Grant shrugged. “He’s Narcotics. Maybe he took it from a criminal. Another criminal,” he corrected himself bitterly. “There were also papers—bills he’d paid to maintain an apartment here, downtown. They were in the name of Blake Emerson.”

Dani sighed. “We’ve seen that name, but we’ll get to that.”

“The apartment is expensive,” Grant said. “He’d had the place for six months. Right around the time he established those final three companies. He was creating a persona. A high roller.”

“So you came to Cincinnati to look for him,” Dani prodded.

“Yes.” A wry smile lifted Grant’s lips. “He left me a key to the apartment in his home safe. I let myself right in.” He touched the cassock. “I found this in the closet, along with other uniforms. And I found another safe.”

“Same combo as the safe in his home in Cleveland?” Adam asked.

“Yes. This one held his detective shield, his service weapon, and his phone.”

“Same combo for the phone?” Adam asked again.

“I don’t know. I never had to put in a code. It recognized my face.”

“You look alike,” Dani commented.

“People used to think we were twins,” Grant said sadly. “I checked his calendar and found two entries, both on Friday night. The first said ‘LOTR Richard.’ The second said ‘LOTR Poker.’ So I knew that the casino was important.” He hesitated, then shrugged. “I also found an unregistered gun. The clip was missing four bullets. One was in the chamber. He’d used three.”

Diesel looked at Dani, who was holding herself too rigidly. Never play poker, baby, he thought. You’ll lose every time.

“Wesley shot Detective Stuart and the supplier—Anatoly Markov—with those bullets, didn’t he?” Scarlett asked. “Who got the third bullet?”

“A guy named Clinton Stern. He was the . . . buyer. And yes, I’ll tell you how I know,” Diesel promised. “Let Grant finish first.”

Grant exhaled heavily. “I searched the pocket of Wesley’s suit and found a matchbook for the Lady of the River. It was a special matchbook, not like the ones they give out at the bar. It had a joker card embossed in gold on the inside cover. And the date, March eighth.”

“Friday night,” Diesel murmured. “It all fits. So you went to the casino yesterday to find him?”

“No. Well, I’d hoped to find him. I went to the casino on Saturday night, looking for Richard Fischer. One of his managers told me he was the owner. I found his address and went to see him yesterday at his house.” Grant looked over at Scarlett. “That’s when you saw me on the surveillance video.”

“Who was the woman banging on his front door?” Scarlett asked. “The security tapes were just video. No audio.”