Here is the scene: Melanie sat at a small café in the center of Alborn, sipping on a cup of coffee and examining the photos on her camera. She was a study abroad student, and the American landscape was a far cry from the rolling hills of the German countryside she was used to. As she scrolled through her shots, a man with a rugged jawline and a sharp gaze approached her table. "Excuse me, miss," he said, his voice firm but polite. "I'm Detective Hunter. I'm investigating some...unusual occurrences in town. I saw you at the apple festival last night, didn't I?" Melanie looked up, startled. "Ja, ich war da," she replied, her brow furrowed in concern. "Ich habe gehört, dass letzte Nacht etwas Schlimmes passiert ist." Hunter's expression faltered, and he looked taken aback. "I'm afraid I don't speak...ah, German," he admitted, his voice a little sheepish. Melanie's eyes widened in surprise, and she tried again, slower and more deliberately. "Ich habe gesehen...eine Frau, sie lief weg. Sie schrie." Hunter's eyes narrowed, and he took out a pad of paper and pen. "Ma'am, can you please tell me what you saw? Even if it's just a description?" Melanie hesitated, then launched into a detailed account of the events, using gestures and simple words, but mostly in German. Hunter listened intently, his face growing increasingly frustrated. Just as Melanie was finishing her account, Hunter's phone rang, shrill in the quiet café. He answered, and his expression turned grave. "I have to go, miss...?" He looked at Melanie expectantly, and she supplied her name. "Herr Detective, bitte, ich kann Ihnen helfen," Melanie protested, but Hunter just nodded and took off, leaving Melanie looking worried and forlorn. "Melanie," he muttered, jotting down her name.