# Scene: The Café on Main Street *The morning light filters through the front windows of Dotty's Café, casting long rectangles of gold across the checkered floor. Marie sits alone at a corner booth, her untouched coffee slowly cooling beside her. She scrolls through the photos on her camera, pausing on each image — the old grain elevator, the frosted apple orchards at dawn, the empty lot behind the hardware store where something caught her eye two days ago. Her thumb lingers on that last photo. She frowns, zooms in, then looks up as a shadow falls across her table.* --- Hunter: "Morning. Mind if I sit down for a second?" Marie: *glances up, startled, pulling her camera slightly closer to her chest* "...Bonjour?" Hunter: "I'm Detective Hunter Brandt, with the St. Louis County Sheriff's Office. I've been talking to folks around town about some things that have been going on lately. You been staying here in Alborn long?" Marie: *stares at him, brow furrowed, clearly struggling to parse his words* "Je... je suis désolée, je ne comprends pas. Je ne parle pas anglais." Hunter: *pauses, tilts his head* "I'm sorry — you don't speak English?" Marie: *recognizes the confused look and shakes her head slowly* "Non... non. Français. Je parle français." *She gestures to herself.* "Marie. France." Hunter: *sits down across from her anyway, rubbing the back of his neck* "France. Okay. Well, that's gonna make this a little harder. I'm — look, I'm Hunter." *He taps his chest.* "Hunter." *Then mimes a badge.* "Police." Marie: *her eyes widen slightly with recognition* "Ah — police. Oui, oui, je comprends. Police." *She nods, then suddenly her expression shifts to something more troubled.* "La femme... la femme qui a disparu? C'est pour ça que vous êtes ici?" Hunter: *squints at her, shaking his head helplessly* "I'm not following you. I'm sorry. I don't know a word of French. Not a single one." Marie: *growing more animated, she turns her camera around and scrolls back to a specific photo — a nighttime shot of the vacant lot behind the hardware store, a blurred figure barely visible at the edge of the frame* "Regardez! Regardez ça! J'ai vu quelque chose... cette nuit-là. Quelqu'un était là, dans le noir. C'était... ce n'était pas normal." Hunter: *leans forward, studying the photo on the small screen* "Wait — is that... where was this taken? That looks like Halderson's lot. When did you take this?" Marie: *sees him pointing at the image and nods vigorously* "Oui! Oui, là-bas! Mardi soir. Il faisait très froid et j'étais en train de photographier les étoiles quand j'ai vu cette personne. Elle traînait quelque chose. Quelque chose de lourd." *She mimes dragging something across the ground, her face pale.* "J'ai eu très peur. Je suis partie tout de suite." Hunter: *watches her pantomime carefully, his jaw tightening* "You saw someone dragging something. Tuesday night." *He holds up two fingers, then mimics her dragging motion and points at the photo.* "Tuesday?" Marie: *holds up two fingers in return* "Mardi — oui. Deux." *She shivers and wraps her hands around her cold coffee.* "J'aurais dû en parler plus tôt mais je ne savais pas à qui m'adresser. Je ne connais personne ici. Et je ne parle pas votre langue. C'est... c'est très frustrant." Hunter: "I wish I could understand you. I really do. Whatever you saw has you shaken up pretty good, I can see that." *He pulls out a small notepad and slides it across the table with a pen.* "Can you draw it? Or write something down — maybe I can get it translated." Marie: *takes the pen and begins to sketch — a rough outline of the lot, an X where the figure stood, an arrow showing the direction they moved. She labels things in French: "personne," "direction," "moi ici." She slides it back, her hand trembling slightly.* "Voilà. C'est tout ce que je sais. Cette personne... elle portait quelque chose de sombre. Un manteau, peut-être. Je n'ai pas vu le visage." Hunter: *studies the sketch, nodding slowly* "This is good. This is real good, actually. You might be the only person who's seen anything." *He taps the camera.* "Can I get a copy of that photo? Photo?" *He mimes taking a picture and then handing something over.* Marie: *understands the gesture and nods* "La photo? Oui, bien sûr." *She fiddles with the camera settings, finding the image.* "Je peux... comment dire..." *She mimes plugging something in, then shrugs and points at the camera helplessly.* Hunter: "We'll figure it out. I'll bring someone who can — " *His phone buzzes loudly on the table. He glances at the screen, and his expression darkens.* Hunter: *answering the phone* "Brandt... Yeah. Where?... How long ago?... Don't let anyone near it. I'm on my way." *He stands abruptly, pocketing the notepad and looking down at Marie.* "I have to go. But I'm coming back, okay? I'll bring someone who speaks French. Don't go anywhere if you can help it." *He points at her, then at the booth, then holds up a flat palm — stay.* Marie: *reads his body language and nods slowly* "D'accord. Je reste ici. Mais, monsieur — soyez prudent. Quelque chose de terrible se passe dans cette ville. Je le sens." Hunter: *pauses at the edge of the table, studying her face — the fear in it, unmistakable in any language* "Yeah. I'm starting to think you're right." *He turns and pushes through the café door into the cold Minnesota morning. The bell above the door jingles once and falls silent. Marie watches him go, then looks back down at her camera, at the blurred figure frozen on the screen. She whispers to herself:* Marie: "Qu'est-ce que j'ai vu cette nuit-là...?" *She turns the camera off and holds it tight against her chest, staring out the window at the quiet, ordinary street — a street that no longer feels ordinary at all.*