Grant was only half-listening, continuing to stare at the plastic-covered cross. Something was gnawing at his brain again. He glanced back up at his daughter and Frankel.

“We might be looking at this all wrong,” Grant said, tapping the cross.

“How do you figure?” asked Frankel.

Grant shook his head. “I wish I could tell you. I just . . .”

He broke off and simply shrugged.

Rachel looked from her father to the detective. “He gets this way. He used to come home and pace around the living room for hours saying something didn’t feel right about the case he was working.”

A few minutes later, Detective Morton entered the room holding a piece of paper. The look on his face could hardly be described as happy.

“Bad news, I’m afraid,” informed Morton. Frankel took one look at what Morton handed him and cursed out loud.

“Shit.” He nodded at Morton. “Thanks, Detective. That’ll be all for now.”

The second Morton left, Rachel whirled on the NYPD detective. “What is it?”

Frankel extended the piece of paper. “Silver took the red-eye last night. Norwegian Air flight out of JFK into Gatwick. He must have landed a few hours ago.”

“Seems our man is on the run,” Grant said.

Rachel sighed. “So he’s headed back home to spread his brand of repentance and belief.”

“With his very special knife and a few crosses,” added Frankel.

Grant started to speak, then stopped himself. He turned to Rachel. “Repeat what you just said.”

“He’s gone back to England to spread his brand of repentance and belief.”

“Repent and believe,” murmured her father. Grant pointed at the computer. “That sermon you showed me this morning. Can you bring that up?”

It took Rachel less than a minute to find a copy of the pamphlet. Grant was hovering over her shoulder waiting. “There—I knew I’d seen that somewhere. Take a look.”

He was pointing at the title of the article.

“Repent and believe,” read Rachel.

“Repent and believe,” Grant said, stressing the middle word. “Look closely enough and you’ll notice the ‘and’ isn’t a plus sign.”

REPENT + BELIEVE

“It’s a cross,” explained Grant. “A cross that looks just like the one we found in the hotel room and this one from the hospital in Far Rockaway.”

He indicated the plastic evidence bag on the desk.

“So Silver sticks with what works for him,” said Frankel.

“It’s more than that.” Grant glanced around the room. “Do we have a picture of the hospital wall down here somewhere?”

“No, but I can get one easily enough.” The detective checked himself, remembering something. “Wait. I took a couple of pictures with my phone. Will that do?”

“It should,” answered Grant.