Chapter 1: “You’re Not Driving Through My Neighborhood”
“BACK UP! You’re NOT driving through my neighborhood!”
Karen slammed her palm against the hood of her dark SUV and planted herself directly in front of the approaching fire engine.
The truck’s horn blasted between the neat rows of retirement-community homes. Red and blue lights washed across windows, parked cars, and Karen’s bright pink blouse. Yet she barely moved.
The firefighter behind the windshield stared at the SUV blocking the narrow road.
Karen had parked it diagonally across the lane, leaving the fire engine only inches of clearance. She stood beside the driver’s door with her chin raised, as though the entire street belonged to her.
A firefighter in his late thirties climbed down from the cab.
“Ma’am, move the SUV. We have an emergency.”
Karen stepped toward him.
“I said no. You don’t get to tear through here just because you have a truck.”
The firefighter pointed toward the road.
“People could be trapped.”
For the first time, Karen looked past him.
A column of gray smoke was rising beyond the houses.
Her expression changed.
Only for a second.
Her eyebrows lifted. Her jaw loosened. Her eyes followed the smoke upward.
Then she turned back toward the firefighter.
“Then call somebody else.”
The firefighter looked at her as though he could hardly believe what he had heard.
Karen grabbed her SUV door and slammed it shut.
“I want to know who called you,” she said. “This is a private community road.”
The firefighter glanced toward the smoke again.
“That’s where we’re going.”
Karen’s face tightened.
“How do I know you’re even supposed to be here?”
Before he could answer, an elderly resident named Walter Hayes came hurrying around the corner in house slippers and a cardigan.
Walter stopped when he saw the fire engine.
Then he saw the smoke.
“Oh, Lord.”
He pointed toward the row of houses.
“That’s the Miller place.”
The firefighter immediately turned.
Karen followed Walter’s gaze.
The smoke was thicker now.
And then Karen noticed something she hadn’t seen before.
Her SUV wasn’t the only vehicle blocking the emergency route.
A second car sat farther behind it, partially hidden from view.
The firefighter pointed toward it.
“Who owns that car?”
Karen didn’t answer.
She knew exactly who did.
And for the first time that afternoon, she looked less like the person controlling the street and more like someone realizing she had created a much bigger problem.
