Chapter 1: The Sound of Breaking Glass
The first blow sounded like a gunshot.
A giant red, heart-shaped handbag slammed against the glass front of a collectible toy vending machine at Brookfield Commons Mall in Wisconsin. A spiderweb of cracks spread across the display, and several shoppers turned toward the arcade entrance.
Before anyone could react, the woman holding the handbag swung it again.
CRASH!
The damaged glass collapsed inward, scattering glittering fragments across the machine’s empty lower compartment.
Standing in front of the wreckage was fifty-five-year-old Patricia Whitmore, a woman whose appearance was almost as impossible to ignore as her temper.
Her turquoise-blue hair rose in an enormous teased cloud above oversized red sunglasses. A purple leopard-print jacket stretched across her broad shoulders, while bright yellow pants and thick gold bracelets completed an outfit that seemed designed to announce her arrival from fifty feet away.
Patricia was a large, imposing woman who occupied nearly the entire narrow walkway between the vending machine and the arcade entrance.
But it wasn’t her size or her clothing that frightened the young woman standing several feet away.
It was the expression on her face.
Patricia’s cheeks had turned a furious shade of red. Her eyes were fixed on a small transparent package held against the young woman’s chest.
“THAT LAST FIGURE BELONGS TO ME!”
Twenty-two-year-old Emily Carter tightened her grip on the collectible.
She had just purchased the final limited-edition Willowbrook Friends figurine from the machine. The little porcelain-style character, dressed in a blue winter coat and carrying a basket of flowers, was part of a popular series that had been discontinued years earlier.
Emily had saved for weeks to buy it.
And now a complete stranger was demanding that she hand it over.
“I paid for it!” Emily answered, her voice shaking with anger. “You don’t own everything!”
Patricia reached into her handbag and pulled out a thick wad of cash.
She shoved the money toward Emily.
“Take it. I’ll give you twice what you paid.”
Emily stepped backward.
“No.”
Patricia blinked as though the word were unfamiliar.
People rarely refused her twice.
For nearly twenty years, Patricia had served as president of the exclusive Briarwood Estates Homeowners Association, a wealthy suburban neighborhood outside Milwaukee. She had developed a reputation for issuing fines, challenging neighbors over their landscaping, and treating every disagreement as a personal attack on her authority.
At Briarwood, many residents had learned that arguing with Patricia could become an exhausting experience.
But Emily Carter had never lived in Briarwood.
She had no idea who Patricia was.
And she certainly wasn’t afraid of losing a collectible she had purchased legally.
Patricia’s mouth tightened.
She turned toward the damaged machine and stabbed at its touchscreen.
The display continued showing two unmistakable words.
SOLD OUT.
Patricia slapped the metal side panel with her open palm.
BANG!
A piercing electronic alarm erupted.
Red warning lights began flashing above the touchscreen.
The sudden noise startled Patricia so badly that she stumbled backward, nearly dropping her handbag.
From the arcade entrance, a uniformed mall employee hurried toward them.
Daniel Brooks, thirty-five, had worked at Brookfield Commons for almost seven years. He had dealt with spilled drinks, shoplifting complaints, and occasional arguments over parking spaces.
He had never seen someone destroy a vending machine over a toy.
His eyes moved from the shattered glass to Patricia’s handbag.
Then to Emily.
Then back to Patricia.
“Ma’am, please step away from the machine.”
Patricia immediately pushed the handbag behind her body.
Her expression changed.
The anger remained, but something else had appeared beneath it.
Fear.
Emily noticed the transformation.
Only seconds earlier, Patricia had been screaming as though the entire mall belonged to her.
Now she looked toward the nearest exit.
Daniel spoke into his radio.
“Security assistance needed at the arcade entrance. Property damage.”
Patricia drew herself upright.
“This young woman caused the whole thing.”
Emily stared at her.
The accusation was so unexpected that she couldn’t immediately answer.
Patricia pointed toward the collectible in Emily’s hands.
“She took something that was supposed to be mine. I was trying to get it back.”
Daniel looked at the broken machine.
Then he looked toward the security camera mounted above the arcade entrance.
A tiny green indicator light glowed beside its lens.
Patricia followed his gaze.
For the first time since entering the mall, she stopped talking.
And Emily realized that the broken glass might be the least important thing the camera had recorded.
