“So,” Isla said as she motioned to one of the screens on the wall. “We found trace DNA. Looks like our mystery sender sneezed while highlighting one of the pages. No hits in the system, but our sender is a male.” Miles’s mouth was pressed into a tense line. He didn’t like that answer. Maybe it didn’t fit the narrative he had crafted in his head, or maybe there was something he wasn’t telling me. “I’ll be sure to store these with the others that Ophelia Kensington sent over,” Isla said.
