Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFFRHXGWGMKR9DTGCK201JG

### Voice Sheet: Alborn Cafe Interaction Isabella: (mumbling to herself as she scrolls through photos on her camera, picking at a half-eaten apple scone from the town’s festival) Hunter: (approaching her table, gruff and no-nonsense, clutching a crumpled missing person flyer) Ma’am? Excuse me, are you Isabella? The Italian exchange student who was shooting photos at the Alborn apple festival orchard day before yesterday? I’m Detective Hunter with the county sheriff’s department. I’m investigating Mia Carter’s disappearance—she was last seen near that same orchard that Saturday. Would you be willing to go through your camera rolls? I’m hoping you captured something that could help us find her. Isabella: (jumping up, voice shaking, knocking over a half-empty latte as she clutches her camera to her chest) Oh Dio, finalmente qualcuno che mi cerca! Ho provato a chiedere aiuto a tre persone in questo bar da ieri, nessuno capiva una sola parola che dicevo! Ho visto quello che è successo a quella ragazza, ho le foto! Guarda, per favore, le ho salvate tutte, non le ho cancellate per niente. Hunter: (blinking, leaning back in confusion, holding up his hands to signal he cannot follow her) Wait, hold on, slow down. I… I don’t speak Italian. I’m sorry, I had no idea. Is there any way you can point to what you’re trying to say? I got a photo of Mia right here—17-year-old in the blue cheerleading jacket on this flyer. Did you see her? Isabella: (grabbing the flyer, nodding frantically, flipping her camera’s LCD screen toward his face, voice cracking with urgency) Eccola! Ecco Mia, l’ho vista mentre camminava verso il parcheggio degli autobus, poi un uomo con una felpa nera l’ha afferrata per il polso e l’ha trascinata verso un furgone bianco! Ho fatto una foto alla targa, è sfocata ma si legge quasi tutta! Ho chiamato la stazione di polizia ma non mi hanno capito al telefono, pensavano che stessi scherzando! Hunter: (leaning in to squint at her camera, still unable to parse her rapid Italian, fumbling for his phone to pull up a translation app) Shit, I’m sorry, I can’t make out a single word you’re saying, just hold on—Google Translate has an Italian mode, we can type back and forth, figure this out. Wait, is that a license plate on your screen? Let me see— Isabella: (waving her hands to try to force him to focus on the photos, growing more panicked) Non puoi vedere quell’uomo? È pericoloso! Cosa succede se trova me, se sa che ho la sua foto? Non posso stare qui da sola, nessuno mi capisce! Hunter: (his work phone blares from his palm, he answers it, jaw tightening as he listens to the caller) Yeah? …When? …I’m five minutes out, I’ll be there. (hangs up, shoving his phone into his jacket, turning to Isabella with a harried, guilty expression) I’m so sorry, that was the station—they just found Mia’s backpack dumped out by the old north logging road, I have to roll right now. Stay here, don’t leave this cafe, I’m gonna grab Maria from the main street bodega, she speaks Italian, I’ll bring her back in 45 minutes, I swear, we’ll go through every photo you have. Isabella: (grabbing his sleeve as he turns to leave, voice desperate) Aspetta! Non puoi lasciarmi adesso! Devi vedere queste foto prima che sia troppo tardi! Hunter: (yanking his arm free gently, already halfway to the cafe door, yelling over his shoulder) I’m sorry, I have to go! I’ll be back, I promise! I won’t leave you hanging!