**Scene at a Café in Alborn, MN** *Isabella, 30, sits at a cafe table, engrossed in her landscape photography camera. She's lost in her thoughts, her mind wandering to the pictures she's just captured.* HUNTER **(approaching Isabella with determined steps)** (in English) Excuse me, do you speak English? ISABELLA (looks up, startled momentarily, then switches to Italian) Sì, ma solo un pochino. (Yes, but just a little bit.) HUNTER (ditches his no-nonsense demeanor for friendliness, hoping simple words will work) Do you know anything about the disappearance of Cynthia Owens? *Isabella's face contorts into a troubled frown.* ISABELLA (in rapid Italian) L'ho visto l'ultima volta la venerdì sera, qui vicino. Andava da sola... e poi io non l'ho più visto. (I saw her last on Friday evening, near here. She was walking alone... and then I didn't see her again.) *Hunter's expression turns from mild hopefulness to obvious frustration, realizing that he's going to have to find an interpreter.* HUNTER (nods politely) Merci. I need to make a call... (whips out his phone looking frustrated yet determined). ISABELLA (watches him leave, frowning and still shaken by the disappeared woman, continuing to hold her camera close to her chest)