The following morning, the streets of Ashwood felt no less oppressive, though the sun hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow that barely reached the corners of the town. Lucas had spent most of the previous day familiarizing himself with the case files and the people around town, but his mind kept drifting back to the town itselfâAshwood, with its dark corners and its unspoken history.
After the quiet morning coffee at the diner and a few unproductive hours at the police station, Lucas found himself walking down the main street, hoping to shake the nagging feeling that clung to him. His footsteps echoed against the cracked sidewalks, and the distant hum of the town's few remaining shops only heightened the sense of isolation.
His eyes drifted toward a small bakery at the corner of the street, a modest shop with a wooden sign that read "The Lark's Delight". The name stood outâlight, airy, a contradiction to the heavy, oppressive feeling in the air. The warm golden light spilling through the window was an invitation. He hadn't yet made any friends in Ashwood, and the bakery's charm was too tempting to ignore.
As he stepped inside, the bell above the door rang, a soft chime that broke the silence. The bakery was small but cozy, filled with the sweet scent of fresh bread and pastries. The walls were adorned with rustic wooden shelves, each filled with jars of homemade jams and neatly stacked bags of flour. The counter was lined with delicate glass cases, showcasing an array of freshly baked goodsâcroissants, cinnamon rolls, and cakes decorated with intricate frosting.
Behind the counter, a woman stood, dusting flour off her hands. Her movements were fluid, practiced, and she looked up as Lucas entered. Her face was serene, but there was something about her eyesâan intensity that was hard to place, like she was seeing more than just him.
"Good morning," she said, her voice smooth, almost melodic. "Welcome to The Lark's Delight. What can I get for you?"
Lucas hesitated for a moment. He wasn't usually one for sweets, but there was something compelling about her presence, something he couldn't quite pinpoint.
"Just a coffee, please," he said, his eyes scanning the shelves as if the pastries might offer him a clue to her character. "Black."
She nodded and moved with grace to prepare his coffee. He took a seat at a nearby table, still observing her, trying to figure out why he felt so... unsettled. It wasn't just the usual feeling of being in an unfamiliar town. No, it was something about herâabout the way she held herself, the way her eyes flickered just slightly as if she knew something he didn't.
She returned with the coffee, placing it gently in front of him. "I've never seen you around here before," she said, her gaze steady. "Are you new in town?"
Lucas nodded, taking a sip of the coffee. It was rich, dark, and strongâunexpectedly good. "Yes. Just arrived yesterday. Detective Lucas Grey."
"Detective." She said the word slowly, as though it held a different weight here. "What brings you to Ashwood?"
Lucas studied her for a moment, unsure of how to answer. "Work. A case. There's been... some trouble in town."
"Trouble," she repeated, the word almost like a whisper, as if it carried a secret. "What kind of trouble?"
"A series of murders," he said, deciding to be direct. "It's been going on for two years now, every six months. No leads, no witnesses."
She nodded but didn't seem surprised. Her expression didn't change, but there was something in her eyesâsomething distant, as though she already knew more than she was letting on.
"That's... unsettling," she said softly, folding her hands in front of her on the counter. "Ashwood's been through a lot these past couple of years. It's not the same town it used to be."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?"
Emma smiled faintly, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I've lived here all my life. I know the way people are. The way things change." She paused, her gaze drifting to the window, where the light seemed to shift just slightly, as if the world itself was holding its breath. "People get used to the dark after a while. They learn to ignore it."
Lucas couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine. There was something in her words, in her tone, that unsettled him. She wasn't just speaking about the murders. She was speaking about something much older, something that felt buried deep in Ashwood's bones.
"And you?" Lucas asked, leaning forward slightly, his voice low. "How have you been dealing with it?"
Emma's eyes met his for a brief moment, and in that fleeting exchange, Lucas saw something shift behind her gazeâa flash of something unreadable. But then, just as quickly, it was gone. She smiled, her face softening again, but there was an edge to her expression that made Lucas feel as though he were standing on the precipice of something he wasn't sure he wanted to see.
"I keep busy," she said simply, almost too casually. "People still need bread, even when the world is falling apart."
There was a silence between them then, one that stretched just long enough for Lucas to begin wondering if perhaps he was reading too much into things. After all, she was just a baker. But the longer he sat there, the more his instincts told him that Emma was no ordinary townsperson. There was something about herâsomething in the way she spoke, in the way she carried herselfâthat made him think she knew more about Ashwood's darkness than she was letting on.
"So, how long have you been running The Lark's Delight?" Lucas asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
"Years," Emma replied, a soft smile touching her lips. "My grandmother started it. I took over when she passed."
Lucas nodded, glancing around the bakery once more. The scent of fresh bread was calming, but it did nothing to alleviate the strange sensation in his chest. He couldn't shake the feeling that Emma was somehow... connected to everything that was wrong in Ashwood. Maybe not directly, but in a way that was just out of reach.
"Tell me something," he said, his voice lowering, "do you ever feel like the town's... hiding something? Like there's more going on than people are willing to admit?"
Emma's smile faltered for a moment, just a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Her eyes flickered toward the back of the bakery, where the shelves of ingredients and the small kitchen were tucked away. Then, as if shaking off the thought, she placed both hands flat on the counter and met his gaze directly.
"People don't talk about things they can't understand," she said. "It's easier to pretend everything is fine. To hide behind the normal. The truth is... sometimes it's better not to ask too many questions."
Lucas leaned back in his chair, studying her carefully. He couldn't tell if she was offering him a warning or simply stating a fact. But there was something in the way she said it, something in the way her eyes met his, that made him uneasy.
"Is that what you're doing?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Pretending everything is fine?"
Emma's gaze remained steady, but the briefest shadow of something dark passed across her features. For just a moment, Lucas thought he saw a flicker of fear. But it was gone so quickly that he wondered if he had imagined it.
"Everyone in this town is pretending," she said quietly. "Including you."
Lucas felt a coldness creep over him at her words, but he wasn't ready to confront it yet. There was still so much he needed to figure out, so many threads to untangle. And Emma... Emma was one of those threads.
He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Thanks for the coffee," he said, his voice curt. "I'll be seeing you around."
"Will you?" she asked, her tone playful, but there was an underlying note of something darkerâsomething knowing in her words.
Lucas hesitated, but only for a second. "I'll be back," he said, and with that, he left the bakery.
As he stepped out onto the street, the weight of her words hung heavy in the air. The town was still silent, but the silence felt different now, as though it was filled with secrets waiting to be uncovered.
And Emma... Emma was a part of them.