Chapter 1: The Mark on the Glass
The first thing the firefighter saw was a flash of red hair—and then a hiss.
A woman in her early sixties stepped directly into the fire truck’s windshield view and thrust a small spray can toward the glass.
PSSHHHT.
A dense black smear suddenly spread across the exterior windshield.
The firefighter froze behind the wheel.
Outside, the woman lowered the harmless theatrical prop and admired her work as if she had just hung a framed painting.
“You want to block my house?” she shouted. “Then look at your parking job!”
The fire truck was parked at the curb because crews were responding to a controlled house fire farther down the suburban street. Its emergency lights were flashing. The engine idled. Radio chatter crackled inside the cab.
The woman—whom the firefighter would later identify as Marlene—pointed proudly at the black mark.
“There! Now maybe you’ll remember where you left that thing!”
The firefighter opened the driver-side door.
“Ma’am, did you just spray the fire truck?”
Marlene’s expression changed for half a second. Her eyes widened.
Then she folded her arms.
“I didn’t hurt your truck! I just gave you a little reminder.”
The firefighter looked at the windshield, then at her.
“This is an active fire scene. We’re trying to protect people and property.”
Marlene leaned closer.
“If your truck can take over my street without asking me, why can’t I leave you a little note on the window?”
The firefighter had dealt with angry residents before. He knew frustration could make otherwise reasonable people say foolish things.
But this was different.
The truck had not blocked her driveway. It had not been abandoned. It had been positioned there because firefighters were working.
And now there was a camera between them.
He glanced toward the windshield.
The entire exchange had been captured from his position.
Marlene didn’t know that yet.
She turned away with a smug little smile.
Then a radio transmission crackled through the cab.
“Engine One, we need the crew on the north side.”
The firefighter reached for his gear.
Marlene looked back.
“You’re welcome,” she called.
He stared at her.
The black mark was temporary.
Her actions might not be.
And before he could answer, another firefighter called from down the street that they needed him immediately.
He had to choose between confronting Marlene and getting back to the emergency.
He chose the fire.
The camera kept recording.
