Nicky smirks and heads toward the cup. When he picks it up, he sees that there's no CSI name on the evidence seal. "That's peculiar," he comments. One can only imagine how he would have commented on the black-clad figure looming behind him -- because we don't see what happens next.
Cut to a CSImobile lurching onto the same scene, sirens ablaze. Gil and Catherine get out and amble on over to where Brass is shouting harshly, "Think! Did you see anyone else?" D.A. says, "I didn't see anything, sir. I only took my eyes off him for a couple of seconds." Brass points out that D.A. shouldn't have taken his eyes off Nicky at all. Then he wheels around and tells Gil and Catherine, "He's been gone maybe 25 minutes." Catherine looks fretful, and Gil steers her over to the deserted alley. The two of them look downright parental.
But first, time to stop at the nicely-arranged entrails. Then to visit Nicky's other crime scene markers, and then to visit his vest, which is lying on the ground next to a final crime scene marker. Catherine gets all verklempt before pulling out a set of gloves and working the scene. She finds some white fibers on the vest; they smell like alcohol. Gil continues to wander around. Great -- now the black-clad guy can get him.
He notices the bagged Styrofoam cup, and Catherine comes over to ask when Gil bagged it. "I didn't," he replies. Catherine hunkers down to look at the bag and notes that it's sealed with the wrong-colored tape, and it doesn't have any CSI's initials on the top. "That's not Nick's evidence," she concludes. "Maybe it's a message," Gil responds.
The Who would like to know who wrote that last teaser line, because they've been getting weaker all season.
When we get back from commercial, we're still in Las Vegas. Only earlier. After some typical shots of the Strip -- there's a lot of neon on it, and five years is not enough time to see all of it -- we switch to someone who's monkeying with a bullet. We then cut back to a shot of Harrah's. Cut to a pair of black-gloved hands putting a bullet in a vise, then using an X-acto knife to etch an X in the top. His hand is remarkably steady for all that he's got two women whimpering in fear to distract him. The women's mouths are duct-taped, and they're bound so they're sitting back-to-back. They're also identical twins.
The camera then lingers lovingly on the loaded gun, the terrified women's faces, the way they writhe to try and avoid the gun pressed to a forehead, and the slow squeeze of the trigger. And then we pull back, and it's Gil shooting two forensic dummies; he's used two different shades of goo to see how the blood spattered from the one shot. The camera switches to Gil's face and he's smiling slightly; perhaps he's just figured out the twins angle. Or maybe he just likes imagining terrified people facing down a brutal death. Or maybe I'm confusing that latter motivation with the director's.
Gil chortles, "Two heads are better than one," which seems oddly incongruous with his prior characterization, and then we see him booking through the Labitrail, explaining to Sara, "Spatter patterns are a match -- one bullet, two victims." She protests, "No, no, no, no -- Grissom, that isn't possible. I sampled every square inch of that scene, and there was only one DNA type in those bloodstains." Gil says, "Our mystery vics are identical twins." "Twins? Well, that's different," Sara finally says. Gil says smugly, "Technically, it's the same." And technically, I'm getting irritated: we have few clues as to what crime scene Sara was working, whether there are even bodies, or why this case is at all relevant to the primary plot of the evening. Were the preceding minutes inserted solely so someone could indulge their penchant for photogenic grue?