Fusco has been suspicious of Joss's "accident" since it happened. He knows something is wrong he just can't prove it. Now he calls in Finch to help.


Chapter 7 Fusco's Suspicions

Only a couple of days before Pack Night and the challenge, Fusco sat in the diner booth listlessly picking at his food. Normally he would have eaten The Lyric's pot roast with gusto, but with a few days until the showdown between Joss and Pam, Fusco was feeling the strain. He was scared for his friends; scared of Joss getting maimed or killed and scared for John's mental state if that happened.

He looked up and put his fork down with a sigh when a tired looking Finch slipped into the booth across from him. Finch looked at the detective's barely touched plate. "I haven't been able to eat either," he said quietly.

Fusco gave the software billionaire a nod to acknowledge his comment. "I don't know what I'm gonna do if she gets hurt. Hell, I don't know what John will do."

Finch looked grim. "I don't know either. Mr. Reese has been very…difficult since the challenge was issued."

Fusco snorted. "He's a pain in the ass at the best of times; I don't want to think about how he is when the love of his life is about to go all Mortal Kombat with The Angel of Death. I can't imagine living with him."

Finch gave Fusco a wry smile. "I won't lie to you, Detective, Mr. Reese is not the best of roommates right now. I'm glad there has been a steady stream of numbers to keep him occupied, but the casualty rate has been extraordinarily high even for him. Even Ms. Shaw thinks the number of knees that have been shot has been excessive."

"Better them than us," Fusco grumbled as he remembered the days when he was John's favorite "toy."

The waitress came to their table, and Finch ordered tea and a slice of pie. After she left, Finch looked over at this companion. "May I ask why you wanted to meet with me, detective?"

Fusco took a deep breath. "Something has been bugging me since Joss's accident, and I need your help to figure it out."

Finch cocked his head slightly to one side and gave Fusco a curious look. "You know I will do everything in my power to help. What seems to be the problem?"

"Well, you see the problem is I don't know what the problem is, but I just keep thinking something is hinky about what happened to Joss. I keep thinking about that night, going over and over in my head, and then yesterday I realized what's been bugging me." Fusco paused and looked at Finch to be sure he held his attention. "Joss was actually in that puddle for several minutes before she got electrocuted."

Finch's eyes narrowed as he realized the implications of what Fusco had just said. Everyone had assumed that Joss had stepped into the puddle in the heat of the gun battle, not noticing that the cable was there. They had assumed it had just been bad luck. Joss, like many traumatic injury survivors, didn't remember anything about that night, so she had never contradicted this theory. The last thing she remembered from that night was eating dinner with Fusco, several hours before the failed bust. She didn't remember the briefing before the raid, or entering the building, or the gunfight.

Finch began asking a series of rapid-fire questions as his mind raced through all possible scenarios that could account for the discrepancy. "Could Detective Carter have accidentally knocked the cable into the puddle? Kicked it perhaps in the heat of the moment?"

Fusco shook his head. "No. I could partially see her from my spot and she was pretty still, keeping her head down, just trying not to get shot."

Finch frowned. "Could one of the drug cartel members have put the cable in the puddle in an attempt kill her?"

Fusco shook his head again. "They were all in front of us. Besides, they were all heavily armed; they would have just shot her."

"Where any of her enemies on the force there that night?"

"No. The last few dregs of HR stay as far away from her as they can. She's like their bogeyman. I looked up the service records of the Narcos who were there. All clean. None of them were HR. Laskey did some sniffing around as well, and he got the same results."

Finch removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose while he thought. "So someone else was there that night. Someone who wished Detective Carter ill. Someone who wanted her dead and tried to make it look like an accident."

Fusco looked grim. "Yeah, just what I was thinking."

They looked at each other and said the same thing at the same time. "Pam Barrett."

Finch put his glasses back on, looking very disturbed. "Isn't killing your Alpha a serious crime in your world?"

"Yeah, it's one of the worst. Killing a pack mate is bad, but killing your Alpha? John would be justified in killing Pam outright if we can prove it." Fusco made a sour face. "Problem's proving it."

Finch raised an eyebrow. "I take it you have tried?"

"I did some snooping," Fusco growled, "but came up goose eggs. Laskey and I showed Pam's picture around to the cops who were there and none of them saw her. I checked the security camera footage from the warehouse, but it was too dark to see anything besides muzzle flashes."

Finch looked thoughtful. "Given Ms. Barrett's background, I'm not surprised that no one saw her enter the warehouse or move the cable. Mr. Reese or Ms. Shaw could have easily done the same thing."

Fusco sighed and ran his hand over his face. "I'm pretty sure you're right. I thought the same thing, but we need proof and fast."

Finch leaned forward. "I need the security camera footage; I may be able to enhance it."

Fusco reached into his coat pocket and handed over a DVD. In response to Finch's questioning look he shrugged. "One of the tech guys owed me a favor. All the camera footage from an hour before the raid to an hour after it was all over is on that DVD."

Finch took the DVD and stood up. "I'll be in touch, detective." And then he hurried out the door.

Fusco flopped back in his seat. "Make us proud, Glasses," he said softly. "Make us proud."

The waitress appeared next to him and looked at his barely touched plate. "Everything alright, Fusco?" she asked. "Never saw you leave pot roast behind before."

"It's fine, Verna, I'm just not hungry," Fusco sighed. "It's been a rough month."

Verna picked up his plate. "I'll put this in a to-go box for you. You'll be hungry later."

Fusco watched her walk off. He rather doubted he would be able to eat much until the challenge was over, but he would humor his favorite waitress. With a grunt he pulled himself out of the booth and went to the register to pay.


Finch sat at his desk in the library staring as the large screen in front of him. With a sigh he checked his watch and then took his glasses off. Tiredly he rubbed the bridge of his nose and then leaned back in his chair as he battled the creeping feeling of defeat. He knew Pam had tried to kill Joss; he felt it. However, unless he could find the proof in this footage, the challenge would go forward and Joss could lose her life.

But the footage was not giving up its secrets easily. He had gone through the footage, tried a new setting, and then gone through the footage again. He had repeated this process several times and his eyes were tired, his neck ached and his leg was screaming at him. Bear whined and laid his head on Finch's lap, sensing his master's pain, both physical and emotional. Finch stroked the dog's head for a few minutes then got up and took a pain killer. He walked about his desk a few times stretching his aching muscles with Bear following him closely.

He checked his watch and sighed deeply as he realized the challenge was only an hour away. With grim determination he hobbled back to his office chair. He replaced his glasses and with a few clicks of the mouse, he changed a couple of settings on the video enhancement software. With another click, he began to go through the footage frame by torturous fame. Suddenly he saw it: a brief fleeting image of Pam Barrett as she was slipping into the warehouse just as the bullets started to fly. It was only a couple of frames, but it was her.She had been there.

Finch picked up his phone and scrolled back through the list of text messages until he reached the one from the Machine he had received that night; the one with Joss's number. He had assumed that the Machine had been trying to warn him that Joss was in danger from the raid gone bad, but as he compared the time stamp on the text to the time Pam entered the warehouse, he realized that they were identical. The Machine had known.

Finch looked up at the web camera mounted above his monitors. "Show me," he asked. His heart hammered in his chest as he watched as the images flashed by on the screen too fast for him to see.


Pam sat alone in her comfortable apartment, eyes closed, meditating on the coming evening. Everything she had ever wanted was about to be hers. John, a pack to lead, and the happy life that had been taken from her all those years ago were all within her grasp, all she had to do was take it.

Her father's voice echoed in her head. "You're the best princess. You can do anything you put your mind to. Now go and take what you want."

Pam opened her eyes and stood up. "I will daddy. I will."


Joss had been prowling her apartment like a caged animal all day. Taylor had been sent to her mother's for the night so she had nothing to distract her from the coming challenge. She tried to watch TV and she tried to read, but she found she couldn't sit still long enough to focus. Shaw had managed to coax her into eating a light lunch, but was unsuccessful in getting her to sit down and relax.

Finally Shaw stood up from the couch where she had sprawled to stay out of Joss's way. "It's time to go," she said. Joss stopped her pacing and nodded. She was ready.

They left the apartment and climbed into Shaw's car. The drive to the park was quiet as Joss practiced the calming techniques that John had taught her a long time ago.

Shaw parked close to the park entrance and they climbed out of the car. "You're ready, Joss," Shaw offered quiet encouragement as they approached the clearing where they would meet the rest of the pack.

They stepped into the clearing, and Joss looked at John standing to one side. Their eyes locked and Joss felt the familiar thrill that jolted her every time she saw him. He was the other half of her soul. He was worth fighting for, and she was going fight with every fiber of her being. She felt the determination surge within her.

Joss gave Shaw a small smile. "I know I am, Sam," Joss replied.