Run: 2026-07-07-01KWZ5W7AHHB2R2460GBQ9BA8Z

**Voice Sheet – Café Scene, Alborn, MN** [Setting: A small, rustic café on Main Street. Autumn light filters through frosted windows. ISABELLA sits alone at a corner table, scrolling through her camera’s viewfinder. She looks troubled. HUNTER, in a worn leather jacket, approaches her table. He stands for a moment before speaking.] Hunter: "Ma'am? Sorry to bother you. I'm Detective Hunter. I’m asking around about what happened near the old apple mill two nights ago. Were you in that area taking photos?" [Isabella looks up, startled. She doesn't understand the words, but his tone is official, urgent. She clutches the camera tighter.] Isabella: "Io... non capisco. Parla italiano? No, no inglese. Scusi." Hunter: "You don’t speak English? At all?" [He sighs, runs a hand through his hair.] "Okay. Um—" [He mimes a camera, then points in a direction out the window.] "Photos. Night. Two nights ago. You take photos near the mill? Bad thing happen." [Isabella’s face pales. She understands the mime. Her hands tremble.] Isabella: "Sì... sì, quella notte. Ho visto un'ombra. Qualcuno che correva. Mi sono nascosta." [Her voice shakes.] "Non so chi fosse. Avevo paura." Hunter: [Frowning, leaning in.] "I don’t—look, I don’t know what you’re saying. But you look scared. You saw something, didn’t you?" [He pulls out a small notebook and pen.] "Can you write it down? English? Any English at all?" [Isabella shakes her head, eyes filling with tears.] Isabella: "Non so scrivere in inglese. Mi dispiace. Io voglio aiutare, ma non posso." Hunter: [He studies her face, then points to the camera.] "That camera. Maybe you have a photo. Something you didn’t notice until now." [Isabella hesitates, then turns the camera toward him, scrolling to a dark, blurry image. There’s a shadowy figure near the mill entrance. Hunter’s eyes narrow.] Hunter: "That’s... that might be something." [He points to himself, then points to the camera screen, then to his notebook.] "I need this. Evidence." [Isabella nods vigorously, but before she can reply, Hunter’s phone buzzes. He checks the screen, expression hardening.] Hunter: "I have to go. Something came in. But I’ll be back." [He takes a card from his pocket, places it on the table.] "My number. If you remember anything—anything at all—call. Even if it’s in Italian. I’ll find a translator." [He gives her a brief, intense look, then turns and strides out of the café. Isabella stares at the card, then at her camera, a single tear rolling down her cheek.] Isabella: [Softly, to herself] "Che cosa sta succedendo in questa città tranquilla...?"