Chapter 5 - The Christmas Eve PhotographClaire did not sleep that night.
By four in the morning, she had examined the photograph so many times that the image seemed permanently burned into her vision.
Jonah stood near the chapel entrance.
Peter Rowe faced him.
The timestamp showed December twenty-fourth, 2019.
Seven years earlier.
The same Christmas Eve Jonah's wife had died.
The photograph alone proved little.
Everly House had hosted hundreds of events over the years.
Peter had still been associated with Bennett & Rowe during that period.
Jonah's family had longstanding ties to the chapel.
There were perfectly reasonable explanations for their presence in the same location.
But someone had taken the time to find the image, attach it to an anonymous email, and send it to Claire at precisely the moment she was beginning to trust Jonah again.
That was what troubled her.
Not the photograph.
The intention behind it.
At 7:15 a.m., she called Natalie.
“I need the original security archives from Christmas Eve 2019.”
Natalie sounded sleepy.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Can we retrieve them?”
“Seven years ago? Maybe. The old system backed up event footage to external drives.”
“Where are they?”
“Storage. Why?”
“I'll explain when you get here.”
Claire spent the morning trying to reconstruct the events of that Christmas Eve.
According to company records, Everly House had hosted a private charity concert in the chapel.
Peter Rowe had attended as a company representative.
Jonah and Hannah Reed had attended with Emily.
The event ended at 8:30 p.m.
Hannah died in a highway accident at 11:18 p.m.
The police report was public.
Claire read it carefully.
Hannah had been driving alone.
Her car had been struck by another vehicle on an icy section of highway.
The other driver survived with serious injuries.
No charges were brought after investigators concluded there was insufficient evidence of criminal negligence, although the report noted excessive speed for the conditions.
Claire felt uneasy reading those details.
A mother.
A wife.
A Christmas Eve.
And one terrible moment that changed everything.
She closed the file.
It was not her place to reopen someone else's grief because an anonymous sender wanted to provoke suspicion.
At noon, Natalie returned from storage carrying two labeled hard drives.
“One of these should have the footage.”
Claire connected the first drive.
Most of the files were corrupted or incomplete.
The second contained several camera feeds.
They located the chapel entrance.
At 7:42 p.m., Jonah and Peter appeared together.
The photograph had been taken from this footage.
Claire leaned forward.
On the screen, Peter was speaking rapidly.
Jonah stood rigidly.
Then Peter touched his arm.
Jonah pulled away.
Peter walked off.
A minute later, Hannah appeared.
She spoke to Jonah.
They embraced.
Then she hurried toward the parking area.
Jonah remained outside the chapel for several minutes before following.
Claire replayed it.
Once.
Twice.
There was no audio.
Nothing proved that Jonah and Peter had been cooperating.
If anything, the encounter looked hostile.
Natalie studied the screen.
“Someone deliberately chose a still frame that makes them look friendly.”
Claire nodded.
“And left out everything that happened afterward.”
“Who sent it?”
“I don't know.”
“Peter?”
“Maybe.”
Natalie leaned back.
“You know what bothers me?”
“What?”
“Whoever sent this knew exactly when to send it.”
Claire stared at the email.
The timing was too convenient.
Someone was watching her relationships.
Her board.
Her financing.
Perhaps even her communications.
She changed her passwords and asked the company's security consultant to review access logs.
At six, Claire arrived at the chapel.
Jonah was already there.
He wore a dark coat over a gray sweater.
A small box rested beside him on the pew.
When she entered, he stood.
“Hi.”
“Hello.”
For a moment, they looked like two strangers attempting to remember how to be ordinary around each other.
Then Claire held up her phone.
“I received something last night.”
Jonah studied the photograph.
His face changed.
Not with guilt.
With pain.
“Where did you get that?”
“Anonymous email.”
He sat down slowly.
Claire remained standing.
“What happened that night?”
Jonah looked toward the stained glass.
“Peter Rowe approached me after the concert.”
“Why?”
“He wanted Reed Mechanical to approve a subcontractor for an upcoming renovation.”
“Which renovation?”
“The original north-wing heating replacement.”
Claire frowned.
That project had been completed shortly before Peter left the company.
“He wanted your approval?”
“He wanted my engineers to sign off on another firm's work.”
“Why?”
“Because they were using cheaper equipment than the specifications required. Our company was the mechanical consultant of record.”
Claire sat beside him.
“Did you approve it?”
“No.”
“What did Peter say?”
“He told me I was making a simple issue unnecessarily difficult.”
Jonah gave a humorless smile.
“I told him the standards were there for a reason.”
“Then?”
“He threatened to replace us.”
Claire looked at him.
“That sounds like Peter.”
“I told him he was welcome to try.”
Jonah looked down at his hands.
“Hannah came out while we were arguing.”
Claire hesitated.
“Is that why she left alone?”
He nodded.
“She had promised to bring some Christmas gifts to a friend who was working at the hospital. We were supposed to meet at home afterward.”
His voice grew quieter.
“I asked her to let me go instead. She told me the weather wasn't that bad.”
Claire watched his hands tighten.
“I should have insisted.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“You couldn't have known.”
“I know what the investigation said.”
“But?”
“But I remember every minute of that evening. Every sentence. Every time I could have changed what happened.”
Claire's chest ached.
She knew there was no argument strong enough to defeat grief that had spent seven years rehearsing itself.
So she did not argue.
She simply said, “I'm sorry, Jonah.”
He nodded.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then Claire showed him the complete security footage.
Jonah watched the video in silence.
When Peter walked away, he exhaled slowly.
“Whoever sent you that picture wanted you to think I was helping him.”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
Claire looked at him.
“No.”
He closed his eyes.
The relief on his face made her throat tighten.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
She turned toward the chapel altar.
“I've spent my entire adult life trying to recognize betrayal before it happens.”
“That's understandable.”
“It's also exhausting.”
Jonah nodded.
Claire faced him.
“You should have told me about the trust.”
“I know.”
“And I should have asked questions before assuming the worst.”
“You had reasons.”
“That doesn't mean I was right.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then said, “I don't want to be another problem you have to solve.”
Claire almost smiled.
“Then stop creating mysteries.”
“I'll do my best.”
She looked at the box beside him.
“What's that?”
Jonah hesitated.
Then opened it.
Inside were several hand-carved wooden stars.
“Hannah made these with Emily.”
Claire picked up one carefully.
“They're beautiful.”
“She used to organize a Christmas gathering here for families who couldn't afford holiday celebrations.”
“Emily told me.”
Jonah smiled faintly.
“She never could keep a secret.”
“Apparently that runs in the family.”
He laughed.
A real laugh.
It filled the chapel for a moment before fading into something quieter.
Claire set down the ornament.
“Jonah, why do you still come here?”
He took his time answering.
“At first, because this was the last place we were happy together.”
“And now?”
He looked toward the candlelit altar.
“Because I think Hannah would be furious if I let her death turn me into someone who stopped caring about living people.”
Claire's eyes filled.
Jonah looked at her.
“I don't know how to do this well anymore.”
“Do what?”
“Care about someone.”
She swallowed.
“You seem to remember.”
He smiled sadly.
“I've been practicing on broken furnaces.”
Claire laughed through the unexpected sting of tears.
Outside, bells began ringing from a nearby church.
Six-thirty.
She turned toward him.
“Would you have told me who you were if I hadn't found out?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Monday.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“That's a suspiciously specific answer.”
“I had already asked Daniel to arrange a meeting.”
“Your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Attorney?”
“Unfortunately.”
She smiled.
“I'm surrounded by attorneys this week.”
“Maybe you need a better class of company.”
Their eyes met.
Neither looked away.
For a moment, Claire felt the possibility of something gentle and terrifyingly real.
Then her phone vibrated.
An urgent message from Natalie.
Call me immediately. We've identified the source of the financing report.
Claire stood.
Jonah saw her expression change.
“What happened?”
She called Natalie.
“Tell me.”
Natalie's voice was tight.
“The report came from a corporate account linked to Westbridge's consulting division.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Peter?”
“Yes. But there's something worse.”
“What?”
“The preliminary data package included internal documents downloaded using Howard Price's board credentials.”
Claire went still.
“Howard helped them?”
“We have access logs.”
Claire gripped the pew.
Howard had served on her board for nine years.
He had attended her father's memorial.
He had advised her during the most difficult years of building the company.
And now he might be helping the man who had nearly destroyed it.
Claire looked at Jonah.
His expression hardened.
She whispered into the phone, “Do not confront him yet.”
“Claire—”
“Preserve every record. Call legal. And don't tell anyone else what we found.”
She ended the call.
Jonah stood.
“What do you need?”
The question was so simple.
No assumption.
No demand.
No attempt to take over.
Claire looked at him.
May you like
Then, for perhaps the first time in her adult life, she answered honestly.
“Help.”
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