Marcus started to answer, but Detective Bishop sucked in a breath. “You.”

Grant met her gaze, his heart beginning to pound. “Me?” Had she seen Wes? The two of them looked enough like each other that it would be an understandable mistake.

“Scarlett,” Stone warned. “Please.”

“Yes, you,” she whispered to Grant, the lowering of her voice her only concession to the man in the hospital bed. “You were at Richard Fischer’s house yesterday. We saw you on his security video.”

“I was. I went to see him, but he didn’t appear to be home. If you saw the security video, you know I didn’t enter the house.”

She stared at him, as though trying to read his mind. “I know. I think we need to talk, Father.”

Grant nodded. “I agree. Can I ask why you were at Richard Fischer’s house?”

Marcus and his wife shared a long look with Stone, then each other. “Because Fischer is dead,” Detective Bishop said.

Grant shuddered out a breath. “Oh.” One more dead. He looked at Stone. “What about the Word of God?” he asked, tapping the Bible.

“Give it to them,” Stone said, his words beginning to slur. He closed his eyes, a goofy smile curving his lips, a painkiller obviously kicking in. “Scar’s a good one. But don’t tell her I said that. She’ll get a big head.”

Detective Bishop sighed, but leaned over the hospital rail to kiss Stone’s cheek. “You’re an idiot and I love you. Stop getting shot.”

“I will. I promise. I gotta teach my nephew how to cheat at poker.”

“You’d better,” she scolded, then straightened and aimed a glare at Grant. “Let’s go, Father.”

Cincinnati, Ohio
Monday, March 18, 6:00 p.m.

Dani left the condo’s bathroom, still shaken but hoping she’d hidden it. Seeing Diesel so broken . . . It had nearly broken her. She didn’t know his story, what had led him to have such a visceral reaction to seeing the photo of a young woman being trafficked. She suspected, of course, but knowing the details . . . She almost hoped he wouldn’t tell her. She wasn’t sure she could take it.

But she would. If Diesel ever did want her to know, she’d listen. And I’ll take it. I’ll be strong for him. So that he could be strong in the times when she needed him.

She forced herself to focus on Agent Troy, who’d handed Diesel his cell phone. She was surprised to see they had a visitor. Agent Quincy Taylor stood just inside the condo’s front foyer.

“Quincy,” she said, trying to shake her mood and sound welcoming. “Please come in.”

He did so, checking the bottoms of his boots first. “I’ve been at your property, Diesel, processing last night’s crime scene.”

Diesel was frowning at Troy’s phone, but looked up to greet Quincy. “Hey, Quincy. Did you find anything?”