Run: 2026-03-03-01KJTXSTNTV42EV5CZE9733D02

### Scene Context Set in Mabel’s Bake Shop, a cozy, apple-scented Alborn cafe days ahead of the annual apple festival. Marie huddles at a back table, her trusty DSLR spread open in front of her as she scrolls through photos she took at the abandoned cider mill the night prior—shots that captured a shadowy figure loading an oversized wooden crate into a dented blue pickup. Detective Hunter, in his standard-issue police windbreaker and leather notebook, spots the camera (a common sight among the festival’s growing visitor pool) and crosses the cafe to approach her. --- ### Dialogue Voice Sheet Hunter: (gruff, steady, leaning against the edge of Marie’s table, badge peeking from his belt loop) Morning. I’m Detective Hunter with the Alborn PD. I’m investigating the missing hiker last seen near the cider mill yesterday. Did you notice anything out of the ordinary there? Marie: (voice tight, hands trembling as she grips her camera, speaking rapid, flustered French) Oh mon dieu, quelqu’un était là—un homme avec un hoodie noir sur la tête, il a traîné une caisse lourde comme un corps! J’ai pris des photos, mais j’ai effacé la plupart par peur, mais il en reste quelques-unes, je peux vous les montrer! Hunter: (blinking, head cocked in total confusion, not catching a single word) Ma’am? I… I don’t understand a word you’re saying. Do you speak any English at all? Marie: (freezing, then letting out a quiet frustrated moan, switching to halting, broken English) I—sorry. I… no good at English. Only French. I saw him. Bad man. Hunter: (frowning, running a hand through his short hair, leaning in closer) Okay. Slow down. What did you see? Where? Marie: (abandoning English, bursting back into rapid French, gesturing wildly to her camera) À la scierie abandonnée! Hier soir, vers minuit! Il a chargé la caisse dans une camionnette bleue, vieille, avec des pneus boueux! Il m’a vue? Peut-être! J’ai peur qu’il me cherche! Hunter: (staring blankly, waving a hand to signal he can’t follow) Whoa, slow down. I don’t speak French, ma’am. Can you just show me the pictures on your camera instead? Marie: (eyes widening, then slumping in relief, fumbling to pull up her un-deleted photos) Oh! Oui! Les photos! I show you! [Several minutes pass as Marie struggles to walk Hunter through the shots, pointing at the pickup’s taillights, the shadowy figure’s muddy boots, and gesturing wildly to describe the scene. Hunter takes messy, quick notes, his brow furrowed the entire time as he pieces together her fragmented French-only explanations.] Hunter: (pausing to check his wristwatch, then his phone) Alright, I’ve got what I can for now. I’ll send a unit to check the cider mill this afternoon. Thank you for your help. Marie: (voice soft, still shaken, leaning back in her chair) De rien. But… please, be careful. He was strong. Hunter: (tucking his notepad away, grabbing his phone) I always am. (His phone rings sharply, and he answers on the first ring, shifting instantly to his no-nonsense detective tone) Hunter here… Alright, got it… On my way. Hunter: (to Marie, clamping the phone to his shoulder) Got a lead. Need to head out. I’ll follow up later if I need more info. Marie: (nodding, waving weakly as he hurries for the door) Bonne chance! Hunter: (over his shoulder, already stepping outside) Thanks.