"As the search for the missing Davy Jones drags into its fourth day, the other members of the Monkees held a press conference today."
"We will not give up on Davy," Micky said. "We know that he's out there somewhere and whoever is doing this will be found."
"We're confident that he will be found, and as soon as he is we'll continue the tour. Until then, it is postponed," Mike added.
"We wouldn't think of doing it without him," Peter continued. "It just wouldn't be right."
"The three members professed their faith in their bandmate's safety and denied any rumors that it was merely a publicity stunt."
Micky shut off the radio with a sigh. "Of course it's not a publicity stunt," he told the announcer. "What kind of a sick person would do that?"
"Someone who wants money," Peter replied from where he sat at the table. "Someone who wanted the fame." "Someone who was sick," Mike added. He sighed, drinking his glass of milk. He glanced at the other three. "I don't know about you two, but I can't sit around and do nothing."
"Neither can I, Mike, but what's there to do?" Peter asked.
"The police haven't found him," Micky pointed out. "What can we do that they haven't?"
Mike frowned in thought. "Well, Pete, you've still got your pain ability," he pointed out. "And Mick, you got your truth thing."
"But Mike, how will those help us find Davy?" Peter asked.
"They won't," Mike replied with a sigh. "But there's gotta be somethin' we can do besides sittin' around here."
Peter frowned. "I could try to find a scent," he pointed out. "Though it might be gone by now," he added.
"How long have we got?" Mike asked.
"Till the moon? Only about four days," Peter replied. "I can handle that."
"Yeah, but Pete, it's different now," Micky pointed out. "We're in the public eye. We don't need people to know you're that way."
"But if there's no other way," Peter pointed out. They both looked at Mike in the hopes he would decide.
Mike frowned. "He's right, Mick," he told him. "There is no other way. He is Davy's only hope."
Micky nodded, sighing. "Then it's the only way."
"What do you want with me?" he shouted into the room. If his captor could hear him, she made no response. "Why am I 'ere?"
Only silence responded. Davy sighed. He glanced at his arm, where the puncture form the hypodermic needle was still sore in his arm. He wondered what it was that she had stabbed into his arm. It didn't seem to have any effect on him right at the moment.
The radio continued to blare some music, and he sighed, not paying a bit of attention. He laid back down again, getting as comfortable as the chains around him would allow him to.
"That's the plan?" Nicole asked. "To search for his scent?"
Peter nodded. "There's nothing else we can think of." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, drinking a glass of soda. "Unless you have a better idea?"
"No," she replied with a sigh. "I don't."
The door to the kitchen opened. "Hey Dad?" Thomas asked, entering the kitchen. Peter sighed and leaned back in his chair further, letting it rock backwards. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Not now Thomas," Nicole interrupted. "Your dad's got a lot on his mind."
"But it's important," Thomas interrupted again.
"Thomas," Nicole began.
"It's okay, hun," Peter told her. "What's the matter, Thomas?"
"Is there anything on Uncle Davy?" he asked.
"No, Thomas," Peter replied. "No word."
"I was just wondering," Thomas continued. "Can I help?"
"Help?" Peter asked. He glanced at Nicole.
"Yeah. I can find him better than you can," Thomas replied.
Peter and Nicole glanced at each other. Why hadn't they thought of this?
"Thomas, why didn't you ask this before?" Nicole asked.
Thomas shrugged. "I dunno," he replied.
Peter and Nicole glanced at each other again. "Of course you can help, Thomas," Peter told him, remembering his original question. "Find him as soon as you can."
