Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCWK50AHP664C9WM8SH3YZR

The late-morning sun filtered through the front windows of *The Orchard Perk*, casting warm rectangles across checkered tablecloths that smelled faintly of cinnamon and brewed coffee. Outside, Alborn’s main street was already strung with banners for the upcoming apple festival, but inside the café was quiet—just the hiss of the espresso machine and the soft clink of porcelain. Isabella Rossi sat in the corner booth, her dark hair pulled back in a loose braid, a worn leather jacket draped over the chair beside her. At thirty, she still carried the eager posture of a student, though her eyes—usually bright with artistic curiosity—were tired. Her Nikon rested on the table, lens cap off, and she was scrolling through the LCD screen with trembling fingers, studying landscapes of Minnesota fields that suddenly seemed far less peaceful than they had yesterday. The bell above the door jingled. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a navy windbreaker stepped inside, scanning the room with the sharp, assessing gaze of someone who had learned to read spaces quickly. He spotted her immediately, approached with direct steps, and pulled out the chair across from her. “You Isabella Rossi?” he asked, his voice low and even. She looked up, startled, clutching the camera to her chest like a shield. *“Chi… chi è lei?”* Hunter slid into the seat, resting his forearms on the table. “Detective Hunter. Alborn Police. I need to ask you about Tuesday night—near Miller’s Orchard. Witnesses said you were out there with your camera around dusk.” Isabella’s face paled. She shook her head rapidly, her Italian coming out in a rushed, frightened cascade. *“Io… io non parlo inglese. Non capisco. Perché… perché mi cerca?”* Hunter frowned, leaning back slightly. “You don’t speak English? At all?” He spoke slowly, enunciating each word, but her blank, panicked expression told him everything. She pressed her lips together, then reached for her camera, turning the display toward him with shaking hands. On the screen was a twilight shot of an apple grove—golden leaves, long shadows, and in the distant tree line, a blurred, dark figure that seemed to be watching from behind a trunk. *“Ho visto qualcosa…”* she whispered, her voice breaking. She pointed to the image, then to herself, her eyes glistening. *“Nel bosco. Una persona… poi scomparsa. Ho paura, capisce? È pericoloso qui!”* Hunter studied the photo, his jaw tightening. “You saw someone disappear? Is that what you’re saying?” He gestured with his hands—looking, then gone—but she only shook her head in frustration, rapid Italian spilling out that he couldn’t parse. For several minutes they talked past each other. He asked yes-or-no questions with his hands; she answered in emotional, flowing Italian, sometimes gripping his wrist to make him look at another photo—empty trails, a parked truck with no plates, footprints in mud that led nowhere. He gathered she was terrified, that she believed she had captured something she shouldn’t have, but the specifics dissolved in the language gap. Then his phone buzzed loudly against his hip. Hunter glanced at the screen, exhaled through his nose, and answered with a marine’s crispness. “Hunter. …Yeah, I’m near the café. I’m on my way—ten minutes.” He hung up and stood, adjusting his jacket. Isabella looked up, confused and still shaken, asking in Italian why he was leaving, if she was in danger. He met her eyes with a brief, reluctant softness—then hardened back into duty. “Stay here. Lock your doors tonight. And… don’t go back to that orchard alone.” With that, he dropped a few bills for her coffee and was gone, the bell jingling behind him as he stepped back out into the apple-festival sunshine. --- **Voice Sheet** Isabella: "Chi… chi è lei? Non capisco niente." Hunter: "Detective Hunter, Alborn PD. I'm investigating disappearances near Miller's Orchard—were you out there Tuesday?" Isabella: "Io non parlo inglese, signore. Sì, sono Isabella… ma perché mi cerca?" Hunter: "Language barrier. Great. You understand any English at all?" Isabella: "Ho paura. Ho visto qualcosa nel frutteto… una figura nel buio, poi niente. Guardi la foto!" Hunter: "Slow down. Show me—what's on the camera? Did you see someone taken?" Isabella: "È strano… molto pericoloso. Non avrei dovuto essere lì! Capisce? Ho paura!" Hunter: "I don't understand the words, but I understand scared. Just stay safe, okay?" Isabella: "Perché se ne va? È successo qualcosa di brutto?" Hunter: "Hunter speaking—yeah, I'm coming now." / "Emergency. I have to go. Don't leave this café alone."