Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYB9S95VN6DAAYC9C1AB74H

**Marie:** *[Startled, her camera slipping slightly in her hands. She looks up, eyes wide, and speaks quickly in French, shoulders tense, voice trembling.]* Les disparitions... Elles commencent à me faire peur. Y a eu... une fille. Celle qui racontait des histoires d'oiseaux. Elle n'est plus là. **Hunter:** *[Frowning, leaning in. He tries a weak smile.]* Pardon, miss—*sorry*—you speak French? I... I barely know "bonjour" and "merci." What's got you so upset? Did someone hurt you? **Marie:** *[More agitated, she sets her camera down, fingers trawling its strap. She gestures vaguely toward the town square, where a few people laugh outside a bakery.]* Le festival... Demain. Toutes ces personnes... Elles ne verront peut-être plus. Elle avait les mêmes lunettes que moi. *[She presses a finger to her own glasses.]* **Hunter:** *[Head tilting, confused. He holds up a hand.]* I'm really not following. Did you... know one of the missing people? This "fille"? **Marie:** *[Nods, then shakes her head, tears glistening. She points at her camera, flipping it open to a photo of a misty sunrise over the orchard on the edge of town.]* J'ai pris ça hier. Le matin. Quand... Quand elle est sortie. Pour... pour courir. Un homme... Un camion noir. Il l'a regardée. **Hunter:** *[Squints at the photo. A flicker of urgency in his eyes. He leans forward.]* The black truck? We found an abandoned one last night, on the Deer Run road—near the festival start. Empty. No plates. You saw *that*? When? **Marie:** *[Checks the camera's date stamp, shows him.]* Passé hier. 6h du matin. Il était là... sur le pont. Attendait. **Hunter:** *[Jots a note on a scrap of paper.]* "Black truck, Deer Run bridge, 6 AM. Young woman in glasses." Good. That's something. *[His radio crackles suddenly; he curses under his breath, fumbling for it.]* ...Yeah, dispatch. What's the status? *[He listens, jaw tightening.]* "Kid found? Unconscious, but alive? At the edge of the pines— Deer Run tracks? Got it. I'm on my way." **Marie:** *[Watching him, voice tight.]* Il faut l'aider. Il a peur. **Hunter:** *[Cutting her off, already standing. He gestures to her photo.]* Thanks, miss. You just gave me a lead. If you think of *anything else*—even a name, a license plate—call the station. *[He pauses, studying her.]* You sure you don't need a ride? **Marie:** *[Shakes her head, but her eyes are urgent. She leans in, speaking faster, French spilling out.]* Vite! Les auteu... Les hommes... Ils rient. **Hunter:** *[Stops, tilting his head.]* "Quick"? I'm sorry, I—*I don't*— **Marie:** *[Gestures wildly toward the square, where a man in a black hoodie lingers, watching her.]* Il est là! Maintenant! *[Hunter's head snaps up, scanning the crowd. The hooded man spots them, hurries toward the door.]* **Hunter:** *[To Marie, barking.]* Stay here. Lock the door behind me. *[He pulls his badge from his pocket, flashes it.]* And if he comes near you—scream. **Marie:** *[Nods, white-knuckled on her camera, as Hunter bolts outside, boots thudding on the pavement. The hooded man is already halfway down the block, vanishing into the apple orchard.]* *[Silence. Marie stares at her photo, then at the door, chest heaving.]* This voice sheet balances cultural/linguistic barrier tension with the mystery's stakes, grounding their interaction in the cozy thriller vibe. Marie’s distress and Hunter’s urgency drive the scene, while the hooded man and abandoned truck hint at larger secrets.