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“I want him to pay for every photograph,” she says.

Marquez looks at her. “He will.”

The certainty in her voice eases some of the fury on Ivy’s face.

An evidence technician arrives at the studio. Under Marquez’s instructions, she photographs the camera inside its bag before examining it.

“The leather case has been cut along the bottom,” the technician reports.

Ivy closes her eyes.

“Did he reach the prism?” I ask.

The technician opens the damaged case.

The old Leica rests inside.

She uses a light to examine the body and lens.

“There is no blue glass visible.”

“It could be inside the camera,” Thomas says.

The technician turns it over.

A small circular panel beneath the film compartment hangs open.

“Someone removed something from here.”

“When?” Marquez asks.

“I can’t determine that from the video. There are fresh tool marks, but the compartment is empty.”

“He got it,” I say.

“No,” Ivy whispers.

I look at her.

She is staring at the damaged leather case instead of the camera.

“What is it?” I ask.

“That isn’t Grandpa’s case.”

“Are you sure?” Marquez asks.

“Yes. His had a dark stain on the strap. He spilled coffee on it when I was seventeen and refused to replace it.”

The case on the monitor has a clean strap.

“The camera could still be his,” Keating says.

“It isn’t.”

Ivy points toward the lens.

“Dad’s Leica had a dent along the metal rim. I dropped it the first week Grandpa let me use it.”