Something's happened to Spencer.

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"Something's happened to Spencer."

Spencer's trailer is easy enough to find -- there's only so many roads that lead out of Eureka, and the only area with enough wooded areas for Spencer's paranoia to settle down and yet enough open space to work on his car and construct his own free-standing satellite dish is a grand total of ten minutes north of Tesla High School.

Jack drove Jo out to the trailer, Henry following in his tow truck. None of them are speaking as they pile out and begin to look around.

Comments

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Henry looks agitated as he leads the way to the front door of Spencer's trailer, "Now, I may be overreacting, but in four years he's never been late."

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Gun out of holster, check. Game face, check. Ready to kick ass.

Jo takes the steps to Spencer's trailer two at a time.

"Let's do this"

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What?

"Jo -- Jo. Put away your gun."

Jack hasn't had enough coffee for this yet, even with that Vinspresso.

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"And walk into a potential trap? I don't think so."

He's crazy. Stark, staring nuts if he thinks that she's gonna set foot into that trailer without her weapon in her hand, ready to use. That's procedure. Who is he to defy procedure?

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Turning to Jack, Henry says half-apologetically, "She's not normally this high-strung."

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Wincing as the trio started into Spencer's trailer: "She's got some issues."

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She opens the door carefully and moves in, sweeping back and forth with gun and flashlight held in the approved positions. All business, textbook cop.

"No sign of a break-in"

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Dry. Thanks for that, Jo.

"Wow. What a relief. Did you see anything last night?"

To Henry: "Movie night."

Jo, who seems far too intent on investigating everything with her flashlight even though the lights will probably turn on with the flick of a switch, is ignoring him.

"Uh, Jo?"

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Oh, that bastard. Making it sound like she doesn't do her job. Like she didn't jump on out here as soon as he snapped last night. She turns her flashlight on him.

"What are you implying?"

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Ack! Light straight inna face.

Holding up a hand: "Nothing, could you kill the flashlight?"

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Yeah, see how you like it.

"I'm investigating a crime scene. Following procedure? Maybe you should try it sometime."

Bitch, please.

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More firm. He is her boss after all. What's gotten into her?

"Do you think you could maybe dial it down until we discover there's actually been a crime?"

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Henry ignores the byplay and clicks on a light, lifting a PDA from the counter and frowning at it.

"Well, now I can't dust that for prints," Jo says. Then she turns to where Jack is holding a wallet, "Or that."

"Spencer's wallet and PDA," Henry frowns. "He wouldn't have left those here."

Jack rolls his eyes at Jo, "Well then he probably hasn't gone far."

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"Unless he was taken."

Duh. Hell of a sheriff he is...

"By force? Against his will?"

In the criminal way, Sheriff Carter?

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"Okay, no more coffee for you."

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Henry pauses and leans slightly forward to look at the floor, "Is that blood?"

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The glass and the half a heel-print is visible even under the poor light.

Jack's surprised Jo's flashlight didn't flip on behind him.

"Yeah." Exhale. "We gotta find him. Let's go."

Jack walks out of the trailer, Henry and Jo following behind, into the open area behind.

"Spencer! ...Spencer!"

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Jo follows him, switching on her radio.

"Taggart, for god's sakes, pick up. Tag...Where are you?"

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As the three move into the field the pass beneath a tree. High in its branches Taggart stands, one arm hooked around a branch, peering through a pair of binoculars. He pulls them away from his face and grimaces at where Fargo has another branch in a death-grip, "We're too late."

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The trio keeps moving forward, following an odd path through the tall wheat in the field. Henry interrupts Jack's repeated calls for Spencer.

"This trail's too narrow for a tractor path," he observes, still moving forward.

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"Yeah...these crops have been flattened, not cut."

Who would flatten ---?

Rustle. Movement in some unseen section of the field to Jack's right.

"Do you hear that?" Not really expecting a response, Jack continues calling for Spencer, now upgrading to a jog and continuing on the flattened crop path that can't really lead to anything good.

The path breaks wide into a large flattened circle, and in the middle is Spencer -- nude -- and shaking.

Nope, not good.

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Henry rushes forward and places a gentle hand on Spencer's shoulder. "What happened?" he asks the shivering man, trying to meet his eyes.

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Can't look up

Can't look up

Don't look up.

Spencer points upward instead.

"They're watching."

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After a quick trip back to the truck, Spencer had refused to move from his spot in the middle of the field, Henry has draped a blanket around Spencer's shoulders and is dabbing at bloodied hands with alcohol.

"Spencer, what happened to your hands?" They were really torn up.

Spencer's voice quavers, "They left me here."

"Who?"

The quaver devolves to stuttering, "I-- I-- I can't."

Henry lays a worried hand on Spencer's shoulder, "Spencer--" he cuts himself off and turns walk over to Jack who has just come back out from the trailer.

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Jo has been sweeping the area, making sure that whatever got Spencer once won't get him again. She leans in close to her traumatized friend.

"You're not alone."

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Henry is shaking his head as he walks up to Jack, "He's clearly traumatized."

That's what a couple of PhD's will get you: the ability to state the glaringly obvious.

Jack frowns, "Maybe Beverly can help him."

"Yeah..." Henry's voice is shaken, "I'll take him there."

"Henry, you okay?" Jack sounds concerned.

"No, but I will be once he is," Henry answers, indicating Spencer.

Jack nods, "Keep me posted."

Henry nods and leads Spencer back to his truck.

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Jo is still looking around, assessing, calculating...important cop stuff.

"What do you think?"

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Hands in his pants pockets, surveying the scene and making a face at Jo's drawn weapon in the middle of this nowhere cornfield: "Well he probably passed out; his friends played a prank on 'im."

Walking away from where they found Spencer, "There's always a logical explanation for these...things."

Trying to not be too sarcastic, "What's your theory?"

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"Yeah, that sounded very logical..."

My sarcasm, let me show you it.

"Well..."

Activate mad detecting skillz!

"It's a crop...And there's a circle in it..."

You do the math.

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"No. No, no, no -- "

Jack turns, giving the still-standing stalks a good swipe with one palm in disgust at Jo's insinuation.

"I don't care how weird this town gets, there's one thing that I know, and that's that there are no -- " Cell phone rings. " -- aliens." Flicking the phone out of his pocket:

"Yeah, Jack Carter. Oh, hey Alison." Long pause. "That makes two today.

"I know, I know, you don't want to hear about it, okay -- I'm on my way." Click.

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This is getting serious.

"Someone else disappeared?"

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All the humor is lost from Jack's voice as well.

"Fargo. Let's go."

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Jo looks back, her face uneasy, at the trees on the edge of the clearing. She sees something in one of them, though she's not sure what. Maybe...Taggart? Looking up? At what? Ohhhhhh...

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Fargo clings. Trees are high. Scientists like him don't usually climb them. If he had his way, scientists like him wouldn't ever climb them. Even if it is for the good of humanity...