A Dream by Noon.

Chapter 20

Davis was back home just after midnight, smelling the familiar smells of his city home that now felt anything but. Something had changed in him and he wanted it to change back. He made himself a meal of what he could find in his fridge.... Turkey that was on it's last days, cheese, mayo, bread, stared at the beers, but not for long, before grabbing one.

The couch absorbed him as he sat there in silence with his sandwich and drink. He could stand it for only a few minutes before he grabbed the remote control and turned on the tv, flipping through channels until finally stopping on the X-Files.

Davis stared at the backpack on the floor next to him. Wondered why he hadn't called Pasquale when he first found it and wondered why he still hadn't as it sat on the floor next to him, his gaze moving back and forth between the tv and bag. The two boys knew he had it, and his fingerprints were all over it. He would have to turn it in at some point, but he wanted to find out more before he did. The reasons Samantha might have gone to the hospital raced through his brain as he tried to take a break from it to see what Moulder and Scully were up to, and the reasons for the drawing by the other girl, Erika, adding to it. He tried to think simply, logically. Maybe they had an art project, was his first thought and one that he tried to convince himself of. But then what? There was no sign of struggle. The officers had searched that property up and down and found nothing. Did someone take her somewhere else? The name Ryan Murphy popped into his head once more. Helen would've said something if she had seen the girl, wouldn't she have? She didn't even seem to like her nephew that much. Davis grabbed a notepad and jotted down the thoughts before they left, before the alcohol bogged his memory. Check in with Helen's husband Mark. Find out more about Ryan Murphy. Go back to his house. Look up Erika Parish. He put the pen down and stared back at the tv for the next hour, standing up only to replace his drink.

By 1:30 he was in bed, but restless. The noises outside his apartment were suddenly noticeable. He smelled the late-night street food that he hadn't noticed since weeks after moving here, heard every voice, honk, and siren. Finally, he gave in and walked into the bathroom, grabbing a couple of pills, and downed them scooping sink water with his hands, wiped his mouth and laid back down. Minutes later he was in a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next time Davis opened his eyes, daylight poured in through his window. It took a minute to realize the sound was his phone ringing, this time ignoring it. The noise stopped as soon as he sat up, squinting and rubbing his eyes, and then the ringing returned. The cord hung behind his bed, and he reached around and yanked it out, still not quite awake and not wanting to deal with whatever was on the other end.

After he had called out sick, he had two more days off. Thursdays and Fridays were his 'weekend,' his regular schedule working Saturday through Wednesday. He liked it that way. Able to avoid most invitations and obligations with the excuse of working. Somehow, he had gotten sucked into this one though and now he couldn't shake it. This is what boredom will do to a person I guess... First case in and already sucked in, and it's not even my case.

It was nearly 11am by the time he was out of the shower and dressed, the backpack burning a hole in the floor that he felt every time he passed. He would have to turn it in today, but he wanted to find out more before he did. He had started telling himself that maybe solving this case would get him noticed at the Boston PD... maybe get him moved up into some field work. He opened it up again, this time pulling out the school ID badge and staring at the picture for longer than necessary, finally replacing it and with a resolve to figure this out as he walked out the door.

By the time Davis was down the street, he could see news crews at the station. There had been some around town over the past few days, but not like this. There was some type of vigil being held last night or tonight, he couldn't remember and thought that might be the reason. Either way he pulled past the station and thought about his next stop carefully.

His next stop had him pulling down a familiar road 10 minutes later. A sinking feeling in his stomach that he thought he had moved past returned as he got closer and then, as he was within view, his stomach twisted as he saw all the vehicles lining the street. Police cars, emergency vehicles, more news vans. Davis knew what it meant. Knew the case was over. There wouldn't be such a huge response otherwise. Things would be quiet. One cruiser if it were just for questioning. He remembered the phone call this morning and wished he had answered and gotten some sort of heads up before pulling into all of this. A loud honking noise snapped him out of his thoughts, and he realized he had stopped right in the middle of the road. The car sped past on his left before he had a chance to move. He could see some officers at the edge of the yard looking his way from the distance. Davis put his car into reverse and turned, unsure of where to go next.