She picked up Lisette’s camera and focused on the lighthouse in the distance. A memory of their conversation drifted into her mind. His sister Margaret Ann had found the film roll in a box of their father’s things that had been in storage.

The memory niggled at her. She wondered if the box had been anything like the box of things Madame Olivier had sent to her father. Things left behind by someone gone too soon.

A lone seagull flew past the lighthouse, and Camille took the shot, so grateful to have her grandmother’s camera. She remembered the moment as if it were yesterday. Finding the camera. Realizing there was film inside. Knowing there was one person who could help her sort out the images: Professor Malcolm Finnemore. That was the moment that started it all.

The pictures in Lisette’s camera had taken Camille on a journey she’d never expected. She had learned so much from the phantom woman. Lisette had been smart. Intuitive. Talented. And above all, fearless. The love of her life had literally fallen from the sky, and she’d given her whole self to him and damn the consequences. Had she lived, Lisette would have risked all and gone with Hank.

Camille felt ridiculous by comparison. Cowardly. She did love Finn, so much that her heart felt ready to burst. She should have stayed and fought for him. She should go back and fight for him.

Lisette’s last images had opened the door to her heart as surely as—

And then it hit her. Hard.

“Oh my God.” She scrambled to her feet and rushed into the house. Rummaging through her desk, she found the courier’s slip that had been delivered to her with Finn’s film. The copy was dull and smudged, but she could make out the sender’s address and phone number.

Margaret Ann picked up. Camille hastily explained who she was, then asked, “Where is your father’s camera? The one that was found with his effects from Cambodia.”

“I have it here, with everything else,” said Margaret Ann.

“Whatever you do, don’t open it. Don’t wind it or touch anything on it.”

“Fine, I won’t touch the camera. It’s been in its case for forty years,” said Margaret Ann. “Why?”

“I’ll explain when I get there.”

“There,” Camille said, securing the parcel for the courier service. “It’s done.”

“What?” Julie was ironing. Ironing. She never ironed, but her new clamdiggers and white cotton shirt were getting special treatment for the first day of school. “Are those the pictures you found on that old camera?”

“That’s right. I’m so glad I thought to look in Sergeant Major Finnemore’s old camera. I blew it when I ruined the first roll Finn sent me. We’ll never know what was on that, but at least we have this one. It’s the best way I can think of to make it up to him. I already e-mailed the digital images, and now I’m sending the film and prints.”

She had taken pains to make the pictures as perfect as she could. The images were startling and mysterious, but Finn was an expert. He would read the photos, the way he had for her. Maybe he’d find answers to questions that had haunted his family for decades. Or maybe he’d find a new mystery to solve. “It brings everything full circle,” she concluded.