Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Emma's Bakery

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the streets of Ashwood as Lucas approached Emma's Bakery, a quaint little establishment tucked away on the corner of Maple Street. The bakery had quickly become a staple of the town, not just for its delicious pastries but also for the quiet comfort it offered, a place where people could gather without the weight of Ashwood's dark history weighing on them.

Lucas had visited several times over the past few days, always under the guise of needing a coffee or a quick bite, but there was something deeper that drew him in—a curiosity, an inexplicable pull towards Emma herself. He hadn't fully placed it yet, but something about her seemed out of sync with the rest of the town. The more he spoke with her, the more he found himself questioning whether there was more to Emma than just the sweet smile and the warm, welcoming atmosphere of her bakery.

The bell above the door chimed softly as Lucas stepped inside. The warm, sugary aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries immediately hit him, and for a moment, it almost felt like a respite from the cold, sharp edge of the case he was working on. The bakery, despite its bright and cozy exterior, was becoming a place of quiet contemplation for Lucas.

Emma was behind the counter, her hands dusted with flour as she carefully arranged a batch of croissants in a glass display. Her movements were graceful, methodical, almost meditative, as though baking was the only thing that brought her peace. When she saw Lucas, she flashed him a smile that seemed genuine, yet there was something in her eyes—something guarded—that made him pause.

"Detective Grey," she greeted, her voice soft but warm, the sound of it somehow grounding. "Back for more of my cinnamon rolls, I assume?"

Lucas smirked, leaning against the counter. "Can't say no to those, Emma. You've got a real gift for baking."

Her smile widened, though there was a fleeting sadness in her eyes that Lucas couldn't ignore. "Thank you. It's the least I can do. Want to try something new today? I've got a fresh batch of lemon scones coming out of the oven."

Lucas thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "Maybe tomorrow. I think I'll stick with the cinnamon rolls today."

"Coming right up," she said, turning to prepare his order.

As he stood there, watching her work, Lucas felt the strange sense of déjà vu he always got whenever he spent time in the bakery. It was as though he had seen this moment before, in a dream or perhaps in a memory he couldn't quite place. He couldn't deny the way she intrigued him, but something was also off. There was an underlying tension around Emma that he couldn't pinpoint.

It was then that he noticed the photo on the wall behind her—a faded black-and-white picture of a woman with silver hair, wearing a faded apron and a kind smile. The woman's eyes reminded him of Emma's, but the picture was much older, the woman's face worn with age. Lucas leaned in closer, curious.

"Who's that?" he asked, his voice gentle but probing.

Emma paused mid-motion, her expression flickering with something—nostalgia, sorrow, something too hard to read. She glanced up at the photo before responding.

"That's my grandmother," she said quietly. "Her name was Evelyn. She raised me after my parents died in a car accident when I was six. She was the one who taught me how to bake, how to make everything from scratch. I guess I owe her everything."

Lucas nodded, absorbing the information. There was a weight in her voice when she spoke about her grandmother, a subtle sadness that clung to her words, and he wondered about the circumstances of her parents' death. He'd heard whispers in town—rumors, really—but it wasn't his place to probe, not yet.

"I'm sorry to hear about your parents," he said carefully, watching her reaction. "That must have been really tough for you."

Emma's smile faltered for a brief second, but she quickly recovered. "It was hard, but my grandmother was always there for me. She gave me stability, even after everything changed. I don't know what I would have done without her." She paused, her gaze distant for a moment before focusing back on him. "She passed away years ago. That's when I decided to take over the bakery. It was her dream, and I wasn't about to let it go."

There it was again—the flicker of sadness in her eyes, the subtle hint of loss that lingered just beneath the surface. It was clear that Emma wasn't just running a bakery—she was holding onto something, some piece of her past that she couldn't quite let go of. The quiet grief was palpable, and Lucas couldn't help but wonder if the bakery had become her anchor, a way to preserve the memories of the woman who had raised her.

"It sounds like you had a close bond with her," Lucas said softly, watching her. "It must have been tough to lose her."

Emma nodded, her voice tinged with melancholy. "Yeah, it was. She was the only family I had left. But I'm getting by. I'm here, doing what she would've wanted me to do."

Lucas let the conversation hang in the air for a moment, sensing that Emma wasn't eager to dive deeper into the topic. He respected that, but there was something about her that still didn't sit right with him. It wasn't just her sorrow—it was the way she held herself, the way she seemed to keep the world at arm's length, hiding something beneath her soft smile.

As Emma turned to pack his order, Lucas couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her story than she was letting on. But for now, he would have to let it go.

"So, how has Ashwood been treating you since you took over the bakery?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation to lighter ground.

She smiled faintly. "It's been... interesting. The town's quiet, but people still come by every day. I think they like having a familiar face to come to, especially after all the bad things that have been happening around here. The killings, the fear, it's been hard on everyone."

Lucas paused, his curiosity piqued. "How do the people of Ashwood seem to cope with it? Do they talk about it much?"

Emma's expression shifted, her eyes narrowing slightly as she finished packing his order. "People talk, sure. They gossip, they speculate, they try to make sense of it all. But they don't really talk about it with outsiders. They don't trust anyone who's not from here. I think they just want to forget, to move on and pretend like everything's fine."

Lucas tilted his head, considering her words. There was something in the way Emma spoke, a subtle undercurrent of tension, as though she understood more about the town's unease than she was letting on. Her guarded demeanor spoke volumes, and Lucas couldn't help but wonder if there was something she knew—something she wasn't sharing.

"I suppose that makes sense," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Small towns can be like that. They hold their secrets close."

Emma looked up at him then, her eyes locking with his. There was something in her gaze—an unspoken understanding—that made Lucas pause. For a moment, it felt as though the weight of her unspoken words hung between them, pulling them together in a quiet moment of shared understanding.

"Some secrets are harder to keep than others," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

The words struck Lucas like a punch to the gut, and he couldn't quite place the feeling that swept over him. Was she speaking in reference to the case? To the town? Or was there something more personal she was alluding to? He couldn't be sure, but one thing was certain—Emma was hiding something, and for the first time since arriving in Ashwood, Lucas was sure that whatever it was, it had something to do with the dark undercurrents running through this quiet town.

"I'll be back tomorrow for those scones," he said finally, his voice steady, though his mind was racing with the implications of her words.

Emma smiled again, but this time, it seemed tinged with something else—a flicker of mystery, a hint of something unspoken that Lucas couldn't quite understand. "I'll have them ready for you."

As Lucas left the bakery, the door closing softly behind him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was getting closer to something, but he wasn't sure what. Emma had shared pieces of her story, but the puzzle wasn't complete. There were too many gaps, too many unanswered questions.

But one thing was clear—Emma was more than just a woman running a bakery. She was part of the fabric of this town, and her story, whatever it was, was intertwined with the darkness that had taken hold of Ashwood. The town had secrets, and Emma's bakery seemed to be a key to unlocking them.

And Lucas was determined to find out what they were.