Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAZZAA3A3M6B4Q919R68Z7

Melanie sat at a small outdoor table in the heart of Alborn's quaint main street cafe, the scent of fresh apple cider wafting from nearby vendors preparing for the town's annual festival. She fiddled with the settings on her landscape camera, her brow furrowed as she reviewed a series of photos from the previous evening—images of the foggy lakeside path where whispers of another disappearance had rippled through the town. The cozy murmur of locals chatting nearby did little to ease the knot in her stomach. Hunter strode up, his detective badge glinting under the afternoon sun, his no-nonsense posture cutting through the relaxed atmosphere. He pulled out a chair without asking and sat down, eyeing her camera with mild curiosity before getting straight to the point. 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 lake last night, right? Taking pictures? Did you see anything unusual—a woman in a red coat, maybe? We're following up on a missing person report." Melanie looked up, startled, her blue eyes widening with a mix of fear and confusion. She clutched her camera closer, her voice trembling as she responded in rapid German, her accent thick with distress. She gestured vaguely toward the photos on her display screen, as if willing him to understand. Melanie: "Ich... ich habe etwas gesehen. Es war dunkel, aber da war eine Frau... sie verschwand einfach im Nebel. Jemand war hinter ihr her, ich schwöre es! Bitte, Sie müssen mir glauben!" Hunter blinked, his stern expression shifting to one of clear bewilderment. He leaned forward, rubbing his jaw, trying to parse her words but catching only the urgency in her tone and the word "Frau," which he vaguely recognized from some old war movie. He spoke slowly, hoping clarity would bridge the gap. Hunter: "Uh, sorry... I don't speak... German? Deutsch? Look, if you saw something by the lake, that's important. Can you describe it? Point? Anything?" Melanie shook her head frantically, her hands waving as she tried to mime the scene—pointing to the camera screen, then outward toward the direction of the lake, her voice rising in agitation. She repeated key phrases, tears welling up as the shaken memory resurfaced. Melanie: "Eine Frau in einem roten Mantel! Sie rannte, und dann... ein Schatten. Er hat sie gepackt! Ich habe Fotos, schauen Sie! Polizei, bitte helfen Sie!" Hunter nodded encouragingly, though frustration etched his features. He pulled out his notebook, sketching a rough outline of a woman based on her gestures, occasionally repeating words back to her in a clumsy approximation, like "Red coat? Rot?" They went back and forth like this for several minutes—her pouring out details in a torrent of German, him offering sympathetic grunts and basic English prompts, the communication a frustrating dance of nods, smiles, and failed translations. A few cafe patrons glanced over curiously, but the small-town vibe kept things from escalating. Just as Hunter was about to suggest calling for a translator, his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, his face hardening. Hunter: "Hold on—one second." He answered the call, listening intently. "Yeah, on my way. Keep the scene secure." Hanging up, he stood abruptly, giving Melanie an apologetic nod. "I gotta go—duty calls. But don't leave town, okay? We'll get someone who speaks your language to follow up. Stay safe." Melanie watched him hurry off toward his unmarked car, her troubled expression lingering as she turned back to her camera, the unsolved puzzle of the night before feeling even heavier now.