“Probably,” the blonde said, then paused. “Don’t upset him,” she whispered to Grant, loudly enough for Stone to hear from the bed. “Or you’ll be hearing my confession, and there aren’t enough Hail Marys to forgive what I’ll do to you.”

Grant smiled at her. She reminded him of Cora. “So noted. I promise.” Then he held his arms out, allowing the cop to frisk him.

“He’s clean,” the cop told the pair. “Go and eat. You’ve been here for hours.”

“I’ll send Marcus in,” the blonde said. “He’s in the waiting room.”

So Grant had only about a minute alone with Stone before his brother arrived.

“You’re a little late, Padre,” Stone said with a weak smile as Grant approached the bed. “I coded a couple times last night. I should have said my last confession then.” Then he sobered. “Are you a gambling man, Father?”

“No. And my name isn’t Emerson. It’s Masterson.”

The spark of recognition in Stone’s eyes surprised him. “Wesley?”

“No. He’s my brother. I’m Grant.”

“The accountant.”

Grant frowned. “How do you know about us?”

“Ask my brother. He has all the details. Why were you at the casino?”

“I’m looking for my brother. He’s been missing for more than a week. I think he got involved in something dangerous there.”

Stone said nothing for a few excruciating seconds. “Why are you here?”

“To give you this.” Grant held out the Bible, tilting it so that Stone could see as he opened the cover quickly before closing it again. The man flicked his gaze upward to Grant, indicating that he’d spotted the book that Grant had hidden inside the Bible’s pages. It had taken him nearly an hour to carve out the necessary space. “You seem like a man of integrity, Stone. I’m not from this city and I don’t know which cops to trust. My sister was abducted and a Cincinnati detective failed to report it.” Detective Bert Stuart had to have been on the take. It was the only explanation.

“Your sister was Laurel,” Stone murmured. “LJM Industries.”

Grant frowned. Laurel’s initials. “Laurel is my sister, but what is LJM Industries?”

Stone drew a breath and let it out slowly, not for dramatic effect, but because he was clearly exhausted by the effort of speaking. “Talk to Marcus. Or Diesel. Especially Diesel.”

“That’s Mr. Kennedy?”

“Yes. He has the whole picture. Him and his girlfriend, Dani.”

“Dr. Novak.”

“You know a lot, Father Emerson,” Stone said, looking over Grant’s shoulder. “I’d like you to meet my brother, Marcus, and my sister-in-law, Detective Scarlett Bishop. Guys, this is Father Emerson.”

Marcus looked at Grant through narrowed eyes. “Like hell he is. He’s—”

Stone gave him a sharp look. “Take him to the Ledger. Let him talk to Diesel.”