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 Jen! Homonyms are not my friends.

"Truth makes many appeals, not the least of which is its power to shock."
Jules Renard

Chapter 20: Shock

I hope now you understand why. Why I could never tell you. Why I could never say it out loud.

I just can't live with it. Not anymore.


He's my father and I love him, but I guess I never really knew him.

I wish you didn't have to be involved…

"Can't we go faster?" Sara asked for the third time as they barreled down the highway towards Indian Springs.

"We're almost there," Warrick assured her.

Sara shook her head and began to stare out the window as the desert scenery zipped past, momentarily putting aside the letter they'd found at that post office box.

That damn letter.

Why did Ashley do this? Why didn't she just tell them?

Of course, part of her knew why. Ashley loved her dad. It couldn't have been easy. And she couldn't just accuse him of being a serial killer; she had no real proof.

Except for Lydia.

Ashley had witnessed Lydia Juarez's murder.

Sara opened the letter again; already well on her way to having it memorized.

I was outside the barn when I heard their voices…

I peeked through the boards and saw him standing over her; there was a lot of blood…

The next day he planted a garden…

"He'll be fine," Warrick said, interrupting Sara's thoughts. "We don't even know what the other letter said yet."

"This one says her father killed four people, what do you think the other one says?"

Before Warrick answered Sara went on.

"I mean, the note even said she wanted him to understand. She wanted her father to understand why she'd done this. And he was why. Damn it, Greg just walked into this…"

Sara stopped abruptly, clearing her throat and fixing her gaze back out the window.

"I knew this woman was trouble," Sara continued, mostly to herself. "I knew it. And Greg trusted her… for no reason at all…"

Warrick cast another glance her way. He understood her frustration, some of it at least, but he'd never seen Sara this worried before.

"He'll be fine," Warrick repeating, hoping it was true.

It had to be. He didn't think Sara would be able to keep it together if it wasn't; she was barely doing that now.

Before Sara could reply, they both caught sight of flashing lights in the rear view mirror.

No sooner than it had registered what they were seeing, four police cruisers and an ambulance went racing past them.

The two of them watched in silence as all of the emergency vehicles took the same turn they'd intended to. All of them were headed straight into Indian Springs.

"Go faster," Sara said quietly.

Warrick nodded as he flipped on his own emergency lights and punched the accelerator in an effort to catch up.

It didn't take long for them to get there, but they still arrived well after everyone else.

Sara hardly waited for the car to stop before jumping out.

Time had practically stopped and she felt like she was moving through molasses.

She hurried past Greg's car, still parked out front and horribly empty.

She rounded the corner, passing the cop who was just beginning to roll out the crime tape, hurriedly showing him identification that granted her access.

She passed two paramedics, headed away from the barn, one shaking his head and saying, "…took his head clean off."

She paused only as she neared the entrance, her eyes caught by the flower garden out front; exactly where Ashley said it would be.

And for a moment that stretched out into eternity, she paused.

Sara had been dreading this; this final moment where one way or another she'd know.

Coming into the barn she saw the body and nothing else. Already covered and laying spread out on the dirt floor.

It was as if that body was all there was left of the world.

A gently tug on her elbow brought her back, back to reality.

"I told you," Warrick said.

Sara turned to him, stunned. She hadn't realized he'd even been there.

"Told me…"

But Sara didn't have to finish, she saw for herself.

He was there.

Greg was there, in the back of the barn talking to two police officers. He looked rattled, she could see that even from where she stood, but he was alright. He was really alright.

"Come on," Warrick said, tugging her arm once more, "let's go over…"

But Sara wouldn't do it. She pulled her arm out of his grasp, shook her head adamantly, turned and left.

She got about twenty feet from the door before Warrick caught up.

"Sara," he said cautiously, touching her lightly on the shoulder.

She shrugged him off, turning her back to him. With her left arm hugging her own torso, her right hand reached up, shaking, as she rubbed her forehead in gesture that seemed one part relief another frustration.

"Are you okay?" Warrick asked quietly.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice shaky. "I just need a minute."

He didn't ask anything more, just took a few steps backwards and gave her some space.

Sara was grateful, but still struggling. She was determined not to cry. It would be stupid to cry. Greg was fine. There was no reason to be acting this way. She couldn't do this now. Or ever. She wouldn't let herself.

Taking a few deep breaths she was ready.

He was fine; Greg was really okay.

Turning back round, she walked past Warrick and towards the barn again without saying anything.

"You don't have to go back inside," Warrick offered, but one backwards look in his direction was all he needed. Sara was determined. Whatever spasm of emotion she'd had was gone, her game face was back in place.

Crossing over the threshold cost her a momentary loss of that new found composure, a brief flicker of distress, but nothing more. It was hardly noticeable. She was determined.

Sara headed straight across the room this time, Warrick falling in step beside her, towards Greg.

Greg didn't notice them at first. He looked over at them as they approached, but with no sign of recognition. It wasn't until they were standing beside him that Greg seemed to even know who they were. Even then, he did nothing more than give them a weak smile.

"What was I saying," Greg asked the officer who he'd been speaking to, crossing his arms as he did so.

"The garden," the man prompted.

"That's right," Greg picked up, uncrossing his arms and clenching his fists repeatedly. "He told me… he said that, that he'd buried her in the flower garden. The one in front of the barn… um… outside."

Sara, without thinking or hesitating, quickly took Greg's nearest hand into hers. It was probably more for her comfort than his. His constant movement was making her uneasy for him. Greg didn't look right.

Warrick was thinking the same thing. Without saying a word he left for a few minutes and returned with a blanket.

"He's done," Warrick said to the officer. "You can talk to him later."

"Wait a minute…" the officer started, but Warrick ignored him.

"Sit down, Greg," he said instead and without waiting for a reply led him to the nearest chair and made him do it.

Sara took the blanket from him and placed it around Greg, reluctantly letting go of his hand for the moment it took to accomplish the task.

"You can't just stop an interview," the police officer said, clearly angry.

"He's in shock," Warrick fired back, just as mad. "You're not going to get anything out of him now that he can't tell you later. Give him a few minutes. Did the paramedics even check him out?"

"No but…"

"But nothing," Warrick interrupted.

"What's going on here?"

Warrick looked over with something like relief. Brass had arrived. At least now they knew this thing would be investigated properly.

"He just broke up my interview," the officer said.

Brass looked at Warrick who stared back unapologetically, before looking over to where Greg sat beside Sara.

"Do you know what happened here?" he asked Warrick.

"Not everything," he answered. "But since Greg doesn't own a gun, I imagine suicide."

Brass nodded; he'd assumed that himself. Of course, it wasn't his job to assume anything.

"Is that what he told you," Brass asked the officer, before asking somewhat sarcastically "or did you get that far yet?"

"Well… yes. He did tell me that. That the deceased, Henry Baker, had held him at gunpoint before turning the gun on himself."

"So you got his initial statement, and what, decided to do my job as well?"

"No sir…"

"Then I think you're done," Brass said, ending the conversation. "Thanks."

The officer gave Warrick one last contemptuous look before departing.

"You okay, Sanders," Brass asked, stepping over to him.

"Yeah," Greg answered, but his voice sounded oddly detached. "I'm… I'm fine. Do you need me…"

"Go home," he cut in.

"But…"

"Go home," Brass insisted. "Get some rest. Come back tonight. We'll talk then."

Greg stood to go, but didn't. He looked lost. Warrick was definitely right, Greg was in shock.

"Sara," Brass spoke up once more, "do you think you can give him a ride?"

She just nodded, glad to have the excuse.

"You sure you got this?" Warrick asked, concerned for more than just Greg.

"Yeah," Sara said firmly. "I'm fine."

Warrick nodded reluctantly, still not completely convinced but not willing to argue it.

Sara led Greg off towards his car as Brass and Warrick looked on. She didn't speak to him until they got to their destination.

"I need the keys."

He said nothing, just reached blindly into his pocket for them, before climbing in on the passenger's side.

The ride back was equally silent. Sara didn't know what to say and Greg almost seemed incapable of speech which was frightening all by itself. He spent his time just staring out the window in the same fashion Sara had on the way out.

Finally they pulled up to his apartment.

"Do you want me to come up?" Sara asked.

He didn't answer, just sat there and stared at his hands which were clenched once more.

"Greg?" Sara called out becoming more and more concerned, wondering if perhaps she should have taken him to the hospital.

"You could have been killed," he said quietly.

"Greg I… wait, what?"

"You could have been killed," he repeated, louder this time and finally looking away from his hands that were still shaking. "You were going to come with me. I can't stop thinking about it. You were going to come with me and if you had…"

"I didn't go, Greg," she said, reaching up quickly to wipe her eyes which had threatened to tear. "You can't… all I've been thinking about is you. You were… if it… Damn it."

Sara stopped short and tried to pull herself together again.

"But this is my fault," Greg said before she could begin again. "If I'd have been killed…"

"Don't…"

"No," Greg cut in again, suddenly sure of himself. "No, if I had it would have been my own fault. I never thought about where this thing was going. I wasn't prepared. It was stupid and…"

"Greg please…"

"…I should have known better, but I didn't. I didn't think. And now all I can think about is that if you'd have come with me he would have killed you. Because of me. You'd be dead because of…"

"Stop," Sara interjected forcefully. "Just stop it. You can't do this to yourself."

Greg nodded his head as he looked away, but not really in agreement but more so that he'd have something to do.

"I was just… I was so…"

He couldn't finish and he didn't need to. Sara already knew.

"I was too."

Greg turned and looked at her before touching her gently on the cheek and smiling gratefully. And Sara couldn't hold it back any longer.

She finally let herself cry.