The woman, who calls herself Ally Miller, sat Indian-style on the hotel bed wearing only a white v-neck shirt. Her long hair was tied up in a ponytail and photos lay scattered all around her.
She studied each victim carefully noting each detail of their faces and bodies, creating a chart on a notebook and tying the common features together with lines. The notebook looked like a complex web; round face tied to blonde hair, connected to mouth lines, and so on. The web painted a clear picture in her mind.
She closed her eyes and searched her mind, each profile carefully cataloged and stored. Unfortunately, none matched the one she needed.
We’ll have to go out looking for one.
Shouldn’t be a problem, it is a very common look.
So why don’t we have it?
Never needed it – I guess.
The ringing phone gave her a start as she snapped out of her meditation.
“Hey, Babe,” she said, seeing Cynthia’s face pop up on her screen.
“I didn’t wake you, did I? I know you had a long day.”
“No, I’m still up. It was just a bunch of signing today. All of the details were ironed out over the last few months. Getting that much money at one time makes it very hard to sleep.”
“I can only imagine,” Cynthia said, biting her lip. “Look… ahh… we have a problem.”
“What’s going on?”
“Did you watch Celebrity Tonight?”
“That tabloid show?”
“No,” Ally laughed. “I’m surprised you did.”
“Well… I was… anyway, somebody told them about us.”
“Yeah, they were reporting that you were dating an FBI agent – a female FBI agent,” Cynthia omitted the ‘older’ part.
“Oh, that could be an issue for you, right?”
“Yeah, you didn’t tell them, did you?”
“Oh, hell no. I don’t tell any of those cretins anything. They twist your words if you do; besides, I’m not a celebrity-just the daughter of a businessman.”
“You’re a billionaire, young and hot, and now that they know you’re into women, they will be all over you.”
“They’ll get bored soon enough.”
“They haven’t gotten tired of Paris Hilton.”
“Well, Paris shoves her shit in front of every camera she can. Unless we decide to make a sex tape, or start texting each other naked pictures, we should be fine.”
“Well, lay low awhile. I’m supposed to be meeting with an FBI media consultant in a few days, so try to stay out of the limelight, okay?”
“It does suck that we can’t send each other naked pictures, though,” Cynthia said, coyly.
“Why, Agent Gates, I do believe I’m rubbing off on you,” Ally replied in a deep southern drawl.
“I wish you were rubbing on me. I hate being apart this long.”
“You wanna fool around?”
“You are so bad,” Cynthia laughed. “Listen, in all seriousness, you be careful, okay?”
“I always am.”Alley replied, innocently.
“I just started working up a profile. The guy is… well… he’s grabbing them out of parking garages. I haven’t dug that deeply for other similarities, but he is probably a good -looking guy because there is no sign of a struggle.”
“Okay, I promise I will not get into any handsome man’s car.”