Chapter four: Ghosts in the frame
740 Words
Chapter Four: Ghosts in the Frame
The past doesn't knock—it kicks down the door when you're finally looking the other way.
Jaxon didn’t sleep—again.
He held the envelope like it might explode in his hands. The photograph inside was glossy, high-quality, deliberate. A memory weaponized. He couldn’t stop staring at the third man in the picture—his face inked over in thick black lines like someone trying to erase him from existence.
Except someone wanted Jaxon to remember.
He flipped the photo over. No date. No writing. Just the image: Camille laughing, Jaxon mid-sentence, hand on her shoulder, and that third man—tall, broad, presence heavy even in silhouette.
The note had been typewritten. Clean. Precise.
You were never just a witness.
His hands trembled.
It wasn’t just guilt anymore. It was fear.
By sunrise, Jaxon was pacing his apartment, phone in hand, heart thudding against his ribs. He should call Eli. He knew that. But something about the envelope made him hesitate. Someone had been in his building. His hallway. Close enough to touch him in his sleep—and vanish.
He made the call anyway.
Eli answered on the second ring. “Tell me you didn’t open it.”
“I opened it.”
Silence. Then: “Describe the photo.”
Jaxon did. When he mentioned the blacked-out face, Eli cursed under his breath.
“What?” Jaxon asked.
“I think I know who it was.”
“Who?”
“Camille’s fiancé.”
Jaxon froze. “Camille was engaged?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“She didn’t talk about him much. Said he was... volatile. Dangerous. Rich enough to make problems disappear.”
Jaxon tried to picture him. But he couldn’t. That part of Camille’s life had been a closed door. Maybe she had kept it that way for a reason.
“Why now?” Jaxon asked. “Why send this to me after all these years?”
“Because someone thinks you’re ready to remember,” Eli said grimly. “Or they think you’re close to digging up something they buried.”
Jaxon’s stomach twisted. “You really think her death wasn’t an accident?”
“I know it wasn’t.”
“I was there that night, Eli. I drove her to the track. I saw her crash.”
“But you didn’t see who cut her brakes.”
The words landed like a slap.
Jaxon leaned against the wall, breath shallow. “Do you think it was him? The fiancé?”
Eli’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I think he’s the reason she started running in the first place.”
A thousand pieces began rearranging in Jaxon’s mind. Camille’s nervous glances. The fights she never talked about. The way she’d insisted on driving that night, even though she knew the car wasn’t ready.
All of it.
Suddenly, everything felt like a setup.
“I want to see him,” Jaxon said.
Eli hesitated. “He disappeared after the funeral. No press. No trail. Whoever he was, he didn’t want to be found.”
“But you think I knew him?”
“I think you knew more than you want to remember.”
Jaxon swallowed the lump in his throat. “What do we do now?”
“We?” Eli’s voice softened. “Are you saying you’re in this with me?”
Jaxon hesitated.
He could say no. He could walk away, forget this ever happened.
But that wasn’t the truth anymore.
“I’m in,” he said.
A pause.
“Meet me tonight. Same bar. And Jaxon… don’t come alone.”
“What does that mean?”
But the line had already gone dead.
Jaxon stared at his reflection in the darkened window. His face looked unfamiliar. Older. Harder.
Not just because of Camille. Or Eli. But because for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what he was pretending to be anymore.
Straight. Detached. Untouchable.
It was all starting to unravel.
And he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop it.
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Cliffhanger Ending:
As Jaxon gathered his keys to leave, another message buzzed on his phone.
Unknown Number: You’re digging in the wrong grave, Reid. Next time, I won’t just knock.
He looked up—toward his window.
And froze.
Across the street, on the rooftop opposite his building, stood a figure in a black coat.
Watching.
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- Writer
