Here is the scene: Isabella sat at a small café in the heart of Alborn, fiddling with the lens on her camera. She was trying to get the perfect shot for her photography project. Her long, dark hair fell around her face as she concentrated. Hunter, a rugged-looking detective, approached her table. His sharp eyes scanned the scene before focusing on Isabella. "You work here?" he asked. Isabella stopped fiddling with her camera and turned to face him. Her expressive brown eyes searched his face, and she spoke in rapid Italian, "Mi dispiace, ma uno locale è scomparso la notte scorsa. La polizia non sa nulla." Hunter's expression suddenly faltered. "Excuse me?" Isabella tried again, this time slower and more painful for her, but the words were difficult for Hunter. "La polizia è confusa. Il giovane è svanito nel nulla. Nessuno ha visto nulla." Hunter's face darkened, and he looked at Isabella with a mixture of confusion and concern. "I don't understand," he said, struggling to make sense of her words. The scene hung in limbo for a moment before Hunter tried again, "Hey, can you translate that for me? What's going on?" Isabella took a deep breath and tried to simplify her words, but the Italian still flowed too quickly for Hunter. Isabella tried again, more slowly, "Una giovane persona è scomparse la notte scorsa. La polizia è perplesso. Non sapono cosa essere." Hunter winced at the mistake, but then a dark look crept across his face, "Don't think I don't understand what's going on. I've been seeing a pattern here, kids going missing. Same MO, same timing, around the apple festival." Isabella's eyes widened in alarm. "Sì, ho notato anche io. È strano. Il tipico festival dell'eta... è come se stesse nascondendo qualcosa." Hunter's expression hardened. "Text me your number. I need to know if you see or hear anything else." Isabella nodded, her face pale, as Hunter pulled out his phone and asked her to recite her number. And with that, Hunter's phone rang, and he was forced to turn and leave.