Grant had hidden his brother’s journal in the last Bible. She wondered if he’d hidden anything in this one. She opened it, a little disappointed to see that no hole had been carved inside. Idly she turned the first few pages.

And then stared. Names. She counted them quickly. Nearly a dozen names. Scott King was one of them. And near the bottom of the list?

John Brewer, Blake Emerson, and Richard Fischer.

Oh. My. God.

“What’s wrong?” Diesel asked, rolling his head sideways, a frown on his face. “You just said, ‘Oh my God.’ What is it?”

A little laugh bubbled up Dani’s throat, sounding hysterical when it burst free. “Grant actually got him to confess. Kaiser, I mean. I was kidding when I told him that Kaiser would need a priest, but Grant did it. This is a list of Kaiser’s victims.”

Scarlett twisted in her seat, stunned. “What the hell? Gimme.”

Diesel took the book from Dani’s hands, suddenly alert. “He gave you the phone, Scarlett. He gave me the book.”

Scarlett’s eyes narrowed. “Diesel,” she warned.

“Chill, Scar,” Marcus said soothingly. “He’ll hand it over. Let him look first.”

Diesel was doing more than looking. He had his phone out, searching the names. Dani held the Bible open, tilting it so that the lights from the interstate’s lamps illuminated the page, allowing Diesel to type with one hand while holding his phone with the other.

“Missing,” he muttered, then searched for another name. “Missing. Suicide. Missing.” Fifteen minutes had passed and they were nearing the exit for Diesel’s house when he lifted his head. “They’re all reported missing or dead, either accidental causes or suicide. All except one. Leigh Gladwin. Don’t get off here,” he ordered when Marcus moved to the exit lane. “We’re getting off at New Haven. Hurry.”

“Why?” Scarlett asked, clearly impatient.

Marcus said nothing, merely moving over a lane and flooring it.

Diesel leaned back, deep lines etched in his cheeks. “Henry Lindquist fell down his basement stairs three and a half years ago, breaking his neck.”

“Like Charlie Akers,” Dani said. “Quincy’s CSU tech.”

“Yes.” Diesel spoke heavily, his teeth still clenched. Still in pain. “But Leigh Gladwin, the first name on the list, hasn’t been reported dead or missing or anything. He’s still paying property taxes on his house. In Harrison.”

Dani understood. “That’s not far from where the guy was killed after buying Pampers and baby formula.”

Diesel handed his phone to Scarlett, then fell back against the seat. “There’s the address.”

Scarlett plugged it into her GPS. “Step on it, Marcus.”

Harrison, Ohio
Wednesday, March 20, 3:40 a.m.