The notebooks never left my sight after Dr. Reeves handed them over because every page represented another piece of the truth my mother had spent her life trying to uncover, and although I wasn't sure I wanted to understand the mind of the man who created the Asset Program, I knew we couldn't afford to ignore anything he had written.
By the following morning, Casey had transformed one corner of the clubhouse conference room into a temporary preservation station.
Bright document lights illuminated the table. Cotton gloves rested beside archival sleeves. A high resolution scanner quietly hummed as page after page disappeared into a growing digital archive.
The leather covers looked worn enough to crumble if handled carelessly, and Casey treated each notebook with the same patience he usua
