Run: 2026-03-12-01KKHYY0RE8Q5YH1RSAWAW1SR6

**Coffee House, Alborn MN – Late Morning** Maria sat at a small window table inside the cozy café, scrolling through the photos on her camera. The autumn light filtering through the glass cast soft patterns across her dark hair as she frowned at the last few shots she’d taken near the old orchard. The bell above the door jingled. Hunter stepped in, scanning the room with the same focused intensity he used at every crime scene. When his gaze landed on the young woman with the camera, he straightened his jacket and walked over. **Voice Sheet** Maria: “…?” Hunter: “Excuse me, miss. I’m Detective Hunter with the Alborn Police Department. I understand you were taking pictures by the river path yesterday afternoon. Did you happen to see anything unusual around three o’clock? Anyone who didn’t belong, or maybe a vehicle you didn’t recognize?” Maria: “¿Qué? Lo siento, no hablo inglés… Estaba caminando por el sendero con mi cámara, solo quería fotos del río y los árboles otoñales. Entonces vi a ese hombre… llevaba algo extraño, como una bolsa grande, y se movía muy rápido hacia el bosque. Me miró un segundo y… me asusté. Corrí de vuelta al pueblo. Todavía me tiemblan las manos. ¿Es por las personas que han desaparecido? Dios mío, ¿cree que vi algo relacionado con eso?” Hunter: “…” Maria: “¿Señor? ¿Me entiende? Parecía… peligroso. No sé cómo explicarlo mejor. ¿Hay alguien aquí que hable español? Por favor, estoy muy nerviosa.” Hunter: “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch any of that. Do you speak any English at all? English?” Maria: “Solo español… Lo siento mucho. Nací en España y todavía estoy aprendiendo. La cámara es lo único que me relaja aquí, pero ahora cada foto me recuerda esa mirada que me lanzó ese hombre.” Hunter: “Right. Okay. This isn’t working. Look, if you saw something, I really need to—” Maria’s phone vibrated on the table. She glanced at it, then back at the clearly frustrated detective, her dark eyes still wide with worry. Hunter: “Never mind. We’ll figure out a translator later. Thank you for your time.” Maria: “¿Va a volver con alguien que pueda entenderme? Por favor… no quiero estar sola si ese hombre regresa.” Hunter’s own phone suddenly rang, the sharp tone cutting through the soft café music. He checked the screen, his jaw tightening. Hunter: “This is Hunter… Yeah. On my way.” He ended the call and gave Maria an apologetic nod. “Duty calls. I’ll find someone who speaks Spanish and come back. Stay safe, miss.” He turned and strode out of the café, the bell jingling sharply behind him. Maria watched him leave, then hugged her camera to her chest, whispering to herself in Spanish, “Espero que me crea… antes de que sea demasiado tarde.”