Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFK08Z060WK8R0Q3YFA3DE3

**INT. SMALL TOWN CAFÉ — ALBORN, MN — AFTERNOON** *The afternoon sun filters through gingham curtains, casting warm stripes across a checkered tablecloth. Maria sits alone in a corner booth, her vintage film camera resting beside a half-finished cup of café con leche. She scrolls through her recent shots on the small digital display — rolling farmland, the old water tower, the town's main street lined with bunting for the upcoming apple festival. She pauses on one photo and frowns.* *The bell above the door jingles. DETECTIVE HUNTER MORRIS steps inside, his tall frame filling the doorway for a moment. He scans the room with the practiced sweep of someone used to reading a scene. His eyes land on Maria. He approaches, pulling out the chair across from her without asking.* --- **Hunter:** "You mind? ...I'm Detective Hunter Morris, Alborn PD. Mind if I ask you a few questions?" *Maria looks up, startled. She tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear and offers a cautious smile.* **Maria:** "Perdón... yo no hablo inglés. ¿Me puede repetir más despacio, por favor?" *Hunter blinks. He leans forward slightly, speaking slower and louder, as though volume might bridge the gap.* **Hunter:** "I said — I'm a detective. I just need to ask you a couple questions. About what happened last Thursday night. The disappearance." **Maria:** "¿Desaparecidos? Sí... sí, he oído hablar de eso. Es terrible. Yo estaba cerca del lago tomando fotos al atardecer cuando escuché un grito. Un grito muy fuerte. Pero no vi a nadie. Solo... oscuridad." *She pulls up the photo on her camera and turns the screen toward him — a shot of the lake at dusk, the water mirror-still, the treeline silhouetted. In the upper corner, just barely visible, is a blurred shape near the dock. Hunter squints at it.* **Hunter:** "Hold on — is that... is that a person? What am I looking at here?" **Maria:** "No sé. No lo vi cuando tomé la foto. Solo después, al revisarla. Pensé que era un ciervo, tal vez. Pero ahora..." *She trails off, hugging her arms around herself. Her hands are trembling slightly.* **Hunter:** "Look, I — I have no idea what you just said. But you seem upset. And that photo..." *He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts, stopping on a name: LOCAL TRANSLATOR — SUSAN PIKE. He hesitates, glancing back at Maria.* **Hunter:** "Do you... uh... understand me? Can you write it down, maybe? Words? Paper?" *He mimes writing in the air. Maria's eyes widen with recognition.* **Maria:** "¡Ah! Sí, sí. Papel." *Hunter flags down the waitress and asks for a napkin and a pen. He slides them across the table. Maria begins to write in careful English letters — slowly, looking up at Hunter after each word.* **Maria:** "Thursday. I was at the lake. I took the photo. I heard a scream." *She draws a circle around the blurred shape on the camera screen and holds it up again.* **Hunter:** "The lake. Thursday. You heard a scream and took this photo. Okay. Okay, that's — that's something. That's actually a lot." *He leans back, jaw tightening. This is the second disappearance near Elkwater Lake in three weeks. He studies Maria's face — the dark circles under her eyes, the way she grips the pen too tightly. She's not just shaken. She's scared.* **Hunter:** "I need you to hold onto that photo. Don't delete it. I'm going to need you to come down to the station — we'll get a translator. Can you do that?" *Maria reads his expression more than his words. She nods slowly.* **Maria:** "Está bien. Iré a la estación. Lo que sea necesario." *Hunter starts to respond, but his phone buzzes against the table. The screen lights up: CHIEF CALLING. He picks it up, his expression shifting from focused to grim in the space of a heartbeat.* **Hunter:** "Morris." *A pause. His eyes close briefly.* **Hunter:** "Where? ...When? ...I'm on my way." *He hangs up and stands abruptly, tucking the phone into his jacket. He grabs a business card and presses it into Maria's hand, closing her fingers around it.* **Hunter:** "I have to go. That's my number. Call me. Or — just be at the station. Tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock." *He looks at her one last time, then at the camera, then at the napkin with her careful handwriting. Something unspoken passes across his face — a detective's instinct, a soldier's dread.* **Hunter:** "And Maria? Stay away from that lake." *He turns and pushes through the door, the bell jingling behind him. Maria sits alone again, the business card warm in her palm. She looks down at the napkin — at her own words — and then back at the camera. On the screen, the blurred shape still lingers at the edge of the frame.* *She slowly wraps both hands around the camera and pulls it close to her chest.* --- *FADE OUT.*