Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCWBJ02BHXT0A2RCMGZ94D3

The crisp autumn air of Alborn, Minnesota, smelled faintly of cinnamon and baking apples—a stark contrast to the Mediterranean heat Maria was used to. Sitting at an outdoor wooden table at the local cafe, the thirty-year-old Spanish exchange student cradled her heavy digital SLR camera in her lap. She flipped through the LCD screen, her thumb lingering over a photograph she had taken just an hour ago at the edge of the woods. Her dark eyes were wide, and her lower lip trembled slightly as she stared at the frame. Heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel path. Hunter, a thirty-five-year-old detective with the posture of his former marine days and a perpetually furrowed brow, stopped beside her table. He flashed a small plastic badge, his no-nonsense gaze locking onto hers. "Ma'am. Detective Hunter," he said, cutting straight to the point. "I'm looking into the recent disappearances around town. A local mentioned seeing you out by the old orchard this morning with that camera. Did you see anything unusual out there?" Maria looked up, clutching the camera strap like a lifeline. She didn't understand a single word of his English, but the urgency and sternness in his tone were unmistakable. Visibly shaken, she gestured frantically toward the camera screen and began to speak in a rapid, troubled rush of Spanish. "¡Por favor, usted tiene que ver esto! Estaba tomando fotos del paisaje cuando escuché pasos extraños, y luego... juro que vi a alguien llevándose al panadero. ¡Había una niebla muy rara y el hombre desapareció de la nada! Tengo miedo, Alborn ya no es seguro." Hunter blinked, staring down at her with a completely blank, bewildered expression. He raised a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. "Whoa, slow down. I don't know a word of Spanish," Hunter said, his voice dropping into a flat, confused register. He pointed a finger at the camera. "Pictures. Did you take pictures of something? *Comprendes*? Photos?" Maria caught the universal gesture and frantically tapped the back of the camera, turning the screen outward toward him so he could see the blurred, ghostly silhouette captured between the apple trees. "*¡Mire! ¡Aquí!* Right there!" she insisted, her voice tight with panic. Hunter squinted at the tiny LCD screen, trying to decipher the pixelated shapes in the dim autumn light. Before he could ask her to email it to the station, his radio crackled loudly against his shoulder. He tapped the receiver, listening to the dispatcher's urgent voice. "Hunter. Yeah, copy that. I'm on my way," Hunter muttered into the radio. He gave Maria a sharp, apologetic nod, realizing he was getting nowhere fast without a translator. He pointed toward the cafe door. "Stay here. Don't go anywhere." Maria watched him turn and stride away toward his squad car, clutching her camera tighter to her chest, whispering prayers in Spanish as the autumn wind rustled the red and gold leaves above them. *** ### Voice Sheet Maria: "¡Por favor, usted tiene que ver esto! Estaba tomando fotos del paisaje cuando escuché pasos extraños, y luego... juro que vi a alguien llevándose al panadero. ¡Había una niebla muy rara y el hombre desapareció de la nada! Tengo miedo, Alborn ya no es seguro." Hunter: "Ma'am. Detective Hunter. I'm looking into the recent disappearances around town. A local mentioned seeing you out by the old orchard this morning with that camera. Did you see anything unusual out there?" Maria: "¡Mire! ¡Aquí! Right there!" Hunter: "Whoa, slow down. I don't know a word of Spanish. Pictures. Did you take pictures of something? *Comprendes*? Photos?" Maria: "¡Señor, por favor! ¡Alguien está desapareciendo a la gente en el bosque! ¡Tiene que creerme!" Hunter: "Hunter. Yeah, copy that. I'm on my way."