“I know. I read about it. I’m an admirer of Mr. O’Bannion’s work, and the Ledger has sponsored my parish’s Little League team.” The Ledger had sponsored the intramural boys’ team of one of the inner-city churches, as well as a girls’ team. St. Ambrose’s Father Trace was the coordinator. That tidbit—and the fact that Father Trace was the uncle of Stone O’Bannion’s sister-in-law Scarlett Bishop—had been part of Grant’s research. He hoped he hadn’t gone too far by dropping the reference. “I was hoping to ask if the family needed anything.”

He gripped the large Bible he held, relieved that he’d left Wes’s guns at his brother’s apartment. It would have looked too suspicious to turn back now, and there was nowhere he could have hidden a gun under this cassock. He did, however, have Wesley’s detective shield and his phone. Just in case.

In case of what, he had no idea.

“Well, that’s lovely, Father Emerson,” the nurse said, peering at the ID badge that Grant wore, the one he’d found in the cassock’s pocket. Wesley had been very thorough as he’d built his Blake Emerson alias. “Come with me.”

Using her badge, she opened the ICU’s inner doors and walked Grant through the unit, smiling at the cop on duty. “This is Father Emerson. He’d like to see Mr. O’Bannion.”

The cop noted Grant’s ID and wrote his name on a clipboard. Then he stuck his head in the doorway. “I got a Father Emerson to see Mr. O’Bannion?”

Grant stuck his own head in, next to the cop’s. “I won’t stay long, Mr. O’Bannion. I promise.”

Stone lay in the hospital bed, his skin pale. At his side were two people—an older man wearing black gloves and a young, petite blonde. The older man stood. “I’m sorry, but Stone isn’t taking visitors.”

But Stone’s eyes widened in sudden recognition and Grant knew he was thinking of their brief encounter outside the casino the night before.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’ll see him. Can you ask Marcus to join us? And maybe you can take Delores to get something to eat.” Stone brought the woman’s hand to his lips. “Go and eat, honey. You’re gonna need your strength to put up with me when I get out of here. Remember how cranky I was the last time I got shot.”

“And you promised you wouldn’t let it happen again,” Delores said, but leaned in to kiss Stone’s mouth gently. “I’ll be back soon.” She linked her arm through the older man’s. “Come on, Dad. Let’s get some of that yummy hospital cafeteria food.”

The man looked doubtful. “We’re going to be eating candy out of the machine again, aren’t we?”