Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8WGZC4KS93TMC48WD7M7EV

The morning rush had thinned to a trickle, leaving the bakery warm and quiet except for the hum of the ovens. Flour dusted the countertop where a tray of cinnamon rolls sat cooling, their glaze still catching the light from the front window. "You heard about the garden shed behind Margaret's place?" "Heard the sheriff's deputies were out there at dawn. Whole street was watching from their porches." "They found something buried. That's all anyone will say." "Margaret hasn't been herself since October. Stopped ordering her usual sourdough loaf. Switched to plain white. That alone should have raised flags." "You can't seriously judge a woman's innocence by her bread choices." "I'm just saying, people change their habits for reasons. And her reasons have been awfully mysterious." A timer chimed from the kitchen. The cinnamon rolls were nudged aside to make room for a fresh rack of scones, their edges golden and crumbling. "Her nephew was in here yesterday asking about Harold Finch. Whether I'd seen him lately." "Harold's been missing three weeks now." "Exactly." The front bell jingled. They both straightened, smiles sliding into place as the next customer stepped through the door.