Foretold by SLynn

Summary: A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

Spoilers: Through 'Gum Drops'

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

Notes: Thanks to Tripp3235 and Rivensky for all the help and to everyone for being so patient with me. Hopefully this will speed up soon.

"Trust the instinct to the end, though you can render no reason."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chapter 8: Instinct

"You wanted to see me?" Greg asked tentatively as he poked his head into Grissom's office.

Grissom, on the phone, just nodded and waved him inside.

Taking a seat, Greg did his best to seem disinterested in the conversation Grissom was having, but not really succeeding. It was obviously about Ashley Baker and it sounded as if Ecklie was on the other end.

After a few tense minutes Grissom finally hung the phone up and turned his attention to Greg.

"You don't look good."

Greg, perplexed by this unusual beginning, shifted uneasily in his chair.

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you certain you don't need a few more days off?" Grissom asked, quite sincerely. "I know you've been through a lot this week and if you did need some more time…"

"Thanks, but I'm fine," Greg said, more curtly than intended.

Grissom nodded as if considering it.

"Is that all I'm here for?" Greg asked, knowing it couldn't be that simple. "To make sure I'm okay?"

"No," Grissom conceded. "That was Ecklie. He's concerned that we're wasting resources on certain cases that should already be considered closed."

"Ashley Baker?"

Grissom nodded again.

"The tox screen came in this afternoon…."

"And?"

"And," Grissom continued, "there was Valium in her system."

"So that could mean that someone drugged her to make her complacent."

"Or she self-medicated to make it easier to follow through."

Greg nodded, conceding the point. It was one of those vague areas they'd never know for certain. Unless, of course, someone was caught or confessed.

"Ecklie," Grissom went on, "doesn't think a tox screen should have been performed at all. I disagree with him on that and stand by yours and Warrick's decision to order one. It's important to investigate all avenues, especially considering the circumstances. However, this case is going to be closed. Al is ruling it a suicide and the investigation is officially over."

Greg didn't say anything. He'd expected as much but was disappointed. To him it just felt like there was more to it. Or maybe he just wanted to believe that to ease his own conscience.

"That's it then," he said flatly.

"Yes," Grissom nodded. "Next of kin has been notified and has identified the body. Once the paperwork has been processed her personal affects will be released as well."

"So all the evidence…"

"Personal effects, Greg," Grissom corrected. "This was a suicide. There is no evidence."

"But everything she told me, all of that was just, what?"

"A cry for help."

"I'm responsible for this. I should have…"

"No," Grissom quickly corrected. "Greg, this would have happened whether or not Ashley Baker had ever crossed paths with you. You couldn't stop this."

"I could have gotten her help."

"Did you suspect she was suicidal?"

Greg paused. That was the question he'd been asking himself since this morning.

"No," he answered truthfully. "But I still feel responsible."

Grissom nodded slowly, knowing there was nothing he could say to change his mind.

"Why don't you take tonight off," Grissom suggested. "Get some rest. Come back tomorrow night."

"If it's all the same I'd really rather just stay. I think the less free time I have to think about this the better."

Grissom nodded, not really agreeing but understanding his point.

With nothing more to say, Greg headed out the door and down towards the break room, stopping when he heard Doc Robbins calling out his name.

"Slow night?" Greg asked, unaccustomed to seeing Doc outside the morgue.

"Don't know yet," he answered, gently steering Greg towards an empty layout room, "I haven't been in. I'm not on for a few hours and I thought I'd stop by and talk with you."

Greg sighed as Doc shut the door behind him, wondering if everyone was going to be treating him with kid gloves tonight.

"Warrick sat in on the autopsy this morning," Doc went on, ignoring Greg's exasperated look, "said you knew this girl. He also told me about the circumstances surrounding her death."

Greg nodded, not knowing where this was headed, but too polite to interrupt. Doc obviously had something to say, it was best to just get it over with.

"I've worked a lot of cases," Doc continued, growing much more serious than before. "More than I care to tell you. I've probably been doing this job longer than you've been alive. So when I say that there are some cases you'll never forget, I'm sure you'll take me at my word."

Greg nodded, curious as to where this was headed.

"After telling me the details, I asked Warrick if I could see the photos from the scene." He said pulling open the folder he'd had with him. "It had sounded familiar. Very familiar. Almost like a ghost from one of those cases I couldn't forget. But until I saw for myself, I didn't believe it."

Doc then laid out a photo that Greg knew well. It was Ashley, arms over head and tied just as she'd been this morning.

"Now, I stand by my report. This girl this morning, that was a suicide."

"Okay," Greg said, mostly because he felt he had too.

"But these girls, they were murdered."

Doc than laid out three other pictures. Three other girls. Each, judging by the photo, having fallen from some height. Each, easily seen, with their arms tied by black scarves.

"This is the one I worked," Doc said, indicating the first girl. "She was never identified, just another Jane Doe. She was also the first one found. Hands bound in front, just like the girl this morning."

"But this was a murder," Greg half-asked, half-stated.

"Yes," Doc confirmed. "This was. But there were other circumstances. No witnesses. No note. Other physical evidence."

"Like?"

"Signs of struggle," Doc explained, not annoyed to be questioned. Not in the least. He took inquisitiveness as a sign of a good investigator. "Skin under her nails; plus, these three had all been sexually assaulted."

Greg got it. They'd found none of that with Ashley.

"So, there was no DNA match?" Greg asked, already thinking about looking up the cases and rechecking it himself.

Doc laughed and shook his head.

"Greg," he said, kind of amused, "this was over twenty years ago. Most we could do was get a blood type off of the semen. A positive, before you ask. Rather popular and unfortunate."

"Twenty years ago?" Greg asked back.

"Sorry if that's disappointing," he returned with a nod, "I know you were hoping for better."

"But these cases are open," Greg continued. "These weren't solved. Maybe it is the same guy…"

"I don't think so," Doc said, shaking his head for added affect.

"But it could…"

"My opinion is that whoever did these first three murders is likely dead or in jail. The monsters that commit these acts don't just stop without a reason. Ms. Baker's death, her suicide, is just an unfortunate coincidence."

"So why tell me at all?" Greg asked, perplexed at all of this new information.

"Because," he said simply, "I could be wrong."

"I've been trying to get you alone all night," Greg said upon entering the locker room and finally finding Sara. Half the night had been wasted in near misses with her.

Sara, stunned, couldn't respond. It was the way he said it. She was never quite sure if Greg just spoke in that tone, the one that suggested he meant more than he said in more ways than he said it, or if it was just the natural way he talked. He sounded like he might just save her the trouble of having to talk about whatever it was going on between them and take matters into his own hands. Literally. And hearing that, the way she did, she might let him, if they had been alone like he assumed.

But they weren't.

"Why don't I just leave and let you two get down to business," Catherine practically purred as she shut her locker door.

Greg either didn't care how it had sounded, or once again, didn't realize. He just smiled and waved goodbye to Catherine as she made her way out the door.

Sara on the other hand, couldn't even make eye contact with the other woman. She was quite certain she'd never hear the end of this.

"Is this a bad time?" Greg asked, perplexed by Sara's mixed reaction.

"No," she said with a small, tight smile and a brisk shake of her head. "What's going on?"

"It's about Ashley," he started.

Sara quickly shut her locker and tried not to look too disappointed. All in all, she should have guessed.

"I thought her case was closed?"

"It was…" Greg confirmed, fixing her with a curious stare. "Are you sure this isn't a bad time? You look…"

"I'm fine," she said, quickly cutting him off. "What have you got?"

"Okay," he started again, just as eager as before. "Doc Robbins came by before shift started. Gave me some info on three cases where the women died similar deaths as Ashley."

"Suicides?" Sara asked as they left the locker room and headed down the hall.

"No," he answered quickly. "These were murders."

"So how can they be related?"

"I'm getting to that," Greg said, starting to sound exasperated by her doubts. "These other three women all had their hands bound and all were pushed off of high spots."

"Hotels?"

"No."

"Parking garages?"

"No," Greg said, trying to shake off her doubts and his own all at once. "Two from bridges and one from an overpass, but that's not…"

"I still don't see…"

"Because you're not letting me finish," he interrupted.

Sara stopped abruptly and faced him.

Greg waited a minute to make sure she was listening and that she wasn't too angry. He knew why she was so reluctant to hear him out. Sara, like everyone else, just wanted him to drop it and move on. But he couldn't.

"Ashley had Valium in her system. Not enough for an overdose, but it was there. Doc even found some pill fragments in her stomach."

"Okay," Sara nodded, mostly to show she was listening.

"These other three victims had Librium in their systems. Not enough to overdose, but enough. And just like Ashley there were pill fragments in their stomachs."

"Alright, so they were drugged and she was on drugs. Librium and Valium aren't the same Greg."

"No, but Librium was the Valium of its day. They both treat the same types of disorders."

"Panic," Sara said with a short nod.

"Exactly," Greg continued. "So twenty years ago it's feasible that someone with a panic disorder would have been prescribed it instead of Valium."

Sara, obviously, still didn't get it.

"I think this is what Ashley wanted. She wanted me to find out who did this."

Sara stopped again, this time taking him by the arm and pulling him into the nearest empty room.

"What?"

"What?" she asked back, astonished. "Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?"

Greg couldn't respond; just looked at her, clearly confused.

"How old are these other cases?" she asked.

"The last murder was twenty years ago," Greg said evenly.

"Twenty years ago," Sara repeated.

"Yeah but…"

"Greg, she was only twenty-three. How could she know anything about these cases?"

"I don't know but…"

Sara didn't stop him, she didn't have to. He trailed off on his own.

"Listen," he said, "I don't know how she could know anything about this, but she does. She did. I can't explain it Sara, but this just feels right. This feels like I'm on to something."

Sara had nothing to say to that.

"I don't know how Ashley knew half the things she did. I don't know why she picked me. I wish she didn't, but she did. And I feel like I owe it to her to at least look into it. To at least try."

"So what are you thinking," she finally asked, "that the murderer has some type of panic disorder?"

"Or that he has access to this type of medication," Greg elaborated.

"Okay," Sara said nodding and thinking out loud, "that's patients, doctors and veterinarians. And pharmacists. That's a lot of suspects."

"I know," Greg agreed, "like half the city."

"Well, Vegas was smaller twenty years ago."

Greg nodded and smiled, glad to see she was at least humoring him. Holding open the door for her, they both left and continued on down the hall towards the break room.

"Wait," Sara said as they got there, stopping dead in the doorway, "if the other women were pushed off of bridges and the like, why wouldn't she have…."

Sara couldn't finish the sentence. Sometimes it was too awful to think about. And thinking about Ashley Baker, little as she had liked the woman, actually committing suicide to prove a point about other cold cases was one of those things.

"Why the casino," Greg sort of finished for her. "I don't know. Circus Circus is kind of an odd choice. Unless the guy maybe worked there?"

"Or he was a clown?" Sara half jokingly provided.

But it clearly struck a chord with him.

"What?" she asked.

"Ashley said something to me about clowns," he answered, trying hard to remember. "I know she did. Something about animal crackers."

Sara waited, knowing it would come to him eventually.

"At Smith's. She said something about not liking animal crackers. That they were bitter."

"What does that have to do with this?"

"Animal crackers," Greg said, as if she should know. "The little boxes are supposed to look like circus trains."

"Alright," Sara said slowly, "so it's a circus thing?"

"Clowns," Greg went on, ignoring her last comment. "She said she didn't like clowns. That she'd never liked them. She'd been waiting there, holding them, like she wanted to make sure I saw."

"Clowns?" Sara repeated, lost as to what he might be thinking. "You really think it has to do with clowns?"

Greg, coming out of his reverie, just shrugged. He really didn't know, but his instincts told him he was headed down the right path.