His familial frustrations were dormant and naturally, they spewed out as violently as an eruption on any Agent who disrupted his operation. Standing in front of a department of unflickering eyes; he felt powerful. He was in control of these souls who gave him their undivided attention. Julie wouldn't even give him the time of day anymore. Perhaps that's why he verbally assaulted Nicole and Antonio when they unsuccessfully snuck into the morning meeting, late.

"Ahh, Agents Scott and Cortez have finally learned to function in our time zone." He remarked as he checked his diamond encrusted Rolex. "Arriving right between Half-past warning and dismissal o'clock. What truly perplexes me is your blatancy; you crawl in here with an unaffected air of calm not even pretending to give a damn about your job."

"Sir, tardiness isn't a sign of not caring." Nicole answered, not succumbing to his personal affront.

"No, Agent; it's a sign of not caring enough. If you could crawl yourselves away from the hotbed of l…"

"I saw him!" Jess blurted out, in an attempt to save her friends from further embarrassment.

"What'd you see?" Nicole, Antonio and Pollock said in unison.

"I…uhh…sorry guys I lost it." Jess replied in her carefree manner. She knew that relations between her Director and partners often rose to boiling point and it was her duty to restore some cool sanity, temporarily at least.

"What do we have?" Nicole asked, shifting the attention and returning the favour.

"A double homicide, Agent." Pollock replied, with hostility. "At precisely 3.03a.m. Two DC officers found the bodies of Mr Dick and Mrs Jane Jones. They had arrived responding to several neighbour complaints about the noise."

"The suburbs, sir?" Nicole interrupted.

"The Scottsdale suburb of Northern DC; beautiful landscaping, perfectly mowed lawns…"

"…and sinister inhabitants with worse intentions?"

"Possibly."

"Well, I don't meant to sound disinterested sir; but they're dead."

"Their daughter's not. Go find her." Pollock instructed.

"Can you believe him? Go find her, that's not a briefing." Nicole complained as she walked through the parking lot with Jess.

Jess interjected, "You would have known if you showed up on time. Erica Rose, 15, model student with a squeaky clean record. The police couldn't find her at the house; nor with their next of kin. No weapon was found although it's certain that they were both killed by bullets to the chest with a 9mm Glock."

"If she heard the shooting; maybe she was scared and ran," Jess suggested.

"Where? She couldn't have run through the front door without tripping over the bodies. Her bedroom's the attic. That's a 30 feet fall."

"Maybe she wasn't there, she must have friends. I say, let's question the neighbours first. When it comes to the 'burbs, something sinister is always lurking in the shadows."

The Scottdale suburb was clean and uniform almost to a point of insanity. Each home was sculptured to perfection and echoed conformity. Each family was well-groomed and polite; normal. A bit too normal. Jess and Nicole split up to investigate.

"Last night you called about a disturbance at 1612, the Jones residence." Jess said to Mrs. Marquez, while sitting in her kitchen.

"Yes, there was noise coming from the house. At first I thought it was just loud music from a family gathering, so I stopped by to ask."

"Do they always throw loud parties?" Jess asked.

"No, they seldom party at all. I thought it was a special occasion. See; the Jones family are easily the best behaved in the neighbourhood. I found it strange so I stopped by."

"What did you see?"

"Nothing. As I got closer, I heard their voices."

"Whose?"

"I guess both of them. I walked away because I thought they were…you know. But the music didn't go down so after an hour and I called the police."

"What can you tell me about the Jones'?"

"Well, they are a model family. All American. Dick worked at the City Bank as a Consultant, played golf with my husband every Thursday, church on Sunday. Jane was a housewife who volunteered at the church. And Erica, she was their pride and joy."

"What about their neighbour relations?"

"They were very hospitable and set trends. Everyone always tried to…"

"Keep up with the Joneses?"

"Exactly. That's why it hurts so much to see such a thing happen to them. They've done nothing wrong."

Nicole was pacing around Erica's pristine bedroom. The lavender and white linen on her bed looked untouched with neither creases nor folds. Nicole shuddered at the insurmountable level of neatness. "This can't be real." She thought. Nicole ran her gloved finger over the desk to find no dust. That was the last straw. Nicole tore away at the room. First throwing the cushions on the floor, then knocking over the chair. She took off her jacket and flipped the mattress, finding a pink diary with hearts on it.

"July 4th 2005; I sang the National Anthem at the Community hall today. I've never been filled with so much American pride. To think all those people died for me to have the freedoms I possess. Thank you Lord for this great land."

"May 12th 2005; Garth passed me a note in class today. We ate lunch together. He has braces. It was so funny to see the peanut, butter and jelly sandwich get stuck between his teeth. As we watched the predation film in Biology, he held my hand."

"February 28th 2005; it's Gracie's birthday today. We went for a pizza after bowling. We met Joey and Marcus from school at the arcade. We played Ice Hockey; we won."

Nicole held back the urge to be sick and called Antonio.

"Scott? What's the latest?"

"I found her diary. Only it's not. It's too perfect."

"Maybe she's just normal and didn't have much to write about." Antonio said flippantly as Nicole went through her closet.

"No teenage girl is that normal. It's a fake. A default diary so that if someone finds it; they'll think that she's well adjusted and there's nothing to worry about. Wait a minute."

Nicole found a loose board under a shoebox. She threw the diary inside which was caught by a rat trap.

"What is it? Antonio asked with impatience.

Nicole pulled up the real diary. It was covered in snippets from old newspapers and the pages were coffee coloured. The handwriting was not straight and uniform like the other.

"I knew it. There's more to this girl than meets the eye. There are numbers, pictures and even passwords. Like the password to her laptop. I'm bringing it in."

"I'm doing the autopsy so bring it to the forensics lab."

"Why?"

"I'm here."

"Then I'll be in the office."

Nicole smiled as she hung up.

Jess returned to the office after hearing 2 hours and 45 minutes of complimentary praise. Nicole handed her a cup of coffee.

"What'd you find?" Jess asked, between sips.

Nicole scrolled through the open files.

"A bogus diary and a bona fide one. Using the passwords I got into her diary; she writes a blog and posts in online under an alias. She stores the necessary information in the diary; hidden under a rat trap but how she feels is online."

"So everything everyone said was a waste of time."

"Not necessarily. We know that Erica is a stellar actress, no doubt inherited from her parents. They're all living a lie."

"Mrs. Marquez said that she heard screaming at around 1.30. Assuming it was sex, she left. The other neighbours could only hear the music. How did she know then?"

"She had her ear pressed to the door." Pollock interrupted with impatience. Sonia Marquez is a gossip and a nosy Parker. You can't sneeze without her noticing. I would have expected you to bleed her dry of information instead of having idle chit-chat about the Jones' awning and brand new lawnmower. I need a vision – and quick."

"Sir you know that it doesn't work like that. I need…"

"…time and feelings, well Agent I don't have either. I need a vision. I need to find her and I need it now. Agent Scott, please tell me that I pay you six figures for something other than your collection of Manolo Blahniks."

"She's a mastermind, sir. She knows that she lives in pretence but does it so well that she has manipulated everyone she's come across. Jess' information is convoluted but correct. If you turn it on its head you see that Jane is a philandering sex addict instead of the dutiful housewife. Dick is a condescending, abusive husband with a power complex. And Erica is a frantic, deeply depressed young lady who's hiding from everything that's true in her life. Whatever that is. They have conspired to make everyone believe that they're the ideal, All-American family."

"I need suspects, Scott. Mastriani, give me a vision in the next 10 minutes."

"Well, all their neighbours envied them. And their colleagues. So technically…"

"…the suspect count is high."

"I think we should ignore those people sir." Jess commented. "This family hides beneath a façade and these people buy into it. I think that…"

Jess felt the intense shot of pain that ran in her head when a vision was coming on. She stepped back to take a breath. She looked down. She was sitting in an Oak Tree overlooking the Jones' house. She saw into a bedroom. The walls and linen were pink with Barbie décor. A little girl was playing in a plastic, child-sized playhouse. She was blonde with blue eyes and was wearing a red dress with blues shoes and white ribbons in her hair. A buzzer went off. The little girl opened her play cooker and pulled out fresh cookies. She inhaled the sweet smell of freshly baked goods and giggled. She looked straight at Jess and held the cookies closer to her chest. "Mine." She said to Jess. "Mine." The little girl walked closer to the window, still holding the cookies. Jess walked towards the window.

"Who are you?" Jess asked as the little girl opened the window.

"Mine." The little girl replied. She held the cookies out to Jess. The cookies were shaped like clouds. Jess burned her hand when she touched the cookie tray. The clouds grew legs and the little girl dropped the tray. She ran from the room but Jess couldn't follow her. The door wouldn't open even when she banged on it. Jess tried to open the play cooker but it disappeared when she touched the handle. The playhouse changed from playful yellow and green plastic to a colourless ice. The edges became sharper and the roundness turned to icicles. The light died down and the room was in darkness expect for a ray of light from the window that shone on the Jess ran her fingers across the edge and cut herself on an icicle. Drops of water and blood fell to the floor. The door swung open and Jess heard a male voice.

"What are you doing on my property?" He asked with authority and irritation. Before Jess could reply, a bullet flew from a gun into her head. Everything went white.

"Good, very good. Pressure does induce visions." Pollock said with pride.

"What's on at the movies?" Nicole asked.

"A little girl, Erica, was dressed in patriotic colours. She was playing house, with a Little Susie Homemaker playhouse and cooker. There were cookies shaped like clouds that turned into sheep. I got burned. The house went icy. She ran away. A man came in and shot me."

"That's one cryptic message I have no interest in deciphering. Partner up and call me when you find the girl." Pollock walked away with total disinterest.

"Okay. That was strange." Jess told Nicole.

"So every time you got closer to house play stuff, you got burned?"

"Just the cookie tray. The cooker and playhouse disappeared."

"The truth hurts, Jess. You got burned. I was thinking about the playhouse when Pollock was talking. If it disappeared; then maybe it wasn't real to begin with. It was an illusion. Like the Jones' family. You were right about the neighbours."

"We need to get closer to the family not the friends."

"Exactly. Speaking of which; let's see the bodies."

"Come off it Nicole. I know that Antonio's there." Jess said, slightly peeved that Nicole was wasting precious time on her boyfriend. Nicole looked at her friend with innocence.

"Look Nic, Pollock is barely tolerating your relationship. There's no point in further pissing him off by being unfocused at work." Nicole was taken aback at Jess' allegation but respected it.

"Fine. When I went through her laptop I found the names of her friends. Their cyber-pseudonyms. Teenage angst personified. There's: S.O.B., Iceman…"

"How about Wasteofmytime?" Pollock asked with blatant sarcasm. "Come on, Agent Scott. Is that the best you've got? You disappoint me. Stop playing house in my office!"

"Sir,"

"Agent. There's a 15-year-old girl who may or may not have witnessed the murders of her parents and may or may not have been kidnapped by some maniac who may or may not have committed double homicide this very morning. I'm tired of these maybes, Agent. I hate endless possibilities and I despise inconsistency. Get it together and find that girl." Pollock left the office slamming the door.

"Nic,"

"No. He's right." Nicole put on her jacket without saying a word.

"Nicole, where are you going?"

"You mean we. I'm back Jess. From what I read; she confides in two of them the most. One is a boyfriend; the other, a girlfriend." Nicole picked up the laptop, walking and talking in a fast pace to the car.

"Antonio can find the identities of los otros amigos. He'll hack into the system and find their server, dial tone, number, area code and address. Apparently it's a game on passwords and binary codes."

"Nic,"

"What? We spend too much time together?"

Jess replied with a conspicuous facial expression. "What have you got?" Jess asked, hoping her friend would come through.

"After ignoring the surface B.S., Erica kept mentioning the house being on fire. A metaphor for their household."

"And a literal meaning; in my vision the house was hot them turned to ice. And then a biblical reference; putting out the fire in your home."

"So we've got dysfunction, nothing strange there."

"The girl,"

"Erica?"

"In my vision, she kept saying 'mine' whenever I got close to the cookies or the playhouse. It could be Erica,"

"Or another woman? The fire could have been desire, jealousy and competition with the little girl representing the other woman."

"The man came in and shot me for trespassing. Protecting his property."

"Trespassing? That fits in with the bible too. We know they go to church, a lot. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. I'm seeing another woman."

"Nic, the Susie Homemaker stuff represents traditionalist female roles."

"Jane. I guess she's not so sweet after all."