Who: Harrison Barnes, Frost, & the Barnes family
Where: Barnes' residence, the outskirts of suburban L.A.
When: Tuesday evening
The Barnes Residence, Five Years Ago...The house was secluded, something that he and Heather had wanted when they bought the place a year ago when she'd finally hit it big as Hollywood's leading fashion photographer. Harrison was incredibly proud of his wife and her work. Things were finally coming together; She'd just done a photoshoot and interview for Vanity Fair (or some such magazine) featuring the rise of up and coming working women. Harrison let his wife have the spotlight--he preferred it--while he quietly consulted Hollywood's Star's and Starlet's with psychic advice. His job allowed him to be with his family, something he cherished more than anything. Most nights it would be Harrison who was already home and Heather getting home late, but tonight he had a late meeting with a fresh face in Hollywood. Previously unknown, the decision she'd made based on Harrison's advice, Hollywood wouldn't know what hit them.
Harrison smiled with pride, pulling his car into the winding driveway that climbed up the small foothill the Barnes residence had been built into. Putting the car in park, the man climbed out of the vehicle and paused to take in the landscape; In the distance he could see the glowing lights of Los Angeles and Harrison sighed, a content smile on his face. Turning away from the bright scene to the house, he started toward it until he nearly tripped over several of Gerald's toys. With an amused chuckle, he picked them into his arms with the intention of putting them away.
The house was more like a large ranch-style cabin set in front of a backdrop of woods and trees. He and Heather had agreed before their oldest, Gerald, had been born that they were going to keep their children as grounded as possible if Heather had ever gotten big. The cabin was a perfect basis for that instead of some ostentatious monstrosity.
As soon as his shoe hit the bottom step, Harrison staggered backward in psychic backlash. The toys were dropped as the house mentally screamed at him and once he recovered, Harrison stumbled up the three steps that lead to the porch and pushed through the door. He shouted, "Heather!? Honey!?" Wildly, he looked around the living room, their bedroom, Gerald's room and the nursery. He didn't find his wife or children anywhere.
Pacing in the kitchen, Harrison ran his hand through his hair trying to force himself not to panic. The sound of dogs barking and snarling finally entered his consciousness and the man bolted for the door that lead out back. As he wrenched open the backdoor, he shouted wildly, "Heather!?"
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