<div style="text-align: justify;">5 a.m.<br/><br/>As usual, the day in that little bakery had started early. It wasn't unusual for a baker to be up before everyone else was. In that bakery, only two people worked. The owner, Michael Newton, and one Mrs. Jessica Davidson, whom he had hired to help both him and herself. His workload had grown to more than he could handle, and she needed a job. Mrs. Davidson was inexperienced, but she was a hard worker and willing to learn. In no time, she was being a very helpful co-worker, and a good friend for Mr. Newton.<br/><br/>At least, that was all that it seemed like. Mr. Newton was a single young man. Mrs. Davidson was a married young woman. Their relationship was friendly, and many times had Mr. Newton walked Mrs. Davidson home to make sure she got there safely. In these walks home, they were often seen talking, and it seemed like they had a good relationship. Maybe too good.<br/><br/>Or maybe not that good. Maybe, in the small, confined space of the bakery, something had gone wrong. Or maybe it had been your every day robbery. God knew there were enough desperate people in that city who would steal and kill for a couple bucks. It could be anything, for now.<br/><br/>What was clear was how it had ended. It had ended with two bodies on the floor. No, not two bodies. One body and a seriously injured person. Mr. Michael Newton was dead. Mrs. Jessica Davidson had been left for dead. Or so it seemed. Whatever happened, the woman had not died. She had survived, and managed to wake from a lost chunk of time, shaken and injured. Seeing her boss and friend at the floor, Jessica felt a bitter taste in  her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she got on her knees and then up on her feet. It took her a moment to balance herself enough to stumble to the door. She needed help. <br/><br/>The neighbor. The upstairs neighbor. Her mind reminded her that there was a detective upstairs. He could help her. He needed to. it took her a longer than normal time to get up to the door. She was dizzy, injured and scared. There was a bad wound on her forehead, and a bump on the back of her head. Something else was wrong, she could feel a burning sensation on her side, but didn't look down. After a few frantic knocks on the door, the woman sat on the floor, waiting and trying to stay awake.</div>