If she’d gone in as often as she should have, would Hall have shown her whatever evidence this was? Asked her to authenticate any photographs? Had her grief and bitterness kept her from helping the man she loved?

No. Hall had kept her out of the loop long before Ivy’s death. But if she’d been there, maybe she could have convinced him by now to read her in.

She shoved the useless thoughts aside as they gained the back entrance. Barely slowing on the stairs, she was soon opening the door to her darkroom.

“Oh my. Lilian. I had no idea.”

Only at her mother’s gasp did Lily pause to realize that Mama had never been down here. She hadn’t seen the space, so many times larger than her darkroom at home. The newest equipment, the endless supply of chemicals, the photo archives, and the most frequently appearing faces tacked to the wall.

“No wonder you couldn’t work so well at home. This is—this is . . . well, professional, isn’t it? This is a career.”

“I suppose it is.” She rarely thought of it as such. A calling, yes. And she received a paycheck, but she never even saw those. Daddy always took them to the bank for her.

Mama was wandering to the photo wall. “And these?”

“I keep track of how often the same people appear. The admiral says it has proven useful innumerable times.” Including the last one, with the German officers.

The photo Zivon had given them. She frowned. Hall had promised to tell her what came of that, but she’d scarcely darkened the door of the OB since then. And the mountain of film on her desk awaiting processing told the tale too.

“Lily? Ah good, it is you.” Barclay Pearce stuck his head in with a smile. “Saw the lights as I was heading out the back. Here to help your Russian?”

Lily gave a decisive nod. “If Hall will let me.”

“He just sent me to fetch you, actually. Declared all hands on deck to help clear Marin’s name. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

He vanished again. Mama was still perusing the wall, so Lily occupied herself by ordering the canisters of film while she waited for Hall.

She didn’t have to wait long. And he arrived with an armload of manila envelopes, his expression grim. “I finally convinced one of my reporter friends to bring all these over. And we’ve the ones that were sent to us, of course. They’re on top.”

Seeing no need for small talk, Lily began with those while Mama and DID pulled the others from their envelopes and arranged them on one of her long tables. She switched on a lamp, grabbed her loupe, and turned to the trio of images that had made Hall and Daddy suspicious of Zivon to begin with.