Run: 2026-03-12-01KKHZ5KYB4RZGW8QWH1GZA3PQ

**Scene** Isabella sat at a small outdoor table at the corner café in Alborn’s town square, the late-afternoon sun warming the checkered tablecloth. Her beloved camera rested in her hands as she slowly scrolled through the day’s photos, brows furrowed. The images from the old orchard path still made her stomach twist. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark jacket approached. His stride was purposeful, his expression serious. He stopped beside her table. **Voice Sheet** Isabella: “...” Hunter: “Excuse me, miss. I’m Detective Hunter. I was hoping you might have seen or heard anything about the disappearance that happened two nights ago near the old mill. Anything unusual? Even small details could help.” Isabella: “Mi dispiace… non capisco. Ero lì con la mia macchina fotografica quella sera… ho sentito un rumore strano tra gli alberi, come se qualcuno stesse trascinando qualcosa di pesante. Poi ho visto una figura… ma quando ho guardato di nuovo era sparita. Ho paura… ho tanta paura che stia succedendo di nuovo come in Italia. Non so cosa fare. Sono sola qui e non parlo inglese…” Hunter: “...” Isabella: “...” Hunter: “I… uh… I’m sorry, I don’t understand Italian. Do you speak any English at all?” Isabella: “Solo un pochino… very little. I see… something. Dark. In the trees. But… I am scared. Very scared.” Hunter: “Dark in the trees. Okay. That’s something. Can you show me the pictures you took that night?” Isabella: “Le foto… sì, guarda. Ma ti prego, fai attenzione. Sento che c’è qualcosa di sbagliato in questa città. Qualcosa di malvagio.” Hunter: “...” They continued for several minutes, Hunter pointing at her camera screen while Isabella tried to explain in broken English and rapid Italian. He nodded along even when he clearly had no idea what she was saying, occasionally writing notes in a small black notebook. Suddenly Hunter’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his face tightening. Hunter: “I have to take this. It’s important. Stay safe, miss. I’ll… I’ll find someone who speaks Italian and come back. Don’t go anywhere alone, alright?” Isabella: “Sì… stai attento anche tu, detective.” Hunter gave her one last frustrated but sincere look, then turned and strode quickly away, already answering the call. Isabella watched him go, her fingers tightening around her camera as the café’s apple-scented breeze suddenly felt much colder.