A Past Uncovered (Levihan AU)

Prologue

Everybody in the city of Montague knew that despite the city's high crime rate,  Wally's Diner would be the absolute last place to experience a crime of any sort. Unfortunately, that's not what happened...

"Twenty one year old Wally Patron was found dead in his office last night," said the zealous news reporter. "According to crime scene investigators, he was shot in the chest numerous times, resulting in his death."

As the chaos near Wally's diner continued to rage, Dr. Davenport sat in her well lit apartment, all while reading the popular Fifty Shades of Grey and binging on a quart full of Häagen Daz ice cream.

Her peace, however, was destroyed by the single ring of her iPhone 7, the call from none other than her overly irritating boss.

"I swear," she says immediately after picking up the phone. "I thought I asked you for a day off."

"You know that's not possible," says a deep and guttural voice from the other end of the line. Yes, it was Detective Horace De Cruz, her charming and brilliant boss, the one that she payed absolutely no attention to.

"Oh?" Dr. Davenport asks raising an eyebrow. "And why exactly is that so?"

"You're a forensic pathologist and a forensic psychiatrist working for the FBI," he answers with a scoff. "It's you're job to be on call, I thought the chief detective put it in the description."

"He did," the young doctor deadpanned.

"Okay, so then why are you asking?"

"Becau—, uh, you know what?" she says frustratedly. "Forget about it. Now, could you please tell me why you called me at three A.M. in the morning?"

"There's been a murder down at Wally's Diner," he says quickly. "The victim's name was Wally Patron, and he was shot numerous times in the head."

"Wait," she says jolting up from her chair. "Did you just say that the victim was a guy named Wally Patron?"

"Yeah," he says confused. "Why? Did you know him?"

"We were...acquaintances," she answers uncomfortably. "Everyone in the city liked him, so it's kind of a shocker he died."

"I see," he says sympathetically. "Well, I called because you need to come down to the lab and run an autopsy."

"Now?"  she yells in exasperation. "Dude, an autopsy takes two to four hours to conduct. Can't it just wait until tomorrow?"

"In case you haven't noticed Dr. Davenport," he says with large hints of annoyance in his voice. "It is tomorrow. Now, I suggest you haul your ass down to the lab and perform the autopsy before I deduct your salary."

Dr. Davenport huffs in annoyance before throwing her book down on the cheap velveteen sofa in front of her. 

"The things you do for the things you love," she says to herself aloud while stretching out her limbs. "Can't even enjoy my birthday in peace."