“Joshua, where are Natasha’s diaries?” she asks. I shake my head. “No, I’m not handing them over. Don’t ask me to.” Her face drops. “So, you do have them then? This will prove you’re innocent,” she whispers. “Natasha would not want you in prison like this. You need to be with your family. Please Joshua.” I shake my head. “Her words die with me,” I whisper. “Her words die with me.”
