White-hot flashes of rage and confusion clashed for control of Daniel. “I demand you take it down now!”

“It’s not so easy when it’s you, is it? And you should know there’s only one way to get rid of it. Let me help you bring the life back to . . . well, your life.” Simon leaned into the savory steam that billowed from his lunch. “Mr. Ming’s steamed dim sims are to die for, aren’t they?”

Molten anger spewed out of Daniel as he stomped over to the frame. He wrenched it from the wall and tore the photograph from it, crumpling it in his hand and letting it fall to the floor. “The only way, hey?”

Simon gave a sad nod toward the frame in Daniel’s hands.

At first there was a vibration in Daniel’s palms and then a hammering. The wood grew warm as the frame filled in with the sheer white of photographic paper. An invisible hand drew in the edges of a rectangular object and then detail. Words appeared in thick, black, chunky letters, and then a photo of a book, its title proud. But then the invisible hand stopped, not adding the author’s name.

Daniel dropped the frame with a scream and sprinted to the door. He flung it open, mashing the tiny bell against the wall. Simon’s yell followed him into the street. “You need to face them, Daniel!”

*  *  *

Daniel’s tires crunched on the gravel of his driveway. Magical cameras that appeared at will. Photos that couldn’t be destroyed. He had to end this.

He ran through the foyer and skidded to a stop as he entered the kitchen. Kelly leaned against the counter, inspecting Gramps’s camera as she turned it over in her hands.

Daniel’s anger dizzied him. “So now you go through my stuff?”

“My stuff? You left the camera out here on the kitchen counter.”

No, I didn’t. “So you broke into Gramps’s briefcase.”

“I don’t even know where the briefcase is. Daniel, I am telling you the truth. I came home, and the camera was sitting here.”

No, it wasn’t.

Kelly placed the camera on the counter and spun to face him, eyes filling with angry tears. “Speaking of the truth, where were you today? I rang the office, and they said you hadn’t come in. And then Jade said Monique wasn’t in either—”

Her pleas were white noise, background to one question: How did she get the camera? Daniel stormed past her and into the study. The briefcase sat in the bottom of his closet, pushed toward the back. He checked the tumblers: still out of sync, the clasps unmoving. He staggered back into the kitchen.

“Did you even hear what I said? And why don’t you believe me? I thought you left it out because the film was used up.”