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: Two chapters at once, I must be mad. Thanks to RivenSky and Tripp3235 again!

"She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!

She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!

They stretched and strained in the darkness,

and the hours crawled by like years"

Alfred Noyes 'The Highwayman'

Chapter 14: Highwayman

Detective Harper's office was in the basement, small and bursting at the seams with its contents. It was with no small contrivance that two extra chairs were brought in for both Greg and Sara to sit down.

"Sorry about that," Harper said, as he situated himself behind his desk. "I keep telling myself it's just for two years and then I retire. I only took this job to make the wife happy. She'd had enough of me out on the streets."

"You're moving to Florida," Greg asked, pointing out one of the many framed black and white photos on the wall.

"Maybe," he answered. "Probably, if the wife gets her way. And she usually does. She took those on our honeymoon. Sarasota, ever heard of it?"

Greg and Sara both shook their heads.

"Beautiful place," Harper went on, giving the photos a long look. "Beautiful. Long time ago. But you're not here to shoot the breeze, are you?"

Neither Greg nor Sara had a chance to answer as Detective Harper plowed on.

"Al told me you were interested in looking over some of my cases. Said he gave you the cursory files, but that you might want a closer look at the Highwayman."

"I'm sorry," Greg interrupted, "the who?"

"Highwayman," Harper repeated. "It's what all the newspapers were calling the crazy that did this. Stupid name if you ask me. Just sensationalizes the whole thing and we didn't need that, I can tell you. Had enough problems without the press. Beside, this guy never struck me as a highway man, more like a hollow man."

"Eliot," Greg said automatically.

"Exactly," Harper nodded. "Head stuffed with straw."

As he spoke he'd taken a number of files from this desk, much thicker than the ones Greg had seen before, and tossed them to Greg and Sara.

"You were the lead detective for these?" Sara asked, looking into the first file.

"Just the first one," he said shortly. "After the case got big, well, it went up the ladder."

"But you were in on a lot of the interviews," Greg said, also looking through one of the cases.

"Grunt work," he nodded. "Still, I was happy to just be involved even if we never caught the bastard."

Greg and Sara both flipped through the information quietly for a minute, Harper eyeing them eagerly.

"So," he asked after a few minutes time, "why the interest? Got something new?"

"No," Greg admitted, "not really. Nothing concrete. Just a…"

"Hunch?" he supplied.

"Sort of," Greg reluctantly agreed.

"There was a woman who died under suspicious circumstances," Sara said, stepping in. "It's been ruled a suicide, but a lot of the details about her death are similar to these murders."

"What," Harper shot back suspiciously, "you think she was involved? Because, I can tell you now that all the profilers pinned this on a man."

"No," Greg said, "not involved, but she might have known who the killer was."

"I see," he said, leaning back as if thinking it over. "What was this woman's name?"

"Ashley Baker," Greg answered.

"Baker," Harper repeated, as if it rung a bell. "Baker."

Evidentially he decided that it wasn't familiar, either that or it wasn't related to this particular case.

"Can't help you there," he began again, "wish I could. But, it's been a very long time."

The meeting over, Greg and Sara headed back to the lab with Detective Harper's promise to forward the entire case history to them that evening. It was a quiet walk, neither of them quite willing to continue their previous discussion.

Stopping in the parking lot at Sara's car, the both of them stood around for a full minute just staring at each other.

"Want to grab some breakfast?" Greg finally asked.

"Um…"

"Or lunch," Greg went on, checking his watch with a smile. It was nearly noon.

"Maybe," Sara began haltingly, "we should just give ourselves some room. You know, if we just back off a bit…"

"This will blow over?"

"More or less," Sara agreed.

"Ignore it," Greg said under his breath before continuing louder. "You really think that will work?"

"Couldn't hurt."

"No, it's been great so far," he returned sarcastically.

"Well, what do you suggest?" Sara asked, leaning against her car.

"You know what I suggest," Greg answered, leaning next to her and gently taking her hand in his.

Sara sighed, but didn't pull away.

"Now, this may just be complete delirium taking over seeing as I haven't slept in days," Greg began, sounding anything but delirious, "but Sara, I think we can make this work."

But he could tell he wasn't getting through, even if she hadn't let go of him yet.

"It's inappropriate," she said shortly, looking down at her feet.

"No," he corrected, with a smile that came too easily, "it would be inappropriate if you were my boss, but you're not my boss. We're co-workers. Co-workers are allowed to have lives. Together. If they want too."

"We're too different," Sara countered.

"See, I just happen to think we're different enough."

"Greg," she said softly, finally looking him in the eyes, "I am not an easy person to deal with."

"Yeah, I know."

Sara allowed a small smile to escape before quickly correcting herself.

"No, you don't. You say you do, but you don't. If we allowed this thing to happen, eventually you'd get sick of my mood swings, my temperament. Of me. And I'm afraid…"

"Afraid of what?" Greg asked, moving closer. Turning towards her, his free hand coming to rest just above her elbow.

"Of… hurting you."

"You're not going to hurt me," Greg said incredulously. "And I would never hurt you."

"I know that," Sara nodded, blinking back tears, but sounding more like herself. "I do. But…"

"But what?" Greg asked quietly.

"Still here?" Sofia called out from a few rows away, causing Sara to quickly drop Greg's hand and move a few steps back. "Thought you'd both left hours ago. We tracked down the former owners of that house. Get this, turns out the couple used to own a side-show in one of those traveling circuses. They claim the bodies were left over from it. Course, we'll have to do some carbon dating to see if that's true, but, really, how bizarre."

"That is kind of crazy," Greg added half-heartedly.

"I've got to go," Sara said quickly, stepping around to the driver's side of the car and getting in without looking back.

Sofia and Greg both watched her tear out of the parking lot.

"I wasn't interrupting anything," Sofia reluctantly asked, "was I?"

"Not really," Greg admitted, mainly to himself.

"Hungry?"

Greg stopped to consider it for a moment before agreeing. It would do him some good to talk about something other than his failed love life, his family or Ashley Baker. And seeing as Sofia wasn't aware of any of these things, it would probably do him some real good to spend some time with her.

Sara knew what had to be done. She had to go see Greg, clear things up, hopefully get him to see reason about what couldn't happen, and part on good terms. She had to do it. All of that before shift started.

It wasn't going to be easy.

Still, there was no point in postponing. Waiting only long enough to ensure he was awake, around eight at night, she drove to his apartment and mentally went through all the things she'd planned on saying.

Of course all of those things flew right out of her head as she approached the door and heard loud, angry voices coming from the other side.

At first, Sara was sure she'd gotten the wrong apartment. All the buildings looked alike and she could have easily climbed the wrong staircase. But, after retracing her steps and checking the building number, she saw that she hadn't been mistaken.

She hesitated at the door, uncertain if she should interrupt. Sara couldn't tell much about what the fight was about, only that the other voice was definitely a woman's.

Just as she decided to knock, the door flew open on its own.

Sara had time enough to register surprise and step out of the way as a woman, a tall, pretty woman who looked at least six months pregnant shot her a contemptuous look before heading down the stairs.

"I should have known better than to expect you to be fair," she said loudly over her shoulder, taking the steps faster than she should in her condition. "You've always been a spoiled, selfish child. I'd thought you'd grown up by now."

Greg, not stopping and perhaps not even seeing Sara, was fast on the woman's heels.

"You're only angry because for the first time in your life you're not getting your way," Greg retorted.

"I don't have time for this," she returned. "Jake's picking me up. The sooner we leave the better."

"No one asked you to come."

"No, Greg," she stopped, rounding on him with a sour look on her face, "of course no one did. Why would you? You'd never ask any of us to come because then you'd have to be reminded of what a failure your life is."

Greg started to say something but was quickly cut off again.

"You've never taken responsibility for anything in your life. Never. And if anything gets too hard you just quit. You dropped out of medical school, you quit the lab in San Francisco, you quit the lab in Vegas, what are you going to do next? You're running out of places to hide and you're too old to keep changing jobs like they were socks."

"I've got a job I…"

"Exactly. You've got a job but you need a career. You need security. Mom and Dad aren't going to be there for you to fall back on forever and neither am I. Papa's already gone, at least try and become the man he thought you were."

"Anne," Greg started, his face flushed, "you don't know the first thing about my life…"

"I know that you had to sell your car and your condo," she fired back aggressively. "And that you took a twelve thousand dollar pay cut so you can, what, play cops?"

Just then a car pulled up and the woman, Anne, stepped confidently to it.

"Grow up, Greg," she said calmly before getting inside and driving away.

Sara watched silently as Greg came silently back up the steps. She'd never seen him look angrier. She wasn't sure if she should stay, but as he got closer he kind of smiled, deciding the matter.

"Sorry about that," he said, truly looking embarrassed, "Anne's kind of… abrasive."

"That's a way of putting it."

This time Greg genuinely smiled, ushering her inside.