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They arrived at a clearing where Barry Fink’s spider farm lay hidden like a secret. The place was an oddity nestled within nature, the structures poorly imitating the surrounding trees' organic growth. Fiona stepped out of the car, her breath visible in the chill morning air. The chirping of birds mingled with the subtle hum of unseen insects. It was serene yet unsettling, as if the tranquility masked something more sinister.
With a glance at each other, they approached the farmhouse door. Knocking echoed with a hollow sound that seemed to ripple through the forest. Moments later, it swung open, revealing a portly figure that matched the eccentricity of his dwelling. Barry Fink stood before them, his beard scruffy, glasses catching the sun's light. He peered at them, curiosity lighting up his eyes behind the lenses.
"Morning," he greeted, his voice booming with unexpected warmth. "How can I help you folks?"
Fiona flashed her FBI badge, noting how Barry's demeanor shifted from neighborly to cautious, but still cordial. "We'd like a word about your spiders, Mr. Fink.”
“Of course—you’re Fiona Red, right?” Barry said. “An old colleague of mine called to let me know you were coming.”
“That’s right,” Fiona replied.
"Well, come on in," Barry replied with a nod, stepping aside to welcome them into his world of arachnids. Despite the odd setting, his exuberance was infectious, almost endearing. Fiona sensed a man who found solace in his peculiar interests—a trait she understood all too well.
Fiona crossed the threshold. She took a moment to adjust to the change in light, the shadows of the forest giving way to the dimness of the house. The interior held the promise of answers, and she could feel the weight of Jake's anticipation like a tangible force beside her. They were close now, closer than ever to unraveling a mystery that had entangled itself in their lives. This strange, kind man before them could be the key to exposing the darkness lurking beneath the surface of the city they vowed to protect.
Fiona stepped into the dimly lit space, eyes adjusting to the sight of countless glass enclosures stacked upon one another. She felt a curious blend of fascination and unease as she surveyed the room. Each terrarium was a self-contained world, teeming with life that skittered and weaved amidst foliage and artificial structures. The air carried a musty scent, an amalgam of earth and the lingering musk of insects.
"Quite a collection," Fiona remarked, her voice tinged with professional admiration. Her gaze landed on a terrarium where a spider with legs like slender needles tended to an intricate web. Barry followed her look, a gleam of pride in his eyes.
"Ah, you've spotted my crown jewel," he said, gesturing towards the enclosure. "That's a golden silk orb-weaver. Rare for these parts."
"Beautiful," Fiona breathed out, leaning closer. Her entomologist heart raced at the sight. Here was nature's perfect predator, an exquisite balance of grace and lethality. For a fleeting moment, she was no longer Agent Red but the wide-eyed student who'd spent hours lost in the pages of arachnid textbooks.
"Only a few people appreciate their beauty," Barry continued, clearly pleased with Fiona's reaction. "Most just see them as creepy crawlies. I guess I should expect no less from an entomologist such as yourself." His chuckle resonated within the confines of the spider sanctuary.
Fiona exchanged a look with Jake, who looked pale; he’d never been a fan of bugs, not like she was.
Fiona tore herself away from the captivating display. Duty called, louder than the siren song of academic pursuit. She cleared her throat, a subtle shift back into her role as an FBI agent. "Barry, we're particularly interested in your common orb-weavers. Do you have those?"
"Sure thing." Barry led them through the maze of enclosures to a less ostentatious section. Rows of spiders occupied these spaces, each busy with the day's work of spinning or repairing webs. "Here they are. Not as showy, but they have their own charm."
Jake, who had been quiet, stepped forward. His voice held an edge of urgency. "Have you sold any recently?"
Barry paused, a furrow forming across his brow as he recalled. "Yes, there was someone." He scratched his beard, looking off into the distance as if the memory lay hidden in a corner of the room. "Didn't seem the scholarly type, but he was interested in these little guys. They aren’t all that big of a deal to most, but they do spin webs quite quickly, which can make them appealing to those looking to build specific types of enclosures.”
Or leave them somewhere they might spin webs quickly to alarm unsuspecting victims…
Fiona exchanged a glance with Jake, a silent communication passing between them. This could be the break they needed.
Fiona watched as Barry's jovial demeanor dimmed, his eyes clouding over with the effort of dredging up an uncomfortable memory. "He was different," Barry murmured, his words slow and measured. "Came in here, asked for orb-weavers specifically. Lots of them."
"Did he say why?" Jake prodded, leaning in.
"Nope." Barry shook his head. "Just handed over the cash. Good money, but... there was something off about him." He frowned. "Didn't even give a name. In hindsight, gave me the creeps."
"Anything else you can remember?" Fiona asked, her mind racing with the implications. A non-scholar purchasing bulk spiders? It didn't sit right.
Barry shrugged, a heavy gesture. "Dressed all in black. Kept to himself. Was in and out like a shadow."
Jake exchanged a look with Fiona. They both knew this was significant. The man in black. The neighbor's description. It was more than a coincidence.
"Barry, do you have security cameras here?" Fiona's voice was steady, despite the adrenaline beginning to surge through her veins.
"Sure do," Barry replied, leading them back through the maze to a cluttered office. Monitors lined one wall, each displaying different angles of the farm.
"Can we see the footage from when this guy was here?" Jake asked, his gaze fixed on the screens.
"Of course." Barry settled into a chair that creaked under his weight and began to tap at the keyboard. After a minute, he paused and pointed at the screen. "There. That's him."
