The morning sun streamed through the flour-dusted windows of Sweet Dreams Bakery as the scent of fresh cinnamon rolls filled the air. "Did you hear about what happened at the Hendersons' place last night?" "You mean the break-in? Martha told me all about it when she picked up her usual sourdough this morning. Said they didn't take anything valuable, just turned everything upside down." "That's the third house this month. Always the same thing—complete mess, but nothing stolen. Makes no sense." "Unless they were looking for something specific." The cash register drawer slammed shut with more force than necessary. "Something they haven't found yet." "What could all three houses have in common? The Hendersons just moved here from Portland, the Kowalskis have lived here since the fifties, and poor Mrs. Chen is practically a hermit." "Well, they all shop here." A nervous laugh accompanied the observation. "Maybe I should check if anyone's been asking strange questions about my customers." "Or maybe someone thinks one of them has something that belongs to someone else. Something worth tearing houses apart for." The bell above the door chimed as another customer entered, cutting their conversation short.