A/N: 8D Time to write another chapter...to post before I sleep tonight!

RaiN: Indeed it does, lol. I thought I set down a good foundation for friendship. And lol! That's a gift, eye for flirting ;D I'm glad you really love this story, it warms my heart that people read my stuff! Izzy is definitely a lot like Jane, they both have that rough-and-tough "don't fuck with me" approach. Everyone loves Sid in his "creepy place", it's so funny! It makes you wonder how he knows all of this...Frankie is a man, he's bound to notice when women walk by in sexy dresses. I love family moments between Frankie and Jane, they're so funny together! As far as family ships go, I definitely ship Jane and Frankie. I thought Isabella should have her nickname "Blue Eyes" because Don and Danny have blue eyes on CSI:NY, so it would be awkward if they called her that. She's definitely "Shorty" to them! I should definitely bring Don into the story... I actually thought about having Isabella throw her heel at Dale's car, but I decided against it lol. Thanks for yet another heartwarming review!

Got this ghost town, this Motown

With your sound, you in the blink

Gonna bite the dust, can't fight with us

With your sound you kill the Inc.

So don't stop, get it, get it

Gorillaz — Feel Good Inc.

Isabella sank onto her couch at three in the morning, hardly awake enough to have had changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt. Hunger grumbled in her stomach as she rested her arm over her eyes. The sound of arguments caused her to groan as she fought the urge to yell at them to shut up. Chachi growled low in his throat at the door, his lips pulled back over his teeth. The fine, short hair on his back and neck stood up straight. As the yelling continued, the volume of the growling increased. Isabella sat up straight and pulled out her gun and badge from the drawer to go check it out. She clipped the badge to her waistband and a leash onto Chachi, because he kept her from going outside. He padded alongside her and Isabella saw a figure standing in a driveway a few houses down, under a streetlight. Chachi continued to growl and he strained against the leash.

"Is there a problem?" Isabella called. She snapped her fingers, pointing to the ground. The young Rottweiler immediately sat down, his hackles still raised. The figure turned to look at her and a car ripped down the street, slowing as it approached the house. Isabella silently flicked the safety off of her gun, her eyes settling on the car. She had witnessed many drug deals in her lifetime, both as a cop and as a civilian. When gunshots rang out in the air, Chachi lunged forward, barking with all of his might.

"Shit!" Isabella hissed, wishing she had grabbed her cellphone. She ran barefoot towards the fallen victim, trying to get a look at the license plate. Instead, she settled for firing off her weapon. Bullets zinged onto the back of the car, breaking the windshield. Quickly, she aimed for the tires. Anything to get the car to stop. She bent down next to the victim, testing his pulse. Faint pulse.

Isabella emptied her clip before the car turned down the road. It had been a black luxury car, no license plates. Nearly impossible to track without plates. She let out a curse and looked around. She bent down next to the victim, hearing the wail of sirens in the distance. Quickly, she pumped on his chest, trying to get him to resuscitate.

"Someone call an ambulance!" she yelled, trying to open his mouth. When cars screeched up to the driveway, she recognized Officer Ryan.

"Ryan!" she said, her voice mingling with relief.

"Is he alive?" Jennifer Ryan asked, bending down next to the victim. Isabella nodded.

"Barely," she replied. "I've been administering CPR for a minute."

"Did you see who did this?" Jennifer asked, taking over the CPR. Isabella shook her head.

"Just the car," she replied. "Black luxury car, either a Beemer, possibly a Lexus or a Jaguar. I shot it up and shattered the back windshield. There's rear damage."

"That's enough to put out an APB on the car," Jennifer said. An ambulance pulled up and paramedics jumped out. "He's barely alive."

"I heard yelling outside," Isabella said, wiping her forehead with the back of her wrist. Blood soaked her skin. "He must've been on the phone."

The victim was a young man in his twenties with dirty blonde hair. Nodding to her dog, she continued. "Chachi here wouldn't stop growling, so I grabbed my gun and badge and went outside. I saw the vic in the driveway and saw the car whip down the street. When the gunshots went off, I ran for the car and shot at it."

Jennifer nodded and wrote it all down in her memo book. "Well, I couldn't ask for a better eyewitness," she said. She was a pretty woman, with smiling gray eyes and red hair.

"He's dead," the paramedic announced. Isabella bowed her head in sorrow.

"We have a homicide."

Frankie pulled his car up to the house and saw Isabella standing in the driveway with a dog parked at her feet.

"Boy, you just bring your work home with you, don't you?" he joked as he got out. She snorted.

"Yeah, I do," she responded. "But this time, I'm here as a witness."

"What did you do?" he asked, pulling out his memo pad and licking the tip of his pen. She rolled her eyes and held out her hands as a tech swabbed them. Eliminating prints and DNA, apparently.

"I witnessed the shooting," she replied, nodding down to the dead man. "Victim's name is Charles Bentley. He's twenty-three years old and is unemployed."

"Yet, he lives here?" Frankie asked, nodding to the nice house. Isabella shrugged.

"I ain't seen him around here before," she replied. "The people who own this house are hardly ever home. When they are home, they blare music and carouse till the morning light."

He saw goosebumps broken out on her arms and the Rottweiler pressed itself against her legs, eyeing him warily.

"This is Chachi?" he asked, nodding to the dog. She nodded as she was handed a water bottle to clean her hands. After dumping water onto her hands, she wiped them onto her sweatpants. Her badge was clipped to her waistband, hanging to one side.

"Yep, this is Chachi," she confirmed, patting the dog's head. The massive dog rolled his head back, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. "He's my baby."

"Anyways, did an officer take your statement?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yeah, Ryan did," she answered. "Basically, I heard yelling outside and grabbed my gun and badge to go investigate. I see a car whip down the street and slow down in front of the house, where Charles Bentley was gunned down. I ran over and shot the car, there's significant damage to the rear end and no back windshield. I think I tagged a taillight. After the car drove off, I focused my attention on the victim and did CPR until the uniforms showed up."

"What kinda car?" he asked, writing down the rest of her statement.

"Black luxury, foreign model. No plates," she responded.

"Well, so far, a few of your neighbors have a witness account saying Isabella is the shooter and proceeded to complain about her dog," Jane said as she walked up.

"My neighbors hate me," Isabella muttered. "Honestly, Mrs. Hart needs to mind her own damn business. Chachi hasn't tried to eat her little rat yet, but if the little demon keeps barking, I'm gonna drop-kick it into next month."

"A neighbor said he stood out on his porch and saw the entire thing, which corroborates with Isabella's story," Jane replied.

"Which means, because there aren't enough accounts, IAB is gonna launch an investigation," Isabella surmised. "Because, you know, that's exactly what I need in my life."

"If we find the car, then you'll be cleared. But yeah, IA will still do an investigation," Jane told her. Isabella groaned.

"That's the last thing I need," she sighed. "I-A-B on my A-S-S."

"Don't worry, we know you're not the type to shoot up your neighborhood," Frankie assured her. She smiled and patted his shoulder. "Did you just wipe blood on me?"

"A little bit, yeah."