Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9M06GR7SV4N46Q65CG41E

Maria sat at an outdoor table at the cozy Apple Blossom Cafe in downtown Alborn, the autumn leaves swirling gently around her as she scrolled through the photos on her camera. The small town's quaint charm was captured in her shots—apple orchards, festival banners—but her expression was distant, her fingers pausing on a particular image. The recent disappearance of a local shopkeeper had the town buzzing with whispers, and Maria had unwittingly photographed something odd near the old mill the day before. Hunter strode up, his trench coat flapping in the breeze, spotting her camera as a potential lead. He pulled out a chair without asking and sat down, his no-nonsense gaze fixed on her. Hunter: "Excuse me, miss. I'm Detective Hunter with the Alborn PD. Mind if I ask you a few questions? You were out by the mill yesterday, right? Taking pictures? Did you see anything unusual—a man in a red jacket, maybe? One of our locals went missing around there." Maria looked up, startled, her dark eyes widening with unease. She clutched her camera tighter, her voice trembling as she responded in rapid Spanish, her accent thick and her words laced with distress. Maria: "¡Sí, estuve allí! Vi algo... un hombre discutiendo con alguien en el bosque. Parecía enojado, y luego... desapareció. ¡No sé qué hacer! Tengo miedo, la policía no me entiende." Hunter blinked, leaning forward with a furrowed brow, clearly lost. He rubbed his chin, trying to parse her words, but it was all gibberish to him. He glanced around the cafe, hoping for a translator, but the place was empty save for the barista inside. Hunter: "Uh... slow down. I don't speak... whatever that is. Español? Yeah, Spanish? Look, can you point? Or show me the photo? The guy in the red jacket—did you see him?" Maria shook her head vigorously, frustration mixing with her shaken state. She flipped open her camera and thrust it toward him, zooming in on the blurry shot of two figures near the trees—one in a red jacket, the other obscured. Maria: "¡Mira esto! El hombre de rojo... gritaba, y el otro lo empujó. Luego, nada. ¿Puedes ayudarme? ¡Por favor, detective!" Hunter squinted at the screen, nodding slowly as he pieced it together from her gestures and the photo. He pulled out his notebook, sketching a quick outline of the scene, his marine-honed focus kicking in despite the language barrier. Hunter: "Okay, okay—this is helpful. The push, the argument... you saw a fight? Write it down if you can, or... wait, do you have Google Translate on that phone?" Their awkward exchange continued for several minutes—Maria gesturing wildly, mixing in broken English words like "danger" and "hide," while Hunter repeated questions in simpler English, pointing at the photo and mimicking actions. He was making slow progress, frustration evident but tempered by patience. Suddenly, Hunter's phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID—dispatch—and sighed, standing up abruptly. Hunter: "Hold that thought. I gotta take this. Don't leave town, alright? I'll get someone who speaks Spanish to follow up. Gracias... or whatever that is." He answered the call and hurried off toward his unmarked car parked nearby, leaving Maria alone at the table, her hands still trembling on her camera as she watched him go.