Maria: (Her brow furrowed in concentration, eyes glued to the small LCD screen of her camera. She scrolls through a series of familiar Alborn landscapes – the stately old clock tower, the river winding through the town, a particularly vibrant shot of an orchard in bloom.) "Ay, qué pena… No, no fue así." (She shakes her head slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she replays a recent memory.) Hunter: (Approaching her table, his gait purposeful but not aggressive. He taps the edge of her table twice, politely, trying to catch her attention. When she looks up, startled, he presents a small, official-looking badge.) "Ma'am, I'm Detective Hunter. Hope I'm not disturbing you. I'm investigating a series of… unusual events in town, and I heard you might have been near the old mill last Tuesday?" Maria: (Her eyes widen at the sight of the badge, then narrow slightly in confusion as he speaks. She catches "Detective Hunter" and "Alborn" but the rest is a jumble of unfamiliar sounds. She shakes her head slowly, a troubled expression settling on her face.) "Lo siento, señor. No entiendo. ¿Inglés? Yo… no hablo inglés." (She gestures between them with an apologetic hand, her words a soft torrent of Spanish.) "Yo… yo española. No… no comprendo lo que usted dice." Hunter: (His expression shifts from professional to utterly bewildered. He fumbles for his phone, then reconsiders, realizing a translation app might not be appropriate for a direct interaction with a potential witness. He tries again, speaking slowly and clearly, as if volume might aid understanding.) "The… mill. Last… Tuesday. Did you… *see*… anything?" Maria: (Her gaze fixates on "mill" and "Tuesday," both words somehow resonating with her recent distressing experience. Her hands clench slightly, the camera suddenly feeling heavy. Her voice trembles as she speaks, a flicker of fear in her eyes.) "Sí, el molino… El martes. Ay, qué horrible. Yo… yo estaba fotografiando las flores cerca del río. Y… y entonces la vi. No debería haber estado allí, sola. Fue tan… tan extraño. Ella estaba… (She shudders, her voice dropping to a near whisper) …desapareció. ¡Simplemente desapareció!" Hunter: (Listens intently, catching only the increasingly frantic tone and the words "molino" and "martes," which he’d used. The passion in her voice, however, is clear. He tries to rephrase, hoping to hit on a universal keyword.) "Disappeared? Gone? You… saw someone… vanish?" (He mimes a vanishing act with his hands, hoping to convey his meaning.) Maria: (Her eyes dart to his hands, then back to his face. She nods vigorously, relief that he seems to understand a fragment of her terror evident in her expression.) "¡Sí! ¡Desapareció! Era una mujer, joven, creo. Iba vestida de azul. Yo estaba… estaba haciendo fotos y… y de repente… ¡No estaba! ¡No quedó nada! ¡Fue como si… como si se la hubiese tragado la tierra!" (Her hands fly to her mouth, covering a gasp. She looks around the cafe, as if expecting the woman to reappear.) Hunter: (His confusion deepens. "Disappeared" he understood, but the rest was a rapid-fire cascade of Spanish. He struggles to bridge the communication gap, his brow furrowed in concentration.) "Okay… Okay. So… a woman… you saw her… then she was… gone. No one else… around?" (He gestures expansively around the imaginary mill scene.) Maria: (She shakes her head vehemently, clutching her camera to her chest like a shield.) "No, nadie más. Sólo yo. Y… y los árboles. El viento era fuerte. Y el río… El sonido del agua era lo único que oía después. Un silencio… un silencio tan frío. Nunca he visto algo así. ¡Es un misterio terrible!" Hunter: (He sighs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. This was vital information, he could tell, but he was missing so much of it. He pulls out a small notepad, scribbling a few keywords in English, underlining "woman," "gone," "mill," "Tuesday." He looks up, about to ask if she could draw, when his phone rings shrilly. He glances at the caller ID, his expression hardening. He holds up a finger to Maria, indicating he needs to take the call, then steps a few feet away, turning his back slightly.) Hunter: (Into phone, voice low and urgent) "Hunter here. What's up?... *Another* one? ...Where? ...Damn it. I'm on my way. I'll be there in ten." (He hangs up, his jaw set. He turns back to Maria, a look of harried apology on his face. He points to his chest, then gestures vaguely in the direction he needs to go.) "Look, I… I have to go. Something else… came up. But I… I really need to talk to you again. Can you… can you be here tomorrow? Same time?" (He points to his watch and taps the table.) Maria: (She watches him, her eyebrows drawn together in a mix of fear and lingering confusion. She catches "tomorrow" and "same time" and a flicker of understanding about his departure.) "Oh… ¿Mañana? Aquí… ¿a esta hora?" (She points to her own watch, then to the chair she’s sitting in, confirming.) Hunter: (Nods emphatically, a hint of desperation in his eyes.) "Yes! Please. Very important. Don't go anywhere… unsafe." (He gestures vaguely around her, then sweeps his gaze to the street, a grim warning in his tone, though it's lost on Maria. He gives her a brief, reassuring nod, then turns and strides out of the cafe, a man burdened by an urgent, unseen crisis.) Maria: (Watches him go, a shiver running down her spine. She looks back at her camera, then out the window at the bustling street, a deep sense of unease settling over her. She clutches her camera tighter, the terrifying image of the disappearing woman replaying in her mind.) "Dios mío… ¿Qué está pasando aquí?"