Ep. 11 Tag
He knew she would be searching for them. He'd known that as soon as he'd locked eyes with her over John's pain-wracked body. Fusco's call was merely belated confirmation. Whatever else he thought of her personally, Finch admitted that Carter had the tenacity of a bulldog.
While the coroner was working on Reese, the billionaire was busy disposing of his cell accounts and accessing his feeds into Carter's workplace and the cameras around her home. He knew every move that she would make and secure in the knowledge that he was at least four steps ahead of her. He would have been content merely to keep her under observation if not for the other number.
He did research on the Machine's latest subject while John was asleep; preferring to allow his partner time to heal as he concentrated on dealing with Trask's case. Finch knew when the time had come for action and he'd chosen to kill two birds with one...well, meeting in this case. He left a few crumbs for Carter to find and then sat back to wait.
The billionaire eased into the dubious comfort of the armchair next to the BRIDGES front window. Within moments, a server had taken his order for two cups of coffee, black; returned with alacrity and left him alone as he'd requested. He had just enough time to read half a page before he saw the detective approach the bar. Finch watched her for a moment...seeing her mutter to herself as she cross-checked GPS data on her phone against the cell number call list in her hand.
The billionaire pulled his iPhone out and tapped in a number.
"I want answers...I need to know what you do."
"Turn around detective..."
Finch didn't consider himself a violent person, certainly not one given to acting on emotion but when he saw Carter enter the bar and sit opposite him with a hint of a smug smile crossing her lips; the recluse felt a hatred swelling inside his chest that he'd never experienced before. That this scenario must be played out was her fault entirely and he made no greeting.
"How's your friend?"
Finch just stared at her, his eyes cold, not deigning to answer her foolish question. When she humphed and asked for information he felt no remorse at all for using her to facilitate the resolution of Derek Watson's situation. He fed her some cock and bull story about fictional brothers and a sink or swim analogy before giving her the back-story of the man at the bar.
"You can't know that."
Carter's scoffing reply irritated him all the more and he just stared at her again for a moment. Finch closed his book and asked if she had her firearm on her. The woman had the audacity to look puzzled and the recluse's ire was roused even further.
"Sorry to toss you into the deep end but as you know, my friend is indisposed." He stood up and left, his restrained anger making his limp more pronounced.
Finch had lied to her though...He wasn't sorry... not at all.