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.

"The moment a person forms a theory, his imagination sees in every object only the traits which favor that theory."
Thomas Jefferson

Chapter 23: Theory

Breakfast had been laid back and enjoyable. There was little to no shop talk, everyone content to just enjoy one another's company and catch up a bit in ways they weren't able to inside the lab. But once the meal was over it was easy to sense that they had more important things to discuss.

"I'm sure you all know why I wanted to meet today," Grissom finally began.

No one answered; no one had to. They knew.

"Ecklie is planning to hold a press conference this afternoon. He isn't prepared to come out and say for certain that Henry Baker was responsible for the Highwayman murders, but he is going to inform the press that we have a strong lead."

"Why?" Nick asked first.

"Good publicity," Catherine answered.

"But have they really got anything?" Warrick asked.

"Circumstantial evidence," Grissom said, with a slight nod. "Nothing conclusive."

"Is that why they questioned me for so long?" Greg asked. "Did they think that he'd confessed to me?"

"Exactly," Grissom returned. "If anything, your account of events only skews the case against Henry Baker. After going through the contents of that chest they'd hoped for a nice, clean ending. And they'd wanted you to give it to them."

"What was in that chest?" Sara asked.

"Journals," Grissom said. "Years worth. It seemed that record keeping ran in the family. They go back at least twenty-five years and all of them are about those murders. There were more inside the house that go back further, but don't seem related."

"Are they all as vague as Ashley's?" Greg had to ask, leaning back slightly in his chair.

"Surprisingly, no," Grissom answered, with a small smile. "He was very organized. Mainly, they're comprised of lists. Details about the murders. Names, locations, evidence."

"So he could have done it," Catherine said, "if he knew that much about it."

Grissom only shrugged. They couldn't prove it one way or another.

"You told me that Henry Baker went to the police after the third murder with information," Greg said. "Was he ever checked up on? What did he say?"

"I haven't had a chance to go over the interview, it's still on tape, but I do know he was looked into as a possible suspect. From Detective Harper's notes he'd known too much about the case to ignore. But he had an alibi for each murder."

"Who?" Sara asked.

"His wife."

"Who's dead," Greg added, knowing there was no way to confirm it now.

"Doesn't matter," Nick said. "A wife as an alibi isn't very firm. Even if she didn't give him one, she'd never even have to testify against him."

"So where does this leave us?" Warrick asked, cutting to the chase. "Are we going to keep looking into it or just step aside?"

To Greg's surprise, everyone at the table looked at him.

"What do you think, Greg?" Grissom asked.

"Well," he stammered, "honestly, I don't… I'm not sure. I think if Henry Baker had killed those women, he'd of said so. Or, well, I wouldn't be here to talk about it. One or the other. But then again, maybe it was because of Ashley. Because of her knowing… he might not have been able to take it. I just… I don't know."

He paused, tipping forward in his chair as he cleared his throat.

"I do know that if he didn't do it, whoever did is still out there and likely to kill again. So, we shouldn't jump to any conclusions. Not yet at least."

"Exactly," Grissom nodded in agreement.

Sara didn't really ask as much as assume Greg would stay at her place that day. From the diner she'd simply driven him first to his apartment to pick up a change of clothes and then to her condo.

"You know," he said as they arrived at their final destination, "I didn't know you were this aggressive."

"Is it a problem?"

"I'm not complaining," he returned with a smile. "Just don't think I'm going to let you always get away with it."

"Well," Sara laughed as she unlocked the door, "I didn't want to be alone."

"Or want me to be alone?" he returned, growing more serious.

"That too," she answered.

"I guess that's okay," he said, taking hold of her hands and pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Do you really think he's innocent?" Sara asked against his chest.

"Let's not talk about it now."

Sara moved slightly back to look him in the eyes.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I really don't know. I think he might be, of the other murders, but…"

Sara just nodded, knowing very well what he meant. People appeared innocent all the time, it didn't mean a thing.

"You're right, let's not talk about it now," Sara said after a long pause.

"Good," Greg returned, smiling again. "So what are we going to talk about?"

"Nothing," Sara answered, bringing her hands up to his neck and pulling him into a brief, deep kiss.

"Even better," he said as they broke apart with a wicked smile. "I'm not much of a talker anyway."

Greg awoke with a gasp, sitting upright and alone in bed.

"I didn't wake you did I?" Sara asked quietly from across the room.

"What?" Greg asked, still disorientated.

"Are you okay?" Sara asked instead, coming over and sitting beside him.

"Yeah," he nodded, even though he clearly wasn't. "It must have been a dream, that's all."

"About the other day?"

"Kind of," Greg answered feeling more relaxed as the images slipped from his mind like sand. "Henry was in it, Ashley too. And, I think, you. Yeah, you were there. Except this time…"

Sara took hold of his hand and squeezed it, reassuring him it was a dream and that it was over.

"It was… everything looked blue."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Greg said with a laugh. "I think I need to lay off those journals."

Sara kept quiet, but clearly wanted to say more. She thought he should lay off the whole case. It was getting to him, even if he wouldn't admit it.

"What were you looking for?" Greg asked, not wanting to give her a chance to voice the opinion that was so easily read on her face.

"Oh, it's nothing," Sara said. "I just… I can't find my necklace, my favorite actually. I had it the other day and now…"

She gave up with a shrug.

"Maybe you left it in your locker," he suggested.

"I looked there already. All I can think is that it must have slipped in with the laundry."

Greg nodded and became suddenly self-conscious.

"I'm naked again," he said, pulling the covers up some, "aren't I?"

"Yes," Sara said laughing. "Yes, you are."

"You'd think I'd be used to it."

"Why?" Sara asked playfully. "Do you wake up naked in other people's beds a lot?"

"I'm going to take the fifth on that one," he shot back, laughing at the look on her face that was promising to make him pay.

Warrick wandered around the lab in search of Nick. Grissom had just let him know that he was in the lab, but all of his usual haunts were empty.

Finally, he ran across him, hiding out in the smallest layout room with the blinds shut and the door locked.

"What's going on?" Warrick asked once Nick came to the door to let him in.

"I'm just taking a look at some of Baker's journals," Nick answered, indicating the small stacks of spiral bound books that lay on the table.

"So what's with all the precautions?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Warrick answered in an exaggerated tone, "the closed blinds and the locked door."

"Oh, that," Nick said. "It's nothing. I'm just trying to keep a low profile. I don't think Ecklie wants any of us looking into it at all."

"What makes you think that?"

"The fact that Ecklie told me not to look into it at all."

Warrick laughed as he sat down beside him at the table.

"Find anything yet?"

"Not really," Nick admitted. "But Grissom was right, these are more organized. Some of them almost feel like he was brainstorming or using word association."

"How?" Warrick asked, his interest peeked.

Nick showed him one of the many entries that was comprised of only one short list.

Water
Shallow
Ocean
Green

Warrick read it with a furrowed brow, it didn't make sense.

"None of the victims were found in the water," he finally said. "And even if they were, the nearest ocean is over two hundred miles away. This doesn't make sense."

"That was one of the older entries," Nick continued. "Another list he has includes names, check it out."

D? Deb? Deborah
K? Kay?
Jayne?
Carrie
Michelle

"Wait, wait," Warrick began, "Carrie. Michelle. Those were the last two women murdered. Carrie Davidson and Michelle Wyman. And Jayne could be the Jane Doe, but who spells it that way?"

"And who are the other two women listed?" Nick asked in return.

"Do you think he killed more than just the three?"

"It kind of looks that way," Nick answered, "if you think he really did it."

Warrick fixed him with a serious look. He understood Grissom's rationale, that there was no solid evidence. And to a point, he understood Greg's reluctance. It was probably easier to deal with the whole situation if you could imagine that you were never in any real danger. But he didn't expect this of Nick.

"Think about it," Nick persisted. "If, and I'm only saying if, Ashley Baker was psychic she probably inherited it from her father."

"Oh Nick," Warrick sighed, rubbing his eyes, "you need to take a break."

"Just hear me out," he implored. "Even if she wasn't psychic, maybe just intuitive, it's likely her father was too. That it was a learned behavior."

Warrick continued to shake his head, but didn't interrupt.

"They both kept journals," Nick continued. "And they both ran the same type of scams."

"Okay."

"So, what if they both had visions about these murders."

"Even if they did, why? These murders are twenty years old. I'll give you Henry Baker. He did go to the police claiming to have information…"

"So did Ashley," Nick put in.

"Yeah, she did. But she never came out and said it."

"That's what I'm getting at. Read her journal again. You'll see. She'd been having dreams about the Highwayman murders for at least five months, the same time that Henry took up writing in these journals again. It wasn't until after Ashley met Mrs. Juarez and saw her daughter that her entries change."

Nick paused. Warrick wasn't getting it. Not yet at least.

"I think that seeing Lydia Juarez's picture triggered some repressed memories and she mistook them for legitimate visions. She couldn't get the Highwayman murders out of her head and now suddenly she remembers her father killing this woman and thinks he killed them all."

"You're reaching man."

"No," Nick argued. "I'm not. Go back and read those missing entries, the ones she sent to Greg and her father. They were coherent. It wasn't these vague ramblings she'd written before; it was solid eye-witness testimony."

"Alright," Warrick momentarily conceded, "let's assume that Henry Baker isn't the Highwayman and that he and his daughter both had psychic visions of who the real killer is. Why now? There haven't been any murders that match that MO in over twenty years. What happened five months ago to suddenly bring them on again?"

But Nick only shrugged, having no answer to that. It was the one thing that had kept him searching their journals for so long.