Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY92KVQVGB72A0KNZB2DP7J

**Scene: *The Alborn Café – Late Afternoon*** *The sun casts long shadows across the cobblestone street outside the quaint café in Alborn, Minnesota. The air smells of cinnamon and caramel from the pastries behind the counter. Isabella sits alone at a corner table, her fingers tracing the edge of her camera case. She hasn’t touched her coffee—it’s gone cold. Her dark eyes are distant, lost in thought.* *Then, the bell above the door chimes. Hunter steps inside, his broad frame filling the doorway. He scans the room, his sharp gaze landing on Isabella. He approaches, pulling out the chair across from her without asking. His expression is unreadable—polished, professional, but with an undercurrent of something sharper.* --- ### **VOICE SHEET** #### **Hunter** *(gruff, direct, used to getting answers)* *"You’re the one who took those photos, right? The ones that went viral—missing person signs all over town?"* *(He doesn’t wait for an answer. His voice is low, authoritative, the kind that expects compliance. He slides into the chair, his jacket brushing the table. His eyes flick to her camera, then back to her face.)* *"I’m Detective Hunter. And I need to know what you saw."* --- #### **Isabella** *(soft, trembling, in rapid Italian)* *"Io… io non so cosa succede qui. Ma ho visto—"* *(She swallows hard, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup.)* *"Ho visto la ragazza. La ragazza con il cappotto rosso. Era lì, vicino al fiume, e poi—"* *(Her voice cracks.)* *"Poi non c’era più."* *(She looks up, her dark eyes wide with fear. She doesn’t understand why he’s not answering her. She tries again, slower, more deliberate.)* *"Non parli italiano? Per favore…"* *(She gestures helplessly at her camera, then at the photos she must have taken.)* *"Qualcuno è sparito. E io—"* *(She trails off, her breath shaky. She’s not just scared—she’s *guilty*. Or at least, she thinks she is.)* --- #### **Hunter** *(frowning, leaning in slightly)* *"Slow down."* *(He exhales, rubbing his jaw.)* *"You’re saying you saw a girl in a red coat by the river. And then she was gone?"* *(He doesn’t speak Italian, but he’s not an idiot. He notices the way she flinches at the word *"fiume"*—river. He notices the way her hands shake when she reaches for her camera again, as if she’s afraid of what’s inside.)* *"You took pictures of her?"* *(He gestures to the camera. She nods, then hesitates, pulling it toward her like a shield.)* --- #### **Isabella** *(whispering, desperate)* *"Sì. Ma non so perché. Non volevo—"* *(She looks around, as if expecting someone to appear behind him.)* *"Ho pensato che fosse solo… un errore. Un gioco. Ma poi ho visto i cartelli. E ho capito—"* *(She stops, her voice breaking. She presses her palms to her temples, like she’s trying to push the memory away.)* *"Qualcuno sta facendo del male a queste persone."* --- #### **Hunter** *(grim, nodding slowly)* *"Yeah. Someone is."* *(He pulls out his phone, flipping through a few screens. A photo of a missing girl—*the* girl, the one with the red coat—stares back at them. Isabella gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.)* *"You recognize her?"* *(She nods, tears welling in her eyes.)* *"You were there when she disappeared?"* *(Isabella doesn’t answer right away. She just stares at the photo, then at him, her expression a mix of terror and something else—*guilt? Relief?* She doesn’t know what to say.)* --- #### **Hunter** *(pulling out his badge, setting it on the table between them)* *"Look, I need you to tell me everything. Even if it doesn’t make sense. Even if you’re scared."* *(His voice is softer now, but no less commanding. He’s used to people clamming up when they’re hiding something. And Isabella? She’s hiding. He can see it.)* *"Did anyone else see this? Anyone at all?"* *(She shakes her head, then hesitates.)* *"No. Solo io. Ma—"* *(She bites her lip.)* *"Ho visto un uomo. Vicino agli alberi. Stava guardando. Come se stesse aspettando qualcosa."* *(A man. Near the trees. Waiting.)* *(Hunter’s eyes narrow. His instincts prickle.)* *"Describe him."* *(Isabella does. In Italian. Hunter listens, translating the words into a mental image—tall, dark hair, a jacket too nice for Alborn in October, a way of moving that didn’t belong here.)* --- #### **Hunter** *(pulling out his phone, typing rapidly)* *"You did the right thing taking those pictures. Even if you didn’t know why."* *(He pockets his phone, standing up. The moment is over—for now.)* *"I’m gonna need those photos. And I need you to come down to the station tomorrow. We’ll get this sorted."* *(Isabella pales. She opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off with a sharp look.)* *"You’re not in any trouble. But you *are* a witness. And right now, you’re the only one who can help me find her."* *(He waits, giving her a chance to argue. She doesn’t. She just nods, her hands still trembling.)* *"Good."* *(He turns toward the door, then pauses.)* *"And Isabella?"* *(She looks up, startled.)* *"Try not to leave town. Okay?"* *(She doesn’t answer. He doesn’t wait for one.)* *The bell chimes as he steps outside. Isabella exhales, her shoulders slumping. She looks down at her camera, then at the cold coffee. She doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into. But she knows one thing for sure:* *She’s not safe here anymore.* --- **END SCENE**