Run: 2026-09-03-01M1K50TCK98F6AR28SE6QRD41

The bakery on Main smelled like butter and cinnamon, warm against the October chill outside. Sun through the front window lit the empty cake stand in the center of the glass case, a perfect circle of crumbs left behind. The back door was still locked, the front door's bell had not yet rung. "You're here before the timer. That's new." "So is an empty pedestal where the apple crumble was supposed to be for the harvest contest." "Gone? I left it cooling by the window last night." "And the window was open a crack this morning. Just enough for cold air. And hands." "There's powdered sugar on the sill. And a trail to the register." "But nothing taken from the till. Only the crumble. Who steals a single contest pie and leaves the cash?" "Someone who wanted to make sure you didn't win on Saturday. Someone who knew you'd use your grandmother's recipe." "Then they left a clue. Look, a button, caught on the sill. Navy blue, brass anchor." "That looks awfully familiar." Outside, Main Street was waking up, but inside the bakery the air had gone cold with something more than October.