Of course. Here is the voice sheet for the scene. *** **Scene:** The Daily Grind Cafe - Afternoon **Setting:** A quiet corner table. A half-empty cup of coffee sits next to Maria’s camera. She is slowly clicking through photos on the small display, her brow furrowed with worry. *** **Maria:** (Muttering to herself in Spanish, looking at a slightly blurry photo on her camera) No puede ser... ¿Qué es eso? No tiene sentido... **Hunter:** (Approaching the table, his tone is firm but not aggressive) Maria? Maria Vargas? **Maria:** (Looks up, startled by the man’s sudden appearance and his sharp English tone) ¿Disculpe? Yo... no entiendo. **Hunter:** (Pulls out his badge briefly, then puts it away. He speaks slowly, as if that will help.) I’m Detective Hunter. Alborn P.D. I need to ask you about yesterday. At the orchard. **Maria:** (Her eyes widen in fear at the word "orchard." She clutches her camera tighter.) ¡El huerto! ¡Ay, Dios mío, el huerto! ¿El señor Peterson? ¿Lo encontraron? ¡Vi algo terrible! **Hunter:** (Holds up a hand, looking completely lost. A sigh of frustration.) Whoa, okay. Slow down, ma'am. I don't... I have no idea what you just said. English? ¿Hablas inglés? **Maria:** (Shakes her head, her expression pained. She points to herself.) No inglés. Español. Lo siento. **Hunter:** (Rubs the back of his neck, trying to rephrase.) Okay. Yesterday. The man. Peterson. He’s gone. You… were there. Did you see… anything? **Maria:** (She understands the gestures and the name. She starts speaking quickly, her voice trembling, pointing frantically at her camera.) ¡Sí, sí! ¡Yo vi! Estaba tomando fotos de los árboles, la luz era perfecta. Y él estaba allí, saludándome. Entonces... una sombra. No sé, algo se movió muy rápido entre los árboles. Muy oscuro. **Hunter:** (Leans forward, his detective instincts kicking in despite the language barrier. He points at the camera.) Photos. You have photos? Can I see the... uh... *fotos*? **Maria:** (Nods eagerly, relieved to have a way to communicate. She turns the camera towards him and starts clicking back through the images.) Sí, mire. Aquí está el paisaje… los manzanos… precioso, ¿verdad? Y aquí… aquí está el Señor Peterson. **Hunter:** (Watches the screen intently. He sees a crisp photo of an old man in overalls, waving from between two apple trees. He grunts in acknowledgement.) Yeah, that’s him. Keep going. **Maria:** (Her hand trembles as she clicks to the next photo. It’s slightly blurry, taken a moment after the first. The focus is on the trees, but at the edge of the frame, there’s an indistinct, dark shape that wasn't there before.) Y aquí… ¡eso! ¿Ve? No sé qué es. No era una persona. Era… demasiado rápido. Un borrón. **Hunter:** (He squints at the tiny screen, his voice low and serious.) What the hell is that? Is that… a car? Someone in a coat? **Maria:** (She clicks to the very next photo. The frame is identical, the lighting the same. But the space where Mr. Peterson was standing is now empty. She looks at Hunter, her eyes filled with terror.) Y después… nada. Se había ido. ¡Puf! Desaparecido. Me asusté mucho. Corrí. **Hunter:** (Stares at the empty space in the photo, then back at Maria. He sees the genuine fear on her face. He’s silent for a long moment, processing.) He was just… gone. **(His phone buzzes loudly on his belt. With a sigh, he pulls it out and answers.)** **Hunter:** Hunter… Yeah… Are you sure? Damn it. Where?… No, don't touch anything. I'm ten minutes out. **(He hangs up, his expression hardening.)** **Hunter:** (Looks at Maria, his frustration returning. He points a finger at her, then the table.) I have to go. You. Stay. Here. Do not leave. I’ll be back. With a translator. Entiendes? Someone who speaks… Spanish. **Maria:** (She understands his tone and gestures. She gives a small, frightened nod.) Sí… traductor. Está bien. Espero.