“He wasn’t supposed to have any of these,” Reid explained, as I carefully thumbed through one of Faustine’s journals, “so he stored them here. Nobody’d find them here. Why would I have them?”
“I assume this arrangement was made after you had Grady put me to sleep?” I asked, glancing up at him with one eyebrow c****d.
I sat on the floor on my knees, with the journal resting on the coffee table. I was too nervous to hold it in my hands. Reid sat next to me, cross-legged as he leaned back against the front of the couch.
He averted his gaze yet again, just as sheepishly as the time before. “Yes.”
“When and why did that happen?” Copeland asked.
“He instructed your mother to do some kind of black magic bullshit to put me to sleep and essentially lock me in the house while he ran off to fi
