Run: 2026-03-15-01KKS32Q4KBR2DNAW613E5TB08

The cinnamon rolls were still warm, the glaze pooling in perfect golden ribbons across the pan. The bell above the door chimed. "Thought you'd be at the inn by now. Checking on your guest." "Checked already. Door locked from inside, bed untouched. She never came back last night." "Her car's still in your lot?" "Sitting right where she left it Thursday." "Well. That's something, isn't it?" "It's concerning is what it is. Small town, February, no coat. I walked the path to the creek." "And?" "Footprints in the mud by the old stone bridge. One set going. None coming back." The bakery fell quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator case. A flour-dusted hand set a plate on the counter. "Eat. You'll think better on a full stomach." "I'm not hungry." "You're always hungry. That's how I know something's wrong. Take the roll." "Fine. But I'm telling the sheriff after this." "Might want to let him finish his coffee first. He's in the corner booth. Been here since six, pretending to read that paper."