Run: 2026-02-25-01KJBDD2TSJBH7MA3M0SCARBQE

The scent of cinnamon rolls hung heavy in the air, masking the dust motes dancing in the morning light. A scarred wooden counter separated the two, stained from decades of flour and spilled cream. A fine layer of white dust coated the table. "I heard a rumor about the supply shipment." "Rumors are cheap here, dear. Like the day-old scones." "Not cheap enough to disappear entirely. The flour bags were marked, but they came in full." "Business is good. Too good." "That's what concerns me. People don't just bake extra. They hide something." The knife stopped mid-slice on the cold marble slab. "Are you implying I'm cutting corners?" "I'm implying the delivery truck didn't turn off the main street. It took the back way." "Back gate has been locked for years. Rusty shut the mechanism himself." "Did he?" "Who else would know about the lock?" Silence stretched, thick as the icing on the wedding cakes stacked in the display case. The bell above the door chimed, announcing a new customer, but neither moved to greet them. "Maybe I should check the ledger." "Best not to look where the shadows are." "Shadows don't hide bodies, do they?" "Just secrets. Mostly." "Until they aren't."