Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ01QJ26B17C93R9JNFHR7CY

# A Chance Encounter at the Maple Street Café --- *The morning light filtered through the lace curtains of the Maple Street Café, casting soft patterns across Marie's table. She sat alone in the corner booth, her camera resting on the checkered tablecloth, its screen glowing with dozens of photographs she'd taken over the past few days. Her fingers traced the edge of the display, lingering on certain shots — the old mill by the creek, the abandoned orchard at the edge of town, a shadowy figure she hadn't noticed until now.* *The bell above the door jingled. Detective Hunter, his jaw set tight and his coat still damp from the morning fog, stepped inside. His eyes swept the room — a habit he'd never shaken since his years in the service — and landed on the young woman in the corner. He'd seen her around town the past week, always with that camera, always lingering in places that made his gut tighten.* *He crossed the café in measured steps.* --- **Hunter:** "Excuse me. I'm Detective Hunter, Alborn PD. Mind if I sit down?" *Marie looked up, startled. She blinked at him, her eyes wide.* **Marie:** "Pardon ? Je... je ne comprends pas. Qui êtes-vous ?" **Hunter:** "...Right. Okay. Do you speak English?" *Marie shook her head slowly, pressing a hand to her chest.* **Marie:** "Non, non, je suis désolée. Je parle français. Français seulement." **Hunter:** *(sighing, rubbing the back of his neck)* "French. Of course." *He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down heavily. He gestured to himself, then to his badge, which he held up so she could see it.* **Hunter:** "Detective. Police. I just need to ask you a few questions." *Marie's eyes locked onto the badge, and her expression shifted — something flickered behind her gaze. Fear? Recognition? She swallowed hard.* **Marie:** "La police ? Est-ce que c'est à propos de... de ce qui s'est passé ? De ces personnes qui ont disparu ?" *She spoke quickly, her hands trembling slightly as she gestured toward the window, toward the town outside. Her voice cracked on the last few words.* **Hunter:** *(leaning forward, catching the tone if not the words)* "I'm sorry, I don't — I don't understand. But you seem upset. Are you okay?" **Marie:** *(shaking her head, speaking more urgently)* "J'ai vu quelque chose. Là-bas, près du vieux verger. Une silhouette. Je ne sais pas ce que c'était, mais... mais cela m'a fait peur. Et maintenant les gens disparaissent, et je—" *She broke off, pressing her fingertips to her temples. Her breath came in short, uneven bursts.* **Hunter:** *(watching her carefully, pulling out his small notepad)* "I can tell you're shaken. And I think you might know something. But I can't help you if I can't understand you." *He tore a page from his notebook and slid it across the table with a pen.* **Hunter:** "Can you write it down? Anything at all." *Marie stared at the paper, then at Hunter. She picked up the pen with unsteady fingers and began to write — in French, in a hurried, slanting script. She filled half the page before sliding it back to him.* *Hunter looked down at the note. He recognized nothing. Not a single word. He blinked.* **Hunter:** *(quietly, to himself)* "...Fantastic." *He folded the note carefully and tucked it into his coat pocket. He'd find a translator later. For now, he pointed to his ear, then mimed holding a phone.* **Hunter:** "I'll find someone to help. You're not in trouble — I just need to talk to you. Can you come to the station tomorrow? I'll have a translator." *Marie studied his face for a long moment, then nodded slowly.* **Marie:** "D'accord. Demain. Mais s'il vous plaît... soyez prudent. Ce qui se passe dans cette ville... ce n'est pas normal." *She turned her camera toward him and pointed to the screen — the photograph of the shadowy figure near the orchard, half-hidden behind the gnarled apple trees.* *Hunter leaned in, squinting at the image. His expression hardened.* **Hunter:** "Where was this? When did you take this?" *Marie pointed out the window, then held up her fingers — five days.* **Hunter:** "Five days ago. The orchard." *Marie nodded, emphatic. She mouthed the word she'd picked up since arriving.* **Marie:** "...Oui." *Hunter sat back, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to ask another question when—* *Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz.* *His phone vibrated against the table. He glanced at the screen and his face changed — a subtle shift, but Marie caught it. She'd been watching people's faces through a lens for years. She knew what urgency looked like.* **Hunter:** *(answering the call)* "Hunter. ...What? When? ...No, don't touch anything. I'm on my way." *He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. He looked at Marie, conflicted.* **Hunter:** "I have to go. Another one's gone missing." *Marie's hand flew to her mouth.* **Marie:** "Encore un ? Mon Dieu..." **Hunter:** "Tomorrow. The station. Don't go anywhere alone until then — not to the orchard, not anywhere isolated. Do you understand? *Safe. Stay safe.*" *He held up his hand, palm out, hoping the gesture transcended language.* *Marie clutched her camera to her chest and nodded, her eyes glistening.* **Marie:** "Je comprends. Faites attention, détective." *Hunter gave her one last look — the kind of look that said he wasn't done with her, not by a long shot — then turned and pushed through the café door, disappearing into the gray Minnesota morning.* *Marie sat alone in the quiet café, staring at the photograph on her camera screen. The shadow in the orchard stared back.* *She whispered to herself:* **Marie:** "Qui es-tu...?" ---