Run: 2026-03-03-01KJTYZK189MPRMP68FCN42302

The bell above the door of the Alborn Coffee House chimed, but Marie didn't look up. She sat by the window, her fingers trembling slightly as she scrolled through the digital playback on her Canon. Her brow was furrowed, eyes darting between the tiny screen and the quiet, fog-drenched street outside. Hunter stepped into her peripheral vision. He looked like an anchor dropped into a sea of knit sweaters and pastel mugs—his trench coat was damp from the Minnesota drizzle, and his jaw was set in a hard, disciplined line that told the world he wasn't here for the artisan lattes. He pulled out the chair opposite her without asking. *** **Hunter:** "Excuse me, Miss. Marie, right? I’m Detective Hunter. I’ve been asking around about the festival grounds yesterday evening. I saw you there with your camera. Did you happen to see anything—or anyone—near the north grove around sunset?" **Marie:** *(She jumps slightly, clutching the camera to her chest. Her eyes are wide, glassy with unshed tears. She gestures frantically toward the screen of her camera.)* "Mon Dieu... c’était horrible. Je n'avais jamais vu une telle chose... ces ombres, elles bougeaient sans personne pour les projeter ! J'ai essayé de prendre une photo, mais... regardez, regardez ce que l'appareil a capturé !" **Hunter:** *(He stares at her, his expression a mask of stoic bewilderment. He leans forward, trying to read her face, not her words.)* "I’m sorry, you’re losing me. Look, I don't need a lecture, I just need a timeline. Was there a vehicle? A person running? Just point me in the right direction." **Marie:** *(She pushes the camera toward him, her voice cracking as the distress takes over.)* "Écoutez-moi ! Ce n'est pas une question de voiture ! Il a disparu... il s'est évaporé dans le vent devant mes yeux ! Pourquoi personne d'autre n'a crié ? Pourquoi est-ce que tout le monde continue de manger des tartes aux pommes comme si rien n'était arrivé ?" **Hunter:** *(He rubs the back of his neck, his frustration mounting into a heavy sigh. He taps his fingers rhythmically on the table, trying to ground himself.)* "I don't speak a word of that, Miss. Look, I’m just trying to help these people. If you saw someone go missing, I need facts. Names. Locations. Can you write it down? Drawing? Anything?" **Marie:** *(She shakes her head, pulling her camera back and tucking it into her bag with frantic, jerky motions.)* "Je ne peux pas... Je ne peux pas rester ici. C’est un endroit maudit. Je retourne à la résidence, je dois appeler ma mère. Je ne devrais jamais être venue dans ce village." **Hunter:** *(His cell phone buzzes sharply against the wooden table. He glances down at the caller ID—Dispatch—and stands up immediately, his no-nonsense mask snapping back into place.)* "Duty calls. Look, stay put. Don't leave town, alright? I’m going to find someone who speaks your language, and we’re going to have this conversation again." **Marie:** *(She gathers her scarf and bag, her hands still shaking as she stands up to bolt for the door.)* "Au revoir, monsieur. Je n'ai rien vu. Je n'ai rien vu du tout." **Hunter:** "Yeah. Right. We'll see about that."