The aroma of cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee filled the tiny bakery as morning light streamed through lace curtains. A woman in a flour-dusted apron leaned across the counter, lowering her voice. "Did you hear about what they found behind the old Miller house?" "A body, wrapped in a quilt from the church bazaar. Martha's handiwork, if you can believe it." "Martha? She couldn't hurt a fly. She still apologizes to dandelions before pulling them." "I'm just telling you what Deputy Harris told his wife, who told me when she picked up her sourdough this morning." "Well, did they identify who it was?" "That's the strange part. Nobody's missing. Not a single person in Willowbrook has failed to show up anywhere." "Then who—" The bell above the door chimed, and both women straightened immediately. An elderly man shuffled in, his eyes darting between them. "Morning, ladies. I'll take my usual blueberry muffin." "Coming right up, Harold." "Heard you two whispering when I walked up. Whatever you think you know about that business on Miller Lane, I'd keep it to yourselves." The door swung shut behind him, leaving nothing but the scent of fear mixing with fresh-baked bread.