"Alright everyone, that's a wrap for the day," the director called from his seat. Around him, people began to pack up, placing cameras for the next day and wrapping up the shot.

"It's about time," Meredith Hughes muttered under her breath as she pushed Andrew Hoffman, the actor she had been kissing away from her. She wiped her mouth and headed straight for her dressing room. It had been another long 12-hour day of shooting her newest movie and the last person she wanted to kiss was Andrew Hoffman.

Stepping into her private room, she slipped out of the dress, pulling her long auburn hair back into a ponytail before slipping on her jeans. She heard a knock on the door and pulled a sweater over her head before calling for the person to enter.

"Hey," Andrew said, "Wanna grab some dinner?"

"Ugh, no thanks," Meredith said, shrugging on her jacket. "Thanks for the offer though." She flashed him a fake smile, then brushed past him on her way out.

"Bitch," Andrew muttered, watching her go. At first, he had been thrilled to act with Meredith Hughes, the Golden Globe and multiple Oscar winning actress that held Hollywood by a string. Her movies always wound up as a blockbuster. But it was clear after the first day of acting that Meredith was everything but what she had always been portrayed as.

Meredith walked away with a smirk. Andrew was so young and naïve that it always made her smile- it was obvious he wanted to get on her good side for future roles. She started to walk towards the gate to her car, but stopped when she heard something drop behind her. "Hello," she called, turning around. Lights that had been left on by electricians cast shadows over props on the set. Her eyes darted around, but when she didn't hear anything else, she continued walking, the sound of her high heels echoing off the walls.

Suddenly, a hand reached out, clapping a chloroform rag to her mouth. She tried to scream and fight, falling unconscious to the ground.

"Meredith Hughes, age 38. Found early this morning when the cleaning crew came on the set. Based on the rigor, she's been dead for six hours, making it sometime around ten o'clock. There's not any bruising or cuts on her body," the CSI officer said, lifting the blanket that had been placed over the dead actresses body.

Special Victims Unit Detective Olivia Benson bent down and looked over the woman with long auburn hair. The woman's skin was pale, her green eyes clouded over.

"Actress, right," Detective Elliott Stabler asked, "I've seen a few of her movies." The cop nodded, motioning for a body bag.

"Has a kit already been done on her," Olivia asked, looking back up at the cop. Her clothes had been ripped from her and left in shreds on the floor next to her.

"CSI already took it with them," the officer said. She nodded and pushed herself up, looking over at her partner.

"Was there anyone else around last night," Elliott asked the producer, who had shown up after the cops had been called.

"Yes, but I'm not sure who," he stammered out, "We ended the scene, then Meredith went to her dressing room. It's a movie set, so there's a lot of people always around."

"Was there anyone that Meredith didn't get along with? Anyone on the set she had fought with recently?"

"Not that I know of," he said. He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Now I have to find a new star. This project's already behind." Elliot looked over to his partner eyebrows raised.

"I want to know what happened!" Elliot and Olivia turned to see a young man trying to get past the cops.

"Let him through," Olivia said, walking up to the group. The man pushed past the cops, then froze when he saw the body on the ground.

"Oh God," he said, his face turning pale. "Meredith." He turned to Elliot and Olivia, who stood nearby. "Do you know who did this?" His eyes were wide with horror.

"We're working to find that out," Elliott said. "Were you here last night?"

"Yeah," he said, "I talked to her before I left for the night."

"Did you notice anything before you left?"

"No," he said, "I talked to Meredith, asked if she wanted to grab dinner, she said no, then she left."

"Okay," Olivia said, "Well, if you remember anything else, give us a call." She gave him a card with their number on it.

"Did you get anything out of the director," Olivia asked as they walked back out to the car.

"No," he said, "I think he's more worried about finding a new person for the movie."

"Gotta love Hollywood," she said, buckling her seatbelt.