Here is the scene: Maria sat at a small, wooden table in the cafe, her eyes fixed on the camera slung over her shoulder. She was lost in thought, her dark hair falling around her face like a curtain. Suddenly, the door swung open and a tall, imposing man strode in. He scanned the room, his eyes lingering on Maria before making his way over to her table. "Excuse me," he said, sitting down across from her. "I'm Detective James Hunter. I've been investigating a series of...mysterious disappearances in this town." Maria looked up, her expression troubled. "¿Qué ha pasado?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. Hunter's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said. "I don't—what did you just say?" Maria repeated the question, this time louder. "¿Qué ha pasado?" she said, her eyes pleading for understanding. Hunter's expression changed from confusion to alarm. "I don't speak Spanish," he said, his voice firm. "But I need to understand what's going on. These disappearances...it's like nothing I've ever seen before." Maria took a deep breath and launched into a passionate speech, her words tumbling out in rapid Spanish. "Sí, han desaparecido..., mujeres jóvenes, sin nada, solo desaparezcan... fiestas, festival, but the festival of masks is different, no?" Hunter's face was a picture of Concentration. "I get that you're upset," he said, his voice slow. "But I need you to tell me what's going on. Who's been...taken?" Maria's voice cracked. " Déjala respondir, no me ungié... Cunningham", she whispered, her eyes wide with fear. Hunter's eyes snapped to a pair of regular-sized daggers of his bracelets.