**Voice Sheet – Isabella & Hunter at the Café in Alborn, MN** *Setting: A quiet corner of Alborn’s only café, "The Crisp Peel," during the afternoon of the annual Apple Festival. Isabella is reviewing photos on her camera, brows furrowed. Hunter enters, badge subtly visible, and approaches her table.* --- **Hunter:** Ma'am, mind if I take a seat? I’m Detective Hunter with the county office. *(Pause. Isabella looks up, startled, then slowly shakes her head no. She closes the camera slightly, protective.)* **Hunter:** I’m looking into some recent incidents—people going missing, strange behavior around town. You’ve been here a few weeks now, right? Staying for the study program? *(Isabella stares, uncomprehending. She opens her mouth, then closes it. Her expression is polite but confused.)* **Hunter:** Have you seen anything unusual? At night? Near the old orchard? *(Isabella tilts her head. She gestures to her ears and shakes her head.)* **Isabella:** *(softly, in Italian)* Mi dispiace… non capisco. Parli inglese? *(Hunter frowns slightly, leans forward.)* **Hunter:** I’m sorry—I don’t speak Italian. Do you understand me? *(Isabella’s eyes widen. She realizes he doesn’t understand her. She tries slowly, gesturing to herself.)* **Isabella:** Io… non parlo inglese. Sono qui per… scuola. Fotografia. *(She shows him her camera. He nods, trying to keep up.)* **Hunter:** Oh. Okay. Photography. Right. *(points to camera)* You take pictures? **Isabella:** *(nods)* Sì. Paesaggi. Montagne, alberi… il villaggio. Ma… l’altra notte… *(her voice drops)* ho visto una luce strana… nel bosco. Dietro il frutteto. E… c’era una persona… senza volto. *(She mimics a figure with no face, hands flat over where eyes should be. Hunter’s expression tightens. He doesn’t understand the words, but her fear is clear.)* **Hunter:** Whoa. Slow down. You saw… a light? In the woods? Behind the orchard? *(He points toward the window, out toward the trees. She nods urgently.)* **Isabella:** Sì! E la macchina… dopo, non funzionava. E adesso… *(she taps her camera screen)* le foto… non ci sono più. Sparite. Tutte. *(She shows him the gallery—empty. Hunter leans in, suspicious now.)* **Hunter:** The photos are gone? You sure? Maybe you saved them elsewhere? *(Isabella shakes her head fiercely, eyes wet. She mutters in Italian.)* **Isabella:** È successo a tutti. Prima del silenzio. Prima che spariscano. *(Hunter catches “silenzio” and “spariscano”—his police instincts flare. He pulls out a small notebook.)* **Hunter:** “Silence”? “Disappeared”? Did someone disappear? Who? *(Isabella recoils slightly, hugging her camera. She speaks fast, tense.)* **Isabella:** Non lo so! Ma la donna al mercato… ieri aveva le foto dei suoi figli. Oggi… più niente. E non risponde al telefono. È come se… evaporata. *(Hunter’s jaw tightens. He’s piecing it together—nonverbal cues, fear, the missing photos, the festival crowd as cover.)* **Hunter:** Okay, okay. Stay here. Don’t go into the woods. Don’t walk alone tonight, understood? *(He places a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort. She nods, still trembling.)* *(Suddenly, his phone rings. He answers sharply.)* **Hunter:** Hunter. … What? The Rossi family’s cabin? Footprints leading into the tree line—no tracks coming out? … Yeah, I’m nearby. On my way. *(He hangs up, stands fast.)* **Hunter:** I’ve got to go. Stay safe. And if you remember anything—anything at all—ask someone to call the sheriff. Or just… wait here. Please. *(Isabella stares at him, then nods slowly. He gives her a firm look—half warning, half promise—then strides out of the café.)* **Isabella:** *(quietly, to herself in Italian)* Dio mio… non voglio sparire anch’io. --- **End Scene**