Ally's Revenge (Part 1 complete, Part 2 in progress)

Chapter 2

*Picture: Google Image search, Blake Lively as Allison "Ally" Daniels, or at least as close to her as I could find. In my mind her hair is a darker, more like blood, red and her eyes are like mine, a sage or jade green instead of the hazel color in this pic. But, hey, you get the idea.... *

Chapter 2

Ally

"Ms. Ally, you go to the same bar every Thursday and you don't even drink! What's up with that?" This is the same conversation I have every Thursday afternoon with my 19 year old intern Kristen. She's blonde, thin, and so pretty it makes you want to slap her. At least she not smart, too or I'm sure someone somewhere would have killed her by now just to even things out for the rest of the female species.

"Will you hand me that memory card?" I ask in my nicest, I'm trying not to slap you, voice.

"You're changing the subject," says Kristen.

"No, I'm working. Memory card please," I wiggle my fingers at her, smiling as nicely as I can.

She walks over to the computer and holds it just out of my reach. "I'll give it to you if you come out with me tonight. Tonight we are going to the Mexican restaurant for margaritas. 2 for 1! And the mango is like a taste of heaven!"

"Maybe next week," I reply, thinking; how does a 19-year-old go out for drinks?

"UGH! You say that every week! You are barley over 30 and still single! How do you expect to meet anyone if you don't change it up?" Kristen says in her overly dramatic, annoying, I am 19 years old I know everything tone.

"Like I said, MAYBE next week," and I laugh in spite of myself. I am trying to be serious so she will get the point but it is very hard to be serious around Kristen.

She throws the card to me and says she is taking a break; the fourth break in two hours. Don't get me wrong, I love my intern, but I'd love her more if she didn't talk! Nevertheless, what do you expect from a 19 year old Barbie whose most important thought is if her lip-gloss is still shiny.

As I finish processing the photos I took from the gruesome murder/suicide, I can't help but wonder how this couple met. They were probably very much in love at one point, hanging onto every word, loving every moment they spent with each other. Now they are lying in a downtown morgue while I process crime scene pictures and document their death.

I meet "Barbie" in the hall and tell her to go ahead and go home for the night. She didn't even mention me going out with her again, thankfully she was preoccupied texting whoever kept blowing up her phone. I turn all my equipment off, make sure the mini refrigerators are set at the correct temperature and lock my office. Walking down the long, white hall, I realize I must be the only one still here. All the office doors are closed and there is not a sound other then my Converse squeaking on the tile floor.

I exit the building and look around at the parking lot which was a ghost town, too. I spot my trusty black Acura sitting all by herself in a lot that is usually not full but has at least 15 vehicles. Tonight there is only my car, and a few unmarked Florida Department of Law Enforcement cars used for crime scene investigation when the main units are over worked, and our custodian/maintenance man Opie's old blue truck.

Oh Kayyyy....It's either really late or everybody decided to take the off early and didn't tell me...

As I jump in and crank her up, I think I see someone across the street sitting in one of those creepy looking vans...You know, the ones from the 80's with no windows except for the front and back.

I dismiss the thought to just being paranoid and tired and head to my usual Thursday night spot.

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