The scent of cinnamon and yeast was thick in the air, a familiar comfort that did little to soothe the frayed nerves of the baker and her sole customer. “I saw him, you know. Down by Miller’s Creek. Early this morning, before the sun was even up. Looked like he was waiting for someone.” “Waiting? Or hiding? You know what they say about him. All that trouble with the Hendersons last year.” “Exactly. And now this. A valuable brooch just vanishes from the museum the same week he slinks back into town? It’s too much of a coincidence.” “Now, hold on. We don’t know for sure it was him. Sheriff Dobbs is a good man, he’ll get to the bottom of it.” “A good man, maybe, but slow. And that brooch has been in the founding family’s collection for over a century. It’s a part of our history.” A heavy sigh. “I just hope we find it before the Founder’s Day picnic. The whole town will be a wreck.”