“To give him this,” Grant said, moving the folded cassock aside to reveal a big Bible, the kind that churches set on stands or that families used for their genealogy. He lifted the cover to show that the Bible had a hole carved into the pages. In it was nestled a book bound in green leather cover with purple flowers.

“Mountain laurel,” Dani said.

“Texas mountain laurel, to be exact,” Grant said. “It was our sister’s favorite flower. She drew it on everything.” He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and lifted the book from its hiding place. “I wanted Stone to have this. I didn’t know who else to trust.”

“Why did you think you could trust him?” Diesel asked. “He told you he was a cop.”

Scarlett made a small sound of surprise. “He did what?”

“He was kidding,” Diesel said. “Being a goofball to cheer me up.”

Dani’s gaze swung from the book to Diesel’s face. “Sorry.”

He covered her thigh with his hand. “Shh. We’re done with that, right?”

“Right.” She turned back to Grant. “Why did you trust Stone?”

“I read some of his articles, both in the Ledger and when he was embedded with the troops. I read that he went to jail once because he wouldn’t give up a source. And I read that some of his Ledger investigations put some very bad people away. When I saw that he was also a victim of Scott King and all this . . . mess, I wasn’t sure what to do. But I figured he’d make sure the information got to the right people.”

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t go to the police,” Scarlett said.

“Because of Detective Bert Stuart,” Diesel said.

Grant stared at him in shock. “How do you know that?”

Diesel sighed. “I think we all know different pieces of this puzzle.”

“Who is Bert Stuart?” Deacon asked.

“Detective Stuart was assigned to investigate Laurel Masterson’s disappearance,” Dani said. “But he didn’t. We couldn’t even find a filed missing person report. He also didn’t investigate the roommate who conveniently said that Laurel had run away with her boyfriend. The roommate who now drives a new car and has a very nice apartment that she shares with no one.”

“She was bribed,” Scarlett said flatly. “You think Detective Stuart was, too?”

“We can’t ask him,” Diesel said, watching Grant closely. “He’s dead. Killed in a home invasion.”

Grant flinched, confirming Diesel’s suspicion that he knew a lot more of the puzzle than they did.

“And the boyfriend?” Scarlett asked.

Diesel hesitated, and Deacon rolled his eyes. “Speak freely, Diesel. We know what you do.”

“And we trust you not to abuse our trust,” Adam added.

Diesel relaxed. “The boyfriend was really a . . . supplier. Of women.”

Grant paled. “A supplier?” he whispered hoarsely.