CHAPTER 38 The Manipulator A ll the information Daya and I have gathered so far is splayed out on the island before us. I twist my lips as I mull over what we know for the millionth time, while Daya twists the ring in her nose ‘round and ‘round. She’s waiting on a call back to get the DNA results for the blood on the watch. “You know, we still never found out who sent me the envelope with all those pictures and the note,” I mumble. “I know,” Daya says, dropping her hand and pursing her lips. “That’s so odd. I have no idea who it could’ve been.” Just as I open my mouth, Daya's phone rings. She picks it up so fast, you'd think it was sitting on a burning stove. "Hello?" she answers, clicking the button to put it on speaker. "Yes, Daya Pierson?" a woman’s voice asks. "This is her," she responds, anxiety making her eyes pinball around the room. She chews her bottom lip, the tiny gap between her front teeth on display, while I abuse mine just the same. "Yeah, I got the results back pertaining to the sample you sent in.” She pauses, and it feels like when a rollercoaster crests the top of the hill. And just for a single second, you're suspended in time before you go crashing back to the ground. “We did get a match. Genevieve Parsons.” Brown eyes clash with green in a symphony of shock and excitement. Daya clears her throat. "Perfect, thank you, Gloria. I appreciate it." "No problem," she chirps before the line disconnects. Mutual silence descends as Daya and I both process the new information. "Holy fuck." Before I can fully process the information, Daya reaches over to her bag and pulls out a thick manilla envelope. “T had some testing and research of my own done. I went ahead and found a sample of Frank’s handwriting in a police report and the note we found and sent it in to an analyst. Now just to make you aware, graphology isn’t always taken