More than three, you're a stalker.
We just broke up.
All right, I was... I was rolling on "E" last night.
Give me a break.
Adam, that's not all you were taking last night.
I was on a lot of stuff last night. I was a space cadet.
I'm not a murderer.
Blood doesn't match our victim.
The girlfriend of a Ricco Manzo filed the police report last
It seems that Adam, here, put Ricco in the hospital with a broken nose
from a fight at Bar 911.
Well, that's a lucky alibi.
Roll him out of here.
You have mail.
Horndog?
There's a blast from the past.
What did your prom date say when you called her?
She said that she was cleaning out the attic one day,
stumbled upon them,
thought she'd send them to me for a laugh.
You think she's a suspect?
No. She lives in Bosnia, man.
Maine or something.
She's got three kids.
What's she going to do, fly in for murder?
(chuckles)
Stranger things have happened.
I don't know.
Something in my gut tells me it isn't right.
- Hey, what if somebody from work tapped
Yeah. Maybe I forgot to log off one day.
Now you're tripping.
No. I'm serious.
Somebody had to have read my e-mail.
Change your password.
I already did.
How does this relate to the case?
Well, he was an eyewitness, sort of.
I mean, he says he had a vision of Jane Galloway's murder
hours before it happened.
He's a psychic?
Well, he has details.
He has details that weren't on the news or the press
Mr. Pearson.
Sit down.
Captain Brass tells me that, uh...
you had some sort of "vision"
regarding Jane Galloway's murder.
Yes, I did.
What kind of vision?
Screaming face in a plastic womb.
Blood shower.
Anything else?
Three hearts beating very fast.
Two large, one small.
(screaming)
(dog barking)
Okay.
Thank you.
This is your eyewitness?
The dog didn't make it, did it?
What about Jane's work history?
Secretary at a brokerage firm.
About three weeks from the day of her death,
she took a leave of absence.
Medical records?
She saw Dr. Slater.
Had a prescription for Valium and Librium.
Severe anxiety due to personal reasons.
One day back from leave, Jane quits her job.
No notice.
Hotel receipts show
she checked into the Monaco for two nights.
Aweek before that,
she goes on a frightened woman shopping spree.
Hardware shop receipts for locks.
Locksmiths. Alarm installations.
Phone screeners.
The voice on her answering machine... electronic.
She changes her telephone number. She cancels all but one of her credit cards.
It's as if she's trying to make herself disappear.
Make no mistake. Jane Galloway was
Emotional terrorism at its finest.
And her boyfriend had an alibi?
Here's the, uh... worst part.
Uh... I ran a phone check
on all her incoming calls.
Guess where they were coming from.
Inside her house.
So I ran Merlin's, uh... credit card
with his permission.
Do you know where he was the night of the murder?
Monaco Hotel.
Room 834.
Guess who was in the adjoining room?
Jane Galloway.
Why didn't you tell us you were staying here?
I didn't know she was your victim.
According to the front desk.
You placed a call to Jane Galloway's room at, uh...
9:12 p.m.? Lasting 21 seconds?
- May I ask what you two were talking about? - Energy.
(phone rings)
(gasps)
- Hello? - I'm calling from the next room.
I don't mean to alarm you,
but I'm feeling some negative energy coming from your room.
Sh... she wouldn't talk to me. I... I get that a lot.
But, evidently, you called her back.
Yes. She picked up, and hung up.
Phone records say that she received three calls.
Twice, I believe.
The front desk records also show that she checked out that night.
And you checked out shortly thereafter. Why?
Well, she was suffering, and I shared her fear.
Seems my intuition was accurate, as it turns out.
(sighs)
You don't believe me, do you?
Mr. Pearson, I'm a scientist.
And I am a clairvoyant.
You see science without abstractions.
I see visions with abstractions.
Am I less credible than you, Mr. Grissom?
These visions that you've had in the past...
nothing specific triggered them?
Sometimes a touch or an object.
- Fear? - Sure.
And you were hoping to heal Jane Galloway?
I was only hoping to comfort her.
I'm bound by that obligation.
So, these visions you told us about earlier?
These are the only ones you've experienced?
I have more.
(inhaling)
Locks.
Three locks.
Hanging... ghosts, hanging ghosts.
Chest to back, back to chest.
A-frames, wooden beams,
church dark.
(sighs)
That's it.
Are these the three locks you saw?
Yeah... they-they seem different, though.
Perhaps it's the angle.
What do you mean?
It seemed... I was looking down on them.
Is this what you saw? Yes.
Only it was...
From above.
(cell phone ringing)
- Hello. - Pick a number between two and five
and indicate it with your fingers.
Why?
Please, humor me.
Four. Thank you.
Where are you?
Look up.
Jane's bedroom closet has a door to the attic.
(phone rings)
- Warrick. - Warrick, Grissom.
You know that blond fiber we were looking at?
Fiberglass insulation... comes in pink and yellow.
But you already knew that.
Is that why you're calling?
Not really. I was checking a phone line.
But good work.
Yeah.
(grunts)
Guess what. He tapped into her second
And he's got a peephole into every room.
They're labeled.
Uh... Gil, there's a, uh...
Yeah. He's our psychic... Mr. Pearson.
Right.
You know, I don't think this thing was about sex at all.
I think it was about control... voyeurism.
Jane was like his, uh... little goldfish.
Then why kill her?
And why... leave all this stuff behind?
Interesting collection of toys.
Digital camera...
with a fiber-optic lens.
Night-vision goggles.
Digital recorder.
I'm guessing he's got microphones all over the house.
Probably.
(sighs)
Same question... how did he get in?
Well, this only opens from the inside.
So, at some point,
it's possible that Jane let him in.
Thank you.
So...
Who do we let into our homes every day?
Well, pretty much, if you got a uniform on,
you can walk right in the front door.
So, we go through her bills,
and we see which utility companies worked on her house.
Hi, there.
Luna Cable.
Good company. Same as mine.
150 channels.
I'm telling you, you got to get it, man.
The last three weeks have been heaven.
(knocking)
Mr. Crane?
Nick Stokes, Criminalistics.
( cell phone rings)
Hello.
Hello? I... I can't hear you.
Hold on.
Mr. Crane, your door's open.
Just want to...
ask you a couple questions.
I can hardly hear you.
We're at the, uh... satellite guy's house that installed Jane's
(rustling)
Nick!
Patrol. Request immediate backup.
Immediate backup. Officer down
I need emergency medical assistance, 826 Harris Lane! Nick!
Nick.
Concussion,
two cracked ribs,
sprained wrist, five stitches to the forehead.
It could have been a lot worse.
- But he's going to be all right? - He needs rest.
But I don't see why he can't go home relatively soon.
Thank you, Doctor.
Damn it.
Grissom, this guy was right there. I could have had him.
You helped out Nick.
That was the right thing to do.
Doesn't feel like the right thing.
You know, Nick was alone.
The stalker could have killed him and didn't.
Yeah, I wonder why.
Let's go back over there.
I'm going with you.
No, no.
You need to calm down a little.
Talk to Nick when he wakes up.
Nigel Crane, age 37. No criminal record.
Working for Luna Cable for 11 years.
No immediate family, lives alone.
Last seen by coworkers two days ago.
No priors.
Not a stick of furniture...
except for a computer and a chair.
(gasping)
What the hell?!
He lives up there.
Not down here.
Works, sleeps, changes his clothes... everything in the attic.
He looks down on the world,
separating himself from others.
Fascinating, really.
Well...
you're going to love this.
Red dye.
Yep.
Now what?
Dinner and a movie?
Walking pukes.
Soulless, lost, useless, sick puppets.
Little sheep looking for direction.
Gullible.
From an airplane, they used to look like ants.
And now...
they're all ants all the time.
You squash one.
Well.
Just think, this is only tape one.
They all start running around in a panic.
Now, these painkillers are the real deal, okay?
Don't overdo it.
Plenty of rest.
No work for at least a week.
Will do. Thank you, Doctor.
The gloves... you find them?
Catherine thinks he might have got away with them.
But, uh... Grissom did find some wacky video collection.
- Of what? - Now, did you not just hear the doctor?
You're supposed to rest. We're on it, okay?
Yeah, relax, Iron side.
I see you, Jane.
Do you feel me?
(tape whirs forward)
You...
You will never get me.
No. Not the way he does.
And we all get what we deserve.
I got a friend.
And I...
How's it going?
How's Nick doing?
Well, groggy.
How's the epic?
- Epic. - Gotten any clues as to where this guy might be?
Not really. Not yet.
Archie, freeze it.
Do you see that behind him?
To the left hand of the screen?
Can you focus the pixels?
(typing)
Okay, we're now at 26 times magnification.
Rendering at 1086 lines.
That's the Crime Stopper article.
Isn't our newsletter
for in-house only?
Do you think he knows Nick?
He may know him well enough to read his e-mail.
Found that photo of Nick and his prom date.
Used Jane Galloway to emulate the photo?
Why would he do that?
Why Nick?
Nick has satellite cable, right?
Lunar Cable... 150 channels.
Wait a minute. We've been doing this the wrong way.
We need to see the last tape.
(shuffling tapes)
Archie, play this.
It's like he... he's...
he's the kind of guy I always wanted to, um... to be.
And that's why it's so great, because...
we're friends now.
I feel like I can count on him, you know?
And you know what?
I think, if it came right down to it,
he would lay his life down for me.
Ask him.
A... a... ask... ask Nick.
Nick,
would you let me stop your heart?
(knocking at door)
Who is it?
My name is Pearson. Morris Pearson.
We haven't met. I worked with Mr. Grissom on the Jane Galloway case.
It's almost 1:00 in the morning.
- What do you want? - I've had more visions
Please let me in.
Yeah, maybe but look... Please, please let me in.
I can't just let you in my... Please, please, please...
Hey, hold up. I saw this house.
I saw this house, I saw the number,
I saw the street name.
Something is wrong here.
Something terrible is going to happen here
Sir... I can feel it.
You're going to have to leave.
Please, please, listen to me.
Get out of here. Listen to me!
I saw the address.
I saw this address.
You saw my address?
Yeah, but that's not it. That's not it.
I saw, I saw...
I saw crashing.
I saw...
falling and crashing... I saw
somebody seeing through the back of his head.
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know...
Green tea.
Does that mean anything to you? Green tea?
I don't know.
(phone rings)
Just...
Hello.
- Nick, listen. He's been in your house. - Who?
Nigel Crane... the stalker.
Brass is one his way with two uniforms to put at your door.
Yeah, well, I'm not alone.
What?
Your psychic's here.
Good. Keep him there.
Mr. Pearson.
(gun cocking)
Mr. Pearson.
Mr. Pearson...
you back here?
(thumping)
(footsteps)
(coughing)
Oh, man. You got to...
You got to watch who you let in here.
Guy was snooping around all over the place.
You know, smart move.
Spare gun.
Ah.
Keep it right by the phone, right?
Right next to your address book and... and take-out menus.
Cops are on their way.
Yeah.
I heard that.
You wearing my clothes?
Oh, yeah.
I am.
(deep exhale)
You know, I-I-I picked these up at the dry cleaners,
and I... I hope you don't mind.
It's just that... I'm sorry.
I, I just get a little confused
about what's yours and what's mine.
You know what?
I'm a little confused here myself.
Uh... why don't you refresh my memory?
When did we meet?
Sports package.
150 channels.
I-I-I even threw in a few movie channels. Free.
We talked, like, forever.
I mean, it's like I knew you my entire life.
- You installed my cable. - Yeah.
The... the minute I met you, I knew we connected.
Because you told me what you did,
and I knew exactly
what you were talking about, because...
that's what I do.
I do it, too.
You know, I observe people.
I-I-I notice everything about them. I watch them.
All the time.
Like you watched Jane Galloway?
Jane was cool.
But, um... it would have never worked out between us, you know. Never.
I mean, she had a boyfriend,
and she was kind of stuck up.
And you know what? She would have totally, totally gotten between us.
So, you know, consider that a gift.
- A gift? - Yeah.
Prom night.
Your date.
Melissa.
Bent over the toilet, puking her guts out.
Is that ringing any bells, huh?
Yeah.
You know, I mean, Jane's hair
was the wrong color but, you know,
obviously, I fixed that.
Because I know how much you love redheads.
You know, you...
You mentioned her name in your sleep.
You watch me sleep?
You, um...
You want to open him up?
Hmm?
No, no, it's, uh... It's not my job.
You should know that.
It's the coroner's gig.
- Are you humoring me, Nick? - No.
You know...
We made friends that day
and, every time since,
you just blew me off.
Do you know that?
You just completely blanked me.
You are so self-absorbed.
I was right in front of your face.
Manners, Nick!
Manners!
Now, Nigel, now, we got a DB here, huh?
You're going to help me with the crime scene, right?
No, no. I'm going to...
I'm going to give you a brand-new one.
I'm going to do better than that.
I'm going to give you the best you ever had.
Stand up, Nick.
Stand up.
Nick, you know what a nine-millimeter slug
does to a skull at close range?
You know?
Yeah. Blow it right apart, right?
Brains like strawberry swirled.
Whipped cream everywhere. And you...
You'd have to scoop that stuff up, right?
Yeah, little pieces of skull and bone and brains,
all in individual baggies with the victim's name on the label.
You know, I don't want to disappoint you, Nigel,
but this isn't the first time I've had a gun in my face.
How do you want this to end, Nigel?
How do I want this to end?
I want you to be able to remember my name.
(grunting and gunshots)
Gun!
Get down! Get down!
Put him down.
Cuff him.
Hey.
( breathing heavy )
It's... it's done.
All right, yeah.
I am one, and who am I?
Why me?
I don't think it was about you, Nick.
Or Jane Galloway, for that matter.
I think it was more about Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs.
His premise is that social beings strive to belong.
In Nigel's mind,
Jane Galloway was someone he could control,
which was okay for a while,
but you...
you were someone he could actually become.
See, Maslow's fifth tier of the Hierarchy is Self-Actualization.
I am one, and who am I?
The problem for Nigel is that you would
have to die in order for that to happen.
Or else he would.
25 years to life, Nick.
It's over.
It's not over for me.
It's over for Jane Galloway.
Well, we should get back to the lab.
Yeah.
I am one, and who am I?
And who am I?