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.

"He who asks questions, cannot avoid the answers."

African Proverb

Chapter 19: Answers

Sara, with only half an hour until she definitely had to leave for her appointment, couldn't pull herself away from the job at hand.

She was almost done, she could feel it.

Ashley had a really strange way of communicating with them, but Sara was catching on.

"You're either here really late," Warrick said with a smile from the doorway, "or really early. And I'm not counting out either."

"Well," Sara returned with a smile of her own, "since I didn't technically work last night, I guess I'm early for tonight."

"This about the Baker case?" he asked in a quieter voice, stepping inside and shutting the door.

"Yes and I think I am done," Sara finished, putting the last note in place and surveying her work.

Laid out on the table, it read:

'I AM SORRY 4 WHAT I DID'

'PLZ FOR GIVE ME'

'I DID NOT WANT 2 HURT ANY 1'

'I HOPE U UNDER STAND'

"Okay," Warrick replied, "but that's not really breaking the case or anything."

"No," Sara admitted, "but check this out."

Sara proceeded to flip the notes over one by one, each containing a new letter, number or word on its back.

Now it read:
'2 1 8 9 S C A'

'N Y O N'

'R O A D B O X 208'

'27 – 42 – 108'

"What's that?" Warrick asked.

"I'm not sure," Sara admitted.

"Well, that last part looks like a combination. And it says 'box two-oh-eight' so that might be a locker?"

"Or a post office box," Sara said, suddenly feeling this was much more serious.

Warrick fixed her with a look.

"Greg got a letter today from Ashley," she continued. "She wanted him to give a letter to her father. Maybe…"

"What?"

Sara turned to the nearest computer and pulled up MapQuest and began typing.

"Sara," Warrick asked again, "what is it?"

"I was just thinking that she probably thought we'd find this sooner. She had to have known we'd pick apart her car, and all of this was in it. What if we were supposed to find this first."

She turned the monitor towards Warrick revealing the final location of 2189 S. Canyon Road.

"A post office?"

"Exactly," Sara answered. "She said 'give' not 'take'. She wanted Greg to give the letter to her father… Are you doing anything?"

"Nothing that can't wait," Warrick answered immediately.

"I think we need to go see what's in box two-oh-eight."

"I thought you were looking into that," Henry Baker said, his voice shaky as he pointed to the chest Greg had left open. "I didn't…"

"Mr. Baker," Greg said as calmly as he could, holding his hand up partially in the 'non-threatening' manner he'd been taught. "Whatever it is…"

"I knew Ashley must have known something about it… how she died and all… but not…"

Henry Baker hardly seemed aware of Greg's presence. He was almost talking to himself.

"Did she tell you how she found out? Did she really…"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Greg answered, a part-truth.

Henry looked at him and knew. Some people were like that, they could read the lie on a face as easy as they could any book. And Greg had never been a good liar.

"Lydia Juarez," he practically yelled, waving his hands and the gun for emphasis.

"Please calm down," Greg said quietly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in through the shock.

"I should have known when you said she was a witness. I should have… usually I can tell better than that. I guess I hoped you were wrong."

"Was it in her journals?" he asked as he began to pace. "Was it?"

"Lydia wasn't mentioned by name."

"But you found out…"

"I really…"

"You found out," he yelled again, interrupting Greg before he could finish.

"Yes," Greg answered back loudly, unable to keep his voice entirely steady. "We found out she'd been missing and we assumed she was dead."

"Because of the journal."

"Because of the journal," Greg repeated.

He knew he wasn't supposed to be repeating the details of any unsolved crime under ordinary circumstances, but this didn't exactly qualify as ordinary. There was no choice here.

"So she saw," Henry said sadly. "She saw."

He finally stopped pacing and sat down on a nearby chair, placing his head in his hands as if he'd developed a migraine.

Greg stood stock still, his mind racing.

"I killed her," Henry finally said, speaking just above a whisper. "It was an accident, but still, I did it."

Henry was looking right at Greg now, commanding his full attention.

"She'd come to me and asked about her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, Tommy, he'd been killed a year before. She'd heard that I could… well, that's not important."

He was back on his feet again, pacing the same spot as before.

"For whatever reason, she decided that I was a fraud. I think her brother might have said something, I don't know. She came her one afternoon, angry and demanding her money back. I tried to explain that that wasn't how I worked. I didn't give refunds. She wouldn't listen."

Henry stopped again, staring down Greg once more.

"She attacked me first. Right here. Right on this spot. I pushed her off of me… I pushed her so hard that she fell…"

He looked to his left where one of the stalls, now defunct, stood.

"We used to have horses. Horses and hay. She fell there and landed on a pitchfork that had been left out."

Greg found himself staring with Henry at the spot as if he'd see the body. As if he could still see the body.

"I probably could have saved her. Gotten help. She didn't die right away, but I panicked. I panicked."

Greg couldn't speak, he'd never come here expecting this.

"I never knew she'd seen it. She'd never said anything… not once. Maybe I just hoped she hadn't. She was only a little girl then, barely eight. And already so special. I should have known."

"What did you…" Greg tried, his voice strangely altered. "Where is she…"

"I buried her," Henry answered before he'd even finished the question. "In the flower garden in front of this barn. I know it wasn't a proper resting place, but it's the best I could do."

Greg nodded; understanding but not wanting to.

"What about the others," Greg asked, finally finding his voice. "What about them? Were they accidents too?"

Henry eyes fixed him with an odd gaze.

"Them?" he questioned back. "Well, they are what they are."

"So why…."

"I can't explain any of that," Henry said dismissively. "I'd given up on it a long time ago. Would have completely, but…but that woman. I saw her and I knew."

Greg wanted to ask who he meant, but the sudden cold sensation that filled him knew better. He already knew who Henry meant.

"The monster is awake," Henry said softly.

He stopped and wiped his brow. Henry seemed composed again. He was no longer pacing or fidgeting. He was just staring at him intently. Greg knew what that meant, it was another part of his training he'd hoped he'd never need.

Henry had decided what he was going to do next.

"We can't change who we are," Henry said, his voice quiet but steady. "Life offers us choices, every day, and every day we get to decide. But ultimately, we can't change. We are who we are."

Greg shook his head slowly, not daring to shut his eyes.

"Turn around please."

Greg shook his head again, more forcefully.

"I won't make this easy for you," Greg said, and he meant it. If this was it, he wanted to at least see it coming.

"I'm trying to make it easy for you," Henry retorted, for the first time holding the gun level at him.

Reluctantly, Greg listened and did what he was told to do.

"I want you to know that I'm sorry," Henry said as he cocked the gun.

His heart was beating so loud he could hear it. This was it. This was all there was. Staring down at that stupid toy chest, wishing he'd never seen it. That he'd never known any of this.

"Do you know how we know when it's the end Mr. Sanders?" Henry asked. To his credit, he almost sounded sad.

"Greg," he returned, trying the last tactic he could think of. Humanize the victim. "My name is Greg."

"Greg then," Henry said. "Do you?"

"No," he managed, shutting his eyes tightly and clenching his fists in anticipation.

"It's blue," Henry said, answering his own question. "In the end, all you'll see is blue."

It was the last thing Greg heard.