Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0997EKKWSWADP9D5Y837AF

Isabella: “Scusi… posso aiutarla?” *(She realizes she’s speaking English by reflex, then swallows and switches to Italian, voice tight with worry.)* “Non… non so. È successo di nuovo.” “Lei è il detective, giusto? Quello di cui parlano in giro.” Hunter: “I’m Hunter. Detective Hunter. I don’t need the whole town’s rumors—just what you saw. There was a missing person, near the apple festival site.” Isabella: “Il festival… sì.” *(Her fingers worry the strap of her camera like it might keep her steady.)* “L’ho visto… o meglio, l’ho fotografato. Prima. Poi… dopo, non l’ho più trovato.” “C’era una persona—un ragazzo. Con una giacca rossa.” Hunter: “A person with a red jacket. And you photographed them?” Isabella: “Sì.” “Ho scattato una foto mentre il sole scendeva. Poi ho sentito delle voci… e ho guardato di nuovo.” “Non era più lì. Come se fosse sparito.” *(She leans forward, troubled.)* “È strano, non trova? Nel Midwest la gente non… scompare così.” Hunter: “In my experience, people don’t disappear on their own. They’re taken. Or they run.” “What time? Where exactly?” Isabella: “Intorno alle sei. Dietro il magazzino, vicino ai carri del festival.” “E… non c’era nessuno.” *(She shakes her head, then forces herself to explain.)* “Quando ho provato a chiedere, tutti facevano finta di niente. Come se non volessero vedere.” Hunter: “Everyone was pretending not to see?” “Look—talk to me in facts. Names. Faces. Anything.” Isabella: “Non conosco i nomi.” *(Her voice drops.)* “Ma ricordo—uno sguardo. Un uomo, forse. Cappello. Non… non era della gente qui.” “E poi ho sentito un’auto… lontana. Troppo presto per essere normale.” Hunter: “What kind of car?” Isabella: “Non so.” *(She closes her eyes for a moment, as if bracing for the images.)* “Suono… un rumore basso. Come diesel.” “E i fari—un lampeggio. Poi silenzio.” Hunter: “Okay.” *(He squints, the no-nonsense expression tightening.)* “You’re Italian. On study abroad. You don’t exactly blend in. So why were you alone back there?” Isabella: “Io… stavo cercando il punto migliore per le foto.” *(She tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.)* “Il paesaggio… volevo… capire come cambia quando la luce diventa arancione.” “Ma adesso non mi sembra più un posto per fare belle immagini.” Hunter: “Yeah.” *(A pause, then he looks around the cafe—too many soft conversations, too many people who might be listening.)* “Let’s just say you had a bad hunch. Still, you need to show me those pictures.” Isabella: “Le… mostro, certo.” *(She pulls out her camera carefully.)* “Ma—” “Lei non capisce… io non volevo mettermi nei guai.” “Mi spaventa che qualcuno abbia visto me.” Hunter: “I’m not here to judge you.” “I’m here to find whoever’s doing this.” Isabella: “Allora… perfavore.” *(She steadies herself, Italian quick but uneven with fear.)* “Se lei scopre qualcosa… non lo dica in giro. Non di fronte alle persone.” “Qui tutti fingono. E io non so come… restare al sicuro.” Hunter: “You think I’d blab?” *(He exhales, frustrated with the language barrier he can’t solve.)* “Easy. I’ll handle it.” “Just—keep your phone on. And don’t go back to that area alone.” Isabella: “Va bene.” “Grazie.” *(She looks at her camera again, as if checking that it’s still real.)* “Perché… sembra che le mie fotografie parlino da sole.” Hunter: “Your pictures will talk whether you want them to or not.” *(Then his radio suddenly crackles.)* “Hold on.” Isabella: “Che—?” Hunter: *(He answers without looking at her.)* “Hunter.” “Repeat.” *(He listens, face hardening.)* “Alright. I’m coming.” Isabella: “Va bene… ma cosa succede?” Hunter: “Call’s for me. Another lead.” *(He turns back, all business again, even though he can’t tell she’s trembling.)* “Stay here. Don’t leave town with nobody knowing.” Isabella: *(She gathers her bag and camera, her voice small.)* “Okay… ma—io non posso parlare con loro.” “E se mi cercano?” Hunter: “They won’t.” *(He starts to step away.)* “Look, if you get scared, you call the station. You’ve got my card.” Isabella: *(Reaching out as if she might stop him, then only nodding, troubled.)* “Grazie, detective.” “Si ricordi… dietro il magazzino.” “Dietro il magazzino.” Hunter: “Copy that.” *(He moves toward the door, then pauses.)* “And Isabella—if you’re still taking photos, keep the camera on low profile. No hero stuff.” Isabella: *(A breathy, anxious laugh.)* “Non sono un’eroina.” “Solo… guardo la luce.” *(She watches him go, shaken, camera held like proof.)*