Run: 2026-05-01-01KQHT1223KEH8ANTDVJMFSYCX

**Scene** The afternoon sun filtered through the lace curtains of the cozy Little Apple Café in Alborn, Minnesota. Marie sat alone at a small table near the window, her half-empty café au lait growing cold beside her. She cradled her camera in both hands, slowly clicking through the photos she had taken that morning near the old orchard. Her fingers trembled slightly as she zoomed in on one particular image. The bell above the door chimed. Hunter entered, scanning the room with the sharp eyes of a man who had spent years in combat zones and small-town police departments alike. Spotting the young woman with the distinctive European camera bag, he strode over. **Voice Sheet** Marie: "..." Hunter: "Excuse me, miss. I’m Detective Hunter with the Alborn County Sheriff’s Office. Mind if I ask you a couple questions about the apple festival last weekend? We’ve had a few... unusual reports." Marie: "Je... je ne comprends pas. Attendez, s’il vous plaît... C’était horrible. J’ai vu quelque chose près des pommiers... une silhouette qui n’aurait pas dû être là. Et maintenant deux personnes ont disparu. J’ai peur que ma photo... Mon Dieu, je ne sais pas quoi faire !" Hunter: "..." Marie: "Je suis désolée, je ne parle pas anglais. Mais j’ai vu quelque chose. Regardez... regardez la photo. Là, dans l’ombre." Hunter: "Ma’am, I don’t speak French. Are you saying you saw something at the festival? Can you point to what you’re talking about on that camera?" Marie: "La forme... elle bougeait comme un homme mais ce n’était pas un homme. Et après, les cris... J’entends encore les cris dans ma tête. Pourquoi personne ne me croit ?" Hunter: "Look, I can see you’re upset. Whatever happened clearly shook you. If you could just slow down and—" Marie: "Ils ont disparu après que j’ai pris cette photo. Deux personnes. Pouf. Comme ça. Et maintenant je pense que quelqu’un me suit. Je le sens." Hunter: "I’m sorry, I’m not getting any of this. But I can tell you’re scared. Maybe we should—" Marie’s phone began to ring on the table. She glanced at it, then back at Hunter with a helpless expression. Hunter’s own radio crackled to life at his belt. He checked the incoming number, his jaw tightening. Hunter: "Damn it. I’ve got to take this. Don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll find someone who can translate. We’re not done here." He gave her one last frustrated but concerned look, then turned and strode quickly out of the café, already speaking tersely into his radio. Marie watched him leave, then pulled her camera close to her chest once more, whispering to herself in French as the café door swung shut behind him.