This chappie is a little bit gory, if you blink enough you'll miss it though! Thanks to my 62 readers and my reviewers:

WireWriter

PrincessSkywalkerOrgana

Time Period: 2011

Ages: Frank & Nancy- 23, Joe- 22

Los Angeles, California

Some Really Busy Freeway

Frank

"CALIFORNIA GIRLS WE'RE UNDENIABLE, FINE, FRESH, FERICE, WE GOT IT ON LOCK!"

"Joe, sit down, people are staring at us."

"WEST COAST GIRLS PUT YOUR HANDS UP, OOOHH OOOHH!"

"Joe, seriously, stop."

"SEX ON THE BEACH-"

I reached over and punched the volume button. "What was that for?" Joe cried as he plopped back on to the seat of our rented Jeep.

"You are going to get us pulled over for disturbing the peace. Can't you just sit still for half an hour?" I demanded; it had been a very long day, have you ever spent twelve straight hours in airports and airplanes with someone like my brother? I thought not.

"But I've been sitting still all day, I want to move around," Joe whined.

I rolled my eyes, "Joe, I've been with you all day. I want to move around too. But we can't do that right now, we have a job to do."

"We always have a job to do," Joe muttered. "Are we starting tonight?"

"It's not tonight here; it's only eleven in the morning. And yes, you start at five and I start at two…I think we'll have enough time to go to the hotel and change."

"Does this hotel have a pool?"

"I think so."

The words were barely out of my mouth when Joe let out a noise that was best described as a cross between a Yodel and a Rebel Yell…or a Rebel Yodel as the case might be, "YEAHHOOAOOHH! POOL PAR-TAY! CALIFORNIA GIRLS WE'RE UNDENIABLE, FINE, FRESH, FERICE, WE GOT IT ON LOCK…" He started out again.

I sighed and pushed my dark sunglasses higher up on my nose; this was going to be a very long case.

Two and a half hours later, I sauntered into the cool air conditioned lobby of Starlet Modeling, a studio just a few blocks from Universal Studios. The outside of the building was nothing spectacular, just one office building crammed into a street full of buildings that looked exactly the same. The lobby was ultra modern with a gray couch and a couple stainless steel chairs. I walked up to the desk, straightened my monkey suit, cleared my throat, and said, "Excuse me, could you please tell me where I could find Mr. Harrison?"

The receptionist looked up and shot me a hundred watt smile. She had short blond hair, hazel eyes, and bright white teeth, "I'll have to buzz him and let him know your coming…name please."

"I'm Frank Hardy," I replied with a wink, "And you are…?"

"Abby," She winked back. Pressing a button on the phone she said, "Mr. Harrison, there's a Frank Hardy here to see you…..Okay, I'll send him back." She hung up the phone and turned back to me, "He's in the security room at the end of that hallway, you can't miss it."

"Okay, thanks," I replied with a wave as I headed toward the hallway. The hall itself was painted an industrial blue with dark wooden doors on either side. The final door at the end of the hall proclaimed it was the security room. I knocked and immediately the door swung open to reveal a large man dressed in an expensive black suit much like my own….except mine was a lot cheaper, "Frank, it's nice to meet. Come on in."

I stepped out of hall and into a room that had a complete view of the entire building. Three of the walls were filled with TV screens, phones, blinking lights, and a whole host of things needed to run a secure building. The fourth wall, directly in across from the door was partially blocked by a desk but it was nearly all a window.

"Frank, I assume your father filled you in on why you're here," Harrison said.

I nodded, "He did; several models working at this agency have been murdered."

He sighed and ran a big hand through his thinning gray hair, "Correct. The murders started about two weeks ago and they've already got everyone working here running scared. No one walks around by themselves as well as a dozen or so people have quit. The police haven't found any leads what so ever. I recommended that the owners call you and your brother in to see what two people working the case full time can do. LA is a big city; the police can't afford to have anyone working full time."

I nodded, "I read over the police report that you faxed my father but I still have a few questions…I believe it said that you found the first body," he nodded, his face looking slightly sick. "Can you tell me anything else?"

Harrison took a deep breath, "The woman's name was Natalie Sanders, age twenty-four, she was severally beaten, her face was basically shredded and unidentifiable. They had to use her finger prints," the big man shuttered, "It wasn't pretty."

I nodded again, "What about the other two murders?"

"Jamie O'Fallon, also twenty-four, and Melody Fletcher, twenty-one. Both were killed in a manner similar to Sanders."

On a hunch I asked, "Did the victims look similar?"

It was Harrison's turn to nod, "You guessed it. All three had red hair and blue eyes."

"That kind of sounds like we might have a serial killer on our hands."

Harrison ran his hands through his hair again, "I was afraid you'd think that too. This thing could cause a major panic across the whole city."

"Do the police agree with the serial killer theory?"

Harrison nodded, "I should also warn you that there the owners also hired another detective to work the case from the inside in deep cover."

"Who?" I asked.

Harrison shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine; and they didn't even inform me of the gender of this person."

I nodded, "Oh."

I couldn't help but wonder why they wouldn't tell Harrison. This case was getting stranger by the minute.

Harrison sighed (there was lots of shrugging/sighing going on in here), turning toward the window, he said, "Come here Frank."

I followed him over to the window. A giant room lay beyond the glass, with massive racks of clothing lining the walls and girls everywhere. From our height, the girls weren't nearly as impressive as the sets scattered around the center of the room.

There was a mountain with snow blowing around and someone hanging off of it. To the left there was a kitchen with a girl making out with a guy for a camera. To the right was a fairy tale castle, decked out in pinks and grays. Before the row of dressing rooms on the back wall was a full city block, cars and all. Directly below the security booth was a lap pool with girls in skimpy bikinis lounging around it. To the left of the pool was a black Lamborghini with a chick lounging on the hood. There were even a couple of girls on horses. All that and the only thing I could come up with was, "Wow."

Harrison laughed, "Yeah, that's what most guys say the first time they come up here. Before you start this case, I have two pieces of advice for you."

"Alright."

"One, watch your back. I worked for the FBI for nineteen years; serial killers are slimy and unpredictable, he, or she, could be the most invisible person here or the most obvious one. They won't hesitate to take you out so that they can continue their killing spree."

He was silent for a few minutes and I finally asked, "What was the second piece of advice?"

He turned and looked my straight in the eye, his gray eyes completely emotionless, "Never, ever, fall in love with a model," He rubbed the bare third finger of his left hand and smiled ruefully, "It doesn't work out."

I looked back out the window, watching Harrison's reflection in the glass rather than the scenes below. I couldn't help but wonder why he would share something so personal with someone he had just met. I focused again on his empty eyes, thinking this case was going to be a lot more complicated than I thought.

"Maybe he just liked you," Joe shrugged at my story as he slid a beer down the long bar to a girl wearing very little clothing. Yeah, while I was playing security goon, Joe got to play bartender to the skimpily clad the models (who flirted just as shamelessly as he did) that I was protecting all day long (not that they ever even flicked an abnormally long eyelash in my direction). The cards seemed a little stacked in his favor if you asked me.

It was nearly one a.m. and the bar was still packed, "What time does this place close?"

"Sunrise," Joe replied as he supplied a biker chick with a shot of Jack Daniels, "but I get off now."

I nodded and glanced toward the door just as a redhead pushed outside followed by three people; a tall blonde, a burly guy wobbling and singing, and finally a tall person wearing a long coat even though it was still close to eighty degrees outside.

A mental picture of a redhead laying in a puddle of blood hit me, "Joe, I think I might have just gotten a lead on this case, come on!"

I shoved my way out of the bar and onto the street. To my left, the blonde chick was casually filing her nails while her companion casually puked into a flower pot. To my right, a redhead marched down the street at a very determined gate followed by the person in the black coat.

This was going downhill fast. I walked at a fast casual pace, periodically glancing back for Joe. What is keeping him?

Our little trio turned down a very questionable street that lacked properly working streetlights (three) and cars (one), making me wonder how drunk this girl really was. From the way she walked, I assumed that she wasn't drunk but from her lack of common sense I was beginning to think that I was wrong.

Suddenly the person in the dark coat picked up his speed, quickly closing in on the girl. I too sped up, glancing behind me again for Joe (who was still nowhere in sight). The guy was directly behind the girl and he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Hey, what the-" she was cut off by the person's other hand coming up and blindsiding her.

"Hey, stop!" I yelled as I raced up to the two.

The guy (the build was too big for a woman) spun around yanking the girl with him. She was clawing at his wrist but before she could do any real damage, he flung her at me.

We collided right on, sending us both sprawling to the concrete. I muttered a curse just as the sound of footsteps came up from behind me, "Frank, are you okay?"

"Yeah, come on, let's go!" I shouted as I detangled myself from the girl, "Stay here, we'll be right back!"

She gave a half nod, rubbing her ankle, but I didn't wait around to see if she was okay. "He went this way, Joe!"

I took off down the alley, Joe right behind me. The alley was empty, just two dumpsters and two locked doors (Joe tried them). At the end of the alley was a busy street with cars and cabs and trucks going at high speeds in both directions. Glancing left and right, I could easily see everyone in the bright light. The attacker however, was nowhere in sight.

"I think we lost him," Joe stated.

"If my backup had been closer, we might have caught him," I retorted. "Where were you anyway?"

"I had to clock out and get past the giant mass of people, geeze; I didn't know you were following a suspect. Sorry."

I let out a deep sigh, "It's okay, it happens. Now we need to talk to the girl…" I trailed off as we turned the corner to see an empty street.

"She's gone," Joe said from behind me.

I walked over to where we had hit the ground, "Thank you Captain Obvious."

"You're welcome Lieutenant Sarcasm."

"This is not the time for stupid jokes- hey, look at this," I picked up a wallet from the street gutter next to where we had left the girl.

"Is it the girl's?" Joe asked as I opened the small brown wallet.

" 'Nancy Drew'," I read aloud, "It says here she's from Illinois…do you know if she's working at the modeling agency?"

I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye, "I think so. It looked like the red head that was hanging around with some of the other models."

The wallet had a divider in the center I hadn't noticed before and I gasped aloud as I read the id on the other half, "Joe, it says here the girl is a private investigator."

He took the wallet from me and skimmed the id, "Hey, maybe she's the other investigator the agency hired."

"Being a model that looks like the victims is definitely deep cover," I agreed.

"What are we going to do; if we give this to Harrison we blow her cover."

"And you certainly aren't going to do that," A voice cut in from behind us.

We spun around to come face-to-face with the girl and her companion; a .45 Automatic. "Toss the wallet this way. No tricks because I am so not in the mood."

I watched her face as I tossed the wallet to her feet. Her nose was bleeding and her makeup was smudged, but other than that, the attack hadn't seemed to upset her. She bent down and retrieved the wallet without taking her eyes off us. "Alright, who are you and why were you following me?"

"Can't we discuss this somewhere a little more…private?" Joe asked.

"No."

Okay then, "Your id says you're a PI; who are you working for?"

She turned a little more toward me, taking her eyes off Joe, "First off, as the person with the firearm, I ask the questions. Second, why should I tell someone who was snooping through my stuff who I'm working for? And third, if your friend doesn't go back to where he was standing thirty seconds ago, I'm going to shoot him."

Joe hopped backwards and put on his best chick magnet smile, "Sorry."

"You're going to be if I don't get some answers."

"I'm Frank Hardy and that's my brother Joe. We're private investigators too; we're working for Starlet Modeling just like you."

She looked between us, "Identification," She commanded.

Gingerly, I reached two fingers into my pocket and pulled out my wallet, Joe doing the same. She stepped closer to me, her gun trained on Joe, "Try anything, I shoot your brother."

She grabbed the wallet and skimmed the id. She handed back to me and took Joe's, her gun now looking at me.

Taking a step back, she tossed Joe his id and stuck her gun in the waist band of her jeans, "How do I know you're working for Starlet?"

Joe shrugged, "Our word?"

She looked dismissive, "We need to go and talk to Sandra and Liz."

"Who?" Joe asked.

"The owners of Starlet," She replied. "Turn around and start walking, we can catch a cab on the next street. Try any tricks and I'll shoot you."

"That's getting to be an overused threat," Joe muttered.

I opened my mouth to tell him to shut up when he stiffed up. I glanced to my right to see the .45 pressed into his back, "An overused threat?"

"No ma'am, I was just kidding."

"Shut up and walk," She commanded. We started off and Joe shot me a questioning look; asking me what I thought of Nancy Drew: PI.

I shrugged. The girl was dangerous for sure, but the question of the hour was whether or not she was dangerous to us.

That was long, huh? I'm sorry I didn't update earlier…I've been watching NCIS kind of compulsively…SORRY! Any Tiva supporters out there?

Review me up!

~Striker